“You’ve got a great memory. I know you’ve been staying at Poppy Gold, but since you mentioned working at Sarah’s Sweet Treats, I keep wondering if you expect to move here.”
“I’m considering it. I love Glimmer Creek.”
Leah looked pleased. “That’s wonderful. You know, I belong to a patchwork quilters’ group if you’re interested.”
“I don’t know anything about quilting.”
“That’s okay, I don’t, either. I only joined a month ago, and it would be great to have another novice. We could learn together. I’ve done historical costuming, but nothing like this.”
Rosemary laughed. “Thank you. I’ve also been asked to join some other organizations.”
“We like getting people involved—that way you’re more likely to stay. But feel free to attend the quilting group, even if you aren’t moving here,” Leah added. “My daughter sent a Poppy Gold guest to a meeting just last week.”
“Your daughter?”
“You may have met her...Carlie Forrester?”
“Oh, yes, she’s the activities director,” Rosemary exclaimed. “I attended her first ghost walk. It was fun.”
“I’ll tell Carlie you enjoyed it.” Leah took a pen and an envelope from her purse and scribbled a note. “Here’s my phone number. Call anytime. We have a garage apartment that’s been empty since our daughter got married. My husband refuses to be a landlord, but if you need a place to stay while you’re looking for something permanent, you’d be welcome.”
“That’s so nice of you.” Rosemary put the envelope in her pocket, warmed by the other woman’s open friendliness. “Would you like to join me for a cup of coffee? Poppy Gold keeps a pot in the reception area.”
“I’d love to, but Mike will be home from work soon and I promised to make chicken potpie for dinner. Maybe we could have lunch this week. Just let me know when you’re available.”
With a nod, Rosemary said goodbye and continued back to Poppy Gold.
The encounter reminded her of how casual her relationships had been in Washington. Hundreds of people had come to her husband’s funeral, but they hadn’t called or visited after that. They weren’t friends, they were just Richard’s business associates and acquaintances. Others had known her through her fund-raising efforts, but genuine friendship had eluded her. Perhaps Glimmer Creek would be different.
Rosemary released a deep sigh.
She didn’t think the little town was perfect. The people were nosy and gossiped, but she liked them and they seemed to like her. Perhaps she would stay. She could always keep the house in DC in case she changed her mind at some point.
Rosemary returned to the suite and found Nathan asleep on a chaise on the porch, his face wonderfully peaceful. She slipped inside and went upstairs, hoping to find Tyler in the office, only to remember he and Sarah were having a picnic together.
“Mom?” Nathan called a short time later.
“In here, darling,” Rosemary called back from the sitting room.
Nathan appeared at the door. “I’m hungry. Since Tyler is eating with Sarah, I wondered if you wanted to order something or reheat the stuff left from breakfast.”
“I’m sure Sarah could do something gourmet with the leftovers,” Rosemary said lightly, “but not me. Let’s order.”
“I’ll call Casa Maria—they’re fast. Then I’m going to the fitness center. The physical therapist thinks I need to work on my upper body strength.”
Rosemary wasn’t a fan of spicy food, but she was happy Nathan was showing an interest. “Get me a chicken quesadilla, no salsa or cilantro.” It was the one dish she was comfortable ordering from Casa Maria, though Tyler had suggested trying the green sauce enchiladas, saying they were mild.
“Okay.”
Obviously, this was one of Nathan’s good days. She supposed PTSD was a little like grief. Sometimes she felt as if things were brighter, that the heavy, desperate weight of loss was slipping away, and the next morning the tears would start because she’d never wake up with Richard again.
One step at a time, she told herself.
The food came and Nathan ate with a reasonable appetite.
Casa Maria was familiar enough with them by now that they’d automatically included a generous amount of salsa for him. A new addition was a container of pico de gallo made of fresh tomato, onion, bell pepper and avocado, with a note saying it wasn’t spicy and they hoped she would enjoy it with her quesadilla. Rosemary could have cried at the kind gesture. Busy as the restaurant must be, they’d made something special, knowing she didn’t care for hot food.
“I don’t understand why you don’t like cilantro, Mom,” Nathan said, breaking into her thoughts. He’d liberally sprinkled his meal with the fresh-chopped herb. “It’s so mild.”
“It doesn’t taste mild to me. I’ve read that some scientists believe strong likes and dislikes to cilantro are genetic,” she told him. “Like the way some cats respond to catnip and others don’t.”
A twinkle appeared in Nathan’s eyes. “You mean we’re like cats?”
“I’m sure they’d disagree. Sarah tells me they have a superior attitude.”
“Like some people I’ve met.” He ate his last bite and shoved the plate back. “I’ll head to the fitness center now unless you need me for anything.”
“Go ahead. I’m going to spend the evening with a book someone loaned me at work.”
He winked. “Romantic?”
“Nonfiction, actually. It’s called Galileo’s Daughter. I doubt it has any romance since she became a pious nun.”
“You’re probably right.”
Nathan kissed her forehead and left. While he was still limping, there seemed to be a spring in his step that she hadn’t seen in a while. And that wink? Hope curled around Rosemary’s heart, even though she knew a full recovery might mean he’d return to active duty. But if that was what he wanted, she would have to want it for him, too.
She’d cleaned up from the meal and was deep into her book when Tyler came in.
“Did you get something to eat?” he asked.
“Nathan was hungry and ordered food from Casa Maria.”
“Nathan ordered?”
Rosemary smiled. “That’s right. He suggested the restaurant and ordered for us both. Now he’s at the fitness center. It’ll give us a chance to talk.”
Tyler’s expression turned more guarded. “Oh?”
“It’s important. Please sit down, I can’t do this with you standing over me,” she said, her heart fluttering.
* * *
TYLER SAT IN the chair opposite his mother, even though he wasn’t ready for another intimate discussion. Sarah’s insights had given him a measure of peace for the first time since his father’s death, and he needed to work through what it meant.
Still, he wished she’d let him stay with her.
“Mom, what’s up?” Tyler prompted.
“I...there’s something you should have been told a long time ago.”
His eyebrows shot upward. “What, I’m adopted?” It could explain his father’s coolness toward him, though he looked enough like Richard Prentiss that it seemed unlikely.
“No.” His mother twisted her fingers so hard he saw the skin whiten over her knuckles. As if he was hearing Sarah’s voice in his ear, telling him what to do, Tyler reached out and put his hand on hers.
“It’s okay, Mom, whatever it is.”
“I’m not sure about that.” A tear trickled down her cheek. “Before you were born, your father and I had a little girl. Her name was Kathryn Louise, but we called her Kittie.”
Tyler stared. This was the last thing he’d expected to hear. “What happened to her?”
“She contracted spinal meningitis when she was a year old. The doctors did everything possible, but she
died just a day after she got sick. Richard couldn’t bear to think about her after that. He said we needed a new start where nobody knew about our daughter, so he sold his law practice in Boston and we moved to Washington, DC. He buried himself in work and insisted we never talk about her to anyone.”
Tyler was struck by the pain in her eyes, along with the regret that he’d never known his sister. “I’m sorry,” he said helplessly. There was nothing he could say to make it better. A part of him also recognized that this hidden sorrow explained a great deal about the past.
“I’m the one who’s sorry. Oh, Tyler, we’d decided not to have more children when I discovered I was pregnant. It was too soon, and neither of us could open ourselves the way you deserved. I loved you desperately, but we were terrified of losing you, too.”
Tyler’s mind was spinning, but his mother wasn’t done. She went on to explain how his father had grown up poor, the first member of his family to ever finish high school, much less college. Another secret? Yet it made a curious sense. Richard Prentiss’s drive for success had been obsessive.
“Wasn’t he proud of how far he’d come?” Tyler asked.
His mother shook her head. “In the beginning, but not after Kittie died. Richard believed that if we’d lived in a nicer home or neighborhood, then she wouldn’t have gotten sick. Or that the doctors could have saved her if we’d carried better health insurance. I think he always felt like a failure after she died, no matter how much money we had.”
“How could he blame himself?”
“He just did. It wasn’t his fault, but he kept trying to outrun the pain. He was still trying to outrun it when he died. I...I hope he has peace now.”
“‘Black care never sits behind a rider whose pace is fast enough,’” Tyler said quietly.
“What?”
“I found a bust of President Teddy Roosevelt in Dad’s law office when I cleared it out. There was a brass plate on the bottom with that quote. I suppose that’s what Dad was trying to do...move so quickly and work so hard, his grief couldn’t catch up with him.”
His mother wiped away a tear. “Except you can’t escape what’s inside you. Richard wasn’t the only one who tried to run away—I stayed busy with my fund-raisers and foundations to keep from hurting.”
“It’s all right, Mom.”
“No, it isn’t. I’m not letting myself off over this, darling. I should have done something to help Richard face his grief, instead I went along with what he wanted. Our marriage was good, but I’ll never know how much better it could have been if I’d stood up more for myself. And because of it, you and Nathan lost out. You deserved to understand how far your father had come and why it was so important to him to be successful.”
“Dad was responsible for his own actions.” Even as Tyler said it, he remembered Sarah saying something similar about Milo Corbin, and a small chunk of his guilt floated away.
“It still makes me sad. Just a minute, I want to show you something.” His mother got up and soon returned with a man’s wallet in her hands. “This was your father’s. A few days ago, I found something in here that I didn’t expect.”
Rosemary opened the wallet and Tyler saw an old Christmas photo of the family in the space normally used for a driver’s license. She eased the photo free, turned it over and held it out. The faded picture of a little girl, maybe a year old, smiled up at Tyler.
“Kittie?”
“Yes.” More tears flowed down his mother’s cheeks. “Richard wanted all of her belongings removed from the house. He didn’t know, but I saved what I could and put them in a safe deposit box after we moved to DC. Now I’ve discovered he carried a picture of her. So some part of him knew that he couldn’t forget, that she would always be a part of us, the way you boys were.”
Tyler knew he’d never see his father the same way again. Richard Prentiss had been flawed, but perhaps he’d genuinely loved his family.
“Why are you telling me about her now?”
“Because it’s time. Because I found out about your legal troubles in Illinois and hate knowing you couldn’t share it with us, the way your dad couldn’t share.”
Tyler’s breath hissed out. “How did you find out?”
“Kurt’s uncle told him, and he told me. I know you were trying to protect us, but I can’t let you always be the strong one. That was part of Richard’s problem, too. When I look at Kurt with Sarah, I see how things could have been with us as a family. Maybe it isn’t too late to change that.”
Tyler didn’t know if that much change was possible, but it was a revelation to see his mother’s steady gaze. She wasn’t falling apart; she was moving forward.
“I didn’t want you and Nathan to worry about Illinois,” he explained. He looked down again at the picture of the sister he’d never known. “Have you told Nathan about Kittie?”
“Not yet. I thought it might be easier to speak with each of you separately.”
He got up and handed the picture back. “Then I won’t bring it up unless he does.”
“Thanks. I also want you to go over my finances with me. It’s time I take care of myself.” Rosemary let out a small laugh. “I’m already doing some of it. I needed a place to deposit my paychecks, so I opened an account at the Glimmer Creek Bank. Since then I’ve gotten all the employees at the bakery to use direct deposit for their paychecks. It’s a big savings for Sarah.”
Tyler nodded, proud of how far his mother had come, even though it gave him a curiously hollow feeling to know she didn’t need him any longer. “We’ll do it soon.”
“Great. And, um, I’ve also decided to stay in Glimmer Creek. It’ll be a fresh start for me.”
He wasn’t surprised. Glimmer Creek had a growing appeal for him, as well.
“I’m glad you’re happy here,” Tyler murmured.
Upstairs he sat down and began work on another plan for Sarah’s Sweet Treats, but his mind was only half on the project.
The other half was thinking about how close he’d been to becoming exactly like his father.
For the rest of the night, Tyler worked at his drafting table while he debated and analyzed his feelings. As daylight began creeping through the windows, he finally arched his back and stretched. The inescapable truth was that he couldn’t weigh emotions on a scale like roofing nails from a hardware store.
Yet when he thought about Sarah’s face when she was laughing or teasing or sexily tempting him, it seemed clear what he wanted. But loving her would require a leap of faith, and that wasn’t something he was good at.
He closed his eyes, remembering how the two little girls had dropped onto the blanket next to him and starting talking a mile a minute.
Did he like chocolate or vanilla ice cream? They thought their new mommy was the best new mommy ever, but Sarah was awful nice, too. Was he going to marry her? How did his get face hurt? Who was his favorite, Dory or Nemo? Did he like their papa’s truck? They called it Moby Dick. Was he going to be there for Christmas, because Christmas was super great at Poppy Gold?
His ears had rung.
Still, while it had made him uncomfortable, the twins’ exuberance and trust had been charming. They cut through all the nonsense, getting straight to what mattered to them. But the image that kept crowding everything else out was Sarah’s face, alight while talking to the two little girls. She clearly loved children and could enter their world with ease. She’d be an amazing mother.
Was it that big of a leap to go from seeing Sarah as a friend to seeing her as his wife and the mother of his children? Little girls who would be just like her and little boys who’d adore her as much as he did?
Arrgghh.
Tyler rubbed his face and stood up. He needed a shower to clear his head. Being in love with Sarah didn’t mean he would be a good father, though he’d certainly have a better chance w
ith her help. It also didn’t mean he’d be a good husband...just that he’d do his damnedest to make her happy.
But even supposing Sarah felt the same about him, it would take a whole lot to convince her.
* * *
A FEW DAYS after finding the bag of broken glass on her porch, Sarah went by the police station to talk with Zach...and bring him three more packages she’d picked up from the post office.
“Are you sure you want to know what we discovered?” he asked.
“Yes,” she said, though she wasn’t as confident as she tried to sound.
“All right. We X-rayed the packages before opening them and fingerprinted inside and out, but didn’t find anything. This is a list of the contents.”
Sarah took the sheet of paper. Assorted baby layettes. A sippy cup. Lotion. Petroleum jelly. A piggy bank. Diaper cream. A food grinder for preparing homemade baby food. And a smashed baby rattle.
“Do you think the rattle got crunched in the mail?” she asked, keeping her voice as steady as possible.
“No. We’ve also pieced together the glass from the gift bag. There were two champagne flutes, a sparkling cider juice bottle, and a paperweight in the shape of a baby booty. Obviously there’s a baby theme here.”
“That isn’t hard to figure out, but the harassment with my shop isn’t baby-related.”
“I know. Maybe someone is angry at the bakery for whatever reason, and they’re trying to misdirect us.”
“Or the other way around.”
“There’s another possibility...in a way, the bakery is your baby.”
Sarah lifted an eyebrow. “Isn’t that a stretch?”
“At the moment, everything is speculation. We’ve checked out your ex-husband, by the way. He was at a conference in New York when the motorcyclist tried to swipe your deposit, and at another in Miami when the broken glass was left.”
“I didn’t think it could be him.”
“We still had to check. I’d like you to sign a release to have all your mail come through the police station, including mail addressed to the sweet shop. We’ll respect your privacy, but it’ll go through fewer hands this way.” He pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to her along with a pen.
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