Welcome To My Family

His heart shot into high gear for no reason at all that he could ascertain as she climbed from his car and limped swiftly to her own. Dynamite came in small packages. Damn, but the woman intrigued him.

Slater drifted in behind her vehicle. He followed at a discreet distance as she zigzagged through the dark residential area that made up the Hill’s territory. It was just as well things had worked out the way they had, he thought, nervously rubbing his neck. She was nothing like the women he normally found attractive. For crying out loud! Didn’t he have enough problems in his life without deliberately soliciting more?

So why did he hold his breath until he saw her safely inside a sprawling, well-kept house? And why, all the way home, did he plot strategies that involved joining forces with her to save their two fathers from calamity?

What most haunted Slater after he got home and climbed into bed was that damned kiss. He’d certainly kissed less difficult women. Women who’d grown up in the bosom of his community. The only thing his mother had asked of him, before she slipped into a coma from which she’d never emerged, was that her only son marry a nice woman who’d embrace Polish traditions.

Unable to sleep, Slater rose. He poured himself a stiff shot of brandy, and by the time his father sneaked in through the front door at one-fifteen, Slater sat quietly in one corner of the library, reading a book on Ireland’s customs.

ACROSS TOWN, Kat O’Halloran feigned sleep when her mother peeked in at eleven. Yet she was still awake watching shadows dance on her ceiling when Pop strolled in at one. At 3:00 a.m., for about the hundredth time, Kat plumped her pillow and covered her head. She resented Poseidon’s snoozing so easily at her feet.

“Monday,” she groused, “I’m going to march straight into Slater Kowalski’s office and resign.”

At four o’clock, Kat got up and rubbed more salve on her cuts. “Yes. Resign is the smart thing to do. We’re worlds apart,” she told her ravaged reflection in the mirror. “We have nothing in common.” Kat imagined the furor among her brothers and their wives if she were to date someone from the Ridge. Under the circumstance, resigning was the only choice. No kiss had ever interrupted her sleep before. Nor had any kiss ever left her longing like this. Longing for more of the same…

CHAPTER FOUR

BY SATURDAY MORNING, Kat thought the scratches on her face and arms had faded. She didn’t expect anyone to notice them and was alarmed when both parents expressed concern. She mumbled something innocuous about how it had happened when she had sorted old sporting equipment stored in the attic. They accepted her story. Too quickly, Kat decided.

Her parents seemed vaguely preoccupied—a fact that concerned Kat more than the injuries resulting from her encounter with Spud’s tree.

The most emotion she’d seen either parent exhibit throughout the day occurred after Kat had wheedled her mother into modeling the dress she’d bought. Pop happened to pass the bedroom, and Kat couldn’t fault his response. His eyes lit up, and the kiss he laid on his wife was enough to make a grown daughter blush.

It reminded Kat of Slater’s kiss. A memory so real, she left her parents in their clinch and dashed upstairs to revise the resignation letter she had drafted around midnight.

Much later, they’d barely sat down to dinner when Slater phoned. “I intended to call earlier,” he said. “But I got tied up running tests on the Special. How’s the leg, and your cuts?”

Kat recognized his polite boss-to-employee voice. He sounded distracted, as if he had other things on his mind. His car, no doubt. Obviously he hadn’t spent time mooning over their kiss. “I’m fine.” She kept her response brief and to the point. “You’re interrupting dinner, Kowalski. Is an update on my health all you needed?”

“By all means, go eat. I’d hate to stand in the way of your putting meat on those scrawny bones.”

Kat sputtered indignantly as Slater clicked off.

“Is everything all right, Katie?” her mother called into the hall.

“Fine,” she snapped without elaborating. If the elder O’Hallorans suspected the call was to blame for her moodiness, they let it go. Tim declined dessert. He took off to meet his pals, not offering any excuse for leaving Kat and her mother to spend another solitary evening.

By Sunday, Kat had made up her mind to discuss her resignation with her brothers and their wives. Maureen had planned a family dinner as usual. “Count me out,” Timothy announced. “I have a meeting of the church carnival committee. We’re considering some changes this year. All improvements—you’ll see,” he said in an offhand way.

Kat gazed at him suspiciously. Now she’d be distrustful of everything Pop said.

Rightly so. As he passed his sons on their way into the house after church, Tim caught Mark’s arm. “Keep an eye on your mama and sister next week, son. My carnival committee’s going to Atlantic City to check out new games for our booths,” he said evenly, as if his words had nothing to do with the circle of shocked faces. Of course, everyone except Kat was floored by his announcement. But she could tell this wasn’t an ideal time to discuss her resignation from Flintridge.

“It’s Louie Kowalski’s fault,” Mark ranted after Timothy climbed into his car. “Why else would Pop’s carnival committee entertain the notion of using gaming tables? That man is a bad influence all the way around.”

Kat poured coffee and held her tongue, even though she alone knew Mark’s statement to be true. Yet it bothered her that Pop hadn’t acted guilty. Right before he took off, he’d kissed Mama with gusto—as if nothing was wrong.

Josh turned to Kat, his tone reproachful. “Mama said Louie’s son is CEO at Flintridge and that you report directly to him. At Motorhill, our rec director reports to Internal Affairs. I tell you, this is a setup to bleed Pop’s mind.”

“Kowalski did not recruit me, Josh. Your own wife sent me the job notice.”

Josh drummed his fingers on the table. They all studied the spouse under discussion as she helped her mother-in-law place dinner on the table.

Matt’s wife unloaded two apple pies she’d baked. “Josh, you can’t mean you think Louie Junior would really do something so underhanded? They’ve been in business as long as Motorhill.”

“Slater,” Kat corrected. “He’s not a Junior.”

No one paid attention as Matt continued. “I believe Junior would do anything to save his butt with the company.” Matt waited as they all bowed their heads and his brother Mark gave the blessing, then he picked up where he’d left off. “Friday, a car buff who works at Flintridge came by for his headers. He happened to mention Kowalski’s flawed engine. I gather it may cost the company a government contract. Major flaw,” Matt reiterated, raising a brow. “And a big contract.”

Mark whistled through his teeth. “Well, it’s a cinch a family can’t hang on to an auto empire in this day and age by being nice guys. I’ll bet they’re all tough nuts.”

Kat recalled Slater’s sympathy and his tender touch that night in Spud’s garage. But of course she couldn’t bring that up to her brothers.

Josh’s scowl enveloped the entire clan. “Tough nuts or not, somebody has to shake Kowalski’s family tree. I’ll bet dollars to doughnuts Pop’s not going to Atlantic City just for the committee. Kowalski probably dreamed this up. What if Pop gambles away his whole retirement fund? Someone has to stop him.”

All at once Maureen, who sat at the head of the table, jumped to her feet, let out a sob and fled the room.

Josh’s wife, Mary, ever the placater, followed close behind.

“Dammit!” Mark vaulted from his chair. “Pop never used to be a fool. Kat, you’ve gotta do something.”

“Me? Like what? I told you, Pop ignores me.” Flustered, she fed a piece of meat from her plate to Poseidon. He wolfed it down and begged for more. Distracted, Kat stroked his ears.

“Mother O’Halloran has locked herself in the bedroom,” Mary announced, as she returned to the dining room. She, too, appealed to Kat. “Your father may ignore you, but you’re in a position at Flintridge to hear things. Workers talk. You’ll know if Kowalski is pilfering ideas.”

“I tell you, no. I can’t do it.” Kat glanced desperately at her brothers. “I think Pop’s going through some male crisis. A postretirement thing. One of you should deal with him, man to man.”

Matt stood and paced around the table. “You’ve always been his favorite, kitten. Mary’s right. You’re our best bet.” Bending, he dropped a kiss on Kat’s nose. “I’ll go talk to Mama. She shouldn’t put her life on hold just because Pop’s being an old fool.”

During the time Matt was upstairs, Mark and Josh bombarded Kat with suggestions on how she should go about spying on Kowalski at the plant. She couldn’t say she was unhappy to see them pile into their cars and leave.

Kat cleared the table, covered the pies, and then coaxed Poseidon out for a brisk run. A light, cooling rain not only cleared the air but also her head. She would’ve liked to spend more time outside, but Poseidon kept slowing and shooting her insulted looks until she turned home.

Back at the house, all of Kat’s attempts to cheer her mother failed.

“I’m sorry, Katie, but I’m not good company. I’m going to bed.”

“Sure. G’night, Mama.” Her heart heavy, Kat took the dog for another walk, a quick one. She toweled dry her hair and Poseidon’s fur before turning out all the lights—including the one on the porch. “Let Pop stumble around in the dark tonight. If he breaks a toe, it’ll serve him right.”

“Men!” she later grumbled around her loaded toothbrush. “Why do women always have to do their dirty work? Answer me that, Poseidon,” she gurgled as she rinsed her mouth. “My brothers don’t want to step on Pop’s toes, but apparently it’s okay if I do. That’s why this mess got dumped in my lap. Suddenly they’ve forgotten all about telling me I could leave that job anytime I wanted.”

Taking his sharp bark as agreement, Kat threw herself full-length on the bed and unfolded her resignation letter. “Who’ll this family get to be their spy when I waltz into Kowalski’s office tomorrow and quit?”

This time the dog remained silent. He lay curled on his rug, his eyes closed.

MONDAY, AT EIGHT SHARP, Kat trudged up the nine flights of steps leading to the Flintridge executive suites. Her mind freewheeled over the scene she’d left at home. Pop, bustling around the stove making pancakes and small talk, as if he hadn’t ruined Sunday dinner. How could he miss Mama’s red, puffy eyes? Sighing, Kat charged up the last two flights. And what about Mama? She exhibited a textbook case of passive aggression, if ever Kat had read of one in beginning psychology.

Josh should have been there to witness how many times Pop said things about the church carnival. The man didn’t expect his family to doubt his word. After all, Mama, too, devoted countless hours to organizing food for the carnival. The only thing that drew a bigger crowd from the Hill was a Murphy wake.