Riding the Thunder - Deborah MacGillivray [116]
Desmond jerked away, rage flashing in his vivid green eyes. “It’s not over. Not ’til we take down Montgomerie Enterprises.”
Disturbed by the angry response, Jago glanced to Trevelyn, hoping for his support in getting Des to leave the cemetery. Because of their bond, his twin and he often ‘spoke’ on a near telepathic level. Too locked up in his own grief, Trev blocked Jago’s fey plea.
Fear and frustration mixing within him, Jago questioned, “You wish to go ahead with the plans?”
“You can ask that? She’s barely in the ground—a woman whose life was ruined by Sean Montgomerie.”
Jago braced himself, half-expecting Des to take a swing at him, knowing he’d accept the blow and not fight back. At least, not in that manner. He’d fight with words. “If Montgomerie were here, I’d strangle him with my bare hands, but taking the son-of-a-bitch’s crimes out on his granddaughters isn’t the way, Des. Two wrongs don’t make a right.”
“I’m not taking it out on the granddaughters.” Desmond swallowed back a myriad of emotions—looking like a drowning man and with no way to save himself. “I’m merely claiming what Sean put up as collateral. Move the plans up. I want it done.”
Placing a single red rose on top of the fresh grave, Desmond stalked off in the rain.
Alone.
“‘Oh, what a tangled web we weave.’” Jago tried to shake the sense his life was going to hell in a basket.
Trevelyn glared at him. “Shut up. Just shut up. Des doesn’t need you playing conscience. For that matter, neither do I.”
“Don’t you?” Jago’s challenge went unanswered for his twin hurried off after their brother.
“Someone shoot me—please!” Asha complained to the supper crowd in the diner. Everyone chuckled.
With Thanksgiving three days away, Asha was in a dither. Her to-do list kept growing, so many details to handle with the last minute preparations. At this point in the manic arrangements, she wasn’t sure whatever possessed her to hold Thanksgiving at the restaurant.
As the holiday approached, she’d grown sensitive to the fact that a lot of people—especially the elderly in the area, who didn’t have families to celebrate with, or the divorced or travelers—weren’t looking forward to the holiday with enthusiasm. This time of year only reminded them how alone they were. Originally, she’d wanted to have a meal for The Windmill family. But as several regular customers noticed her decorating, they’d asked hopefully if The Windmill would be open for Thanksgiving day dinner. It became apparent they would face being alone. Her heart ached, thinking how Delbert, Sam and Colin would be in the same situation if not for being a part of her little world, so the Turkey Day party expanded.
Asha recalled a book her mother had given her on the clans of Scotland, just before she died. Inside Mae had written, Some families you are born into. In this fate you have no choice. Other times, you collect special people, rare people, and make your own family. Had Mae realized Asha was the one to come back and take over what Mae had built, to carry on, to fight for this place and its way of life, when none of her other siblings would?
The Windmill family was doing the whole turkey meal—dressing, pumpkin pie, cranberry sauce and all the trimmings. They’d open their arms and hearts to make room for anyone wanting to join them. After the first breathless oh my, what have I done? Asha quickly embraced the whole idea, as did everyone.
Besides enjoying the true spirit of Thanksgiving, Asha welcomed the hectic activities; her days were kept busy with ordering and decorating from morning until late at night. She went home with Clint so tired that she ached, and fell into bed to sleep. Well, sometimes she slept. She hated how often she tossed and turned half the night, wishing for Jago.
He’d finally called—at the end of the first week. She’d intended to be huffy and give him the cold shoulder, until she heard his voice. He’d sounded so tired, stressed, her mood quickly shifted to one of worry. Though she’d pressed a little, he’d only said that he had