Reflection Point - By Emily March Page 0,122

becoming my nemesis. This is the third time they’ve delayed me this month. Sarah Murphy will have my guts for garters if we’re late to the shower.”

“We have plenty of time,” Hope assured her.

“Yes, but Sarah is not her usual cheery self these days. I need a distraction. What’s the latest on your project, Maggie?”

Gabi rolled her big blue eyes and groaned for a second time. Her mother sniffed with disdain, then beamed at Celeste. “Actually, I have exciting news. Jim Sutton has accepted my offer for his great-grandmother’s Victorian on Aspen Street. With a little renovation, it will make a perfect B&B.”

“That is exciting news,” Celeste said.

“Congratulations.” Hope’s brows knit as she tried to place the house. “On Aspen, you say? Which house is it?”

“The yellow one between Fifth and Sixth.”

Maggie must be referring to the dilapidated three-story whose faded, flaking paint sometimes floated on the air like dandruff. Hope pictured an overgrown yard, broken shutters, rotted gingerbread trim, and plywood-covered windows.

“It needs a little work,” Maggie added as if reading Hope’s mind.

“And Murphy Mountain is a little hill,” Gabi drawled.

“Now, honey …”

Gabi slipped on a pair of designer sunglasses. “Zach is quaking in his hiking boots. I heard him tell Savannah to be quick and hide his tool belt.”

“I promised I wouldn’t ask your brother to help,” her mother protested. “He’s the sheriff, for heaven’s sake. He doesn’t have time to be my handyman.”

“I’m the sheriff’s deputy,” Gabi whined. “Why am I instructed to report for cleaning duty first thing Saturday morning?”

“Zach gets newlywed dispensation.”

“He’s your favorite.”

“Right now, yes.”

The exchange surprised Hope. In her experience, mothers denied the existence of a favored child even if the charge was true. Taking her attention off the bleating roadblock that was finally beginning to move, she glanced into the rearview mirror to observe the Romano women.

Gabi caught her look and flashed a grin. “It’s okay, Hope. He’s due for it.”

She wanted to ask why, but she wasn’t that nosy. Celeste obviously didn’t share her concerns. “Being a newcomer to town, Hope probably doesn’t know your family history. Tell her about Zach, Maggie. She loves happy endings as much as I do.”

“It is a happy ending, isn’t it?” Maggie sighed with pleasure, then explained. “I’ll share the short version, Hope. Our family is dealing with a rather unique situation. I got pregnant with Zach when I was fifteen and I gave him up for adoption. Gabi and her brothers tracked him down and we’ve been reunited in the past year, so I have a lot of pent-up love to shower upon him.”

Oh. A lost child, found. Hope’s throat grew tight.

“Mom has always been a big proponent of sibling equality when it comes to parental favoritism, so my sibs and I understand it’s Zach’s turn,” Gabi added. “That doesn’t mean the rest of us won’t complain about it. Especially under current circumstances. I can’t be your handyman, either, Mom. It’s too big a job. You need a contractor—shoot, you need a miracle worker—if you’re going to turn that broken down behemoth into a bed-and-breakfast.”

“I know, Gabriella. I actually have something different in mind. Someone different. I know a man who is good with his hands who desperately needs a project. A worker who needs a miracle.”

“A miracle? Who do you know who needs … Oh. Lucca.”

“He’s one of your twins, isn’t he?” Celeste asked Maggie. “The one who coaches for Colorado?”

“No. That’s Anthony. Lucca took the Landry University Wildcats to the Sweet Sixteen last March. Then he … well …”

“He wigged out,” Gabi said, a bite of temper in her voice. “He quit his job and took off, didn’t tell the family where he’d gone. He acted like a total jerk and it hurt us. I’m warning you, Mom. It’s going to take some time for me to forgive him. And what makes you think he’ll come here anyway? According to Max and Anthony and Zach, he’s perfectly happy lounging in his Mexican beach chair and getting drunk on tequila and he has absolutely no intention of ever coming back.”

Maggie squared her shoulders. “He’s my son. I have not begun to utilize all the weapons in my arsenal. He will come.”

Hope followed college sports, so she’d picked up the connection between her new friends and the well-known collegiate basketball coaches early on. She admitted to Googling for more information. What Lucca Romano had done was publicly crash and burn and alienate the power brokers in his professional field.

Hope recognized that he’d suffered a

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