Free Family Matters by Barbara White Daille Page A

a tomboy forever, probably always would be. Still, the idea that this man might have classified her after a few hours’ acquaintance set her temper alight. She could get her Irish up as well as Gran could. But that wouldn’t help the situation. Fighting for control, she pressed down so hard with her hands, she practically fused them to her hips.
    â€œWhat is it you’ve got on your mind?” she asked evenly.
    Olivia took Uncle Bren’s arm and moved him closer, putting the four of them almost shoulder-to-shoulder in a small circle.
    Kerry felt like the runt of the litter.
    â€œMatthew—” Olivia began.
    â€œMom, let me take care of this,” he said, his gaze locked on Uncle Bren. “MacBride, it’s bad enough you’ve thrown innocent people’s hard-earned money away on a run-down pier, a scattering of ramshackle booths and a handful of amusement rides all battered and rusted beyond repair. And now you’re too busy—” his gaze shot to Olivia, then back “—even to lend a hand with this decrepit amusement park?”
    Kerry looked at him in surprise. Matt’s argument hadn’t presented anything new, but this last angle certainly had. Could it be Uncle Bren’s friendship with his mother that had him so upset now?
    His voice had risen, and his deep, rumbling baritone projected easily into the room. It must come in handy in court. Just as Kerry had feared, the residents started to gather around.
    â€œIt’s not decrepit.” Indignation filled Uncle Bren’s tone. “Why, if you’d only come take a stroll around the park like we asked—”
    â€œTo see what? That the buildings look about to collapse, and the pier’s likely to give way any minute?”
    Kerry flushed. For just an instant, she felt light-headed enough to give way herself. Even from a distance yesterday, she had noticed how run-down the old park looked. Matt had a point, she had to admit. The investors could be in over their heads. But she couldn’t let him browbeat her family. “How do you know what the park looks like, if you haven’t seen it up close?” she demanded.
    â€œI don’t need to—”
    â€œExcuse me.” A slight, deeply tanned man had stepped closer to their group. “The pier is steady as they make them.”
    Matt frowned. “And you know this, how?”
    â€œA good eye—”
    Matt laughed.
    â€œâ€”and forty-eight years in structural engineering.”
    Kerry turned to him in relief. “Thank you, Mr….”
    â€œCall me Carl.”
    â€œWhat about the buildings?” Obviously, Matt wasn’t going to let this go. “You can’t tell me they’re not in bad shape.”
    Another man stepped forward, as tall and broad as Carl was slight. “Weather damage, that’s all. Some wear and tear, but nothing a handful of two-by-fours and a coat of paint won’t fix.”
    â€œAnd you know—” Matt began.
    â€œFifty-three years in construction,” the man interrupted, a smug smile creasing his broad face. “And you can call me Mr. Delmont, sonny— if you have to call me anything at all.”
    Kerry choked back a laugh. The smooth-talking lawyer had been outtalked—and outfoxed—by a couple of small-town seniors. Evidently, the knowledge didn’t sit too well with him. A slow burn of color crept across his cheekbones.
    Her hand suddenly itched for a pencil and her sketchpad.
    Uncle Bren gave her a tentative grin, which brought her back from her artistic fantasies immediately. If he’d knownall these positive things about the park, why hadn’t he said something before Matt threatened him with jail?
    â€œAll right,” Matt said in a tone so unexpectedly soft, a few of the residents moved closer to hear. “If the property’s not totally derelict, that ought to make it easier to sell.”
    His mother touched his