Читать книгу Father Most Wanted - Marie Ferrarella - Страница 7

“Sorry about the bars.”

Brooke inserted her key into the lock and the green wrought-iron vines began to climb to the ceiling before they disappeared into the opening, leaving the entrance accessible.

“I’m a little shorthanded this morning, and while I’d like to believe in the goodness of my fellow man, I’d rather not leave temptation standing blatantly in front of him, either.”

Remaining where she was, Brooke pocketed the key. She knew enough to stand out of the way. Three could be a formidable number at times.

Like the first fireflies of summer, the three little girls scattered in different directions the moment they entered the store, guided in their selections by the murals that graced the walls. Bethany went to the learning section, Stephany gravitated to the area that abounded with fairies and elves, while Tiffany decided to explore the section that had a bevy of cartoon characters beckoning in welcome.

Watching them, Brooke smiled half to herself, half at the girls’ father. “I guess they all have their own personalities, even at this age.” She turned to him. “They’re what—five?”

“Six,” he corrected. “They’re small for their age. And as for their personalities—” he laughed softly to himself, thinking back for a moment, though in general he tried not to do too much of that “—they’re distinct, all right. They never mimic one another except when they try to put one over on me.” Even then, he was getting pretty good at telling them apart. At first glance they were absolutely identical. But there were small subtle differences. He’d learned to look for them. “I think they were their own persons from the moment they first opened their eyes in the delivery room.”

For a few seconds he allowed himself just to enjoy seeing them pore over the different books the store had to offer. They’d gotten their love of books from him. It was one of the things he could give them, besides his unconditional love.

Rousing himself, he turned to look at the woman beside him. He owed her, he thought. A lot. “I want to thank you again for finding Tiffany for me.”

She warmed to the sincerity in his voice. “You’re very welcome, but actually I’d say it was more a case of her finding me.”

Brooke paused, wondering if she should say anything further, then decided he should know. It was always best for a parent to have some clue about what was going on in his or her child’s mind.

“She told me she was looking for a book on how to find a mommy.”

“Oh.”

There was something in his voice she couldn’t identify. Surprise? Amusement? She couldn’t tell, and it was obvious she wasn’t about to get any further clues from him. Tyler Breckinridge didn’t strike her as exactly the gregarious type.

Nothing wrong with a man who wasn’t glad-handing everyone, she thought. Marc had been gregarious, and look where that had led.

Having done her duty, Brooke glanced around. She supposed she could busy herself with the shipment statement until his daughters made their selections, but she found herself wanting to remain right where she was, standing beside the tall, dark handsome stranger.

“Are you from around here?” she asked. He looked at her so sharply that she almost didn’t continue. It took her a second to retrieve her train of thought. “The reason I ask is that my bookstore has been open for a while now and I’ve never seen the girls in here before today.”

“No,” he replied quietly. “We’re not from around here. We just moved to Bedford recently.”

And, he thought, he was still trying to get comfortable amid all the new belongings he suddenly found himself with. Some highly paid, overly degreed bureaucrat’s notion of what suited him, Tyler supposed. But at least the girls were having fun, burrowing into this new life they found themselves facing. The resilience of youth never ceased to amaze him.

Brooke nodded. She could see why he had chosen to move here. The city’s reputation was excellent.

“Can’t beat Bedford for schools, weather or safety.” She scrutinized him for a moment, trying to see past the almost unsettling planes and angles of his tanned face and the deep-green eyes to the man beneath. “So, where is it that you’re from?”

Dark brows drew together as he regarded her warily. “Here and there. Why?”

“No reason.” She lifted a shoulder, letting it drop carelessly. “I just thought I detected a New York accent, that’s all.” Nothing thick or blatant, just a hint of one when he said certain words.

Tyler slipped his hands into his pockets, looking back to the girls. “No, never been to New York.”

Was it her imagination or had he lowered his voice just then? There were only his daughters and him in the store. Who was he lowering his voice for?

God, just listen to yourself, Brooke. You never used to be this suspicious. When was she ever going to be rid of that annoying touch of paranoia that seemed to almost constantly hound her thoughts?

“Have you? Been to New York?” Tyler added when she looked at him quizzically.

Boy, have I ever. But she made no effort to explain the wry expression she knew had twisted her lips. “Once. For a while.” Just long enough to have my heart broken.

He debated saying anything. He, above all, had come to respect privacy and minding his own business. But there was something in her eyes that prompted him to comment, “I take it that it wasn’t a pleasurable experience.”

Now there was an understatement, she thought. But she kept that to herself. Instead, she said only, “It started out that way, but no, not really.”

He wanted to say, “Me, too,” but that would be admitting he had been in New York, contradicting what he’d just said. He had to keep track of the lies or they would wind up tripping him up.

Lies were like shoots of ivy, their tendrils reaching out, hooking onto things that came in their path. Spreading until you weren’t sure just where they had begun or where they were going.

Turning his back to Brooke, he clapped his hands loudly, gaining his daughters’ attention. “Well, have you girls made a decision yet?”

None of them wanted to leave. “Just a little longer, Daddy,” Bethany pleaded.

“I want these, Daddy.” Coming over to him, Stephany produced a pile she had carefully garnered from the shelves.

Eyes as large as saucers, Tiffany quickly grabbed a handful of books without looking at their titles. Trying to lug her bounty over, Tiffany wound up dropping them on the floor several feet short of her goal. But her spirit wasn’t daunted. “If she gets that many, can I have the same, Daddy?”

Coming over to pick up the scattered spoils, Brooke laughed as she made eye contact with Tiffany. “Ah, eager customers. My favorite.”

She was surprised to have Tyler join her, quickly gathering the remainder of the fallen collection. He was attempting to look at least a little stern. “Girls, we talked about this.”

Closest to his right, Bethany frowned. “We talked about a lot of things, Daddy.”

Brooke knew a brewing storm when she smelled it and hurried to quell the waters.

“You know the best thing about my store, girls?” Rising, she deposited Tiffany’s fallen goods on the small reading table closest to her. She could put the books back in their places later. “It’s not going anywhere.” She looked at the three upturned faces in turn. “Which means that if you each just pick one book, you can come back with your daddy some other time and pick another one. And another after that.” She smiled warmly at them. “That means you have something to look forward to. And I get to look forward to seeing you all again. How about it? Sound like a deal?”

She already recognized Bethany as the serious one. Standing beside her father, Bethany nodded. “Sounds like a deal,” she agreed. “Okay.”

Eager not to be left out, Stephany echoed, “Yeah, okay.”

“Okay.” Tiffany sighed, glancing over her shoulder at the surrendered cache that had momentarily been hers. She began rifling through the pile. “I want this one now and this one later and this one…”

Tyler was tempted to physically separate Tiffany from the books, knowing that of the three of them, she was the one who had a penchant for prolonging things. There was somewhere he had to be within the hour, and he had already lost some time.

But instead of giving in to his feelings, he stepped back. “Make your choices, girls,” he instructed. “Put the rest back and meet me at the register.” Tyler turned from his trio and looked at Brooke. “Very nicely done.”

This time the lowered voice was perfectly plausible. Absorbing the amused praise, she smiled. “I’ve had lots of practice.”

He glanced at her hand. No ring. Still, that didn’t mean as much these days as it used to. Neither did wearing one. He still had his because he felt incomplete without it. As incomplete as he felt without Gina.

“Refereeing your own kids?” he guessed.

Brooke shook her head. It was her greatest regret. Marc had always told her that children would be something they would discuss seriously “later.” For them, later never came.

“No, I don’t have any. But I get lots of customers.” Her gaze swept over the girls, who were still solemnly making their choices. “And I’ve always loved kids. I worked at a preschool when I lived in New York.”

Tyler envisioned an arena of screaming children, all vying for attention at once. That had been his one and only experience with preschool. After that, Gina had taught the girls at home, inviting neighborhood children over to make sure that the girls learned how to interact with kids their own age.

“Was that part of the bad experience?” He realized that had to sound as if he was prying. “Sorry, none of my business.”

The man was far too polite for a New Yorker. That had to be a different accent she detected in his voice.

“No, it’s okay.” She waved away his apology. “I don’t mind answering. To be honest, that was the only part of the experience that was good. All the way through.” She thought of several children who had won her heart and wondered if they still remembered her. “I hated leaving them.”

He heard the qualification in her voice and waited. Finally he asked, “But?”

She deliberately pushed thoughts of Marc and his infidelities out of her mind. Why was she suddenly seized with a desire to unburden herself to a perfect stranger? The man had come looking for storybooks, not true confessions.

Brooke tossed her hair, forcing herself to sound cheerful. “But this is home and I needed to come home. You know how it is.”

“Yes, I do.”

There went her imagination again, reading things into his tone of voice.

But he did sound sad, she thought. Had returning home for him been a bad experience or was it the opposite? Did he long to return home only to know that for one reason or another, he couldn’t?

Not her place to ask. It was just going to be one of life’s little mysteries, she thought. Like where second socks disappear to between the laundry hamper and the dryer.

The winsome trio interrupted the conversation by trooping up to the register. Each placed her carefully decided-upon final selection on the counter. Tiffany vied for top honors, placing hers on top after Stephany had just done the same. Bethany gave both her sisters the evil eye, meant to quiet them.

Tyler hid his smile. Bethany had always been the one unofficially in charge.

“Okay, Daddy, we’re ready,” Bethany told him importantly.

“Excellent selections, ladies,” Brooke said as she scanned each book in turn, ringing up the sale. The register came up with the final total. She pointed to the figure. “And this, Mr. Breckinridge, is what they all come to.”

Stephany looked around, then turned her face up to her father, her small brows drawing together in confusion. “Who’s she talking to, Daddy?”

Bethany gave her a reproving look. “That’s Daddy’s grown-up name,” she informed her sister, then looked at her father for confirmation. “Right, Daddy?”

Brooke thought it a rather odd exchange. The girls were so bright about everything else. Why did something as ordinary as formally addressing their father cause any of them confusion?

“Right,” Tyler answered. Taking his charge card out of his wallet, he glanced at it before handing it to Brooke.

She could have sworn he looked just the slightest bit apprehensive. Probably wondering if his three little darlings had caused him to max out his card. The man tried to give the appearance of being in charge, but it was evident to anyone who paid the slightest bit of attention that the girls had him tied up in neat little knots around their small fingers.

The authorization number flashed, catching Brooke’s eye. She wrote it down on the three-layered credit slip before handing it to Tyler to sign.

He took the pen she offered him and began writing his name. Biting off an oath, he stopped. There was a touch of both frustration and sheepishness in his eyes as he looked up at her.

“I’m sorry, I was preoccupied.” His eyes indicated the slip. “I started writing down the name of someone I’m supposed to meet later this afternoon. Would it be too much trouble to write up another slip?”

“No, no trouble at all.” She reached into the drawer for a blank slip, then grinned. “I guess being around this handful might make anyone forget their name at times.” Lowering her eyes, she ran the credit slip through the machine, embossing it, then wrote in the pertinent information. Finished, she held out the slip to him while reaching for the one in his hand.

To her surprise, he ripped it up in front of her, then tucked the pieces into his pocket. “I’ll just get rid of this for you.” There was no room for discussion or dissent.

Brooke shrugged carelessly. It made no difference to her one way or another. “Been the victim of credit-card fraud lately?”

He looked up from the slip he was carefully signing. “What?”

She nodded toward his pocket. “You’re so careful with the receipt I thought that maybe someone had stolen your credit card before. You know, once burned, twice leery, that sort of thing.”

“Yes, something like that.” Finished, he handed the signed receipt to her, exchanging it for his card. He slipped the latter back into his wallet.

Nothing wrong with being careful, she thought, watching him. She smiled as she handed the large colorful bag with the girls’ purchases to him. There was a sleepy-eyed teddy bear, dressed in a nightshirt and nightcap, sitting and reading a storybook with his picture on the cover decorating the side of the bag. Stephany oohed over it.

My father would have been touched, Brooke thought. The teddy bear, Wandering Willie, had been his creation. “He was my favorite, too, when I was your age.”

Tiffany’s eyes widened. “Is he that old?”

“Tiffany.” Tyler flashed Brooke an apologetic look. “Everyone over ten is old to Tiffany.”

She’d taken no offense. “I remember how it was.” On impulse, Brooke rounded the register and walked them to the entrance. “Well, Mr. Breckinridge, you and the girls feel free to come back any time.”

The girls took the invitation as a signal to gang up on him again. Brooke was getting the distinct feeling that they did that a lot. She wondered which side his wife took.

“Can we come back tomorrow, Daddy?”

“Yeah, can we?”

“Please?”

“We’ll see,” he answered, but he had a hunch it was a foregone conclusion that they would be back, if not tomorrow, then soon. Besides, the woman was genuinely kind to his daughters. That put her store on the plus side. He smiled at her over his shoulder as he ushered the trio out. “Thanks again for all your help.”

Brooke inclined her head. “Anytime.” She completely missed her sister, entering from the opposite direction, until she almost turned into her.

Unmindful of the near collision, Heather stared at the departing quartet, specifically its tallest member. “Wow. Now there’s a man who looks good coming and going.”

Brooke could only shake her head as she retreated into the store. Heather’s official course of study at the university was child psychology, but there were times Brooke was convinced her younger sister’s real major was men. She certainly went through her share of them.

“Hello, Heather, so nice of you to finally decide to join me.”

Heather deposited her purse behind the counter with the kind of carelessness that came from someone who was carrying nothing worth stealing. “Don’t get snippy. My alarm clock didn’t go off.”

A knowing look creased Brooke’s face. “Was that before or after you threw it against the wall?”

Heather pried the lid off the café latte she had bought from the coffee shop. “I only did that once and that was because it woke me up when I had a terrible headache.” She sniffed. “I’ve been very nice to my alarm clocks ever since.” She ran her tongue along the inside of the lid before throwing it out, then sidled up beside Brooke. “And never mind me, just how did you help Mr. Gorgeous and just what did you mean by ‘Anytime’?”

Leave it to Heather to put the wrong spin on things. “One of his daughters wandered into the store. I helped reunite them, that’s all.”

“Obviously winning his undying gratitude,” Heather commented. She looked at Brooke, her eyes bright. “Sounds like a good beginning to me.”

Brooke knew where this conversation was going, and for once, the train was not going to leave the station. “In case you hadn’t noticed, little sister, the man has three daughters.”

“So?”

“So?” Brooke shut her eyes. There were times Heather was incorrigible. “So that usually means one wife somewhere.”

Taking a long swig of her coffee, Heather remained undaunted. “Not necessarily in the present tense.” She followed Brooke as she began replacing the books that had been part of Tiffany’s original selection. “Maybe he’s divorced and he’s got custody of the kids.”

Brooke turned around to look at Heather. Her sister had gained a thin white mustache, courtesy of the latte. Brooke paused to wipe it away with the tip of her thumb. “And your reasoning for this being?”

“Most dads don’t shepherd their kids through a mall in the middle of the week if there’s a mommy in the immediate picture,” Heather informed her smugly. “They do it on the weekends if they do it at all.”

Brooke remained unconvinced. “Maybe he’s trying to be nice, give his wife a break.” She inserted a tall storybook in between two others, careful not to bruise the spines. “He said they’d just moved here recently. Maybe she’s home unpacking and needed some time to herself.”

Heather drained her container, then sighed. “Why are you always so willing to look at the gloomy side lately? I can remember when there wasn’t a pessimistic thought in your head.”

“Yeah, well, so can I, but then I grew up,” Brooke said. “And what gloomy picture? There’s no gloomy picture. There’s no anything. We’re just speculating about a customer.”

“You’re speculating about a customer, and I’m speculating about a possible hunk.” Crumpling the container, Heather tossed it into the wastebasket. “I mean, he’s a hunk either way, but the question is, is he an available hunk?”

“No, that isn’t the question, because that doesn’t interest me in the slightest.”

Obviously frustrated, Heather threw up her hands. “And that’s exactly what I’m worried about. When are you going to get over it, Brooke?”

Brooke had no idea why her temper suddenly snapped. She’d been fine a minute ago. “Over what? Marc?” Her laugh was entirely without mirth. “I was over him the minute I filed for divorce.”

Heather shook her head. “I don’t mean over him—I mean over him.”

Brooke stopped replacing books and looked at her younger sister. There was no one she was closer to, but that didn’t mean the sisters understood each other all the time. “Are they teaching you English in that college of yours?” She looked back at the last book she was holding, trying to remember where it went. “Because if they are, I’d ask for my tuition money back if I were you.”

“You know what I mean.” Heather moved around until she could look directly into her sister’s face. Brooke was trying hard to ignore her.

That had never stopped Heather before. “Over what Marc did to you. Just because he cheated—”

Brooke looked at her sister sharply. “Cheated?” she hooted. “Cheated is having a one-night stand, not a touring season. Or seasons, as the case was,” she said. “I think the only one Marc didn’t wind up getting naked with was the mayor’s wife and her dog, and that was probably only because he couldn’t arrange a convenient meeting.”

Heather knew all about Marc. Her sister had broken down one night and given her all the gory details. Aside from seeing red, her main emotion had been concern about her sister’s health, until Brooke had assured her that she’d had herself tested for every sexually transmitted disease possible. She’d done it despite Marc’s assurances that he had taken proper precautions. The way she saw it, nothing he said was trustworthy.

Heather continued to press her sister. No matter how awful her ex-brother-in-law had turned out to be, it was time to leave the past behind and move on. “Still, one rotten human being doesn’t damn the whole species.”

“Maybe not,” Brooke allowed, “but it certainly makes you stop and think, doesn’t it?” An almost bitter reproachful smile twisted her lips. “About how blind you can be.”

Heather slipped her arm around Brooke. Five years younger, she was taller by two inches. “You loved the jerk. You saw what you wanted to see and he was clever.”

Brooke wasn’t about to excuse herself. “I thought I saw what was there.”

Heather wasn’t going to stand by and let her sister beat herself up. “You tended to think the best of everyone, remember?”

“Yes, I remember. But that was the old me. I’ve grown up.” Squaring her shoulders, she stepped back. “I’m a lot more suspicious now.”

Heather looked at her thoughtfully. There was nothing more in this world she wanted than to have the old Brooke back. The one who could laugh without reservation. Love without reservation. “But not a lot happier, are you.”

Picking up the shipping list, Brooke waved her hand at Heather. “Practice your child-psychology skills on someone else, little sister.” She waved the list in front of Heather’s face. “In the meantime, we have a large shipment of books to distribute over the shelves. Let’s get to it.”

Heather gave her a smart salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”

“Good.” Brooke nodded. “Obedience. I like it. And while we’re at it, you can tell me exactly why you only got three hours’ sleep last night.”

Heather stopped short. “Four, and how did you know?”

Brooke grinned. “Because we live in the same house, remember? And I can hear the front door. And even if I couldn’t, I know you, little sister.”

She laughed as she threw an arm around Heather affectionately. “So, tell me all about it.”

That was as close as she intended to get to a date for a long, long time.