A Cavanaugh Christmas by Marie Ferrarella Page B

echoed. That was certainly an odd way to put it. “Who makes the first?”
    “Andrew Cavanaugh.” The man had served up several incredible themes and variations of classic pizza at the last “meeting” that had been called gathering the entire family together.
    The man certainly seemed to revel in all that closeness, Tom thought. Up until that point, he’d thought he had a large family when it was just the seven of them and Dad. Now that almost seemed small and cozy in comparison.
    “Andrew Cavanaugh,” Kait repeated. “Is he any relation to the chief of detectives?”
    Tom nodded as he pressed for the elevator. “Andrew’s his older brother. He used to be the chief of police,” Tom went on, “before he took an early retirement. But that’s a long story.”
    “Another long story,” she noted, then asked, “Do all the Cavanaughs have long stories?” She remembered what he’d said earlier about there being a long story behind the discrepancy about his name.
    The elevator arrived just as he shrugged. He waited for her to get in, then got in himself. Tom pressed for the first floor. “I don’t know. There’s a lot of them to ask.”
    “How many of them are there?” she asked, her curiosity piqued despite her best efforts not to care. “Cavanaughs, not stories,” she clarified.
    She probably thought he was just carelessly tossing terms around, he thought. Was she in for a surprise. “At last count?”
    “Well, yeah.”
    He paused for a moment, doing a mental head count. He remembered being really overwhelmed when he’d first walked into Andrew’s house for the initial introduction, and he wasn’t a man who was rattled easily.
    Tom suspected that his siblings had all felt more or less the same way. The Cavanaughs en masse were a mighty force to be reckoned with.
    “Strictly speaking, if you don’t count spouses or children, there are twenty-eight of them—if you include my side of the family.”
    Kaitlyn stared at him. He had to be pulling her leg. “You’re not serious.”
    “Why wouldn’t I be?”
    She laughed shortly, shaking her head. “Where I come from, there’re towns with less people than that.”
    He could well believe it. The Southwest had more than its share of small towns. “Yeah, well, fortunately, the Cavanaughs use their powers for good and not evil,” he quipped.

    Chapter 5
    A fter an initial, mercifully brief discussion as to whether or not they were going to be using two vehicles or just one and if one, which, Tom was a little surprised that he managed to convince Kait that since he actually knew where the restaurant was and she didn’t, he should be the one to drive them there.
    “I expected you to put up more of an argument,” he admitted as he approached his destination several minutes later.
    “Didn’t really seem worth the effort,” Kaitlyn told him.
    She had to be tired. But for someone who was obviously dead on her feet, she still looked damn good from where he was sitting.
    The restaurant, Naples, had been in the neighborhood for the past thirty-five years. Some said longer. In that time it slowly expanded from a small, two-table storefront eatery to what it was today, a large, sprawling restaurant that took up a third of the block it was on and was generally filled with customers. Tonight was no exception.
    Its patrons didn’t seem to mind or really notice that the restaurant’s decor amounted to just the bare minimum. The tables all had the classic checkered red-and-white tablecloths, some which were even frayed around the edges. The floor was covered with sawdust that was swept out every night. The prices were more than fair, and what money was left over after the staff was paid went right back into the business. Only the best ingredients were used, and the ovens were top quality. No one had ever been known to go away dissatisfied.
    Sitting at the table, waiting for their order to be brought over once it emerged out of the oven, Kait slowly took in her