or four?”
Standing, Cam fished his keys out of his jeans pocket and dangled them in front of Parker. “Why don’t you come check it out for yourself?”
The kid who never spoke more than a sentence or two to a new acquaintance flashed a questioning look at Erin. “Can I?”
A surge of joy threatened to pop out of her mouth, and she swallowed to keep it in check. “Sure. You boys have fun.”
Clearly delighted, Parker all but ran from the apartment and started pounding down the stairs before Cam even stood up.
Because she could no longer contain her excitement, she beamed up at him. “I’m not sure what you did, but thank you.”
“I didn’t do anything, but you’re welcome.”
“Modesty from Cam Stewart?” she teased with a smirk. “That’s a first.”
That got her a decidedly sour look. “Don’t give me a hard time. I’m trying to be agreeable.”
“Amazing. I didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he grumbled on his way out. “Don’t rub it in.”
Laughing, she closed the door behind him and sneaked over to the front window, standing out of sight to get a view of the male-bonding scene unfolding on the curb outside. Cam motioned to Parker, then said something that prompted the boy to open the driver’s door and climb into the cab of the vintage blue pickup. He grasped the steering wheel like a race car driver, sawing the wheel back and forth while a laughing Cam got in beside him. Boys and their toys, she thought with a smile. You had to love it.
Satisfied that her son was in good hands, she turned up the volume on the stereo and got back to work.
* * *
Leaving Erin and Parker to get settled in their new apartment, Cam headed for his mother’s house. Since her second stroke, he and Natalie had split the days, her checking on Mom in the morning, while Cam stopped by in the afternoon and then spent the night after closing the restaurant. A home-care nurse covered the hours in between so their mother was never alone.
Although the cost of such expert care was high, they’d both agreed that it was the best thing for her. Because Natalie had a family of her own, Cam had been covering the majority of the bills himself. It was draining his savings account at an alarming rate, but until all of her doctors declared her out of danger, he was committed to doing it. He recognized that he wasn’t able to control everything, but if anything happened to her that he could have stopped, he’d never forgive himself.
As he drove through town, he allowed himself a self-pitying sigh. His life in Minnesota had been just what he’d always wanted. Following his divorce, he’d embraced his second chance at bachelorhood with gusto, working hard every day, even taking building design classes a couple of nights a week to expand his professional options for when he got too old to meet the physical demands of hands-on construction work.
Being responsible to—and for—no one but himself was a great way to live, and he’d decided that he just wasn’t cut out for anything more.
His preference for an uncomplicated existence had made it tough for him to come dragging back to Oaks Crossing, but he couldn’t keep enjoying himself when his mother and sister needed him. That was his father’s way, Cam thought with a grimace in the rearview mirror. When in doubt, he always chose the opposite of what that selfish weasel had done. No matter how hard it was, he’d never allow himself to drop low enough to follow in that traitor’s footsteps.
As Cam turned onto Cherry Street, he had to wait for a young mother pushing a stroller while she called to a toddler lagging a few yards behind her. This was the oldest part of town, filled with graceful homes built for raising large families. Christmas lights still hung from windows and outdoor trees, and walkways led to front porches with wreaths on the front doors and garlands hanging from the railings.
When was the proper time to take those down, anyway? Cam wondered as he continued down the street. Natalie and her husband, Alex, had helped decorate their mother’s house at the beginning of December, but she hadn’t mentioned when the stuff should come down. Whatever his sister’s answer on that one, Cam suspected he’d be doing that job by himself. Putting everything up was fun, and there were always plenty of hands willing to pitch in. Packing it away, not so much.
As he turned into the driveway, he noticed an unfamiliar sedan with Michigan plates parked next to the nurse’s red hatchback. The driver was standing beside the car, staring at the house as if he was trying to decide whether or not he was in the right place. When Cam’s truck door slammed shut, the stranger turned, clearly startled by the sound.
In a single breath, Cam’s temper spiked to eight on the Richter scale.
“What do you think you’re doing here?” he spat out, striding over to block the man’s way up the front steps.
“Hello, Cameron,” his father replied with a deferential nod. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember me.”
Only his mother used his full name anymore, and hearing it from someone he despised only fanned his anger. “You walked out on a family who needed you. That’s not something I could forget.”
“I know, and I don’t blame you for hating me.”
Cam swallowed a rush of curses that would have made a seasoned sailor blush. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard about Bridget’s stroke.”
“Which one?”
To his satisfaction, his father paled. “There’s been more than one?”
“Two, actually. How did you find out?”
“Your aunt Connie emailed me just before Christmas,” he explained, bowing his head in something that looked like shame. When he lifted it, he fixed a pleading look on Cam. “I had no idea things were so bad, or I would have come sooner.”
“There wasn’t much point in that,” Cam snarled, folding his arms defiantly. “I’d just have run you off then instead of now.”
“We never divorced, so she’s still my wife,” his father pointed out, showing a bit of backbone. “I have a right to see her.”
Not a chance, Cam wanted to growl. Instead, he kept his cool and said, “This is Douglas property, and Granddad left it to Mom, not you. You have a right to leave before I call the sheriff.”
“That’s not fair.”
In response, Cam pulled the cell phone from the front pocket of his jeans and started punching numbers.
“All right, you win.” Holding up his hands, their unwelcome visitor backed toward his car. “I’m making a circuit of the area and will be coming back through here the first week in January. After that, I’ll be staying at the B and B outside of town, and I’m not going anywhere until I see my wife.”
“Looking for a job?”
“Actually,” his father retorted, taking out a business card and holding it out to him, “these days, I’m the owner.”
Natural
