if he was having a nightmare, but it was still a concern. Tyler also wanted to be there in case she had another emotional crisis.
At any rate, the last time he’d left, his family had traveled across the country, defying medical orders. Maybe he was a chauvinist, but this time he was staying put and keeping an eye on things. The plane tickets he’d bought would have to wait.
A light knock sounded, then Rosemary called, “I’m leaving for work. Breakfast is in the refrigerator—Poppy Gold has it delivered every morning. Be sure to eat something.”
He got up and opened the door. “I don’t need to be told to eat, Mom. I’m not a child.”
“You’re treating me like one. The way you acted yesterday was outrageous.”
Plainly, she hadn’t forgiven him. But he hadn’t forgiven himself, either, so it was understandable.
“I was tired and not thinking straight. I apologize.”
Rosemary looked him up and down. “I accept your apology, but it’s Sarah I’m thinking about. She works horribly long hours and doesn’t need that kind of trouble.”
Tyler let out a heavy breath. It felt as if his mother was more concerned about a stranger than her own son. “I’ll apologize to her, too, but right now we need to discuss going home.”
Rosemary checked her watch. “I told you there’s nothing to discuss, and I’m out of time. I don’t believe in being late for work.”
Tyler scowled as she left. Rosemary Prentiss had been raised in a comfortable, old-fashioned Boston household, the only child of older parents. They’d expected her to simply marry well and raise a family, so it was difficult to see her having any preconceived notions about employment.
Yawning, he trotted downstairs and found Nathan on the couch in the living room.
“Did you spend the night there?”
“Yeah.”
“I see. Have you had any nightmares since you got here?” Tyler asked, deciding he couldn’t pretend everything was normal. It wasn’t and might never be again.
“Most days, but not a bad one until the night before last. I get claustrophobic in my bedroom, so I’m going to start sleeping out here.”
Tyler doubted claustrophobia was responsible, but he didn’t say so. “The bedrooms upstairs are spacious.”
Nathan angrily slapped his injured leg. “Maybe, but it’s hard to get there. Besides, there’s less chance I’ll wake Mom if we’re on different floors. Not that I’m sleeping much at night.”
Tyler didn’t know if Nathan’s anger was a good sign or a problem. Surely it was healthier for Nathan to be outwardly angry than tearing himself up inside. Still, sleeping on the couch and wearing clothes that couldn’t have been changed in two days sounded like more than anger. Nathan had always dressed sharply, even when off duty.
“You’re analyzing, big brother,” Nathan said softly. “Stop or your head may explode.”
The comment made Tyler feel better. It was an old joke between them. Nathan always went with his gut. He was instinctive, popular with his peers, the life of every party. Tyler wasn’t. He thought everything out. Analyzed. One girlfriend had called him an ice man when they broke up—it was his only serious relationship, and it had affirmed he wasn’t cut out for commitment.
All of which made his behavior at Sarah’s Sweet Treats even more bizarre. He should have reasoned the situation through and chosen a more effective strategy instead of charging in the way he had. Some ice man.
He looked at Nathan. “My head is fine.”
“And you had to analyze your answer before giving it to me. Eat breakfast—you need brain food.”
Tyler went into the kitchen and helped himself from the containers in the refrigerator. He reheated the meal in the microwave, then sat down and ate a bite of the potato casserole. It was delicious, though he nearly choked when he realized the decorative logo on the containers was the same one he’d seen on the sign at Sarah’s Sweet Treats.
So the bakery was more than a bakery, fed hundreds of people each morning. His knowledge of restaurant operations was limited, but he knew it was a high-stress, competitive business.
How long could his mother handle it? The term “nervous breakdown” wasn’t used much anymore, but whatever it was called now, she’d come close to one after his father’s funeral. On top of everything else, she’d panicked at the thought of dealing with her finances. So Tyler had spent months sorting the tangle his father had left.
Fortunately there was more than enough money, despite his father’s unexpected taste for risky speculations. Now he mostly needed to review her accounts each month to be sure everything was in order and that the automated bill payments had gone through.
Back in the living room, Tyler found his brother staring at the ceiling again. It didn’t look as if he’d moved an inch.
“Do you want to eat, or should I get rid of the leftovers?”
“Get rid of them.”
Tyler tidied the kitchen before heading upstairs to shower and dress. In the bathroom, he took out his electric shaver and began running it over his jaw.
Perhaps he could invite Sarah Fullerton to lunch as an apology—be tactful and treat her the way he would a difficult client. If she understood how important it was, she might even encourage his mother to quit and return home with Nathan.
Tyler nodded at his reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t much of a plan, but at least it was something.
* * *
SARAH STARTED A batch of bread while the rest of her employees finished clearing up from the breakfast sprint. Preparing and delivering breakfast to Poppy Gold was always a tight operation. She was exhausted from lack of sleep and lingering tension but refused to slow down.
She’d just put eight pans of Nebraska oatmeal bread into the oven when Aurelia came in. “Uh, Sarah, that guy from yesterday is back,” she said in a low tone. “He wants to talk to you.”
Why couldn’t he leave her alone?
“All right, I’ll be there in a minute.”
Gabby took over while Sarah removed her apron. Tyler Prentiss was on the sidewalk, so she stepped outside. “Yes, Mr. Prentiss?”
He gave her a deliberate smile he probably thought was charming. “Please, it’s Tyler. I came to apologize. I’m sorry for the way I behaved yesterday. It was inappropriate. Normally I’m quite calm and controlled.”
“Okay,” she said cautiously.
“Please let me take you to lunch so that I can explain. I checked on restaurants in the area. The steakhouse sounds good.”
Sarah blinked. Why did he think she’d want to eat with him? “Uh...sorry, I don’t take long lunches.” Perhaps he didn’t understand the demands of her business. She might be the owner, but
