When You Got A Good Thing

Chapter 1-2

Chief Deputy Xander Kincaid parked his cruiser in front of the rambling Victorian that had been Joan Reynolds’ home. He retrieved the covered dish of chicken enchiladas sent by his mama—the first wave of death casseroles that would soon fill the old kitchen to bursting—and headed for the front door. Despite its size, with its muted gray paint, the house tended to blend into the woods and mountains around it. Joan had loved this house. She’d always said it was a peaceful spot, a good place to heal and a good place to love. And she’d done exactly that for nearly twenty-five of her sixty-two years, filling the over-sized house with foster children who’d needed a home and someone to love them.

No telling whose home it would become now. Pru had moved back in. As the only one of Joan’s adopted girls who hadn’t moved away, she’d immediately stepped in to take over guardianship of Ari Rosas, Joan’s most recent—well, her last foster child. But he didn’t imagine Pru could afford the upkeep of the place on her income as a massage therapist—especially after the death taxes and probate lawyer had their way with the place. And what, he wondered, would happen with Ari, whose adoption hadn’t yet been finalized?

Juggling the casserole dish, he rang the bell and waited. And waited.

Backing up on the porch, he craned his head to peer around toward the barn. Pru’s car was there. He tried the knob and found it unlocked. Making a mental note to have a word with her about security, even here on the Ridge, he stuck his head inside. “Pru?”

She appeared at the head of the stairs, her big brown eyes red-rimmed from crying. “Sorry. I was just…” She tailed off, waving a vague hand down the hall.

“It’s fine.” He lifted the enchiladas. “Mama wanted me to bring these by. She thought with your sisters coming in, the last thing you or any of them would want to do is cook.”

Xander watched as manners kicked in. Her posture straightened, her expression smoothing out as she locked down the grief.

“That’s so kind of her.” She came down the stairs and reached for the dish. “I’ll just go put this in the kitchen.”

He followed her back.

“No one’s here just yet,” she said, a false bright note in her voice, as if everything was fine and her world wasn’t falling apart.

Xander waited until she slid the casserole into the fridge before he simply wrapped his arms around her. “Pru. I’m so sorry.”

For a long moment, she stood there like a wooden post. Then a shudder rippled through her as her control fractured. Her arms lifted and she burrowed in.

“This shouldn’t have happened,” she whispered. “If she’d been in her own car instead of that tin can loaner, it wouldn’t have.”

Xander wasn’t sure Joan’s SUV would’ve handled the patch of black ice any better, but he remained silent. The fact was, nobody expected black ice in east Tennessee in March. Not when daytime temperatures were almost to the sixties. Joan’s hadn’t been the only accident this week. But she’d been the only fatality.

He ran a hand down Pru’s silky, dark brown hair, hoping to soothe, at least a little. But this wasn’t like middle school, when he’d been able to pound Derek Pedretti into the ground for making Pru cry by calling her fat. There was no one he could take to task, no one to be punished. Grief simply had to be endured.

“There are all these arrangements to be made,” she hiccupped.

And no one here to help her do them, with Maggie off in Los Angeles and Athena running her restaurant in Chicago. Xander deliberately avoided thinking about the final Reynolds sister, though he was sure that this would bring even her home. The idea of that caused his gut to tighten with a mix of old fury and guilt.

“What can I do to help?”

“Let me make you some coffee.”

“Pru—”

“No really,” she sniffed, pulling away. “I’m better when I’m doing something.”

Xander didn’t want coffee, but if she needed to keep her hands busy, he’d drink some. “Coffee’d be great.”

She began puttering around the kitchen, pulling beans out of the freezer and scooping them into the grinder. Joan had loved her gourmet beans. It’d been one of the few luxuries she’d always allowed herself. As she went through the motions, Pru seemed to regain her control.

“Maggie’s taking the red eye from LA, and Athena’s flying out as soon as she closes down the restaurant tonight.”

“Do either of them need to be picked up from the airport?”

“They’re meeting in Nashville and driving up together in the morning, so they’ll be here to help me finish planning the service. It’s supposed to be on Thursday.”

Xander didn’t ask about Kennedy. Both because he didn’t want to care whether she showed up, and if she wasn’t coming, he didn’t want to rub it in.

Pru set a steaming mug in front of him, adding the dollop of half and half he liked and giving it a stir. “Kennedy gets in day after tomorrow. There was some kind of issue getting a direct flight, so she’s having to criss-cross Europe before she even makes it Stateside again. She’s coming home, Xander.”

He wasn’t sure if that was supposed to be an announcement or a warning, but it cracked open the scab over a very old wound that had never quite healed.

She laid a hand over his. “Are you okay?”

This woman had just lost her mother, and she was worried about whether he’d be okay with the fact that his high school girlfriend, whom he hadn’t seen in a decade, was coming home.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Pru leveled those deep, dark eyes on his. “I know there are unresolved issues between you.”

God, if only she knew the truth—that he was the reason Kennedy had left—she wouldn’t be so quick to offer sympathy.

“It was a long time ago, Pru. There’s nothing to resolve.” Kennedy had made her position clear without saying a word to him. At the memory, temper stirred, belying his words. There were things he needed to say to her, questions he wanted answered. But whatever her faults, Kennedy had just lost her mother, too, and Xander wasn’t the kind of asshole who’d attack her and demand them while she was reeling from that. Chances were, she’d be gone before he had an opportunity to say a thing. He’d gotten used to living with disappointment on that front.

He laid a hand over Pru’s. “Don’t worry about me. How’s Ari?”

She straightened. “Devastated. Terrified. And…” Pru sighed. “Not speaking.”

“Not speaking?”

“Not since I told her. She’d come so far living here with Mom, and this is an enormous setback. No surprise. Especially having just lost her grandmother last year.” Pru continued to bustle around the kitchen, pouring herself a cup of coffee and coming to sit with him at the table. Her long, capable fingers wrapped around the mug.

“She upstairs?”

“Yeah. I was trying to get her to eat something when you got here.”

“Poor kid. Have you talked to the social worker yet?”

“Briefly. Mae wants to let us get through the funeral and all the stuff after before we all figure out what to do.”

“Who would’ve been named her emergency guardian if the adoption had gone through?” Xander asked.

“The four of us, probably. I know it’s what Mom would’ve wanted. But there are legal ramifications to the situation, and the fact is, I’m the only one still here.” She sighed. “We’ll have to talk about it after. The one thing I know we’ll all be in agreement on is that we want what’s best for Ari.”

“All four of you have been in her shoes, and you turned into amazing women. I know you’ll do the right thing.” Whatever that turned out to be.

Xander polished off the coffee. “I’m on shift, so I need to be getting back. But, please, if you need anything, Pru, don’t hesitate to call. I’m just down the road.”

She rose as he did and laid a hand on his cheek. “You’re a good stand-in brother, Xander. Mom always loved that about you.”

He felt another prick of guilt, knowing his own involvement with this family had been heavily motivated by trying to make up for Kennedy’s absence. “Yeah well, I ran as tame here as the rest of you when we were kids. Especially when Porter was around.” Giving her another squeeze, he asked, “Can I do that for you? Notify the rest of her fosters? I know you’ve covered your sisters, but there were a lot of kids who went through here over the years. I’m sure they’d like to pay their respects.”

Her face relaxed a fraction. “That would be amazing. I’m sure we’ll have a houseful after the funeral, but I need a chance to gird my loins for the influx. Mom kept a list. I’ll get it for you.”

As she disappeared upstairs, he wandered into the living room. Little had changed over the years. The big, cushy sofas had rotated a time or two. And there’d been at least three rugs that he could remember. But photos of Joan and her charges were scattered everywhere. Xander eased along the wall, scanning faces. A lot of them he knew. A lot of them, he didn’t.

A shot at the end caught his attention. The girl’s face was turned away from the camera, looking out over the misty mountains. She was on the cusp of womanhood, her long, tanned legs crossed on the swing that still hung from the porch outside, a book forgotten in her lap. Her golden hair was caught in a loose tail at her nape. Xander’s fingers itched with the memory of the silky strands flowing through his fingers. She’d been sixteen, gorgeous, and the center of his world. The sight of her still gave him a punch in the gut.

“Here it is.”

At the sound of Pru’s voice, Xander turned away from Kennedy’s picture. Over and done.

He strode over and took the pages she’d printed. “I’ll take care of it,” he promised.

“Thank you, Xander. This means a lot.”

“Anytime.” With one last, affectionate tug on her hair, he stepped outside, away from memories and the looming specter of what might have been.