Rory’s eyes narrowed. “What exactly am I helping with?”
“Well, with Jamison, of course. I thought if you could show him around town, spend some time with him—”
“Wait! What?” she asked in alarm. “Why me?”
“You have such a way with people. Of keeping calm and helping them relax. Not to mention how taken Hannah is with you. You saw that, and I know Jamison did, too.”
Yes, Rory had noticed Hannah’s shy fascination. Knowing the little girl had lost her mother added a sense of heartbreak to the tiny fingers that had wrapped around her hand. But it wasn’t enough to erase the memory of the dark, disapproving clouds brewing in Jamison’s gray gaze.
She’d dealt with enough parental disapproval in her relationship with Peter to last a lifetime.
“I don’t think that’s such a good idea, Lindsay. With everything Hannah and Jamison must be going through—”
“That’s why this is so perfect!” her friend insisted. “Back home they’re surrounded by memories, but Clearville—and you—are a clean slate. I know this isn’t some miracle fix for what they’ve lost. No one expects that. All I’m asking is for you to show them around town. Give them a tour of Hillcrest House. You’re always saying how magical the place is.”
“So no miracles required, just performing a little magic,” Rory said wryly as she sank back in her chair. But she was already caving despite Jamison’s disapproval, despite her own reluctance to spend time with a man who made her heart skip a beat even when he was frowning at her.
Because once upon a time, Rory had found magic at Hillcrest House, and while her belief might have wavered a time or two over the years, it had never left her.
And when she thought about Hannah and the seriousness in her big brown eyes, Rory couldn’t help thinking that belief in happily-ever-after was what the little girl needed.
As for Jamison... Well, there was some magic Rory wasn’t sure even a fairy godmother could perform.
* * *
As a corporate lawyer at Spears, Moreland and Howe, one of the most prestigious firms in San Francisco, Jamison Porter was at the top of his game. He was vying for a promotion that would make him the youngest junior partner in the firm’s history. He had a track record of success and negotiated million-dollar deals for breakfast.
So why was it he couldn’t win an argument with his daughter when it came to eating breakfast?
“I want pancakes.”
Still in her ladybug pajamas, her hair a tangled mess of curls—proof of another battle he’d already lost this morning—Hannah slouched in the dining room chair in a classic pout.
“Hannah...”
The key to winning any negotiation was coming to the table from a place of power, and in this, Jamison had none. Zip. Zilch. Nada. Not after he’d given in to her request for pancakes the day before.
But how was he supposed to say strong when his daughter’s willful tantrum broke down and she’d whispered, “Mommy let me have pancakes,” with tears filling her eyes?
And so he’d given in and learned the hard way a sugar rush was not a myth. Hyped up on the sweet stuff, Hannah had talked almost nonstop after leaving the bridal shop—mostly about the very woman Jamison was trying so hard not to think about.
“Rory says I can wear ribbons in my hair.
“Rory says I’ll get to carry a basket filled with roses and can throw them like it’s raining flowers.
“Rory says...”
But no matter how much his daughter talked, it was Rory’s voice Jamison heard. Her smile that flashed through his mind time and again. Her challenge to him to reassure Hannah that everything would be okay and her misplaced confidence that he would succeed.
His daughter didn’t need him to encourage her to walk down the aisle and be the best flower girl she could be. Rory had done all that on her own. Jamison doubted there was much the woman couldn’t talk a person into if she tried.
Sometimes people let me down.
Whoever the man was—and Jamison would bet the partnership up for grabs that it was a man—he had to be the biggest kind of fool to put that shadow of disappointment in Rory’s eyes.
And Jamison was no fool. He learned from his mistakes and the biggest one he’d made was in believing he could make a woman happy. So he’d be smart and keep his distance from the pretty wedding coordinator before she could learn the hard way he could only be another man who would let her down.
Jamison scraped a hand over his face, feeling the stubble he had yet to shave away. He’d grabbed a quick shower that morning, but Hannah had been up by the time he’d gotten dressed. He had hoped she might sleep in, but she awoke first thing...looking as bright eyed and well rested as if she hadn’t taken ten years off his life when she woke up screaming in the middle of the night.
His mother-in-law, Louisa, had warned him about deviating from Hannah’s schedule. She’s been through so much. She takes comfort in a stable routine.
In that, they were alike, but lately he’d noticed his daughter’s routine—or more specifically, Louisa’s routine for his daughter—left very little time for him to spend with Hannah.
After the accident, he’d welcomed his mother-in-law’s help. Though not life threatening, Hannah’s injuries had left her bruised and broken, and Jamison had almost been afraid to touch her. Louisa, a former nurse, had the knowledge and experience Jamison lacked. But now that Hannah had healed, it was time for Louisa to take a step back—whether she wanted to or not.
Which was one of the reasons he’d insisted on this extended trip with Hannah. He’d thought his mother-in-law had exaggerated the problems he might cause, but now he had to wonder.
The first night at the hotel, bedtime had been accompanied by multiple requests for night-night stories, drinks of water and trips to the bathroom. Had those delay tactics been something more than a child’s typical resistance to bedtime in a strange location? Were the nightmares that haunted Hannah enough to make her afraid to close her eyes?
Jamison hated the helplessness that gripped him and how the sound of her cries took him back to that horrible day.
On the phone fighting with Monica, Hannah crying in the background...his wife’s shrill scream, the sickening crash of metal and after that...nothing. Just a dead phone clutched in his hand.
Eventually Hannah had drifted off to sleep, her breathing still shaky from lingering tears. But Jamison hadn’t slept a wink. Blinking through blurry eyes, he figured he looked every bit as rough as that sleepless night had felt.
He was relieved Hannah didn’t seem to be suffering any ill effects, but the sense of anxiety that had kept his eyes wide-open still lingered. The monster under the bed ready to jump out at any minute, even during the day with the sun shining.
“I’ve already ordered breakfast,” he reminded her now as he sank into a chair and was met
