Or tried to smile, anyway. Not an easy feat when your lip was trembling.
Jack lifted an arm and encircled her shoulders loosely as they walked toward the house. “They’ll be back before you know it.” His voice was a comforting rumble in her ear.
“I know,” she said. “But I’m a mother. It’s my job to worry.” They had a variation on this conversation nearly every Sunday. Time to change the subject—divorce was an ugly, boring topic, and she tried not to inflict it on her friends. “So how’s it going with two?”
Jack and Frannie had had a second child five weeks ago—a son. Actually, it was their first, since their daughter Alexa was really Jack’s orphaned niece, whom they’d adopted when they were married ten months ago.
Jack looked thoughtful. “I think it’s going okay, but I don’t really have anything to judge by. Lex was such a piece of cake.”
Deirdre laughed. “Must be nice. Neither of my children has ever been a ‘piece of cake.’” She stepped past the door that Jack held open for her and entered the home.
“Hi, Dee. Look, Alexa, it’s Aunt Dee-Dee.”
Alexa was thirteen months old and full of herself, blond and chubby. She ran full tilt at Deirdre, holding up her little arms to be picked up. “An-Dee!”
Catching the little girl up in a fierce hug, Deirdre felt her eyes welling with tears again. Frannie sat in a rocker in the family room with baby Brooks at her breast. She looked serene and happy as she watched her husband, and Dee couldn’t help but envy her a little bit. “Never forget how lucky you are,” she said, swallowing.
“Lucky to get me,” Jack said from behind her. When both women snorted and rolled their eyes, he clutched at his heart and staggered toward the doorway. “Mortally wounded.” He straightened and headed for the door to the kitchen. “I know it’s a struggle, but if you can bear to be without me, I’m going out to mow the grass.”
“Okay, honey,” Frannie called after him. “If you do a good job, maybe we’ll invite you back later.” She exchanged an amused smile with Deirdre. “So how are you? I haven’t talked to you all week.”
Deirdre shrugged. “Fine. I got another big order from that doll museum in upstate New York. That’ll keep me afloat for a little while.”
“That’s great! This is the third time they’ve used you, isn’t it?” Frannie lifted Brooks to her shoulder and rubbed his back. “Boy, are you a load,” she said to him.
“Just like your daddy,” Deirdre said, nodding in answer to the previous question. It was true. Little Brooks had weighed a whopping ten pounds, two ounces at birth and showed every sign of being as big as his daddy.
Then Deirdre remembered that she really did have some news. “Oh, guess what? I found a tenant for the apartment.”
“Wow!” said Frannie. “That was fast. You just decided to rent it last week. I thought you said it needed some work before it could be rented out.”
“It does. But the man says he’ll do it himself.”
“A man! Do tell.”
“His name is Ronan Sullivan,” Dee told her.
“And...?”
“And nothing.”
“How old?”
“Thirty -five-ish.”
“What’s he look like?” Frannie’s gaze was glued to Dee’s face.
Dee thought for a moment. “He’s not as big as Jack—who is?—but he’s bigger than Nelson. He has dark hair and he seems very nice.” And his hands are warm and gentle.
“I’m sure I’d be able to pick him out of a crowd based on that description,” Frannie said drily. “Are you comfortable having a man on the farm?”
“Not completely,” Dee admitted. “But I can’t ignore men for the rest of my life. In case you haven’t noticed, they’re everywhere.”
“Well, it’s a start.” Frannie settled the baby at her other breast. “One of these days you’re going to meet some attractive man and realize you’re still young. You never know, maybe you’ll decide to have a fling with this tenant.”
The words caught her by surprise, sent a rush of purely feminine anticipation through her as Ronan’s lean face loomed in her mind’s eye. And she realized she’d hesitated a bit too long as she looked over at her friend, whose eyes were alive with open speculation.
Two
On Monday morning she was on the front porch shaking out the rugs when Ronan came around the corner from the side of the stable that faced the woods.
“Good morning.” He waved as he altered his path and came toward her.
“Good morning.” Deirdre stopped, not sure what else to say. Was she expected to chit-chat with him every time they met? She’d become used to a degree of solitude in the past year; having someone popping up every time she walked outside her house was going to take some getting used to.
“I took a walk down along the creek.” He was smiling. “It’s really beautiful out here. Very inspiring.”
“Inspiring?” She lifted an eyebrow. “Maybe I should have rented that apartment out to an artist.”
“It was just an expression,” he said as his smile faded. His expression was suddenly guarded, his eyes watchful.
What had she said? She replayed the harmless conversation in her head. Weird. “I’m going to the post office in a few minutes,” she said. “Is there anything you want to mail?”
“No.” He considered. “But I might go by there later today. I’ll have to get directions.”
“Sure. There’s one in Frizzelburg, although I use another one so I won’t be able to pick up your mail for you.”
He nodded. “I guess I’d better fill out some change-of-address cards and get a post office box.”
“No prob—”
“Woof-woof-woof-woof-woof!”
She was interrupted by a deep, loud barking that grew closer as the dog making the noise zeroed in on her location. “Stand still!” she said urgently to Ronan. “He’s not fond of strangers.”
Around the corner of the house charged a big, hairy dog, barreling at them full speed. “Murphy, no! Wait!” Her voice was as rough as a drill sergeant’s and she stepped in front of her tenant, scowling at the black-and-white dog.
To her relief, her dog halted his mad charge. He stopped about five feet from her and braced his legs; the hair on his back stood up and his canines showed as the barking became a steady, low-pitched snarl. “Quit that,” she said, walking over to him. “Sit.”
He did both immediately, and she stroked a hand down his
