Harlequin Heartwarming June 2021 Box Set

by Patricia Johns

  “Becca is not a poker chip,” Rowan asserted.

  “I didn’t mean—” Teagarden started to say, but Rowan interrupted.

  “No, I realize that. I just mean that you can’t take a chance assuming that they will back down. What if they don’t?”

  “Clarissa may well be serious about this plan,” Zack agreed. “At the rate she’s burning money, she’ll run out in a decade. Becca’s money would give her another five years or so.”

  “Can she really spend Becca’s money on herself?” Rowan asked the lawyer.

  “Short answer, no. But in practice...” Teagarden shrugged. “If she did, Zack could take her to court. If he could prove it.”

  “And if she had any of her own money left to pay it back,” Zack pointed out.

  “We can ask a judge to appoint you as trustee for her inheritance instead of Clarissa,” Teagarden suggested. “That would remove the financial incentive to take Becca away.”

  “I need full custody,” Zack said. “That’s the only way Becca can feel secure. We need to file now.”

  “When you take something to court, there’s always the chance of losing what you have,” Teagarden hedged. “The mother certainly has precedence. It’s possible that the court would not only refuse you full custody, but they might not even grant you visitation if Clarissa doesn’t want it.”

  “Clarissa and I have always gotten along,” Zack said. “She asked me to take Becca after the funeral. And up until now, she hasn’t questioned my handling of the estate.”

  “Up until now, you’ve always given her whatever she asked for,” Teagarden said. “If you cross her, things might be different.”

  No doubt he’d had experience in this sort of thing, but his wasn’t the perspective Zack trusted most. He turned to Rowan. “What do you think?”

  “I think you’re right, that Becca will never be secure until you have full custody.”

  “Let’s do it,” Zack said. “We’ll word it diplomatically, but we need to make it clear Becca stays with me.”

  “If Becca starts school here at the end of August, would that be a factor in deciding custody?” Rowan asked.

  “It couldn’t hurt,” the lawyer agreed. “Overall, the longer she stays with you, the more solid your case. I’d find that birth certificate and have it ready to hand over when she asks for it. If this goes before a judge, you want to show good faith. How is Becca reacting to this marriage?” Teagarden asked Zack. “That is, if a judge asked, would Becca say she was upset at the change in her routine?”

  “On the contrary,” Zack replied, “she’s happier than she’s ever been since Rowan moved in.”

  “Good, good.” Teagarden made a note. “I’ll transfer another advance to Clarissa’s account, and we’ll delay their request for an advance on behalf of Becca. We’ll plan to move forward with a custody hearing soon.”

  “All right.” Zack checked his watch. “If I’m going to collect Becca and bring her back to town, we’d better get moving. Thanks, Teagarden.”

  Rowan was quiet as Zack navigated his truck through downtown Anchorage. Once they’d made it to the highway, he asked her, “So, what was your impression of Clarissa?”

  “Honestly,” Rowan replied, “I felt sorry for her.”

  That was unexpected. “Why?”

  Rowan shook her head. “She’s desperate to grab as much money as she can, because it’s the only security she trusts. If I were to guess, she’s spending most of it to impress other people, so they’ll hang around and act like friends, because she has no real friends.”

  “That’s a lot from just a few words.”

  “And I may be completely wrong, but that’s the impression I get.”

  “I suspect you’re right. I don’t know any details of her background, but I’ve never heard her mention family or close friends. None came to my dad’s funeral, or even sent a card, as far as I know.”

  “I wish, for her sake and for Becca’s, that she could be a better parent, but it may never happen. So—” Rowan smiled at Zack “—it’s good Becca has you.”

  And you. He almost said it before he remembered that Rowan’s role was temporary. She was there only to help him get custody of Becca and smooth their path. It wasn’t a real marriage. Even if he wished it was.

  * * *

  ROWAN TRANSFERRED A load of laundry from the washer to the dryer and returned to the kitchen. “Coffee’s ready.” She poured two cups and handed one to Zack as he sat down to eat his bowl of cereal.

  “Thanks.” Zack was never particularly communicative first thing in the morning, which suited Rowan fine. She liked a few minutes of calm to sip coffee and plan her day. Last night Zack had mentioned he needed to go in early to check on the beaver kit before his first appointment, so he and Rowan were up well before Becca this morning.

  Rowan prepared Becca’s lunch and poured the remainder of the coffee into Zack’s travel mug. She carefully stepped around Ripley, who had stretched out across the rectangle of sunlight streaming through the kitchen window onto the golden wood of the floor. Rowan loved this kitchen.

  Zack’s phone chimed as he finished his breakfast and he checked his messages. “Oh, shoot. The housekeeper at my dad’s house has to take her mother to the doctor this afternoon and won’t be there to let in the appraiser.”

  “What appraiser?”

  “He’s flying in from out east to value my dad’s fishing collectibles. It seems like a lot of fuss to me, but Teagarden says he’s the expert. I have appointments all day, so I can’t do it. I’ll see if Teagarden can get one of his office staff to let him in.”

  “I can do it.”

  “No, you’re meeting with the Hawaiian plate lunch restaurant owners today about the fundraiser.”

  Rowan smiled, pleased he remembered. “We changed it to this morning at ten. I’m free in the afternoon, and Jessie is driving today. Just give me the time and the key.”

  “Are you sure? You might need to stay a couple of hours. At least until the housekeeper gets back.”

  “I don’t mind. I can take my laptop and work on the fundraiser while I wait. Oh, and if you want, I can look for that birth certificate while I’m there.”

  “Thank you.” He ran upstairs and returned with a key ring and a sticky note with a series of numbers written on it. “The combination to the safe in the study.”

  “Should I have this?”

  “I trust you more than anyone else I know. Just tear it up when you’re done.” He accepted the coffee she held out. “You are a lifesaver.” He checked his watch. “Gotta run.” He planted a sweet kiss on her mouth before heading out the door.

  Rowan pressed her fingers to her lips. To keep Becca happy, they’d been kissing goodbye every morning, but Becca was still asleep in her bed, upstairs. Maybe he’d just kissed her from habit. Or maybe it was a thank-you for handling the appraiser. Or maybe—

  No. Zack had been clear he didn’t want or need a romantic attachment in his life. But there was that kiss outside on the porch. That was no casual thank-you or goodbye. It felt like a kiss that meant something, that acknowledged what she felt was growing between them. If Ripley hadn’t come along when he did... But he had. And Zack hadn’t mentioned the kiss or made any more moves since. So maybe, as they said, a kiss was just a kiss.

  Fluff padded into the kitchen, checked her bowl and meowed, demanding to know why no one had emptied the leftover dry food and replaced it, because eating yesterday’s kibble was completely out of the question for royalty like her. That must mean Becca was out of bed.

  Rowan had tagged along when Zack took Becca to Clarissa’s hotel suite the day before, curious to see them together. Their reunion was heartbreaking in its uneventfulness. Mother and daughter had greeted each other politely. In that too-bright voice people who were uncomfortable around children used, Clarissa had asked a few
questions and received mostly one-word answers. The only time she showed real interest was when Becca complimented her necklace. “It’s a conch pearl,” Clarissa explained, of the pink globe encased in a platinum cage. “They’re very rare.”

  “I like the color.”

  “Thank you. I like it, too.”

  After that, Becca had relaxed a little, as though she’d completed her assigned task of making her mother smile. When Zack suggested it might be time to go, everyone seemed relieved. He’d taken Becca and Rowan to a local burger place for dinner, and Becca had suddenly remembered half-a-dozen interesting things from camp that day. They’d listened to her stories and laughed when she caught Zack sneaking onion rings from her plate. Rowan suspected Clarissa’s party wasn’t nearly as much fun.

  The dryer buzzed. Rowan pulled out the warm clothes and breathed in the lovely scent of fresh laundry. She was halfway through folding when she heard Becca’s voice calling down the stairs. “Rowan, do you know where my red shirt is?”

  “I have it.” She dumped the rest of the clothes in the basket and started up the stairs. Time to get this day in gear.

  * * *

  “COME THIS WAY.” Rowan had never been inside the house before, but Zack had given her directions on where to take the appraiser. As she led him across the marble floor of the entryway and into a living room with five, no seven different couches and at least a dozen chairs, she wished she’d had Zack draw a map. The back of the living room was a two-story glass wall with a mountain view. The wall on the right had three doors.

  The first door led to a half bath with a hammered copper sink raised above a granite countertop. The next door opened into an office dominated by a walnut desk. Finally, behind door number three, Rowan found a room lined with glass-fronted cabinets displaying fishing rods and other equipment. Below each case was a set of shallow drawers anchored by an ornately carved molding. In the center of the room, four leather club chairs surrounded a glass-topped square table. Twenty or thirty wooden fishing lures were displayed in a velvet-lined tray under the glass. “In here, Dr. Jennison,” she called to the appraiser, who had stopped to admire the mountains.

  “Splendid view,” he commented as he followed her in and watched as she unlocked the cabinets. “Ah, what have we here? A Finis bamboo fly rod. I bid on one of these for a client in an auction in Wyoming a few years ago.” He took a pair of white gloves from his bag and pulled them on.

  “I’ll leave you to it, then,” Rowan said. “I’ll be in the next room if you need me.”

  He nodded, already engrossed in his inspection. Rowan returned to the study and found the safe under the desk. Inside, she found stacks of file folders, a box and an unmarked envelope. A quick glance inside the envelope showed a motley collection of euros, pounds, pesos, yen and several other currencies. The box held jewelry, with a diamond tennis bracelet and several rings on top.

  She returned the box and cash to the safe and set the folders on the desk. Bold writing labeled each one. Auto Titles. Insurance Documents. Several folders with street addresses that seemed to contain titles, plot maps, appraisals and such. Another folder, labeled Old Wills, contained several going back to before Zack was born. Zack had told her the will they were using was fifteen years old. She had to wonder if it had come from this folder.

  Toward the bottom of the stack, she found a folder with Becca’s name. The official birth certificate was right on top. Rowan set it aside. Behind it was a hospital certificate with tiny footprints and a photo of newborn Becca, wrapped in a pink blanket and looking at the camera with wide blue eyes. How could anyone see that tiny baby and not immediately fall in love?

  The folder held several other documents, including a record listing every immunization from birth to a tetanus shot six months ago. A paper stapled to the back of the card noted that Becca had stepped on a nail and the doctor had recommended an extra tetanus booster just in case. Another note mentioned a mild rash in response to an antibiotic she had taken for an ear infection when she was four.

  Rowan shut the folder and returned it to the pile. Zack was right. A man who kept track of every shot and drug reaction for his daughter would not have neglected to update his will. Since she was going to be there a while anyhow, Rowan leafed through all the folders before returning them to the safe. She even checked the jewelry box for a false bottom or hidden compartment, but nothing came to light.

  After locking everything back in the safe, she checked on the appraiser, who was happily photographing a tray of fishing flies. The rest of the afternoon she spent going through every item in the study bookshelves and every folder in the oak file cabinets. Thomas Vogel might have been a bit of a packrat, but each folder was neatly labeled in his distinctive handwriting and contained exactly what the label promised, and none of them contained any mention of a new will. He was obviously a man of organization and method. He would not have neglected to provide for his daughter. Would Clarissa really have destroyed the will? There didn’t seem to be any way to prove it.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ROWAN REALLY WAS a miracle worker. How else to explain that the predicted rain on the day of the fundraiser should mysteriously vanish, to be replaced by a perfect sunny day? Mouthwatering smells came from the row of food booths offering samplings of everything from smoked duck to thumbprint cookies, and an empty stage promised entertainment later. Judging by the number of people Zack saw lined up to buy tickets outside the gate, WildFair was a hit.

  “Where’s Becca?” Charlotte asked Zack when she and her mother located him just inside the entry to the fundraiser. “We’re supposed to get our faces painted.”

  “She’s over there with Rowan.” Zack pointed toward the cheese booth.

  “Becca, I’m here!” Charlotte took off, galloping across the grounds.

  “Charlotte, wait. You’ll need tickets...” Jessie trailed off when it became apparent Charlotte was too excited to hear her. She grinned at Zack. “This is amazing!”

  “I know.” Even though he and all the volunteers had been here yesterday, setting it all up, it was incredible to watch the festivities taking place. They’d cleared the goats from one of the pastures and located the fair there. A juggler, two clowns, a magician and a unicyclist roamed among the crowds. There were family activity booths, with art projects, a ring-toss game with prizes, the face-painting booth, balloon animals and many others.

  “Hey, Zack.” Greg joined his wife and handed over a fistful of tickets. He looked around. “Wow!”

  “I can’t believe all the people Rowan managed to round up,” Jessie said. “How many different tasting booths did we end up with?”

  “Fourteen, I think.”

  “We’re signed up to help with the auction, but do you need us to do anything in the meantime?”

  “Maggie might want you to take a shift at the WildER information tent. Other than that, you’ll need to ask Rowan. Let’s go check with her. I need to give Becca some tickets, anyway, so she and Charlotte can do the bouncy house and face painting.”

  They made their way to the cheese booth. Lauren and three other ladies were doing a brisk business giving out samples. Becca was there, too, with Charlotte by her side, accepting tickets from hungry customers.

  Rowan stood to one side, consulting her clipboard and giving directions to two volunteers. “We’ve got dancers performing in half an hour,” she was saying, “so don’t set up the chairs until four. The auction starts at five.”

  When they left, Jessie and Greg stepped up. “Reporting for duty.”

  “Hi.” Rowan hugged them. “I don’t have you scheduled until four forty-five for the auction, but if you’d like to take Charlotte and Becca around, maybe Zack can take over Becca’s ticket-taking duties.”

  “I’m on it,” Zack agreed. He stayed busy for the next hour, taking tickets and watching the crowds. Rowan had done an amazing job. All of Palmer and half
of Anchorage seemed to have decided to come out and play. She’d managed to get all the expenses, even advertising, covered by donations, so the entire gate fee was going toward the wildlife center. And that was in addition to the proceeds from the auction. Rowan had put together some incredible prize packages.

  She and her clipboard seemed to be everywhere today, answering questions, organizing volunteers, even helping a crying child locate his mother. Now she stood in the open center area, calling for attention. “Hello, everybody.” Rowan’s voice sounded gentle, even amplified through a portable microphone. “Welcome to the first annual WildFair for WildER. It’s great to see you all here today. In ten minutes, we’ll start the sack race, sponsored by Frozen Tundra Treats. The winner will receive ice cream for a month—that is thirty-one free ice cream cones—so anyone who wants to participate, come and get your sack!”

  Becca hurried up to the cheese booth, sporting a ladybug on one cheek and a butterfly on the other. She carried half a tiny taco in her hand. “Zack! Me and Charlotte are going to enter. Come watch.” She popped the last bite into her mouth.

  “Go ahead,” Lauren told Zack. “The rush has died down. We can handle things here.”

  He followed Becca over and helped get a couple of kids into their sacks. Rowan flashed him a grin. “Having fun?” she called.

  “You bet!” Usually he hated crowds, but outdoors on the grass with kids playing and laughing, he didn’t mind at all.

  Rowan stood at the line. “On your mark. Get set. Go!” Thirty or so children leaped forward in their sacks. At least a fourth immediately fell and had to scramble back to their feet and into their bags before they could move on. A couple of boys bounded ahead almost to a photo finish, but Maggie, who had come to judge and offer the prize, declared one of them a winner by a nose. Charlotte and Becca finished in the middle of the pack, and all the children received a certificate for one free cone.

  Zack helped Rowan reclaim the sacks. “Have you had a chance to eat yet?” he asked her.