Celebration's Family

By the time Liam had washed his hands, grabbed his e-tablet and sat down at the table, Rosalinda had set a plate of homemade meat loaf, mashed potatoes and steamed green beans in front of him.

“Thanks, Rosie,” he said. “This looks delicious.”

“You’re welcome, Dr. Thayer. I hope you enjoy it. I want you to know I made the cupcakes and left them for Amanda at school. She was very sweet. Hugged me and thanked me when I picked her up from her dancing lesson. You have a darling girl with a good heart. Two sweet girls, because Calee, she is a good girl, too.”

He was relieved that Amanda had thanked Rosie, especially when the generous woman had taken the time to make the treats from scratch rather than stopping by the bakery and buying them ready-made. Since losing her mother, Amanda, who had always been the more reserved of his twins, could sometimes appear sullen and aloof.

Liam had expressed his concerns about this to their grief counselor, but the shrink had assured him Amanda was okay. He’d attributed her moodiness to typical teenage hormones compounded by the loss of her mother. Amanda was doing well in school and engaging in dance. The counselor had told Liam those signs made him believe everything would be fine. If she appeared to worsen or withdraw, Liam should let the counselor know.

Liam had found that the best way for all of them to cope was to stay as busy as possible. He had the hospital; the girls had school and dance. It seemed to be working since they all put in full days and came home so tired at night that they usually ate dinner, showered and fell into bed. They would get through this together. The best way was to just keep marching ahead.

“Rosie, what would we do without you?”

The woman laughed. “Well, you must try for the rest of tonight because I am going to leave now. Maria has to cover part of another shift tonight and has to go in a little early. May I get you something else before I leave?”

Rosie’s family was small, consisting only of her daughter, Maria, and her infant grandson, Joaquin. Maria’s boyfriend had left before the baby was born and hadn’t been in the picture since. Now Maria lived with her mother, who kept the baby while Maria worked as the night manager at the Magnolia Hotel in downtown Celebration.

“No, thank you. You go home to your family and enjoy the rest of your night. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Liam tucked into his dinner, focusing solely on feeding himself until he’d taken the edge off his ravenous hunger. Then he took a long, slow drink of iced sweet tea and flipped back the cover of his e-tablet. His curiosity had him searching the web for Kate Macintyre, wanting to know more about the woman and her family’s foundation. He clicked on the first of several listings, an article about Macintyre Enterprises in the local weekly paper, the Dallas Journal of Business and Development.

It suddenly sank in that Kate Macintyre was part of that Macintyre family. The Macintyre oil family. He wasn’t sure what he’d envisioned when he thought of Kate in her natural habitat, but the vague picture he’d formed in his mind’s eye hadn’t included big oil.

But then he read on, and discovered that Kate and her brother, Rob Macintyre, hadn’t been raised with the silver spoon. Apparently they’d both worked hard to pull themselves out of the poverty of their youth. But her brother was the one who had amassed the fortune.

Another article mentioned that an accident had killed Rob and Kate’s father, and nearly claimed the life of Rob’s young son; this was the impetus behind the new pediatric surgical wing.

The boy had been airlifted to a children’s hospital in Dallas, taking precious time that could’ve cost the boy his life. The Macintyres wanted to ensure that nothing like that ever happened to another local family, and so they had begun raising the funds for the new wing.

Liam realized how oblivious he could be when it came to matters outside his bubble. He knew the expansion was in the works, but until now, he had no clue of the story behind it. It made him appreciate Kate’s efforts all the more.

It also made him feel woefully inadequate when it came to what was happening in the community. Joy had always kept track of things like that. She’d advise him on what was going on, and help him remember names and keep people straight so that he didn’t embarrass himself.

He could virtually hear Joy say, That’s Kate Macintyre. Her brother, Rob, founded Macintyre Enterprises. Together the two of them founded the Macintyre Family Foundation. That’s Rob’s wife, Pepper, who once was the heir to the Texas Star empire before it crumbled. They were all key players in the community.

So did that make Kate a socialite? She didn’t act like one. She seemed too grounded and humble. Maybe one had to be born into social royalty. See, yet more proof that he was better off staying in his bubble. It reminded him of the saying, “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it.” But the more appropriate reconfiguration for his situation was “If you have to ask, you don’t belong.”

All that who’s-who and what’s-what made his head hurt. He hadn’t had the time or the inclination for it when Joy was alive, and he had even less interest now, because he had his hands full with the things that were really important, such as his daughters and his job, which reminded him...

He typed the name of the auction, In Celebration of Bachelors, into the search engine. A webpage advertising the event came up. Charlie Benton, Quinn Vogler and Jake Lennox already had photos posted alongside descriptions of their proffered “dream dates.”

Liam chuckled. What a bunch of dogs. It was a classic example of Pavlov’s theory: the minute anyone said women, these guys started drooling.

Charlie’s date was nicknamed The 007.

“You will dress to the nines in a gown you purchase on a predate shopping trip paid by Benton, Charles Benton. I will pick you up in an Aston Martin DB5 just like James Bond used to drive, and whisk you away to a supersecret location where we’ll enjoy martinis—shaken, not stirred—as we watch the sunset.”

He went on to describe dinner and dancing laced with a little bit of imagined danger, something about seduction and a whole lot of corny.

What the hell was Benton talking about?

Danger and seduction. Were they allowed to sell seduction as part of a prize package? Maybe that’s where the danger came in—Benton pretending to be James Bond. The woman might crack a rib laughing.

Liam took another bite of meat loaf and read the other descriptions.

Vogler’s entry was entitled A Red-Carpet Evening and featured a limousine, champagne, dinner and a movie.

It sounded like a nice evening, except for the fact that Vogler had to come along on the date.

A date with Lennox came with a promise in its headline: We’ll Always Have Paris.

I’ll be damned. Liam paused, fork midair. Jake was flying the winner to France for a night at the Ritz and dinner at Le Jules Verne, the restaurant atop the Eiffel Tower.

Show-off.

Liam snickered and shook his head. He wished there was a place to comment so that he could give unsuspecting ladies the heads-up on these guys. His snark was all in good fun. In fairness, he had to admit that his colleagues were good guys. Even if they did spend too much time at the hospital and on the golf course, and too little time on what really mattered in life.

And what was that? What really mattered? One size did not necessarily fit all when it came to answering those questions.

For Liam, it was family. His girls. Protecting them from more of life’s hurts.

Okay, so six of his seven colleagues were unencumbered. Vogler was the only other one who had a child. That’s probably why he was staying in town for the date and trying so hard to disguise a night out to the movies as some gala affair.

Liam tried to ignore the little voice that nagged him. At least these guys know how to have fun. At least they are willing to donate their time in the name of something good.

But Liam couldn’t help but wonder why they just didn’t donate the money they were going to spend on the flights to Paris and the shopping sprees and limousines.

As Liam was making a mental note to ask Kate that very question, his daughters raced into the dining room.

Liam stabbed at the tablet’s off button, but only managed to switch pages rather than power down.

“Daddy!” squealed Calee. She threw her arms around his neck. Amanda hung back a little. As he hugged exuberant Calee, he could see Amanda over her sister’s shoulder. The girl looked as if she’d grown again. She had a good four inches on tiny Calee, who had inherited her mother’s petite stature. Amanda had gotten his height and bigger frame. The girl wasn’t overweight by any means; she was just stockier and larger-boned than her sister.

They were starting to really look like the fraternal twins they were.

After Calee stepped back, Amanda hugged him.

He loved the way that each of his daughters was her own person, especially since they were twins. Vastly different, yet fiercely protective of each other.

Both girls wore their pajamas and had wet hair from their showers. They smelled of the fruity shampoo and bath products they’d conned him into buying them when they’d dragged him to the mall a couple weekends ago. He breathed in deeply, savoring the scent of his little girls, just about the only fragrance in the world that soothed his weary soul. Mingling with Rosie’s cooking, it was the smell of home.

The girls had been at school until two-thirty, and then, after Amanda’s club meeting, they’d gone to the dance studio and were in classes until Rosalinda had picked them up at seven-fifteen. Despite the long day, they seemed to have more energy than he did after a good night’s rest. A case in point that youth was wasted on the young. Well, maybe not wasted, but there was definitely an unfair distribution.

“Oh-em-gee,” Calee said. Lately, she’d taken to speaking in what Liam called “alphabet soup”—acronyms rather than words. It seemed to be the trend among today’s youth. “Are you going to be in that bachelor auction? Everyone’s talking about it.”

“What?” Ugh. Had she seen the website on the tablet before he’d exited the page?

“What auction?” he asked, borrowing a sly play from her book, one that he liked to call the “don’t offer any more than is absolutely necessary” tactic.