she leave just the one?”
Benton rifled through the file. “That appears to be the only one. She gave me the packet herself. Before now, I never checked the contents. But, Hattie, if you feel capable of raising your nieces, there’s no reason Mason should feel compelled to stay.”
“Good.” Mason now rested his hands on his hips. “Perfect solution. The kids are in capable hands, and I’m back on my base. Problem solved.”
“Not so fast.” The lawyer wagged a pen. “Mason, while I understand your reluctance to take on such a challenge, as of now, you and Hattie share legal custody of Vivian and Vanessa. A family-court judge can release you from this responsibility, but it will take time.”
A muscle ticked in Mason’s clenched jaw. “How much time are we talking?”
“Well, let’s see...” Benton took a few endless minutes to consult his computer. “Ironically, the nearest family-court judge for five hundred miles is on maternity leave. A judge in Valdez is temporarily hearing her cases. First thing Monday morning, Mason, I’ll get you on Judge Dvorck’s docket, but considering the fact that, like it or not, Melissa’s twins are your legal responsibility, I’d strongly advise you to assume their care until the judge releases you from all financial and custodial ties to the estate.” Withdrawing a legal-sized envelope from his top desk drawer, he opened it, then passed along two sets of keys. “These belong to Melissa and Alec’s home and cars. Counting real estate, life insurance and investments, the twins—and you—should live quite comfortably.” He gave Mason and Hattie each copies of the files. “These contain detailed listings of all assets.”
Hattie felt near drowning. Was this real?
Her mother quietly sobbed.
Lyle helped his wife to her feet. “Let’s go. It’s clear we’re not needed.”
Damn Melissa for doing this to their parents.
“So wait—” Mason said once Lyle and Akna had gone. “Me and Hattie are supposed to drag Melissa’s kids from their grandparents, then camp out at Alec and Melissa’s house until we see the judge?”
“That’s about the size of it. Any further questions?” Benton raised his considerable eyebrows.
Oh—Hattie had plenty more she needed to know, but for the moment, the most pressing issue was how was she supposed to keep her sanity while playing house with stupid-handsome Mason?
Chapter Three
In the time they’d spent with Benton, the weather had turned from pretty lightly falling snow to downright blowing ugly. The trailer’s grated-steel stairs were snow-covered and treacherous. This time of year, on a clear, bright day they only had maybe ten hours of sun. During the two hours they’d been inside, darkness had settled in.
Mason held out his hand to Hattie, who stood behind him. “Let me help.”
“I’m fine!” she said above the wind.
Ignoring her, he took firm hold of her arm. “You won’t make it five feet in those heels. Forget you live in Alaska?”
When she struggled to escape him, common sense took over and he scooped her into his arms.
“Put me down!”
He did—once he’d reached her SUV. “There you go. I’ll follow you to your folks’. I’m assuming that’s where the twins currently reside?”
“Not necessary. I’ll take it from here.”
“Why are you being so stubborn?”
She ignored him to fish through her purse for her keys, which she promptly dropped in the snow.
They both knelt at the same time and ended up conking heads.
“Ouch,” they said in unison, rubbing their noggins.
Mason had to laugh. “This reminds me of that time I took you salmon fishing and you damn near knocked yourself out just leaving the boat’s cabin.”
“I tripped and you know it.”
“Yeah, yeah...” He found her keys, then pressed the remote. “Climb in. I’ll see you in a few.”
“Mason...”
Her dark, wary tone told him she’d prefer he stay away, but he’d never been one to shirk duty and didn’t plan on starting now. For whatever time he was legally charged with caring for Melissa’s kids, he would. Out of the memory of what they’d once shared, he owed her that much.
The storm made it tough to see the road, but Mason was familiar enough with the route to his former in-laws’ he could’ve driven it blindfolded. He’d shared a lot of good times with Melissa and Hattie’s parents. This afternoon, like the day of Melissa’s funeral, wouldn’t be one.
The back-and-forth drone of the wipers transported him to another snowy day. Weeks after his divorce had been finalized, he’d been fresh off the boat from a grueling two-month Yakutat king-crab season to find himself with his dad at the Juniper Inn’s Sunday brunch seated two tables down from newlyweds Melissa and Alec. As if that weren’t bad enough, Akna and Lyle were also in attendance. As long as he lived, he’d never forget their disapproving stare. Melissa’s betrayal—and Alec’s—had been hard enough to bear.
His dad counseled to play it cool. Not to let them get beneath his skin. They weren’t worth it. But all through middle and high school, throughout his and Melissa’s two-year marriage, he’d loved Akna and Lyle. They were good people. It killed him to think for one second they blamed him for his marriage falling apart. Yes, he’d spent a lot of time away from home, but he was working for Melissa—them. Their future.
Losing their baby hadn’t been anyone’s fault.
He remembered a fire crackling in the inn’s too-fussy dining room. His chair had been too straight-backed and uptight. Even though the weather outside was bitterly cold, inside struck him as annoyingly hot. As long as he lived, he’d never forget the way the snow pelting the windows melted on contact, running in tearlike rivulets that reminded him of Melissa’s tears when she’d asked for a divorce.
She’d claimed his distance had driven her to Alec—not physical distance, but emotional. She’d said the miscarriage changed him. Mason believed that a crock. She was the one who’d changed. His love had never once faltered.
On autopilot, back in the present, he parked his dad’s old pickup in front of Akna and Lyle’s house.
Though the temperature had dropped to the teens, his palms were sweating. Countless dangerous SEAL missions had left him less keyed up.
Hattie pulled into her parents’ driveway ahead of him. She now teetered on their front-porch steps. What’d gotten into her? The Hattie he remembered struck him as a practical, no-frills girl who knew better than to wear high-heel boots in a snowstorm. But then, that girl had also been a tomboy, doe-eyed dreamer who’d preferred the company of her dogs over most people. It saddened him to realize he no longer knew the striking woman she’d grown into. They might as well be strangers.
She damn
