She wasn’t ruthless.
“I’d say so. Bro, you’d better have a good game plan. This isn’t a woman who will give you an easy second chance.”
He knew it. “I’m ready.”
“If you need a romance consultant, I charge a hundred an hour. Family rate.”
Quinn laughed. “Good to know.”
“You sound less grouchy already. She’s good for you. It’s clear as day.”
Quinn realized he did feel lighter. This conversation proved it. He also felt an excitement for life he hadn’t had in a while. “I can’t disagree.”
“We’re going to help you win her back. Anything you need, bro. Remember I can be charming. I’ll roll out sweet stories about you being my older brother.”
“You have stories like that?” He blinked in surprise.
“Yeah… Sure. I mean, you were the one who put me on my first bike and ran beside me until I could balance it alone.”
The bike had been blue, he remembered, and J.T. had begged him for help. Since he loved the freedom of riding a bike himself, he’d stepped up. “You were a natural. Trevor, not so much.”
“Yeah, his balance was awful back then,” J.T. said, laughing. “Let’s hope his kids don’t get that gene. Thank God he grew out of it.”
He didn’t often think of those easy days, growing up with his sisters and brothers in their family home in Napa—and he sure as hell didn’t dredge them up out of nostalgia—but he found he was grateful for them. “Mom and Dad did a good job by us.”
“Mom mostly, but Dad is trying to catch up. Did you know he’s talked Michaela and Boyd into letting him go on their next trip to Kenya? He wants to visit the Maasai village that protects the Valley of Stars flowers.” The elusive healing flowers had drawn Michaela and the others to Kenya. Aunt Clara and Uncle Arthur were allies of the village, and Michaela and Boyd were developing the flower’s healing properties. But not for Merriam. “Can you see Dad trekking in the bush?”
“Not really, but you have to admire it somehow.”
“Yeah, you do. Hey! This was…good, man. We should do this more often.”
Quinn knew what he meant. “Yeah. I’ll have you over for steaks when you arrive. We can do a whiskey tasting. Anything you want.”
“That would be great. Okay, call your matchmakers, man. Your woman beckons. Ah… Any problem with me telling Trev about her and you? Or are you planning on telling everyone individually? The minute people hear about Aunt Clara and Uncle Arthur, they’ll know something is up. Since you’re usually so private about things, I’m not sure they’ll ask you directly.”
No, they might not, he supposed. Some of his family members might be upset he hadn’t said anything about her, but he’d never been good at expressing his emotions, and it had only become worse after Francesca had left him. If it had been daunting to share how much she meant to him, it had been more so to communicate how badly losing her had destroyed him. Shutting off that side of himself had helped dull the pain. So had work. “Tell Trev. Sure. Saves me a call. I’ll deal with the others if I need to.”
“You make it sound dire, man. They’re going to be happy for you—and they’ll feel the same kind of righteous indignation I do about what happened to you two in London fifteen years ago. I wish… I wish I’d known, man. I’d have come to London and taken you pub crawling or something.”
He got choked up, hearing that. The grief of losing her had nearly broken him, and he’d borne it alone. “All right, enough of all this brotherly love. If we keep it up, I’ll have to move Merriam HQ to Philadelphia since it’s their motto.”
“Being a sap looks good on you, Quinn,” J.T. said, laughing. “See ya, bro.”
“See ya, J.T., and thanks.”
He ended the call and noted his assistant had left a message for him to call her. Marian Fong and he were still learning each other’s rhythms, but he appreciated her brevity and efficiency, exactly as Connor had described it. “Yes, Marian?” he said when he rang her.
“I have the background piece on Alice Bailey you requested, sir,” she said crisply. “I also emailed it to you.”
He didn’t say she’d managed it faster than he’d expected. It would insult her. “Your impression, Ms. Fong?”
“She is a unique person with a rare and diverse skill set. Incredible academic performance. Numerous awards for everything from cooking classes to martial arts and foreign languages as well as debate and chess. She notes additional training in high-level business contracts, mergers, and acquisitions. She is also well versed in business and personal etiquette and has high-level training in hospitality management.”
Francesca had always had an eye for talent. “I’ll look forward to seeing her file. Any family?”
“No, both her parents passed away in a car accident when she was in college. She’s an only child.”
“Thank you, Ms. Fong.”
“You’re welcome, sir. Anything else?”
“Not right now. I have another call to make. Then you can release my schedule again. Let the wolves in.”
She didn’t laugh. Was it because he’d inherited Connor’s nickname of the Big Bad Wolf? “Very good, Mr. Merriam. I’ll stand by.”
When he hung up, he pulled up the email and read about Alice Bailey. She was another girl from the Chicago area—much like his mother and Connor’s fiancée, Louisa. He knew what that meant. She didn’t look tough, but then again, neither did his mother or Louisa at first glance. But looks could be deceiving. They were both as tough and loyal as they came.
The picture surprised him. Alice looked like a corporate pixie. He could see the intelligence in her big dark eyes, but the twinkle in them was equally apparent. That twinkle suggested she enjoyed celebrating life as much as Francesca always had. Was that why they worked so well together? And was she really capable of blocking him from being with Francesca romantically? He supposed he’d find out.
Now all he needed to do was bring the matchmaking trio on to handle her.
Chapter 4
Arthur Hale had never much cared for yoga.
At least not until he married Clara. Three mornings out of the week he sipped his coffee and pretended to read the newspaper, but he mostly watched her twist herself into pretzel-like configurations. Never had he imagined they would be so tantalizing, but at eighty, he was old enough to know life threw out surprises from time to time.
Her phone started squawking, interrupting his good humor. “Clara, can’t you ever silence your phone? Woman, how can your yoga inspire all that Zen stuff if you’re still plugged in to technology?”
Her response was an amused look, and then she was falling forward into a headstand. He had to admire her. She was turning eighty next month, but there was no question she was living her best life.
“Will you see who it is, dear?” she asked. “Hargreaves is upstairs.”
“Balderdash.” Arthur set his mug down and squinted at the phone. “It’s Quinn.”
“Well, pick it up. He never calls. Always working, that one.”