smiled at her. “Hanna Banana.”
She whispered, “Uncle Matt? I thought … Mom said …” That made her look stricken. “You were coming for Christmas.”
Keeping his gaze on her small, distressed face, he said gently, “When I heard about your mom, I came right away. You and she are my only family, you know.”
Not are—were. Now he had only Hanna. He wanted to hug her. To lift her up into his arms and take her away.
“Oh,” she breathed, sounding alarmed, and buried her face in her aunt’s leg.
Ease into her life, he reminded himself, tamping down his frustration.
He lifted his gaze to Finn’s sister, ready to figure out why he’d felt that odd shift inside at first sight. Damn it, he’d remembered her as colorless, washed-out, her hair and skin pale, her eyes—who knew?—her body so slight she could fade into the woodwork.
Either she’d changed, or he hadn’t looked at her before. Or, hell, she had been cast into shadow by her brother and his sister, both vivid personalities, both larger than life and impossible to ignore. Even so, he liked to think of himself as observant, which meant there was no way he should have failed to see that Finn’s sister was beautiful.
Because what he saw now was a lovely woman. Slight, yes, but in a leggy, slim-hipped way. She could have been a dancer or a runner. Although her breasts, he was jolted to realize, were generous enough to have been a nuisance for either. How had he escaped noticing breasts so lush and perfectly sized to fit a man’s hands?
Her hair was a pale, ash blond—moonlight where her brother had rich gold hair. Straight instead of wavy like his. His eyes were bright blue, hers a softer blue-gray. Her features were fine, even delicate, as was her bone structure in general. The hand that squeezed her niece’s shoulder was long-fingered and slender. With deft use of makeup and the right clothes, she could be stunning.
Feeling stupefied, he was also angry at himself. What was he doing, evaluating her as a woman? She was Finn’s sister. Enough said.
Frowning slightly, he realized that she was assessing him in turn. Had she ever really looked at him before, either? He couldn’t help wondering. Or, in her case, was this more of a review?
“Ready for dinner?” he said. “You’ll have to suggest a place. Anything from pizza to gourmet French is fine by me. Except—” he smiled at his niece again “—I seem to remember that Hanna Banana was a little bit picky the last time I saw her.”
She squeezed tighter onto Linnea’s leg. Linnea laughed. “Well … definitely nothing gourmet. All six-year-olds are picky.”
Finn, of course, had been irritated by her refusal to eat mushrooms, broccoli, anything new, anything too mixed together to separate into components. Tess had laughed and said pretty much the same thing Linnea had.
“Then how about that pizza?”
Now Linnea smiled at him, lighting her face. “I take it somebody wants pizza.”
A soft, sympathetic smile didn’t change anything. Except—damn, he was pretty sure he’d never seen her smile before.
He heard himself admitting, “Yeah, it’s the one food I miss when I’m abroad. I can find it, but it’s never quite the same.”
“Then pizza it is. Let me grab my purse.” She gently disentangled herself from Hanna, who froze in place, her gaze darting to his face before she ducked her head.
“Thank you for e-mailing me,” he said quietly. “I liked hearing from you.”
She whispered something. He hoped she’d liked getting e-mails from him, too, and, even though she’d needed Tess’s help with spelling, hadn’t been sending them under her mother’s orders.
A sharp stab of pain reminded him of Tess. The truth that she was gone hadn’t really hit him yet. Mostly he still felt anger. But because he saw her only intermittently, for a week here or there, her absence didn’t yet seem real. For Hanna, though, it must be very real.
Or was it? he wondered, troubled. She hadn’t seen her mother’s body, hadn’t talked to her dad. She had probably, in the past, stayed with her aunt Linnie for a few days. Did she really grasp the fact that her mom was gone for good?
Fortunately Linnea returned immediately. She locked the front door, took Hanna’s hand, and walked ahead of Matt down the concrete steps to the sidewalk. He asked about her booster seat, but Linnea said that she hadn’t thought to get it from Hanna’s house, and anyway she was getting almost tall enough to do without. His niece looked tiny to him, but he didn’t know that many children and it made sense that she was taking after her parents, both tall.
Linnea sat beside him in front, her purse clutched on her lap. Although she leaned back, her spine seemed very straight. She stayed quiet unless he asked her a direct question or she was telling him where to turn. He was a lot more conscious of her than he liked being, maybe because he kept catching an elusive scent that made him think of baking. Vanilla, maybe?
The pizza place was nearly empty, this being a weeknight. They ordered: half cheese to accommodate Hanna’s preference, sausage and veggies for the two adults. Pop all around, although he would have liked a beer. He was dragging some, but feeling more fatigue and disorientation than drowsiness. From experience, Matt knew that adjusting to the time change would take him days if not weeks. He was going to have trouble falling asleep tonight.
Once they were settled in a booth, he on the opposite side from Hanna and Linnea, he said, “So, Banana, what did you do today while your aunt Linnea worked?”
“I went to Grandma and Granddad’s,” she said in a soft voice.
He felt a spurt of anger, and his eyes met Linnea’s. Why, in her message last night, hadn’t she told him where Hanna would be? He could have gone to see her earlier today.
Her chin rose and she stared at him, making it obvious that withholding Hanna’s whereabouts today had been deliberate.
“I’ve been looking forward all day to seeing you,” he said to Hanna, while still watching her aunt.
Hanna drummed her heels and played with the straw in her drink. After a minute, Linnea said, “My mother is … not entirely rational right now.”
He unclenched his teeth. “Exactly what does that mean?”
She slid a meaningful glance sideways at the six-year-old.
Matt leaned back in the booth. After a minute, he asked, “Did you do anything fun?”
Hanna shook her head hard and kept twirling the straw.
“She did help me walk the Millers’ two Irish setters this morning,” Linnea said lightly. “We’ll go back tonight. I do petsitting,” she added. “These two dogs love kids and are really excited when Hanna comes.”
“Do you like dogs?” he asked her.
She nodded vigorously, still not looking up. Matt knew that she’d wanted a pet, but Tess and Finn hadn’t let her have one because they were away from home so much.
“Does
