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They ended up in the dining room. The table had already been set and looked lovely with the linen cloth and fine china.
Whitney pulled out a chair and sat down. “I’m part of his executive team with the publishing group.”
“You used to date, didn’t you?”
Whitney blushed. “Yes. But that was years ago.”
“Didn’t that complicate things?” Callan asked.
Whitney grew hotter under Callan’s scrutiny. “Yes, it did.”
Sage took pity on Whitney. “You’re putting her on the spot, Callan.”
Callan shrugged. “If she can handle Cormac, I’m sure a few questions don’t bother her that much.” She looked at Whitney. “Right?”
Whitney gulped a mouthful of wine. “Right.”
“So how does that work when you sue your ex, who also happens to be your boss?”
“Callan.” Sage gave her youngest sister a pointed look, which Callan chose to ignore.
“At least, I thought Dillon said you’d sued Cormac in a custody battle over the little girl.” Callan smiled blithely. “But I could have misunderstood. To be honest, I don’t know Cormac very well. He’s the mystery Sheenan. He moved away to attend college in California and rarely came back.”
Sage shook her head reprovingly at her baby sister. “Callan has a vested interest in the Sheenans,” she explained.
Whitney glanced from one to the other. “Because their ranch runs adjacent to yours?”
“No.” Sage looked to her sister for permission. Callan shrugged. “We found out a year ago that Callan, and our sister, Dani, have the same biological father as the Sheenans.”
For a moment Whitney didn’t understand.
Callan pushed a dark strand of hair back from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Our mom and Bill Sheenan had a long affair,” she said bluntly.
Whitney’s jaw dropped. She stared blankly at Callan, unable to process this. “You’re Cormac’s….”
“Half-sister.” Callan rose. “Anyone else want more wine?”
“Sure,” Whitney mumbled, even though she’d barely touched hers yet.
Talk about a shock.
She was reeling. Cormac’s dad hadn’t just been unfaithful, he’d fathered two girls with a neighbor’s wife?
This wasn’t the sort of revelation she’d expected Thanksgiving weekend but it did give her new insight. No wonder Cormac hadn’t liked coming back to Marietta very often. Growing up, things couldn’t have been all that happy at home.
Chapter Twelve
‡
The Christmas Parade ended at the courthouse with the lighting of the big conifer tree growing in Crawford Park. The tree was as old as the turn-of-the-century courthouse, and looked spectacular covered in big colored lights. Whitney had gone to watch the parade with Eliza and Marshall, viewing it from Crawford Park, but she was finding it hard to feel festive when she kept thinking about the tangled relationships between the Sheenans and Carrigans.
Cormac had never mentioned anything about his father cheating on his mom, but then, that wasn’t the sort of thing that you’d probably want others to know.
She wondered why Callan had shared the information. Had Callan thought it was something Whitney should know?
The crowd began cheering and Whitney saw that Santa was coming, waving to all from his decorated horse-drawn carriage.
Kris looked particularly magnificent today, Whitney thought, waving along with the rest of the crowd. He had a ruddy glow in his cheeks and a sparkle in his bright blue eyes and seemed to be enjoying himself enormously.
Eliza leaned towards Whitney. “He’s a very good Santa, isn’t he?” she said.
“Yes.” Whitney agreed. “I think he’s probably the best one I’ve ever met.”
Still waving to the children ringing the park and streets, Kris stepped from the carriage and headed to the platform that ringed the enormous tree.
The mayor said a few words and then the president of the downtown business association said a few words and then Kris said ho-ho-ho and the tree lights went on and everyone cheered once more. Whitney was clapping, too. It was beautiful.
With the local Girl Scout troop singing carols, kids lined up to say hello to Santa who was still standing in front of the tree, giving out candy canes and hugs.
Whitney was just about to leave with Eliza and Marshall when she spotted Cormac and Daisy in the back of the long line waiting to greet Santa.
Daisy was bouncing on her toes but Cormac looked downright grim. Whitney wondered what was up, and said goodbye to Eliza and Marshall so she could go join Cormac and Daisy.
“Hello,” she said to them, leaning down to hug Daisy. “How was your Thanksgiving? Did you eat lots of turkey?”
Daisy grinned. “No. But I love pumpkin pie.”
“So do I.” As Whitney smiled at her she studied Cormac from the corner of her eyes. He definitely seemed out of sorts about something. “How about you?” she asked him. “Was it a good day?”
“It was fine.”
Even his answer was brusque. “Hmm, not very convincing,” she said. “But I’ll let it slide.”
“Daddy’s a grouch today,” Daisy volunteered. “We were going to go ice skating but there was some problem at work so we didn’t.” Daisy shot Cormac an accusing glance. “But at least we get to see Santa Claus now—” she broke off as she spotted a little girl in line just ahead of them from her preschool class, and they started talking and jumping up and down together chanting “Santa! Santa! Santa!”
Whitney watched Cormac watching Daisy. “Why are you so annoyed?” she whispered to Cormac. “It’s Santa.”
He turned his back to Daisy so she couldn’t hear. “It’s not Santa,” he corrected under his breath. “It’s an old dude in a rented suit. And I’m not a fan, okay?”
“Of all Santas, or just this one?”
“This one. He’s…a little too slick.”
“Slick? He’s not all slick. He’s down to earth and kind and charming—”
“I know you’re a fan. That doesn’t mean I have to be.”
“He really is lovely, Cormac. I’m quite fond of him. Don’t be mean.”
His frown deepened. “I’m not trying to be mean. I just don’t want to see Daisy hurt.”
“Why would she be hurt?”
“Because she believes in Santa’s goodness and all of his magic, certain that he’s going to bring her exactly what she’s asked him for.” He groaned beneath his breath. “And that’s never happened before.”
“What?” she asked, not certain she’d heard him correctly.
“She’s never asked Santa for anything before.”
“Never…ever? Not even when you’d take her to see him for photos and all that?”
He shook his head. “No. She’d just sit there on his lap and get her picture taken. She’d be so serious, barely smiling—” he broke off, brow furrowing, lips compressed.
For a moment he didn’t continue, his pensive gaze fixed on Daisy who was wiggling in line with her friend from preschool, each trying different dance moves. “I just don’t want her hurt. I don’t want her disappointed. She’s finally asked Santa for something…but I don’t know what it is. She won’t tell me. She says Santa knows and Santa’s going to bring it to her. But how can Santa deliver if I don’t know what it is?”
For a split second she thought he was joking—this was ruthless Cormac Sheenan after all—but when his gaze settled on Daisy again and his hard expression softened, Whitney understood.
He didn’t want to let her down. He was genuinely worried about fulfilling Daisy’s Christmas wish.
“Christmas is still weeks away. I’m sure she’ll tell you.”
“And if she doesn’t?”
“Then I’ll find out for you.”
“You think you could?”
“Of course.”
“How?”
“I’m a girl. We girls love to talk and share secrets.”
*
By the middle of the next week, things were progressing so well at the Crookshank Building that Whitney was able to spend a few days at her desk, focusing on her primary job—the magazines.
She was happy to be back doing what she did best. It was stimulating and yet familiar. After checking in with Jeff, she read reports, Skyped with her team back in Denver, going over the magazine budgets and layouts, talking future issues, and reminding the staff that soon she wouldn’t be there, that everything they were discussing could and would change, and that everyone in the publishing group needed to be prepared for change.
Which made her wonder, who would be taking over her job? Was Jeff in charge of replacing her, or did Cormac have someone in mind?
When Cormac dropped by her office just after lunch on Wednesday, she was on the phone talking with the Senior Editor of Big Sky Bridal and trying to help handle an advertiser problem with the May/June issue before it turned into a full-blown crisis that impacted all of the Sheenan publications.
She waved Cormac into her office and he took a seat across from her and waited while she ended the call.
“Calm under fire,” he said. “You’re good.”
“Don’t say that yet. We will have to see how this resolves.”
“If you’re handling the problem, it’ll work out. It always does.”
“You have such confidence.”
“In you. I don’t think you’ve ever let me down.”
She inhaled hard, feeling a pinch of emotion that she didn’t want to feel. Not here, not while working with him.
“I have a situation, too. I need to jump on a plane to LA today, be there for a meeting in the morning.”
“Go.”
He hesitated. “I’m worried about Daisy. I’m not comfortable having her stay at Trey and McKenna’s yet.”
