The Season of Silver Linings (A Sweet Lake Novel Book 3)

by Christine Nolfi

  The rest were bundled in his daughter’s arms.

  “You’re dragging that stuff to bed?”

  Fancy balanced the stack against her chest. “Yes, Daddy.” Wavering like a drunk, she zigzagged to the bed. “Just for tonight. My babies understand.” One by one, she laid the colorful horde in a semicircle on the bed. Completing the design, she tucked a chunk of silvery fabric beside the pillow.

  Scampering past him, she retrieved the fabric she’d dropped.

  With consternation, he crossed his arms. “There’s no more room on the bed. Where will you sleep?”

  “Right in the middle,” she assured him, climbing over the pillow. With painstaking care, she wiggled her way beneath the comforter. “Made it!”

  “Kiddo, you’re one shade from silly. Tomorrow night, let’s return to our original programming and let your babies sleep in bed.” He picked up a handful of toys, put them on her play table. “At the moment, your bedroom looks like the island of misfit toys.”

  “Penelope and Norah promised I can keep the pretty colors until they’re ready.”

  “It’s awfully nice of the Sirens to buy all this fabric and make you a bunch of new dress-up clothes.”

  “And my party dress.”

  “Wedding,” Philip corrected.

  Somewhere along the line, his daughter had transformed the upcoming nuptials into her coming-out party. He only hoped she wouldn’t lobby to invite her peewee girlfriends.

  Nearing, he studied the string of faux jewels she was winding around her wrist. “Is that a necklace?” When Penelope dropped her off with the fabric, he hadn’t noticed jewelry in the bags.

  “It’s Chanel.” Fancy shook her arm to make the jewels flash. Channeling a grownup voice, she added, “Elegant women only wear Chanel.”

  “According to whom—Norah?”

  She flopped her arm to her side. “What does elegant mean?”

  “It means you’d better hold off on marriage until a lawyer like Uncle Daniel gets down on bended knee.”

  After kissing her goodnight, he turned out the light. He was closing the door when she spoke again.

  “Daddy?”

  “What, sweet pea?”

  “Why don’t I look like anybody?”

  The question made his heart overturn. “Does it matter?” he asked, hoping to skirt the matter quickly.

  She didn’t answer right away. She lifted a finger to draw imaginary pictures in the air, as if the endeavor might reveal secrets she’d never been told.

  “You have dark hair, and Jada has dark skin,” she said at last. “Uncle Daniel looks like you, and Grandma Kettering has your green eyes. Why am I different?”

  It seemed best to skip her inclusion of Jada in the Kettering genetic pool, although her little-girl logic made him smile. “I don’t know, Fancy,” he lied, needing to protect her for as long as time would allow. “Half the girls in your first-grade class want your blonde hair and blue eyes. They’re really different, and they make you beautiful. Don’t you like being special?”

  “I guess so.” She reached for the silvery fabric, dragged it over her face. Hidden beneath, she blew out tiny breaths that made the fabric ripple. When she threw it off, she stared blankly at the ceiling. “Daddy?”

  “What, sugarplum?”

  “How many people am I allowed to love?”

  An easier topic, and he leaned against the doorjamb. “Tell me this isn’t about a boy. I’m not ready for that conversation.”

  “I don’t like boys.” On the pillow, she flopped her head toward him. “Except you and Uncle Daniel.”

  “And Gramps. He’s flying in from Texas with Grandma for the wedding.” She nodded, and he crossed his arms. “Fancy, you can love as many people as you’d like. There’s no limit. In fact, it’s a pretty good deal to love lots of people.”

  “Then I love Jada almost as much as I love you.”

  “You do?”

  Wriggling her arm out from beneath the cover, Fancy scratched her wrist. She unwound the necklace and plunked it on the dresser. “Will you tell Jada we’ll need her help, even after the wedding?” Sitting up, she looked at him fully. “I don’t want her to go away.”

  Where the munchkin was headed with this, he wasn’t sure. “What makes you think she will?” he asked.

  “She never used to come around.”

  “Well, she has been trying to help us out—like Uncle Daniel used to do. He’s busy now, setting up his new life with Aunt Linnie.” The urge to come clean with his daughter grew strong. He’d love nothing more than to reveal his intention to keep Jada in their lives.

  The desire quickly receded beneath more practical concerns. Nothing was settled. He’d only just begun to date Jada. It was premature to get his daughter’s hopes up.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much, kiddo.” Returning to the bed, he tousled her silky hair. When she rewarded him with a smile, he added, “Jada likes hanging around with us. Even if she doesn’t always have time to stop over, you can see her at the inn. She likes when we stop in for dinner at the Sunshine Room.”

  “I like playing with her. We can’t play at the inn.”

  At the wistful comment, he bent down to give her another kiss. “Get some sleep.” He brushed the feathery strands of hair from her forehead. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Philip closed the door with his emotions in flux. Everything might not work out. Fancy would be disappointed, but not as much as him. Then he ran toward a more optimistic thought. In many relationships, having a child from a previous marriage posed difficulties. A potential stepparent might not click with a child, delaying the option of deepening a commitment—or halting a romance altogether.

  Gratitude whirled through him as he went out to the back deck. Among the blessings in his life was the natural, spontaneous affection Jada shared with his daughter. Fancy revolved around Jada like a planet circling the sun. Their daily interactions now formed a bond he prayed would never break.

  Fancy loved Jada—and the feeling was mutual.

  Stars winked in the night sky. Ridiculously, he searched for a shooting star, as he’d done long ago, when Penelope whispered magic in his ears, urging him to trust in the sorcery of his imagination and the untapped power to create a life big enough to contain his every dream.

  The life he’d secured wasn’t built on wishes. The world he inhabited was grounded in hapless error and foolish choices. But he’d done all right. Better than all right. From the bitter lessons he’d woven a life strong and secure. A world he dared to believe Jada would one day share with him and Fancy.

  “Hey.”

  He turned. Jada stood on the threshold between the living room and the deck.

  “Hey yourself.” He smiled, adding, “You let yourself in.” A good sign, in his opinion.

  “Thought I shouldn’t ring the doorbell. Fancy’s in bed, right?”

  “Falling asleep as we speak,” he told her. “Are you hungry? There’s a leftover burger and mac and cheese in the fridge.”

  Skirting the offer, she said, “Invite me over next Sunday, and I’ll cook.” She glanced toward the kitchen, as if conjuring a menu from the treasure trove of recipes she’d perfected. “What are your thoughts on curried chicken and rice, with peach pie for dessert? This morning we got in an unusually early shipment of Georgia peaches. Linnie won’t mind if a handful go missing.”

  Curried chicken and peach pie were among his daughter’s favorite dishes—and his.

  “I’ll help with cooking. Whatever you need.” The idea of following Jada around the kitchen while she filled the air with mouthwatering scents was intensely appealing. “Want me to pick up the chicken?”

  “I’ll bring everything I need. Plan on seeing me in the afternoon. I’d come earlier, but I usually sleep in. My one day of luxury.”

  “Whenever you get here is fine.”

  “I’ll send a text when I’m in the car.” She looked at him expectantly, the light in her chestnut-colored eyes shif
ting.

  Taking the cue, he advanced. She readily moved into his arms. He tempered his thoughts as he kissed her, allowing his hands to slide down her curves to her waist, doing his best not to allow the feel of her pliable skin undo his control. It didn’t help matters when she arched close, her arms sliding up to rest on his shoulders, opening herself to him. When his heart began thundering in his ears, he broke off the kiss.

  “You never told me if you want dinner.” Giving in to the temptation, he dragged his teeth across the heated skin of her neck. She shivered with pleasure.

  “I ate dinner at my desk.”

  “Right. I forgot. You mentioned paperwork when I saw you today.” Her fingers crept toward his hairline, and he shuddered in response. Channeling a calm that belied the heat pouring through him, he asked, “Would you like a glass of wine?”

  “Sure.”

  Letting her go took effort. She went outside, and the scrape of a wicker chair announced she’d chosen where to sit. He strode into the kitchen, found glasses. Pouring the wine, he concentrated on regulating his breathing.

  When he returned outside, he found Jada slouched low in the chair, tapping a finger absently against her lips.

  “What’s the dilemma?” He handed her a glass. “You look stuck on something.”

  “I am stuck. Between work and all the preparations for the wedding, I haven’t found time to give any thought to a gift.”

  He brought a chair close. “For Linnie and Daniel, or just Linnie? I’m not sure of the protocol for maid of honor. Or best man, come to think of it.”

  “I want to get something for them both.”

  “That’s my plan.”

  “Have you bought something?”

  “If I were confident they’d book a long honeymoon, I’d get something for the trip. New luggage, or gift cards for several nice dinners at the destination. My brother is aiming for Aruba, if he can get Linnie to come around.” Philip took a sip of wine. “She won’t commit to a real honeymoon until next autumn, when the Wayfair slows down. I hope it’s not too late by then.”

  “Too late for what, Philip? Professional couples can’t always coordinate a honeymoon right after the wedding. Not the perfect situation, but a woman with the controlling interest in a thriving inn does have responsibilities.” She caught the mischief in his eyes. “Or do you know something I don’t?”

  Relishing her interest, Philip drew the moment out. He liked the way Jada hung her attention on him, her gaze warming as it wandered across his features. Setting his glass down, he took her hand. He brushed his lips across her fingers, and the faintest sigh drifted from her throat.

  “I’m not sure I should tell you.” He threaded his fingers through hers. She held tight, her thumb moving automatically, delivering tiny caresses. “One of those confidences between brothers. Besides, Linnie will tell you eventually. You are close.”

  “Philip, you’re such a tease. Tell me!”

  “Linnie went off the pill.”

  “Is she . . . ?”

  “No news to report, not yet, but the decision has made my brother a little crazy—in a good way. Yesterday? I stopped by his office and found the goofiest surprise.”

  Slipping her hand from his, Jada caressed his jawline. Light, tentative caresses, but they were enough to intensify the hunger building inside him. If she kept it up, he was tossing out the playbook on proper dating etiquette. Was the first week too early for heavy necking, preferably without shirts? He remembered his daughter, sleeping inside, and drove the notion from his mind.

  Grinning, Jada tapped him on the cheek. “C’mon, tell me,” she prodded. “What did you find when you dropped by Daniel’s office?”

  “He was on his computer, tooling around on baby sites. Clothing, toys, cribs—he had four windows open on his iMac.”

  The description increased the emotion warming her gaze. “That’s sweet,” she murmured. “He’s looking forward to becoming a father.”

  “I don’t blame him. He wants to get started before he’s staring down middle age.”

  “Good thing Cat and Ryan are talking about waiting a year or two.” Tiny furrows appeared on the smooth brown skin between her dark brows. “If both of my business partners start the baby game at the same time, I’m not sure where that leaves me. Working seven days a week? Not what I have in mind.”

  “Jada, every problem that comes up isn’t your problem.”

  “Says you.”

  “Says anyone with half a brain.” It bothered him how she instinctively reached for the heaviest burden, a habit too well ingrained. Wishing to break it, he spelled out the obvious solution. “Granted, Linnie may want a shortened workweek after giving birth to her bundle of joy. But there’s no reason she can’t do part of the job from home after her maternity leave if she wants to. Same with Daniel. He’s a lawyer, more than capable of handling some work from home. Trust me—a guy tooling around baby websites won’t mind sharing diaper duty.”

  “Meaning I’m worrying about nothing?” She looked doe-eyed and fragile, as if she really wasn’t sure.

  He chuckled. “Recite after me: it’s not my problem.” He flicked her nose, like he’d do if Fancy did something silly. “Because it’s not.”

  She held up a hand in surrender. “Okay, it’s not my problem. You win.”

  “Don’t forget the Sirens will insist on pitching in. Whenever Linnie starts a family, she’ll have more than enough help.”

  “Two for two, Philip.” Jada leaned closer, brushed a kiss across his mouth. “You’re doing great.”

  “Do you want kids?”

  The question slipped out before Philip checked himself. A blunder, and he hung his head. Even with his nonexistent dating experience as an adult, he knew to save the heavy stuff for later. Long enough to guarantee he didn’t scare Jada away.

  He stole a quick glance. A heady emotion swept through him.

  Jada didn’t look scared. In fact, she looked pleased.

  “Yes, Philip,” she said, lacing his name with affection, “I want kids. You had Daniel growing up—I’m an only child. I adore my parents, but they were starting to get old before I finished junior high. Sometimes they feel more like grandparents, this sweet older couple I pop in to check on several times each week, talking about their latest ailments, or bickering about what they should have for dinner if I haven’t brought something over, which I usually do.” She grinned into her wineglass, took a sip. “Dinner is usually at four p.m.”

  He liked Jada’s parents. Sometimes he bumped into them at Gift of Garb. They held hands in public and were inseparable.

  He’d never given much thought to what it had been like for Jada, growing up with older parents. They were closer in age to grandparents.

  “I always felt like I had to be a self-starter, responsible—even more so now,” she was saying. “I’ve been in a caretaking role with my parents ever since college. Not something most people expect to confront in early adulthood.”

  “I guess not.” Daring himself to dream, he asked, “Best-case scenario, how many kids would you like?”

  “Do you want the truth, or a diplomatic answer?”

  “The truth, totally. Hit me with it.”

  Settling back in her chair, she seemed completely at ease. Her attention floated across the backyard, lifting to study the moon, fat and golden, rising above the trees.

  “Three kids, minimum. Four, if pregnancy and long labors don’t convince me otherwise. But I have a feeling I’ll have easy pregnancies. Don’t ask how I know, I just do.”

  “You do want a big family.”

  “Crazy, right?”

  “Not crazy at all. Big families are great.”

  “And rare,” she pointed out. “Raising a large brood doesn’t come cheap. Food, clothing, sports fees, medical care, and let’s not forget about college. Sometimes I doubt it’s realistic to hope for a large family.”

  Count on Jada’s pragmatism to get in the way of her dreams. “It’s not unr
ealistic,” he countered. “You budget, that’s all. Teach your kids to share, and to expect more hand-me-downs than new clothes. As far as college, what’s wrong with commuting? Or asking your children to save up for some expenses, and take out some loans?”

  “There’s nothing wrong with it. Pitching in teaches a child responsibility.”

  “Exactly.”

  She inhaled a deep breath, her features softening. “I hated being an only child. Linnie and Cat are the siblings I never had. What would my life have been like if we’d never become friends? I guess that’s one of the reasons why I’ve always considered having a large family. I want my children to grow up knowing there’s always someone they can trust, and love. Someone who’ll stand by them no matter what.”

  “I want the same things.”

  “A large family?”

  “Jada, no one wants to become a father before he’s ready. But, yeah, I’d love for Fancy to have sibs. She’d love it too.”

  Sipping her wine, she cast a dubious glance over the rim. “Philip, there’s a big difference between raising one child and a group of kids. The word ‘chaos’ comes to mind.”

  “Are you implying I can’t deal with chaos? Man, you’re way off base.” He ran his hand across her tumbling curls, felt his chest warm as she brought her teasing gaze to his. “Pop quiz. Which one of us has dealt with a toothache, a birthday party, and two scraped knees in the same afternoon? The toothache wasn’t Fancy’s—and the girl’s mother didn’t stay for the party.”

  “Which birthday?”

  “Last year, when Fancy turned five.”

  “All right, you win again. You’ve experienced chaos, the sort I’m still waiting to enjoy.” She paused, a question dancing across her features. Evidently, she wasn’t sure of the reception her curiosity would receive. He waggled his brows, urging her on, and she quietly said, “I know you’re crazy about Fancy, but do you ever regret becoming a parent before your life was settled?”

  The answer came easily. “No regrets,” he said. “There’s nothing better than knowing you mean everything to a child. You get to carry around their love even when you screw up and don’t deserve it, even when you’re stumbling to catch up as they vault through each stage of development. I’ve made so many dopey mistakes while parenting Fancy, but you know what? Kids don’t keep score. As long as you protect them, encourage them, and keep the love coming, they never stop believing in you.”