brow. In the heavy suit and jacket, she had to be melting in the heat.
“You can’t stand out here forever. Why don’t I drop you off. Where are you staying?”
She hesitated, glancing once more at her watch, clearly reluctant to accept his offer. The heat must have forced her to decide. “The Emerald Hotel, downtown Hastings.”
It was the most expensive hotel in the city. Didn’t she realize there were several other more reasonably priced places across town? He reached out and took the briefcase from her hand. “That’s on my way home. My car’s out back.” He gestured toward the walk along the side of the building.
“All right. Thank you.”
He opened the door of his dark SUV and tossed a pink jacket into the back seat so she could sit down in the front. Safely buckled in, he started the engine and upped the fan speed on the AC. He stifled a grin when she sighed and unbuttoned her jacket to allow the cool air to wash over her. Adjusting to the heat in the Deep South took a lot of folks by surprise. He drove in silence along the Campbell highway, getting caught by every traffic light. When he turned off onto Franklin Street, he couldn’t stand the quiet ant longer. “Kitty said you’ll be here for three months, while they’re overseas.”
“Yes.”
“I guess moving to Mississippi from the Windy City is a bit of a culture shock.”
“I have to admit, I wasn’t prepared. Kathryn said this was a thriving city. I’d expected it to be much bigger.”
“It’s actually not that small. We have a university, a new mall, and several national companies have made Hastings their home base. But no, we can’t compete with Chicago in size, but we’re growing.”
“I’m sorry. That sounded rude. I’m just tired.”
“I understand. Mississippi gets a bad rap most of the time. Give us a chance.”
He pulled up at the curb in front of the hotel, and she opened the door the moment he came to a stop. He wasn’t sure whether to be offended or take her at her word that she was tired and eager to relax.
“Thank you. I appreciate it.”
He smiled. “You’re welcome. What time do you want me to pick you up tomorrow morning?”
Her blue eyes widened. “Oh, I couldn’t impose. I’ll call the cab company sooner.”
“You might still be late to work. Easier if I come and get you. What time do you usually start your day?”
“Eight thirty.”
“Perfect. I usually arrive then, too. See you tomorrow. About eight fifteen.”
Bret watched Nina until she disappeared through the elegant front door of the old hotel. She really didn’t like taking help from him, and he couldn’t help but wonder why. Some of her aloof attitude might be explained by being a Yankee. But he had a feeling there was more behind her standoffish personality. Something more serious than a change in regions.
If she allowed him to be her chauffeur, he might be able to figure her out and help her adjust. He also had a feeling she needed a friend.
As he entered his 1940s-Craftsman house, a short while later, he inhaled the aroma of something delicious that made his stomach growl. He found his dad standing at the stove.
His father glanced over his shoulder and scowled.
“You’re late.”
Bret was in no mood to do battle with his dad tonight. “A friend needed a ride home from work. It was on the way, so...”
“Where to? Timbuktu?”
“The Emerald, downtown.”
His dad scowled deeper. “That’s not on your way home.”
“It was today. What’s for supper?”
“Roast beef and noodles, and you almost missed it.”
“Where are my girls?”
“In the playhouse. Call them in. It’s time to eat.”
Bret headed toward the back door. He was thankful every day that his father was helping him raise his little girls, but there were things he and his dad didn’t see eye to eye on. Bret walked to the edge of the deck and stood straight as an arrow. “Hear ye. Hear ye. Are there any princesses on the premises?”
Squeals and giggles greeted him as two little brown-haired girls dashed from the pink-and-white playhouse toward him. At five and eight years old, they were growing up too fast for his liking. He knelt down just in time to grab them both in a big bear hug.
“We’re so glad you’re home.” Olivia smiled and patted his shoulder.
“I love it when you come home, Daddy.” Five-year-old Georgiana buried her head in the crook of his neck.
“I love coming home to my girls. Gramps has supper ready. Go get cleaned up so we can eat. And use soap.”
Bret’s eyes grew moist as he watched his daughters go inside. He loved them more than he could bear, and he wanted so much for both of them. He would do anything for them. But his failure as a husband had caused Sylvia to walk out on the three of them, leaving his children without a mother to love and nurture them as they grew. He’d tried his best to make up for the vacancy in the girls’ lives, but there was only so much a father could do.
He shook off the gloomy thoughts. He’d learned it didn’t do any good and only made him feel worse. Instead, he focused on the girls’ sweet faces and their happy smiles. It always lifted his spirits. After all, Livvy and Georgie were all that mattered to him.
The evening meal passed with the usual chatter from the girls, a spilled glass of milk and a round of the old “she started it, no she did” game.
Bret stacked the dishes beside the sink, as his father scraped them off and loaded them into the dishwasher.
“So, who was this friend you took home?”
“She’s the therapist filling in for Kitty.”
“Single?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, find out. Is she old, young, homely, what?”
Bret fought to curb his irritation. His dad was convinced that, if his son would just try marriage again, it would all work out. He’d never liked Sylvia. Always claimed she wasn’t honest, and wasn’t as committed to the marriage as he was. Bret spent a lot of his marriage overseas, serving in the army, and he always thought his dad was being his usual critical self. When he came home, things seemed fine to him. Until his last tour of duty.
He’d royally screwed up his mission assignment. He’d allowed the soldier he was sworn to protect with his life die. He’d barely had time to adjust to that debacle, when Sylvia had walked out, leaving the girls with his dad.
With his
