And he liked the feeling. “I’ll fix it with Charlie.”
She opened her mouth to argue and he fought the urge to silence her with two broad fingers against those sweet lips, just to see if she felt as good as she looked. Something told him she would. Common sense and decorum held him back. “It’s fine. I promise.”
Her heartfelt smile said she caved and the quick sheen of tears meant he’d touched a raw spot. “Go.” He pointed toward the door. “Head home. Eat. Sleep. Tomorrow will be better.” He dropped his gaze and winked at the two little camouflage-clad boys. “I promise.”
“You have kids, Mr....?”
“Brett,” he told her. He came around the counter and swung the door wide for them. “And no, I don’t.” The old stab of pain hit him mid-section, but without the usual gut-punch force. “Not married.” He added that just in case she wondered. Maybe hoping she wondered. “But I was one, so I’ve got a pretty good take on things. Food. Play. More food. Bed.”
“Thank you, Brett.”
His heart stuttered as a seed of contentment nudged its way in. The way she said his name, kind of slow. Soft. The look of gratitude she sent him, that maybe said something more unless his skills had rusted from disuse.
“Come on, fellas. Let’s get you home.” She set the food on the passenger-side front seat, piled the boys into the car with greater ease than she’d displayed yesterday, and watched as Tyler tucked her cup into the cup holder. “Good job.”
Her approval evoked the boy’s smile, still tentative, but there.
Baby steps, Brett decided. He knew that regimen, all right.
He watched her pull away, then stared with surprise when she angled the car left, then right and pulled into the far right lot alongside the cooperative. A light blinked on in the back of the original furniture store. Then another.
She lived in the recently approved apartment behind the old furniture store. How had he missed that?
Then another thought occurred, bringing back her conversation yesterday, her concern, the money issues, the time constraints.
He let his gaze wander Bennington Station, the new “Street of Shops”-type shopping experience enjoying a grand opening month to beat the band. Realization struck hard and deep.
She was Haley Jennings, Frederick Bennington’s granddaughter, the mastermind behind the burgeoning enterprise spearheading new business opportunities and success in this corner of Allegany County.
And he was slated to do her fire safety inspection Monday morning.
The lights blinked, mocking him, as if daring him to find something wrong on Monday. Like she needed anything else on her plate right now.
But as interim inspector, the job was his while Bud Schmidt recovered from cancer surgery, and until then...
Haley Jennings would have to contend with him. He could only pray none of her merchants or subcontractors had messed up, but Brett knew the score. In the height of holiday shopping frenzy, everyone tried to use as much space as possible to promote themselves and their products. Improperly wired lighting displays, blocked exits, windows that wouldn’t open with the rain or snow...
All things that could spell disaster. People hurt. Lives lost. Too often a little caution could have provided a totally different outcome.
He ground his jaw and wondered how he’d missed her presence all these months, but the reality of that bit hard.
He’d been hiding, plain and simple. And the time for seclusion was over.
Chapter Three
Haley’s cell phone buzzed as she clicked the bedroom door shut, wondering if little boys should bathe every night.
She hoped not.
She withdrew the phone, saw LuAnn’s name and quickly answered. “LuAnn, hi. How’s everything? Is Jess okay? And Shelby Rose? Is she doing fine?”
LuAnn’s laugh held a hint of question. “Jess is fine, Michaela’s excited, the baby’s beautiful and has a healthy set of lungs just like her mother. How did you find out about her? I didn’t want to call you at work because I knew how crazy today would be.”
“Brett told me.”
“Brett told you?” Surprise hiked the older woman’s voice.
“The boys weren’t exactly cooperative today, and by the time I got Rory home, they were starving. All those nice leftovers you provided for us yesterday? They won’t touch them. And by eight o’clock at night, I was too tired to fight it and not mean enough to starve ’em.”
“So you stopped at the Crossroads for food.”
“Brett made them nuggets and fries.”
“He... What?” LuAnn’s surprise pitched higher. “We don’t have chicken nuggets at the Crossroads.”
“I know.” Haley breathed a sigh as she sank into the corner of her “new” resting place. She’d given the boys her big bed and taken the couch. She’d pretend the old cast-off sofa provided great support and she’d ignore the lumps, at least until life settled down after the holidays. Come January she should be able to breathe.
But she wasn’t wishing the biggest shopping season of the year away. These eight weeks of sales provided enough profit for many to stay in business over the cold, dark days of a northern winter. She’d learned that in Lewisburg when she worked at the Street of Shops throughout her college years. She’d watched, listened and learned. When opportunity came her way in the shape of her grandfather’s bequest of the somewhat-worn buildings, she was ready. She hoped.
“Well, I won’t keep you, dear. I just wanted to say that Charlie and I will take the boys tomorrow. They can play here with Michaela and you’re free to work as long as you need to.”
Gratitude clogged Haley’s throat. “LuAnn, that’s a lovely gesture, but—”
“There’ll be no buts,” LuAnn cut in firmly. “We’re two grown adults watching one little girl. Having the boys here will keep her busy. You’re actually doing us a favor. Charlie is insisting that he’s played the last game of Dora Memory in this lifetime, and because that’s Michaela’s current favorite, she wants to play it nonstop.”
That information plugged another piece of the child-puzzle into Haley’s thinking. “So that’s normal for preschoolers?”
LuAnn laughed. “Absolutely. They grab on to a thought or a game and run with it repeatedly. Then they drop that and hang on to the next thing that takes their fancy. All quite normal, dear.”
“And Todd’s stuffed cat? Panther?” She said the little stuffed cat’s name with a firm question mark attached. “It’s not weird that he won’t put it down? Ever? And gets really nervous when he does?”
“He’s lost a great deal.” LuAnn’s voice went soft and reassuring. “Sometimes when we lose what we love, we cling tighter to what’s left behind.”
Words
