Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

Hank stared out of the window in his father’s office, fascinated by the bony branches of the sycamore trees that surrounded his parents’ ranch. Twin Peaks jutted from behind the trees—snow covered and majestic—and pregnant gray clouds frothed low and ominous, seeping into the valleys. More snow would come before the next morning—Christmas morning.

He took a drink of the hot tea he’d made as he passed through the kitchen, and winced when he found it cold. He had no idea how long he’d been standing at the window, thinking of Sophie, wondering what she was doing or how she was. She hadn’t been answering his calls or texts.

“You can’t hide in here forever, you know,” his father said.

Hank turned from the window to see his father grinning at him from behind his massive walnut desk. His feet were propped on the edge as he leaned back in his chair, very much lord of the castle.

Mick O’Hara was a man’s man and had managed to raise five rambunctious—and sometimes mischievous—sons to adulthood, with only a handful of trips to the ER over the years. A success in Hank’s opinion.

“You’re doing a pretty good job of it,” Hank said, tipping his cup to his father. “In fact, if I recall, you usually disappear around this time every year.”

“Well, can you blame me?” Mick asked. “I built this house with my own hands. And then I added on more rooms as each of you boys came into the world. And then I added more rooms as your brothers started marrying and adding to the family. I’ve grown out of my own house. Where else am I supposed to go? Even the animals are tired of me sneaking out to the barn.”

Hank chuckled.

“I’ve got all I need right here.” Mick opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out a bottle of expensive Irish whiskey and a box of cigars. “What do you say, my boy? Can I pour you two fingers?”

“I wouldn’t say no,” Hank said, accepting the short crystal glass. “But if Mom smells that cigar smoke I’m not taking the rap for you.”

“Traitor,” his father said. But Mick just grinned as he took out a portable fan from his desk and flipped it on before lighting his cigar.

Hank took a seat in the burgundy leather chair across from the desk and stretched out his long legs.

“You’ve got a woman on the mind,” Mick said.

“How do you know?” Hank asked.

“Because I know that look. Nothing can put misery on a man’s face like a woman you love.” Mick waggled his eyebrows as he took another puff from the cigar. “I’ve learned a thing or two in my sixty years.”

Hank’s mouth quirked in a half smile, identical to his father’s. “I promised Mom I’d be here with the family.”

“A noble thing, family,” Mick said. “Nothing fills your heart with pride and makes you want to take up the bottle at the same time. Next time just tell your mother no.”

Hank scoffed. “You try telling Mom no.”

“Did that once,” Mick said, remembering fondly. “Still have the scar to prove it. Quite a woman your mother.”

“There you go,” Hank said, nodding. “It’s not that I don’t want to be here. It’s nice that everyone is under one roof. It’s been too long.”

“And…”

“And business is good,” he said. “Better than good. I’ve got the new city hall project ready to go, and residential building has increased, even in the off-season. It’s a double-edged sword. On the one hand, I really like the money. But on the other…”

“You don’t want a population boom in Laurel Valley,” his dad finished.

“Yeah,” Hank said.

“It was bound to happen sooner or later,” Mick said. “People like to build their ski chalets and bunny bungalows. Fortunately, it’s short lived. Take their money, son. You know they’ll only use their fancy houses a few weeks out of the year. That thin blood does no good up here.”

“Good advice,” Hank said. “All I’m saying is that I’ve got everything I could ever want or need. I’d be a good provider, a good husband and father.”

“I’ve got no doubt about that,” Mick said. “Let me ask you something since you melded everything going on with the business into talk about marriage and family.”

Hank just grunted and looked down at his drink.

“Are the two the same to you?” Mick asked. “Do you approach one the same as the other? Because if you do, I don’t think that’s going to work for a woman like Sophie.”

“I didn’t say anything about Sophie,” Hank said.

“You don’t have to. It’s plain as day you’re head over heels in love with her. But I’m guessing since she’s not here with the family that you messed something up.”

“Thanks, Dad,” he said. “I appreciate that.”

“Just keeping it real, son,” he said. And then he sighed. “You’re one of the best men I know. I did a good job if I can pat myself on the back a little. But you’re a fixer. It’s what and who you are. You want people to live their best lives. You want communities and families to prosper. And you want your own family to be healthy and safe. It’s why you’ve done what you have with Laurel Valley. You’ve made it a place better for all of us and you should be commended for it.

“But I’m going to tell you a little secret about women. They don’t like being fixed. One of the best pieces of advice I ever got from my dad was to ask your mother if she wanted me to fix the problem or if she wanted me to just listen. I can count on one finger the number of times she said she wanted me to fix the problem.”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Hank said. “If I can fix it, why not let me do it?”

“Because women are women and the good Lord made them different than us. And thank God for it because wouldn’t we all be in a mess? Sophie doesn’t want you to fix it for her. She wants you to fix it with her. And you might deny it, but you can be a steamroller when you have a goal in sight. It’s how you’ve built a successful company. But you won’t build a successful marriage doing things the same way.”

Hank sighed. “Yeah, I guess I let the whole thing get away from me. I want her to have her dreams. I want her to have the bookstore. I want her to have everything I can possibly give her.”

“And that,” Mick said, nodding. “Is what will make a good marriage. When you both want the best for the other. When you both lift the other up. When you both realize that there will be times when you’ve got to carry the load when she’s struggling. And times when she’ll have to carry the load when you are. Marriage is the best gift we’ve ever been given as humans on this earth. Children are a close second. You know how to build a strong foundation. All you have to do is put the work in.”

“You’re a pretty smart guy,” Hank said, smiling sheepishly.

“I would have paid good money to hear that when you were a teenager. Why don’t you go pay Sophie a visit. Bring her back here for Christmas when you’re done apologizing.”

Hank put his empty glass down on the table and got to his feet.

“But maybe before you go you could take a look at the boiler. It’s making a weird sound again.”

“At least I’m useful for something,” Hank said.

“That’s the spirit,” Mick said, his laugh big and booming.

“I guess I can go look at the boiler.” Hank’s smile was devious. “And I won’t mention to Mom about the cigar.”

Mick narrowed his eyes and clamped the cigar between his teeth. “That’s just downright nasty. You’d blackmail your own father.”

“I think extortion is a better word,” Hank said, laughing at the indignant look on his father’s face as he left the office.

As soon as he left the secluded space where his father’s office was located, he was bombarded with a cacophony of sounds. Children laughing and screaming as they chased each other at breakneck speeds through the house, his brothers yelling at a football game, and women’s laughter coming from the kitchen. And then there was him.

Hank always felt a little bit like the odd man out. He was the middle child, thirteen months younger than Aidan and two years older than Colt. His brother Wyatt had been a surprise, born a full five years after Hank and a full seven years after his oldest brother Duncan.

A rather raucous shriek came from somewhere overhead and he heard a crash followed by a herd of footsteps running down the stairs.

“Harrison O’Hara,” his sister-in-law Dylan yelled from the kitchen. Dylan was his brother Aidan’s wife. “That better not have been you and your merry band of cousins. If you made a mess you clean it up.”

There were grumbles and a bunch of, “Yes, ma’ams,” as footsteps could be heard going back up the stairs.

Hank grinned. It was bedlam. Complete bedlam. He loved his family. Really, he did. It’s just that there were so many of them. Everywhere he turned, there was another O’Hara in his path for him to trip over. But what else could he expect. He was the last brother standing. The last one to settle down and start a family.

He wasn’t a complete wastrel. None of his cousins were married either, and the only grandchild Aunt Simone and Uncle Tommy had was Mac. And she’d been born when his cousin Ryder had barely been out of high school.

There were a bunch of manly cheers from the next room as a touchdown was scored, and his youngest brother, Wyatt, skidded out of the family room and ran to the kitchen at top speed, coming out seconds later with a tray of snacks and a bucket of cold drinks. The women were smart enough to know the best place the men could be was out of the kitchen while they were cooking Christmas dinner, so they kept snacks at the ready to shove into waiting arms.

Hank was used to the commotion after all these years, but there was a reason he’d chosen to live in the cabin he’d built, secluded from the rest of the town—and better yet, the rest of the O’Haras.

“Uncle Hank!” his nephew Charlie said, cornering him in the mudroom. He had the wild-eyed look of a kid who’d had too much candy and had been playing video games too long. “Come play Mario Kart. I’m the champion. Ain’t nobody that can beat me.”

“Rain check, kid,” Hank said, tousling the top of his dark head. “I’ve gotta do a job for Grandad.”

Hank pulled on his ski cap and his warm lambskin jacket. His scarf was still damp from the last snowball fight, so he didn’t bother with it. He pulled his gloves from his pockets and slipped them on, hoping the tools he had in his truck would be enough to fix the problem. The hardware store was closed, and he’d have to drive to his shop for parts if they were needed.

“Aww, man,” Charlie said, pouting pitifully. “Who am I supposed to beat now?”

On second thought, maybe a trip to his shop was exactly the escape he needed.

“Go ask your dad,” Hank said.

“No way,” Charlie said, expression horrified at the thought. “He’s the worst. I always beat him. Besides, Mom said he couldn’t play anymore because he got too excited and broke her plant.”

Hank’s lips twitched, tucking away that bit of information for later use. “I’ll tell you what. As soon as I’m done with the boiler I’ll come beat you.”

Charlie gave him a gap-toothed smile and held out his pudgy hand for Hank to shake. “Deal.”

“Oh, Hank,” his mother said, peeking into the mudroom. She looked frazzled and her cheeks were pink from the heat in the kitchen. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. You’re not leaving are you?”

His mother was still one of the most beautiful women he’d ever seen. Her hair was a softer shade of red than it had been when he was a child, and it was artfully highlighted with wisps of blond. Her skin was smooth due to a fantastic esthetician, her eyes a snapping blue, and she had a voice like an angel.

She’d been on the way to Broadway stardom when she’d met his father forty years before. Mick had been dragged kicking and screaming to the opening night of Kiss Me, Kate by a guy who’d set him up with a mutual friend for a blind date. Mick hadn’t had much interest in the blind date, but he’d taken one look at Anne Winslow and fought his way backstage after the show to get an introduction.

Mick got tossed out on his ear by security that night, but not before he’d gotten Anne’s number. It had been instant attraction for the both of them. A once-in-a-lifetime meeting of souls that were meant to spend eternity together. They eloped two weeks later.

Then in a very short period of time their lives and priorities changed. His mother finished the run of Kiss Me, Kate about the time she found out she was pregnant with his oldest brother Duncan , and his father was sent the news that his old man had died suddenly from a tractor incident, leaving the ranch to his widow and to fend off all the wolves coming out of the woodwork to try and buy up prime real estate.

His parents had no choice but to come home. It was a sacrifice they’d both been happy to make.

Hank had grown up hearing the story of how his parents had met. Maybe it had painted an unrealistic expectation in his mind of what it would be like when he finally met the right woman. But Sophie’s face kept appearing in his mind, and he knew she was the right woman.

“I was heading down to the basement,” Hank said. “Dad said the boiler is acting up.”

“Oh, right,” she said, waving a hand in dismissal. “If it’s not one thing it’s another in this old house. Don’t tell your father, but I wouldn’t mind living out the rest of our days in one of those sleek condos you’re building downtown. I heard there will even be laundry service.”

“You heard right,” Hank said, shocked at her confession. “I thought you loved this place.”

“Some days I do,” she admitted. “Today is not one of those days. I’ve got a boiler from the pit of Hades, fences that always need mending, creaky floors, and your father keeps escaping to the barn to smoke those cigars of his. Not to mention I’ve got a twenty-pound turkey I’ve got to figure out how to shove in that ancient oven. Which is why I’m glad I caught you before you head out to look at the boiler. I need your man strength.”

“Good thing you had sons instead of daughters,” Hank said, pulling off his gloves and following her back into the chaos.

Cheers greeted him from his sisters-in-law as he came into the old farmhouse kitchen. The smells that greeted him would be worth every bit of inconvenience and headache in the end.

“Our hero,” Raven said.

Hattie winked, rubbing her very pregnant belly, and said, “Have I ever told you you’re my favorite brother-in-law? I’m too fat to maneuver myself and a turkey in this kitchen.”

“What Mom needs is a new kitchen,” Dylan said, giving him a look that made him very nervous. “One of those new state-of-the-art kitchens that would fit all of us as we grow. You’d think there was someone in the family who could see to something like that.”

“Hank’s offered to renovate this place more times than I can count,” Anne said, coming to her son’s defense. “The problem is I can’t decide what I want. There’s too many choices. So I’ll just leave it as is until I can make up my mind.”

“What you need is one of those home makeover shows,” Hattie said, popping an olive in her mouth from one of the snack trays.

“Ooh, I love that idea,” Raven seconded.

Dylan nodded enthusiastically. “Then they can just come in and get to know your style before kicking you out and redoing the whole place. No decisions needed.”

“I thought I was here to shove a turkey in the oven,” Hank said, the heat from the kitchen snaking rivulets of sweat down his back.

“Shove away, son,” Anne said, pointing to the oversized roasting pan on the counter. “May the Lord be with you.”

He snickered and made his way over to the oven, making sure the rack was in the right place for optimal space, and then he turned back to look at the turkey with doubt.

“Dad might have gotten a little overzealous in his turkey selection this year,” Hank said.

“Not at all,” Anne said. “Served him right if you ask me. Meanest turkey we’ve ever had here on the farm. Terrorized all the other animals. He got into the pen one day and scared the chickens so bad I didn’t get eggs for a week. I can’t tell you how much pleasure it gave me to yank out his giblets and shove butter under his skin.”

“That went darker than I thought,” Hank said. “But I’ll eat him anyway.”

“Don’t think we’ve forgotten about the kitchen renovation idea,” Hattie said. “Your dimples and boyish good looks only go so far.”

He shoved the turkey in the oven with a grunt and managed to get the door closed, and then he put a hand on his lower back, mostly kidding about the muscles that were probably going to be very sore later.

“You heard the woman,” Hank said, making his way back toward the door and flashing the dimples in question. “She can’t make up her mind. But when she does, I’ll have a crew here ready to tear this whole place apart.”

“Deal,” Raven said. “You know who’d be great at helping pick out things for the kitchen?” Her eyes were big and round and full of mischief. “Sophie would be great at it. She’s always been very decisive.”

“Not in my experience,” Hank said under his breath.

“Maybe you’re not giving her the right choices,” Raven said. “But my bet is on you.”

Hank looked around the kitchen, his gaze meeting his sisters-in-law and his mother.

“Tell Sophie hello for us,” his mother said, coming up to kiss him on the cheek.

“Will do,” Hank said.

“Oh, and thanks for shoving that devil turkey into the oven for me.”

Hank chuckled as he put his gloves back on and headed out the back door and into peace and quiet.