but Harmony had been pleased at the opportunity to have a babysitter.
Because she had a date.
With everything else going on, she had forgotten all about it until that morning—too late to back out politely—when Taylor called to remind her. She was having dinner with a friend of Taylor’s, and she hadn’t been to Cuppa—where she used to be a server—for months, but it was a comfortable, casual kind of place to meet a guy, so she’d agreed. The plans had been made, of course, before her mother arrived.
Since she believed in signs—at least when they were good ones—the fact that Davis had called right afterward to say he wanted to take Lottie for the evening had convinced her she had to go.
The doorbell rang, and she wondered if Davis would remember it took time to lug the baby downstairs. She was almost at the door when he tapped and opened it. “I thought you might like some help getting her down.”
This wasn’t a sign; it was a miracle. She swung the car seat in his direction and he took it. “I’ll bring the diaper bag,” she said, gathering it from the sofa, along with her purse. “I’m going out, but I’ll have my cell phone with me.”
“I’ll call before I bring her back.” He bent over the car seat and smiled at his daughter, who still didn’t look happy. “Are you ready, Peaches?”
“Peaches?”
“She has cheeks like little peaches. You never noticed?”
She was thunderstruck. Was this the same Davis whose main thought when he found he was going to be a father was whether a baby might help him secure a promotion at work?
“I might as well tell you I have a woman with me,” he continued. “Her name’s Amy, and she wants to meet Lottie.”
That sounded more like the old Davis, and Harmony sniffed. At least he’d told this Amy person he had a daughter.
She followed him down the stairs to his car, and as Davis struggled with the baby’s car seat, the woman on the passenger’s side opened the door and swung her legs around to sit sideways. Shining red hair was arranged over one shoulder, and her makeup was so carefully applied that Harmony figured it had taken as long to do it as she had spent on her own in all the months since Lottie’s birth.
“You must be Amy. I’m Harmony,” she said when Amy didn’t speak.
Amy nodded. “Does she cry a lot?”
“Just when she’s unhappy.”
As if on cue, Lottie began to whimper. Amy’s lovely face tightened into something approaching a grimace.
Harmony really didn’t want to help, but she knew it was the right thing to do. “She didn’t have a very long nap this afternoon, so she’s tired. She’ll probably fall asleep quickly. She’ll be in a better mood by the time she gets out of the car.”
“Maybe you should have given her a longer nap.”
“Short of drugging her or hitting her over the head, I’m not sure what I could have done.”
“I believe in schedules.”
“Most people who don’t have children do.” Harmony stepped back and addressed Lottie’s father. “Davis, make sure you call if you need advice. Me, not your mother.”
He grunted something profane about seat belts and infant car seats, and she left him to figure out the mysteries of parenthood by himself.
Upstairs she took a moment to peer at her face in the mirror. Freckled, with sandy lashes. Wide mouth, slightly crooked teeth that should have worn braces—which her father had frowned upon as vanity—long, pale brown hair that was only streaked with blond because she was out in the sun so often, not because she had the time to do anything about her hair except let it grow.
She was going to be late if she did anything much to improve what she saw. She scraped a little mascara on her lashes and brushed some mineral powder over her freckles; then she grabbed her purse, which felt as light as air after hauling a diaper bag, and peeked through her window to make sure Davis was gone. Since the coast was clear, she headed downstairs and away.
Fifteen minutes later she was walking into Cuppa after scoring an amazing parking place right in front, another sign. On the drive she had tried to remember what Taylor had told her about Nate Winchester. They had been friends in high school, and then he had gone off to college, followed by the army. He had only recently returned to run the family custom cabinetry business, which did a lot of work for Ethan, Taylor’s architect father. Taylor said Nate was one of the good guys, a sweetheart. They had been friends so long they would never see each other as anything else, but she’d thought maybe he and Harmony might strike a spark or two. Taylor thought they had a lot in common.
Harmony and Nate had shared one rushed phone call. They’d nailed down the time, but now she couldn’t remember how she was supposed to recognize him. In a minute she realized it didn’t matter, because all her old friends on staff came over to greet her and find out how she was doing. When the crowd cleared away, Nate was the only one left.
“Hi,” he said, holding out his hand. “I’m Nate.”
She smiled because his smile was infectious, and she took his hand for a firm shake. “You’ve guessed who I am.”
“Taylor told me to look for a tall blonde with lots of friends.”
Harmony hadn’t been on a date since she and Davis were a couple. She tried to remember how she was supposed to examine a guy without looking as if she had a checklist. Her initial impression was that once she had a list in hand, she would need a good pen, because this time she would be making lots of check marks.
Nate was taller than she was, lean and muscular, with friendly brown eyes and auburn hair cut short, but not too short. His clothes were casual, but not sloppy. His trousers looked freshly pressed, which almost made her smile, since she wasn’t sure she owned an iron.
“I have a table,” he said. “I bet the service is going to be great. They’ll be fighting over you.”
She followed him to a corner. Cuppa had been little more than a coffee shop when she began working there, but later it had morphed into a bistro. Now it sported topiaries on the sidewalk and hanging ferns in the windows, along with an expanded menu, although the coffee bar jutting along one side was definitely casual. Tonight the room was crowded, but Nate had a good eye, and he had chosen the one corner table where they might have a little privacy.
“I hope you’re hungry.” Nate waited for Harmony to choose a seat; then he pulled out her chair.
She thought this was, quite possibly, a first. When had anyone seated her, except possibly the waiter at the country club dinner she had once attended with Davis? She put a mark next to “polite” on her mental checklist and smiled her thanks.
She thought it was wise to immediately bring up the subject of Lottie. If Nate wasn’t interested in a single parent, he ought to know right now that she was one. She made sure she sounded matter-of-fact.
“The closest I’ve gotten to eating since breakfast was finishing the Cheerios on my daughter’s high-chair tray.”
“Is she old
