Heart's Haven

“Ty. Since I’ll only be here just six months,” she emphasized softly, “I’d like to get to work as quickly as possible. Do you have a schedule for start-up?”

The welcome in those clear blue eyes frosted up. Goodbye sense of humor.

“We have a rough plan. My thought was that we would get your input before we made a decision on any big changes in the kitchen.”

“My input.” She seized the opportunity. “All right then. Do you have a pen?”

When he blinked Cassidy knew he wasn’t prepared for her list. She’d give it to him anyway. They couldn’t afford to waste time deciding who did what. January in Chicago was frigid and the homeless people would need a place to come to.

She removed her coat, pulled a black marker out of her purse, picked up a hunk of cardboard from the floor and laid it on the counter. As she wrote, she spoke.

“Most of the money will have to go toward the big-ticket items. Cooler, freezer. We’ll need a new stove. I can manage with the pots and pans that are here. Now for small wares.” She checked the cupboards, shrugged. “Not bad. I bring my own knives, so we can manage for now. I am going to need a mixer though.”

She kept going, printing the things she needed—clearly and legibly so there would be no mistake about her requests.

“Wait!”

Cassidy froze at the barked order, peeked over one shoulder at her boss. His eyes gaped; he looked stunned.

Sympathy rose. She did tend to get carried away sometimes.

“Don’t worry, I can adapt to minimal conditions. Now in regard to helpers—I’ll need two. Full-time. Strong, willing to learn, not afraid of correction. It’s important—”

“Ms. Preston, would you please stop?”

“Stop?”

“Yes. Stop.” The relaxed demeanor had vanished, replaced by the deportment of a man used to giving orders.

The change in him made Cassidy catch her breath. Angry or teasing, he was still very good-looking, even when his eyes hardened to glacial chips and the steel in his voice warned her he wouldn’t easily relinquish control.

“I realize you are a fully qualified chef, Ms. Preston, and that this must be a bit of a comedown for you. But the Haven is not—”

“Hey, Ty!” The yell was punctuated by the echo of an elephant herd tromping downstairs. A boy burst into the room. Well, not quite a boy. A preteen? “You’ll never believe what I found.”

Tyson St. John sighed as he raked a hand through his hair.

“No, I probably won’t. Jack, this is Ms. Preston. She’s a chef. Elizabeth Wisdom sent her to cook for us.” His mouth tightened as he drew the boy forward. “This is my nephew, Ms. Preston. Meet Jackson Dorfman.”

Cassidy found the introduction stilted, but had no time to dwell on it as Jack jerked away from the contact and frowned at her.

“A cook, huh? What kind?”

He was testing her. That belligerence, the bottom lip jutting out, the glare from those bittersweet brown eyes—all characteristic signs of onset teenager-hood. Two younger sisters had educated Cassidy in the challenges of that particular age very well. It was not an experience she yearned to repeat.

“It’s nice to meet you, Jack.” Cassidy met the glare head-on. “What kind of cook do you want?”

“I-I don’t know.” He seemed surprised by the question, not quite ready to back down, a bit curious. “You’re not going to make things like liver pâté, are you? Or those things like clams that slide off slimy shells? Ty ordered them when we went for a fancy dinner one time.”

She swallowed her laughter, kept her face straight. “Do you mean oysters?”

“Yeah, I guess. They were gross!”

Ty, good humor restored, winked at her before turning Jack to face him.

“I think I can safely assure you that Ms. Preston will not be offering oysters on her menu. Am I right?” he asked, glancing her way.

“I’m afraid so.” She kept her face straight through a gargantuan effort. “At the Haven we will have to settle for things like beef stew, hot dogs, maybe some hamburgers. Once in a while, we might have to have roast beef, or maybe fried chicken. Unfortunately, I might even be forced to include pizza occasionally.”

Out of the corner of her eye, Cassidy could see Ty’s shoulders shake at her sad tone. She ignored him.

“That won’t be too awful, will it, Jack?”

“Mom always said God answers prayer.” Like lightning, the subject changed as Jack grabbed Ty’s arm and yanked on it. “You’ve got to come see what I’ve found. It’s the weirdest mirror. Come on!”

“Okay, okay, I’ll be there in a minute.” Ty shook his head at the burst of pounding footsteps overhead. “Remember, Jack,” he called. “Be careful.”

“Hurry!”

Cassidy was surprised by the soft look of yearning that washed over Tyson St. John’s face as he gazed after his nephew, when just moments ago there had been stiffness in his attitude with the boy that she didn’t understand.

“I’m really sorry Elizabeth didn’t tell you that we aren’t quite ready to open, Cassidy.” Ty gnawed on his bottom lip. “I don’t suppose you could get your boss to hire you back for a month or so, just until we get things shipshape?”

“I’d have to go back to Greece to do that and I don’t think it would be worth it for one month.” Cassidy kept her expression neutral as she surveyed the area. “I’ll get settled in my place over the weekend. Monday morning I’ll start cleaning in here. If you can find some helpers—”

A tremendous crash above them cut off the rest of her words. Ty instantly froze. One word whispered from his lips.

“Jack.”

It took a second before he turned and raced out of the room, his footsteps hammering the stairs as he charged upward. Cassidy followed, besieged by memories. Ty paused on the first floor, but a weak cry from above them sent him racing up a second flight.

Ty charged through a doorway. Cassidy followed then jerked to a stop. Jack lay on his back by the far wall, shards of mirror surrounding his prone body, a pool of blood forming around his head. A six-inch jagged spear of glass protruded from his brow, barely missing his right eye.

“Oh, no.” Ty remained frozen to the spot, hands clenching against his sides.

“Help me.” Jack’s words slipped from between lips drained so white they looked almost lifeless.

“Yes.” But Ty’s eyes brimmed with fear as they locked on Cassidy’s, begging her to do something.

She slapped her phone into his palm before kneeling beside the injured boy.

“Call 911,” she ordered. When he didn’t obey, she snapped, “Now.”

While he pushed the buttons, she did a quick survey of Jack then tried to make him more comfortable. A mirror hanging from the wall must have come off and landed on Jack.

“Lie still,” she murmured. “You’ll be fine. The ambulance will be here soon. It’s going to be okay. Try not to move.”

She felt Ty brush her arm as he crouched down beside her.