He smiled at her. “A little birdy told me something while I was away.”
“What kind of birdy?” Kathleen’s eyes sparkled with mischief despite the serious conversation they’d been having.
“The kind that works at the bookstore and may have sent me a text. Your birthday is tomorrow.”
Kathleen blinked in surprise. “Isabel contacted you?”
“She did. So what are you doing to celebrate? Have you made any plans?”
“I don’t want a fuss,” Kathleen said, unconsciously echoing words he’d heard her say before. “It’s just another day.”
Patrick raised an eyebrow. “Just another day? Kathleen Armstrong, you’re turning sixty-six. That deserves to be celebrated.”
“Does it?” She glanced at a wall of family photos and smiled. “I’ve had enough big celebrations to last a lifetime. These days, I prefer simpler things.”
“Such as?” Patrick asked.
Kathleen sighed. “Spending time with a man whose company I enjoy, especially when he makes me laugh and challenges me to think differently about the world.” She placed her hand against his chest. “Someone who looks handsome even when he’s covered in Manhattan stress and doesn’t realize it.”
Patrick studied Kathleen’s paint-streaked face for a long moment, taking in the hope and vulnerability in her eyes. “I was afraid I’d lost my chance,” he admitted quietly. “I know I said I’d come back, but I wondered if you’d given up waiting for me.”
“That wouldn’t have happened,” Kathleen said firmly.
A certainty that Patrick hadn’t felt since his wife died washed over him. The careful reserve he’d been maintaining since he arrived began to dissolve, replaced by something warmer and more open.
“In that case,” he said with a relieved smile, “I might know of a birthday celebration that wouldn’t be too much of a fuss. Something quiet and simple, with people who care about you.”
“What did you have in mind?”
Patrick grinned. “Well, for starters, I could help you paint the office.”
“I’d like that,” she said. “Though I should probably warn you—I’m much better at cooking than I am at painting.”
“We’ll figure it out together,” Patrick said, and he meant it in ways that went far beyond painting walls. The way her expression had softened at the word ‘together’ told him she understood. “And tomorrow, we could have lunch with your family and friends. I’ll call Natalie and see if she’s okay with me organizing a picnic by the lake.”
“That sounds like the perfect way to celebrate my birthday,” Kathleen murmured.
Patrick pulled her closer and kissed her gently on the lips. With a grin, he asked, “Are you ready to get back to work?”
Kathleen smiled. “I thought you’d never ask.”
Chapter 22
Patrick was pouring his first cup of coffee for the day when his phone rang. He looked at the caller ID and frowned. It was Noah, and it was only six-thirty.
“Good morning,” Patrick said as he picked up his mug. “You’re up early for a Sunday.”
“I couldn’t sleep,” Noah admitted. “Cassie and the kids are still in bed, so I thought it would be a good time to talk.”
Patrick’s chest tightened. The carefully controlled tone in Noah’s voice was the same one he’d used as a boy when he was upset. “Of course it’s a good time. What’s going on?”
Noah’s words came out in a rush. “Meridian backed out, Granddad. They’re not buying Mason Industries’ shares.”
Patrick set down his coffee mug with a sharp clink. “They backed out? When did this happen?”
“Last night. Their board had second thoughts about the acquisition. Something about regulatory concerns and market volatility.” Noah’s laugh was hollow. “We spent weeks preparing for a fight that’s not going to happen.”
Patrick leaned back in his chair. For the past month, Noah had been consumed with the threat of Meridian’s hostile takeover. The stress had been eating away at him, affecting his sleep, his health, and most importantly, his relationship with Cassie and their children.
