by Abby Gaines
Daisy had reached the booth, and Gabe was greeting her, so Kyle had no choice but to carry on.
His brother had a latte in front of him. Charles was finishing a meal—his favorite, the All-Day Lumberjack Breakfast, Kyle guessed.
“Got room for a couple more?” Kyle greeted them.
The two men shifted so that Kyle and Daisy could fit. Daisy planted a dutiful, if grave, kiss on her grandfather’s cheek, then folded her hands in her lap, her knees pressed together. As if she were trying not to take up too much space.
“Do I get one of those?” Gabe pointed to his own cheek.
Daisy smiled—Gabe seemed to have a knack with her that Kyle and his dad lacked. “You’re too far away,” she said.
“Okay, but I’m taking a rain check,” Gabe warned.
Micki Barton, standing behind the counter, caught Kyle’s eye. “The usual?” she called.
“Thanks, Micki. And a hot chocolate for Daisy.”
“Nice girl, that one,” his father said about Micki, as he always did. Charles should know—he’d been a frequent visitor to the café throughout his career as a police officer, and he’d found the habit hard to break in the months since he retired. He came in for breakfast most days and ate a late lunch here on Saturdays. “You ought to ask Micki out,” he told Kyle. For the hundredth time.
“I’m not looking for a girlfriend—how about Gabe asks her out instead?”
“Micki’s an Episcopalian,” Charles said. “Why would she marry into a church where they don’t know any good hymns?” He turned to Gabe. “But after the election—” Gabe was Kyle’s campaign manager “—you should get yourself a nice girlfriend. One who’ll make a good pastor’s wife. I can’t understand why that church hired a single man.”
Gabe shrugged. “Me, neither. Single pastors mostly get associate roles. I figure the local-boy-made-good thing swung me the senior pastor gig.”
Charles snorted, but his smile was affectionate. “You boys should both be out there looking for a wife. A man doesn’t get what I had with your mother by sitting on his butt.”
“Don’t you think my life is a little complicated right now?” Kyle asked.
His father conceded the point with a grimace. “You’ll get through this. This time next year, you’ll be a second-term mayor, Daisy will be settled and you might even have met a nice lady.”
“Sure, Dad.” Kyle was starting to wish he hadn’t come in. His father’s prediction was more than just a fond hope. Not exactly an order, but an expectation, one Kyle was on track to fall short of.
Not that his dad was asking anything of Kyle that he hadn’t lived up to himself. Charles Everson was one of the good guys—not just in the cop sense. He’d always ranked family number one in his life. He’d been a devoted husband to Patti, Kyle’s mom, until her death from cancer five years ago, and the kind of firm-but-fair dad who coached Little League, came along on Cub Scout camps and taught his sons how to treat a lady.
Now that he was retired, he spent much of his free time helping out in the community. He was arguably the most respected man in town.
If Kyle could be half the father, half the man, Charles was, he’d have achieved something.
Too bad his marriage had fallen apart, he was staring at an electoral defeat that would allow Pinyon Ridge to end up a tacky, low-rent tourist mecca and now Lissa’s death had shone a light on the damn poor job he was doing as a dad.
He waited for an opportune moment to ask Charles to babysit, listening with half an ear as his father and Gabe debated the likely outcome of tonight’s baseball game—the Rockies were playing the Dodgers in Denver. Thinking of Denver reminded him of Jane Slater, another hassle he didn’t need.
Micki arrived with their coffees, with a side of extra marshmallows for Daisy. “On the house,” she told Daisy.
Charles gave Kyle a significant look, as if to say, “See, she likes you.”
Which Kyle knew wasn’t true—at least, not in that way. Micki was showing kindness to a little girl who’d lost her mother.
Daisy set two of the marshmallows on a paper napkin. “I’ll save these for Mommy.”
The adults at the table froze.
“Uh, Daisy,” Kyle said.
“When’s Mommy coming home?” Daisy asked.
Kyle swallowed. Surely even the best father in the world would struggle right now?
“Your mommy won’t be coming home, Daisy,” Gabe said. He reached across the table and took Daisy’s hand. “Remember at the church last week, what we talked about?”
“You said we’ll get to see Mommy in heaven.”
“That’s right.” Gabe squeezed her hand. “But here, it’s just you and Daddy now, so you need to look after each other.”
“Would you like my marshmallow, Daddy?” Daisy asked.
“Sure. Thanks.” Kyle almost choked on the words, and then again on the powdered sugar dusting the marshmallow as he popped it in his mouth.
“I wish Mommy was here,” Daisy said on a sigh.
Kyle closed his eyes.
“Daisy, how about a cupcake?” Charles said with heavy-handed heartiness. “Micki has some on the counter—go choose one with the nicest frosting.”
“You okay, bro?” Gabe asked, his eyes keen with concern, after Daisy had trotted off to the cupcakes.
Kyle blinked, also aware of his dad’s worried scrutiny. “I’m fine.”
“That’s what Superman said right before the kryptonite kicked in,” Gabe said, lightening the moment at the same time as he made his point.
“Don’t you have a sermon to write or some pastoral visiting to do?” Kyle asked.
“Sermon’s done,” Gabe said smugly. “And I’m pastoral visiting with you and Dad right now. Wanna pray?”
“I liked you better when you were a sinner,” Kyle muttered.
“Still a sinner, bro, just forgiven.” Gabe faked such a saintly expression, Kyle couldn’t help laughing.
Charles shook his head, but he was smiling, too.
“Seriously, Kyle,” Gabe said, “if you need anything...”
“There’ll be some major adjusting over the next couple of weeks,” Kyle said. “But I’m on it.”
“When does Jane arrive?” Gabe asked.
Charles’s lips pursed.
Kyle shrugged one shoulder. “Who knows? Sometime, never?” He hoped.
Daisy arrived back with her cupcake. “I chose pink,” she informed her grandfather. Back in her seat, she blew on her drink, then took a sip.
“I can’t understand why Melissa thought Jane Slater should have anything to do with Daisy,” Charles said. Daisy’s head came up.
Kyle frowned a warning to his dad. “Remember how good Jane was to Lissa when she was sick?”
Lissa had dropped out of college after she was diagnosed with cancer. She’d come home to Pinyon Ridge, traveling to Denver for oncologist appointments and chemotherapy. The way Kyle had heard it, Jane had taken unpaid leave from her job to accompany Lissa and Barb to chemo, then taken turns with Barb at keeping Lissa’s spirits up through nights of nausea.
“That’s true,” Charles said fairly. “Jane did a good thing. Wasn’t her fault her dad stole the church bake sale takings.” The bake sale had been one of many events held to raise money for the copayments for Lissa’s treatment. Kyle cringed to think how Jane must have felt at her father’s sleazy behavior.
Kyle hadn’t been around through any of it. He’d met Lissa later, toward the en
d of her treatment, when he arrived home from studying landscape architecture at Berkeley. She’d been so frail of body, but so determined to get past the disease, he’d fallen in love with her gutsiness. Through Lissa, he’d met Jane, but he already knew her family by reputation. He’d lost count of the number of times his dad would come home from a shift shaking his head and saying, “Those Slaters.”
Kyle’s instinct had been to protect Lissa from Jane, but at that stage their friendship was rock-solid.
“Speak of the—oh, yeah, I’m not supposed to say that anymore.” Gabe grinned as he pointed out the window.
A white Toyota Corolla had pulled into a parking space on Clark Street next to Kyle’s truck. At this time of day, Clark was the shadier side of the building—the sun streamed in through the windows that fronted onto Main Street. Locals, people in the know who didn’t want broiled car seats, parked on Clark.
The driver door on the Corolla opened; Jane got out.
Gabe sighed appreciatively. “She’s quite a babe.”
“You’re not supposed to say that kind of thing anymore, either.” Jane Slater, a babe? Kyle tried to see what his brother saw, rather than just the woman he was certain had kept secrets from him. Hair a rich walnut-brown fell below her shoulders. Her crimson cotton-knit top molded shapely curves above black skinny pants. She looked confident, self-assured. And, yeah, pretty.
“I’m a pastor, not blind,” Gabe said.
“Gabe, I don’t think Jane Slater is the kind of woman you want to date,” Charles said carefully.
“Hey, she and I have history.” Gabe ran a hand through his hair, fluffing it up as if he might actually be trying to impress Jane. “I took her to senior prom.”
Kyle hadn’t known that; he’d been away at college by then.
“I only invited her because I thought she’d sleep with me,” Gabe admitted. Kyle froze, his coffee halfway to his mouth. “I was wrong,” Gabe finished with a grin.
Charles looked as relieved as Kyle felt.
“And now your womanizing is behind you,” Kyle reminded him drily.
“You bet.” Gabe did that holy look again.
Jane caught them watching her; her chin tilted up as she headed around the corner.
“I figured she wouldn’t get here until Monday,” Kyle said. Behind him, the café door opened.
“Hello, Janelle,” his father said when she reached their booth.
Kyle had forgotten her full name was Janelle. According to Lissa, she’d shortened it to the more neutral Jane as part of creating a new image for herself.
“I understand you’re rejoining us for a couple of weeks,” Charles continued, his tone a mix of condescension and I’m-watching-you warning.
“Hello, Charles,” Jane said coolly.
At the look on his father’s face, Kyle stifled a snort. Most people in town still called Charles Everson “Chief,” out of respect. Jane’s use of his first name had been a deliberate withholding of that respect. Fond though he was of his father, Dad deserved it.
Her tawny brown eyes met Kyle’s. He saw a little flare of surprise as she registered his amusement. His father wasn’t the only one capable of stereotyping—Kyle suspected Jane had pegged him as an uptight jerk years ago and hadn’t moved on from that.
Where she would say “uptight jerk,” he would say “guy trying to do the right thing.” So excuse him if he didn’t have much sense of humor about threats to his family’s stability.
“Barb said I’d find you here,” she said. “I assume you have a key to Lissa’s house?”
Daisy piped up, which was unusual. “You sat with us in the church.” There was a question in the words.
“Um, yeah. Hi, I’m Jane.” The cool control of a moment ago vanished. Her gaze sat somewhere above Daisy’s head, on the back of the booth, as she said awkwardly, “You and I have met before, but it’s been a long time.”
Kyle realized she hadn’t yet looked directly at Daisy.
This was never going to work. With her family background, Jane surely had no clue how to relate to Daisy the way Lissa might have intended.
Unless Jane’s awkwardness was because she knew... Kyle quashed the old suspicion. Years of second- and third-guessing had proved only that speculation was a waste of time.
“Uncle Gabe said you’re a baby,” Daisy said to Jane.
“Er...excuse me?”
“The word was babe,” Gabe corrected Daisy, with a disarming grin.
That drew a soft snort from Jane. It was an oddly warm sound, one that suggested she was a good sport.
“Have a seat,” Gabe invited. “It’s good to see you again.”
What, was he making a play for her? Kyle frowned at his brother, who countered with his usual sunny smile.
Jane hesitated, then, with an air of resignation, squeezed into the booth next to Daisy.
“Why do you need a key to Lissa’s house?” Charles demanded.
Great. His father sounded as if he thought Jane planned to clear the place out and sell Lissa’s stuff on eBay.
“Barb said I should stay there, Charles,” she said. The lips beneath her straight nose were rather full, Kyle noticed. “Since I no longer have a home in Pinyon Ridge.”
Her parents had rented an old dump of a house on the edge of town. Jane’s mother, who’d died a year ago, had been its last inhabitant, the last remaining Slater in Pinyon Ridge. The rest were in jail, dead or missing/presumed engaged in criminal activity.
Except Jane.
“Daisy and I are staying in the house just now,” Kyle informed her. “To give Daisy some continuity.” Barb was overstepping the mark, thinking he needed such close supervision.
“Oh.” She bit that full lower lip. “Barb didn’t mention that. Any chance you can stay in your own place?”
“I’ve been living with Dad.” Which sounded more pathetic than it was. Kyle had moved in with his father after the split with Lissa, who’d stayed in the family home with Daisy. Charles appreciated the company and the arrangement worked fine—though better when his dad had been working. “I’m finishing off a new house on Sawmill Road, but that won’t be ready for another month or so.” That’s what he planned to work on this afternoon. “Daisy has stayed at Dad’s in the past, but it’s not home to her. I want her to feel settled.”
Besides, he suspected his dad’s well-meaning suggestions sometimes hurt Daisy’s feelings, though she would never say as much.
“Fine, I’ll find somewhere else.” Jane hesitated. “I don’t think staying with Barb would work.”
“No,” Kyle agreed. Hal didn’t like having other people around, now that he was a shadow of his former self. Besides, Barb was busy looking after him—Kyle doubted she could handle even an undemanding guest.
“Maybe a bed-and-breakfast,” Jane suggested. “If there’s one that’s not too expensive.”
Pinyon Ridge wasn’t a cheap destination.
“The town’s pretty full,” Kyle said. He should know, he was meeting with the accommodation providers this week to talk about how to manage the increasing demand for rooms, the first sign they were coming out of the recession. “It’s unlikely anyone will have a room for the whole two weeks.” She might have to go back to Denver. What a shame.
“Do you know of anyone who’d put Janelle up, Gabe?” his father asked, unexpectedly helpful.
“Sorry, no. I’d offer to have you stay with me,” Gabe said, “but a single male pastor can’t get away with
hosting female guests under sixty-five. Especially not babes.”
Jane smiled, her mouth suddenly generous. Gabe’s returning smile was appreciative; Kyle found himself stiffening. Huh, who’d have thought he’d feel protective toward his kid brother at this advanced age?
“Dad, you have plenty of room,” Gabe said. “I’m sure you wouldn’t mind having Jane stay with you.” That mischief in his grin was downright unholy.
Hard to say who looked more horrified at the suggestion, Charles or Jane.
“Thanks for the offer, Charles,” Jane drawled, “but I don’t fancy being frisked for any missing family silver every time I walk out the door.”
“You Slaters were always good at holding a grudge,” Charles said. “Might I remind you, the last time I saw you was when I was one of the few people to attend your mother’s funeral.”
A flash of pain crossed Jane’s face so fast, Kyle almost missed it. Then she was back to her usual distant expression as she said calmly, “I figured you wanted to make sure she was really dead.”
His father chuffed with annoyance.
“You could stay with us,” Daisy told Jane.
Kyle realized Daisy had been paying close attention. Like him, the rest of his family weren’t used to having her around all the time; they needed to censor themselves. His daughter’s surreptitious look in his direction said there was more to her invitation than a child’s instinctive kindness. It was as if she liked the thought of someone else being in the house. As if she were reluctant for it to be just the two of them.
Surely he wasn’t that bad a dad? And if that’s how Daisy felt, how were they supposed to get through the next dozen or so years?
At last, Jane met Daisy’s eyes, though with apparent reluctance. “That’s sweet of you, Daisy, but—”
“We have a guest room,” Daisy said. “It’s next to mine.”