on now.”
“You’re such a dear. This house has been filled with light and joy since you’ve come.” Cora hugged her back then frowned. “But there aren’t any leftovers to heat.”
“Then he’ll get eggs. I’m not a fantastic cook like you, but I can manage to scramble some eggs. Leave it to me.”
“Thank you, dear. I believe I will. Bless you.” The woman hurried away.
Connie assembled ingredients, set the kettle to boil and prepared the toaster. But when the slam of the front door shook the house, she decided to check on Silver. If she hadn’t already been awakened, the child would be overjoyed tomorrow when she learned her father was home.
Upstairs, Connie noticed Silver’s door was open wider than she’d left it. She hurried toward it then froze. Wade Abbot stood beside Silver’s bed, watching as the little girl slept. He stretched out a hand as if to touch her hair then quickly drew it away. Instead, he squatted beside the bed, apparently content to stare.
He was a tall man with dark brown hair cut short, probably to stem the riot of curls that now caressed the tips of his ears. Lean and fit, he had the kind of physique that came from hard physical labor. His shoulders stretched his faded chambray shirt, which he’d tucked it into a pair of well-worn jeans. His feet were covered by battered brown boots. Nothing about him gave away his status as head of a prestigious contracting firm.
Earlier, Connie had only caught a quick look at Wade Abbot’s face, but now with Silver’s bedside lamp illuminating it, she saw deeply set eyes beneath a broad forehead, chiseled cheekbones above gaunt hollows, a straight aquiline nose with a mustache beneath that partially hid his lips and a jutting chin that telegraphed grit and determination.
In slow motion he lifted something bright blue and fuzzy that released a faint tinkle. Another of Silver’s beloved bells? He set the stuffed animal beside his daughter. Then he tenderly lifted her covers and snugged them in place under her chin.
Connie knew very little about the Abbot family. David Foster had told her that Mrs. Abbot had died four years ago on a yacht in Brazil shortly after Silver’s birth. Connie knew from her internet search that the couple had been living in Brazil at the time Mrs. Abbot had died, but she’d found few other details.
Silver remembered nothing of her own mother, which was probably why she yearned for her father so much. But David Foster had warned Connie that the last nanny had left because she’d developed an affection for Wade. He’d been adamant that Connie should not suffer the same fate.
Wade isn’t interested in love, so don’t have any illusions about him.
As if Connie needed that warning. She wasn’t about to give her heart to any man again. Not after being jilted at the altar by a man she’d called a friend for years, a man she’d thought she could trust completely. He was the second important man in her life to let her down when she most needed him. Connie didn’t need a third lesson.
“I didn’t waken her.” Wade now stood beside her in the hallway, his brown eyes swirling with secrets.
“It wouldn’t have mattered if you had,” Connie murmured, smiling. “She’s been longing to see you. She’d be ecstatic.”
“But her rest would be disturbed. I don’t want that. I’ll wait till morning.” He took one last look at the sleeping child then motioned for Connie to precede him down the stairs. “She looks well. And still crazy for bells?”
“Oh, yes.” Connie chuckled. “She’ll be delighted with the toy.” She motioned him to a chair at the counter and poured a mug of tea. “I’ll scramble some eggs.”
“Please, don’t bother. I can have toast. Or anything.”
“It’s no bother. I told Cora I’d do it, because she had to leave to attend a function for her granddaughter. In fact, I have to do it or she’ll punish me tomorrow. I don’t want that. Her cooking is to die for.” Connie grinned at him then set the pan to heat while she whipped the eggs and added onions, cheese and peppers. “Are you finished with the bridge?”
“You sound like Amanda.” He chuckled at her blink of surprise. “Yes, it’s finished. A month early, too. Tell me about Silver.”
Connie had been prepared to dislike this man. After all, he’d left his little daughter alone for several months to complete a job in some distant country. She didn’t see that as the sign of a doting father. But the eagerness in his question now had her reassessing her judgment. She knew nothing about the reasons Wade had left, and she didn’t trust the nasty hints Amanda had dropped. Not everyone was like her own father. Why did she have to keep reminding herself of that?
“Silver’s very bright. She seems to enjoy her gymnastics club, storytime at the library and her art class.”
“So she said. Clever idea, that video you sent. I should have thought of it before. I could have sent one back to her, shown her where I was working, what I was doing.” He frowned and then sipped his tea.
“Well, you can do that next time you go. She’ll love it.” Connie flipped the omelet onto a plate and set it in front of him.
“I’m not going again,” Wade said, with a stern finality, as if he thought she’d argue.
“Oh.” What were the implications of that? Would Connie’s job be over now that he was home? “Silver will be very happy you’re staying.”
“Mmm.” He ate for a few minutes, devouring the omelet and toast she set before him as if he hadn’t seen food in a long time. “Sorry.” He caught her staring and grinned. “I never eat on airplanes. Your cooking is very good.”
“They’re eggs. Hard to ruin.” She shrugged. “Cora said there’s cake. Would you like some?”
He nodded, and she cut a huge slice. Wade lifted a forkful of cake into his mouth, closed his eyes and groaned.
“Man, I’ve missed this.”
“Were there rough conditions where you were working?” she asked, trying to think of a way to ask if she should look for new employment.
“It was a work camp. Most of the labor was Argentinean so the kitchen tried to stick to their culturally familiar food. Delicious, but different.” Wade grinned. “I was more than ready for some good old American chow.” He finished the cake then set his dishes in the dishwasher.
“I could do that.”
“It’s done. Perhaps we can talk in the family room.” He lifted his cup and walked toward the big sunken room that overlooked the pool and the backyard. He waited for Connie to sit, then sank down in a larger chair. “On the video, Silver mentioned a Christmas play.”
“Yes. I’ve been taking her to church with me on Sundays. The Sunday school is putting on their usual nativity play. They’ve asked Silver to be one of the Christmas angels. She has a speaking part that she’s very excited about.” Connie frowned. “I hope it’s okay that I took her to church. Mr. Foster didn’t object and your—er—Amanda didn’t seem to care.”
“It’s fine,” he said. “I should have seen that she was going to Sunday school regularly. My father would have insisted on that.”
