her stuffed bear and a large pink rabbit whose name Daniel couldn’t remember. Before he could say no, Annabelle had tugged him into a chair and climbed into the opposite one. He reached for a plastic cup, but Annabelle stopped him. “No, Daddy. You have to wear this.” She flung a fluffy bright pink scarf at him.
He gave it a dubious look. “I have to wear this?”
Annabelle thrust out her lower lip. “Daddy, it’s a tea party.” As if that explained everything.
He’d done business lunches in five-star restaurants. Interviewed visiting dignitaries. Attended fancy black-tie dinners. One would think he could sit through a tea party with his daughter without wanting to run for the hills. But every time it came to pretending, or being silly, Daniel’s sensible, logical side prevailed, and he became this stiff robot. He pushed the pink scarf to the side. “Uh, why don’t you just pour the tea, Belle?”
She feigned pouring liquid into the tiny cup. “Here, Daddy.”
He picked his up and tipped it to the side. “There’s no tea in it.”
“Daddy, you’re s’posed to pretend.” Annabelle let out another frustrated sigh. She picked up her cup, extended her pinkie and sipped at the invisible tea. “See?”
Annabelle’s disappointment in him as a tea party attendee was clear in her tone and her face. He’d let his daughter down, the one thing he didn’t want to do. But he felt out of his depth, as lost as a man in the desert without a compass, and every time he tried to correct his course, he seemed to make it worse. Hadn’t that been a constant refrain from Sarah? He was never there, never around to bond, and now his absences were biting him back. “I’m sorry, honey. I’m just not very good at tea parties.”
“No, you’re not,” Annabelle mumbled, and turned to her bear, tipping the cup toward his sewn-on mouth.
It had been easier interviewing the president of the United States than sitting here, pretending to drink tea. When it became clear that Annabelle wasn’t going to invite him back to the party, Daniel got to his feet. A sense of defeat filled him. “Uh, I think Grandma needs me.”
Daniel crossed to the counter, picked up a loaf of bread and began slicing it. A second later, he felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder.
Greta turned toward Annabelle. “Honey, I think you forgot to invite Whitney to the tea party. You should go get her. I bet she’s feeling lonely in your room.”
“Oh, Whitney! You’re right, Grandma!” Annabelle scrambled to her feet and dashed off down the hall.
Daniel chided himself. He hadn’t even noticed Annabelle’s favorite stuffed animal wasn’t in attendance. He was missing the details once again. For a man whose job had depended on details, he couldn’t believe he could be so bad at it in his personal life.
“It’ll get easier,” Greta said, as if she’d read his mind.
He sighed. “I hope so.”
“Thanks, Mom.” He glanced at his mother, who looked about ready to collapse with exhaustion. But he saw the indulgent smiles she gave her only grandchild and knew Greta enjoyed every minute with energetic Annabelle. “For everything.”
“Anytime.”
He put the bread knife in the sink, then stood back while his mother bustled between stove and counter, assembling some kind of casserole. “How’s she doing?”
“Okay.” Greta paused in her mixing. “I don’t think she quite understands that you’ve moved. To her, this has just been one long visit with Grandma.”
“Eventually, I’m sure she’ll settle in. It’s been hard on her.” Daniel thought of all the changes his daughter had been through in the past year. He hoped this was the last one. He needed to give her some stability, a proper house, a yard, heck, a puppy. Every child deserved that, and thus far, he hadn’t done a very good job of delivering on any of the above. But here, in Winter Haven, he hoped he would find all of that. And he hoped he could make his career work here as well as he had in New York. Or at least work, period.
That was the only option possible. If he didn’t, he’d have to take a job like the one he’d left—and that meant travel and long hours, two things a single father didn’t need. His daughter needed him here as much as possible. If he’d learned anything at all in the past year, it was that.
His mother, sensing his thoughts, laid a hand on his shoulder. “You’re doing fine, Daniel. She’ll be okay.”
He sighed, watching Annabelle bound across the kitchen, her pink dress swirling around her like a cloud. She looked so innocent, so carefree. So happy. Something he hadn’t seen in a long time. Being here, with her indulgent grandmother, had been good for her. But still, he knew, there was a long road ahead of them. Whenever it was just him and Belle, things got tough again as both of them tried to dance around a subject neither wanted to tackle. And as he learned how to become a single dad to a girly daughter he barely understood. “I hope so.”
“I know so.” Greta patted his shoulder again. “I’ve raised a couple kids. So I get to claim expert status.”
He reached up and squeezed his mother’s hand. Greta had been a huge support over the past year. Flying up to New York and staying in those first difficult weeks while Daniel scrambled to bury his wife, figure out his life and figure out how he was going to raise Annabelle and keep his job. At first, he’d thought he could make it all work, but then the long hours and frequent trips his job as a newscaster demanded started to take their toll, and he realized it was time to make a change. The words Sarah had thrown at him, over and over again as their marriage disintegrated in the months before her death, finally took root.
He might not have been able to make his marriage work, but he would make this fatherhood thing work. That meant taking a position with nine-to-five hours, one that didn’t leave Annabelle in day care from sunup to sundown, or leave her with the nanny while he jetted off to another country for an interview.
Which was what had brought him to the last thing he wanted to do—produce “infotainment” shows that had about as much worth as frosting. His father was probably rolling over in his grave knowing Daniel was working for that show. Still, it was for his daughter. He kept that in mind with every step he took. With Greta’s guiding hand, he hoped the transition would be easy on Annabelle. And him.
Beyond that—marrying again, having a life of his own—he couldn’t think. Later, he told himself. Later.
“Annabelle, I think your father would like to try one of your cookies that we made today.” Greta glanced at Daniel.
“Oh, yes, I would. Very much.” Thank goodness for his mother. He’d already forgotten they’d baked cookies.
“Can I get two?” Annabelle asked, her hand hovering over the cooling treats. “One for me, and one for Daddy?”
Greta nodded, and Annabelle scooped up two chocolate chip cookies. “Here you go, Daddy.” Annabelle held out a misshapen lump of cooked dough. “I made it all by myself.”
“Looks delicious.” He bit into the cookie, making a big deal out of the first bite. Annabelle beamed, so proud of the dessert she’d shaped with her own hands.
She wagged a finger at him. “You
