who needed his services. And those “good friends” always expected him to investigate something or other as a courtesy. Shoot, the last one just wanted some genealogical information for a cross-stitch of her family tree, something she could have easily found online.
But what the hell.
Rico loved his mom—big old heart, rose-colored glasses and all. “What’s the trouble this time?”
“My friend is trying to locate a younger sister she hasn’t seen since they were children. It would mean so much to her. And to me.”
“All right. I’ll see what I can do.”
“Good. I’ll have her at my house on Saturday afternoon. Maybe she can join us for dinner.”
Well, at least his mom wasn’t trying to set him up with anyone.
When they said their goodbyes, Rico hung up the telephone, then resumed his search for Suzette’s number.
If there was anything that made him even more determined to avoid commitments, it was a chat with his mother—God bless her sweet, ever-trusting heart.
Molly Townsend had never met a woman more like herself. Even the fact that Colette Garcia was old enough to be her mother hadn’t stopped them from becoming good friends in a matter of weeks.
As Molly sat on the sofa in the small but cozy living room of the older woman’s home, Colette poured them each a cup of tea from a delicate hand-painted china pot.
At five foot six and in her early fifties, Colette was a stylish and attractive woman, with dyed red hair, expressive blue eyes and an optimistic heart of gold.
“You know,” Colette said, “I’m sure that Rico will love Daniel once he gets to know him. But having them meet for the first time has me a little nervous and on edge. Rico is so protective of me. Too much so, actually.”
“I’m sure everything will go beautifully.” Molly took the ivory-colored cup and saucer, noting the delicate lilac and green-leaf trim.
“You’re probably right, but I’m glad you’ll be going to dinner with us. I don’t think Rico is too excited about me having a wedding, even though he agreed to pay for it. And I’m hoping you can explain to him how much this means to me. I’ve been married four times, but I’ve never been in love—not this deeply. Daniel and I are both making a lifetime commitment to each other and we want to do it right.”
“I’ll do whatever I can.”
As a wedding consultant at Betty’s Bridal Boutique, Molly had run into more than one perplexed father of the bride who didn’t understand the emotional and symbolic importance of a wedding. Of course, she’d never had to deal with the son of a bride before.
“You know, Rico should be here anytime.” The older woman glanced at her gold wristwatch, then grinned. “I’m so glad you’re going to get a chance to meet him.”
So was Molly. When Colette had first mentioned her son was the owner of a successful private investigative agency, she couldn’t believe her luck. For years she’d wanted to find her younger sister but hadn’t known where to start.
Colette insisted that Rico would be happy to do the legwork at no charge. But Molly wouldn’t be comfortable with that. She would insist upon paying for his services. A reunion with her little sister would be worth any price.
“You know,” Colette said, “Rico doesn’t know where I’m coming from with Daniel. He’d be so much happier if he did. He really needs to find a nice girl and settle down.”
Molly wondered if this was a setup. If so, it made her a tad uneasy, even though she was eager to find that special someone God created just for her, a prince among men. In fact, she usually looked forward to meeting potential mates, especially if they’d been recommended by a friend.
But Molly had a high set of standards not many men could fill. And from what she’d heard, she suspected Colette’s son would fall short of her expectations.
“You know,” Colette said, “I have a good feeling about you and Rico.”
So this was a setup.
Molly took a sip of tea, her senses on alert. Her primary motive for meeting Rico was to talk to him about locating her sister. She would, of course, give him a chance—if she’d misjudged him and found him to be like his warmhearted, optimistic, family-oriented mother.
Time would tell, though.
Molly placed her cup and saucer on the coffee table, then reached for her notepad. “Do you want to discuss the wedding details over dinner or should we bring them up this afternoon?”
“Maybe we ought to wait until Daniel gets here. I’d really like him to be a part of this.”
Molly nodded.
“You know,” Colette said again, “you’re going to love Rico.”
“I hope so,” Molly responded. “But there’s something you need to understand. I’m open to meeting eligible bachelors, but I’m pretty fussy.”
“And you should be.”
Molly had to agree. She’d had a lousy example of home and family during the first twelve years of her life and she wasn’t about to let history repeat itself. But she’d seen the best and worst of families.
Some people might not understand how a young woman with a lousy early childhood like Molly’s could grow up and not become jaded and bitter.
Well, that was easy. Molly had Don and Barbara Townsend to thank for that.
Her foster parents had taught her that things always worked out for the best. That heroes like the Townsends existed. That love prevailed. And that—somewhere—her soul mate waited.
Colette patted Molly’s knee with a light touch of the hand. “Well, picky or not, you’re going to like my son.” Then she led softly. “I know what you’re probably thinking—every old crow thinks her baby’s white as snow. But Rico is about the most handsome man who ever walked the face of the earth.”
As far as Molly was concerned, a man’s physical appearance wasn’t anywhere near as important as his character. And she’d put plenty of thought into that conclusion.
In her heart she knew that she was looking for a guy who was a lot like Don Townsend, a man in touch with his feelings and understanding of hers. In many ways the sweet, slightly stooped, balding man had become a template for her dream mate.
Of course, when she allowed her fantasies to take flight, her future husband had a keen resemblance to Brad Pitt.
As the roar of a high-performance engine grew near, Colette placed her teacup and saucer on the glass-topped coffee table and stood. “Oh, good. He’s here.”
She’d recognized her son’s vehicle?
Not that it mattered, but it sounded like some kind of race car.
All right, so Molly had failed to consider the style of vehicle Mr. Right ought to drive.
