be trusted. Hadn’t she figured that one out a long time ago?
“If you have no further questions….” Lawrence stood and walked around his desk, obviously anxious to get rid of her.
“No. I think that’s quite enough for one day.”
As Emily made her way across the thick carpet to the door, she decided that her opinion of Lawrence hadn’t changed since high school. He was a pompous windbag of a man, so full of himself and his profession that she doubted there was room left over for a heart inside his bony chest. Nothing like his gregarious, soft-spoken father.
Emily halfheartedly shook the hand he offered, then left the cigar-scented offices of Tippens, Tippens and Forge.
AS KAT Madison watched out the café window, a young woman, obviously intent on something other than her safety, walked into the street and was nearly run down by an oncoming car. She looked familiar. That he couldn’t place her from this distance didn’t stop him from appreciating the gentle sway of her single dark braid against her denim-encased hips or the swell of her breasts beneath a white T-shirt shouting in black letters, I’ve Got The Answers.
Lucky her. Finding answers had brought him home to Bristol for the first time in over sixteen years, since his parents’ funeral. He’d only stayed for a day. Thoughts of that day drove a pain through his heart. Out of habit, he pushed them to the back of his mind.
“More coffee?”
Kat glanced at the young blonde he’d been flirting outrageously with before spotting the T-shirt-clad woman across the street. Nodding, he turned his gaze back to the street in time to see her red pickup drive by the window, heading out of town. Across the truck’s door in white letters he read Clover Hill Farms.
Emily?
Just his luck to be ogling the one person he really wasn’t ready to come face-to-face with. The one person who would inevitably confront him with questions he couldn’t answer.
“Here’s the key.”
Dave Thornton’s deep voice roused Kat from his observations. “Thanks.” He took the key to the summer cottage his friend had arranged for Kat to use until he found somewhere to live.
“I told the power company that you’d call when you leave so they can cut off the electric. Oh, and I had the phone turned on, too.”
“Thanks.” Kat shook the key. “I owe you one.”
Dave smiled. “So, what do you plan on doing with your parents’ house, Kat? Or do you go by Rian now?”
Kat wanted to correct him, but for all intents and purposes, Hilda and Charlie Madison had been his parents. Were still his parents. Besides, what other name could he use?
He shrugged. “Kat’s fine.”
He fell silent, remembering how his father had come up with the nickname because of his son’s ability to enter and leave a room without being noticed, a trait that had proven helpful on more than one occasion.
Stirring his coffee, Dave grimaced. “I’m sorry. I guess you don’t want to talk about them, huh?”
Kat laid a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “It’s been sixteen years since they died in the fire.”
“I know, but when you love someone, it’s hard to forget.”
The sharp pain of their death had dulled with time. What hadn’t diminished was the pain brought on by what he’d found the day he’d sifted through the ashes of the partially burned house. He wondered if that ache would ever fade—or if he’d get any answers.
Dave stood. “Well, I gotta run. I promised Marilyn I’d meet her and go wallpaper shopping.” He grinned. “We’re turning the spare room into a nursery.”
Kat grabbed Dave’s extended hand and shook it, feeling envy eat at him. “Hey, congratulations, Dad. Thanks again. Say hello to Marilyn for me.”
“Will do.” Dave waved and slipped out the door.
Kat watched Dave leave the café. He hadn’t changed since high school. Tall, lanky and devoted to the woman he’d loved exclusively since seventh grade, Dave had found happiness, happiness compounded by the addition of a child. Lucky devil.
For a moment Kat allowed the envy to seep in, before he stopped it with a reminder that he was here to rebuild his parent’s house and sell it, not to form relationships. He had other things to settle first. Wives, homes and babies would have to wait their turn.
Throwing some change on the counter, he smiled at the blonde, then headed for his car. If he was going to rebuild the house, he might as well bite the bullet and take a look at it to figure out what he was going to need in the way of building supplies.
A BABY.
Emily had been pacing her living room and repeating those two words for over an hour, but full comprehension of her father’s demand still hadn’t registered. Why had he done this to her? If only Rose were here. Having been with the family for nearly sixteen years and having acted as Emily’s father’s sounding board, Rose knew better than most why Frank Kingston had done things.
Fine time for Emily’s housekeeper cum maternal confidant to be somewhere in Mexico touring pyramid ruins with her friends. Emily’s mother had died when Emily was a teenager and Rose was the closest thing to a mother that she had now. She’d gotten used to talking through her problems with Rose. Rose had more logic in her little finger than most people had in their whole heads, even if she was a bit on the old-fashioned side.
Emily nearly had this self-pity thing down to a fine art when the doorbell rang. The last thing she wanted right now was company. Cautiously, she peeked through the side window, then swung open the door.
“Hey, sister.” Honey and her four-year-old son Danny smiled at Emily from the front porch.
Pushing between his mother and his aunt, Danny tugged on Emily’s shirttail. “Aunt Emily, c-c-can I go s-s-see the horsies?” Danny’s eyes glowed with excitement.
“May I, Danny.” Honey frowned at her son. “And it would be nice if you said hello before you start making your aunt crazy.”
“Aw, Mommy.” Danny rolled his eyes at his mother, but adoration shone from his gaze.
For the first time, Emily thought about the baby her father insisted she have as something other than a complication she didn’t need in her life right now. How bad would it be to have a little person like Danny to look at you with love, trust and honesty?
“Hello, Aunt Emily. Now, c-c-can I go s-s-see the horsies?”
Honey sighed and shook her head. “The child is going to grow up illiterate despite my best efforts.”
Another, more insistent tug on her shirt drew Emily’s attention back to her nephew. His stutter hadn’t gotten any better. She’d hoped that time would ease his grief over his father’s death, and his stutter would go away, as the doctor had predicted. So far, it wasn’t working.
Emily scooped his sturdy body up into her arms. The feel of him cuddled to her chest made her suddenly aware of how
