A Future for His Twins

by Susanne Dietze

  He rubbed his jaw, drawing her attention to the appealing dark stubble on his cheeks and chin. Well, that chased her irritation away, and her stomach filled with whooshing butterflies.

  She looked away, fast.

  It wasn’t enough, though. He twisted a half step toward her, close enough to envelop her in the radius of his citrusy cologne. She hadn’t noticed the scent yesterday, which was a good thing, because the butterflies in her belly went ballistic, spreading to her limbs and messing up whatever thought she’d entertained five seconds ago. Tom smelled good. So good she wanted to step closer and take a deep sniff of his flannel shirt and—

  Whoa. She’d never reacted to cologne like this before. Or stubble, which, if she were honest, suited him. It looked less like he was growing a beard and more like he was a Hollywood star making a fashion statement. He was a nice-looking man, but no, no, a thousand times no—she was not going to think about him like that. Like he was romance material.

  She regained a fraction of her sanity when she took a step back on the pretense of reaching for the dust rag behind the counter and buffing the already-clean space, gulping the less interesting wood polish smell of her shop.

  “So.” She scrambled for a sane thing to say. “How are the kids adjusting?”

  “They start school tomorrow,” Tom half whispered, which explained why he’d stepped so close to her. “It might sound odd to start a new school on a Friday, but the teacher and I decided this might help them ease back into things. Anyway, they’re nervous, so I thought I’d take them out, get their minds off school tomorrow. I’m sorry for the interruption.”

  “We weren’t busy.” Thankfully, her voice sounded normal. Her pulse was still fast, though. Talk about something normal. “I don’t remember your friend from school.”

  “He didn’t attend WPC High. His grandma is my parents’ next-door neighbor, and he visited every July.”

  “Ah, a summer kid, just like me.”

  “But you went to WPC High, didn’t you? We talked about it yesterday, and I remember—well, I remember Chloe.”

  Of course he did—everyone remembered Chloe. “My sister graduated here, but she’s two years older than I am. Our parents divorced that year and we all moved to San Francisco. I came back here to visit my grandparents during the summers, though, and when I was self-sufficient, I moved here.” Where she’d been the happiest. “Does Ender live here now, too, or is he visiting you?”

  “He lives here now and works at the auto-parts store, but he has experience with camping goods, so he’s my first hire.” Tom’s expression grew wistful. “And he’s a good friend. Since my wife’s funeral, he’s been like a brother to me.”

  Tom was an only child, unlike Faith, who just felt like one sometimes. Hopefully, Chloe would get back to her this time, though. “I’m glad he was there for you.”

  He looked over at Ender and Angie chatting over their cups of tea. “My wife’s death was sudden, and since then I’ve struggled with worrying about the twins. When they disappeared just now, I about lost it.”

  Faith’s heart ached in her chest. “That’s totally understandable. You’re a caring dad.”

  “My goal is to be a better dad each day.”

  “It’s obvious how much you love them, and you’d never let anything happen to them, Tom.”

  “Thanks for saying that, Faith. Sometimes I feel like the worst parent in the world. I—”

  A loud crash outside, followed by breaking glass, made Faith jump. “Oh, no.”

  She hurried out front, where the green chairs lay on their sides and the contents of her dollar baskets spilled over the sidewalk. The mason jar she’d filled with dried flowers had shattered into pieces, and books lay on the dirty ground. Decorative drawer knobs rolled into the street.

  And Nora and Logan were in the middle of the mess, crying, definitely not playing checkers inside. Their dad had said they were crafty, but Faith hadn’t understood just how fast, or quiet, they were. How had she missed them slinking out of the store?

  It didn’t matter right now, the way they were crying. Faith started to reach for them, but Tom took them in hand, gathering them to his sides. “Are you hurt?”

  Nora repeated something, muffled by the unicorn pressed against her face. Sorry, that’s what it was. Logan shook his head. A quick scan assured Faith both kids were unharmed, just scared. They would be fine, and they were with their dad, where they belonged.

  Faith stepped back to set the chairs right side up so the group approaching on the sidewalk wouldn’t trip on them. Oh—they weren’t tourists. They were local boys out of high school, a surly set, and she wasn’t surprised when one of them trod over the already-shattered jar.

  “Stupid old junk.”

  Shame burned hot in her chest. She had nothing to be ashamed of, but stupid old junk was a sentiment she’d heard before. Not in those words, exactly, but her parents, sister and folks like Mayor Hughes all looked down on Faith’s Finds.

  And when others viewed the precious items in her store as nothing but old junk, well, it wasn’t anything she hadn’t heard before from the people who were supposed to love her the most.

  * * *

  Holding his kids close, Tom swallowed down remorse. Anger, too. His kids had escaped his notice twice in ten minutes. What kind of father was he?

  One who was trying to do better, that’s what kind.

  That meant he needed to watch them like a proverbial hawk but also ensure they respected the rules. Now that their tears were subsiding, he loosened his hold a fraction. “So what happened, guys?”

  “We fell off the chairs.” Nora wiped her tears on his shirt.

  “Like this.” Logan made a crash sound.

  “So you climbed on chairs that are meant for sitting on. And collided with the table, looks like.”

  Nora sniffled into his stomach. “It was an ask-ident.”

  Faith looked up from gathering stuff off the sidewalk. “Of course it was, and I’m just glad you’re not hurt.”

  Her tone was far sweeter than Tom’s might have been had his display been demolished. She’d set the green chairs upright, but knickknacks were still scattered over the concrete sidewalk and jewel-toned items had rolled into the asphalt street.

  Tom started to let go of his kids for the items, but Faith dashed into the street. In a few moments, she’d retrieved the items and dumped them—drawer knobs—into one of the baskets.

  Sorry, he mouthed at her.

  She waved off his silent apology.

  She shouldn’t have to clean the mess, though. “Guys, help Miss Faith pick up the things you knocked down. Watch the glass there, though.”

  “I’ll get a dustpan,” Angie said behind him. He hadn’t even realized she was out here.

  The twins crouched to scoop up the oversized buttons, thimbles and pins that had spilled, dropping them into the baskets. Faith smiled as she repositioned the baskets on the table. “Thanks for the help.”

  Tom took the dustpan from Angie. Glass shards tinkled as Tom brushed up the broken glass, along with a few dry leaves. “Guys, didn’t we just have a talk, like, two minutes ago, about you not going places without telling me?”

  “We didn’t go anywhere,” Logan protested.

  “You left the store.”

  “We were just at the door,” Nora said. “We wanted to see what was in the baskets.”

  “Standing by the door isn’t leaving,” Logan added.

  Six years old and his children were masters of semantics. Tom took a deep breath. “You went outside without permission. That counts as leaving, and I’m pretty sure you two know it. I’m just sorry I didn’t see you do it.”

  Nora jogged on her tippy-toes, bent over. “That’s because we ran like this when you were looking at Ender and the other lady.”

  Bad enough that he hadn’t noti
ced his kids leaving the store, but now that he knew they’d deliberately snuck past him when he was looking in the other direction, he had another lesson to impart to them. One he hoped to do well, so he prayed before he spoke.

  “You two are the most important things in the world to me, which is why I can’t allow you to break our family rules. You know that means consequences. First, you both owe Miss Faith an apology for wrecking her display.”

  “Sorry.” Nora stopped moving for a half second to apologize.

  “Sorry.” Logan wasn’t as penitent sounding as Tom would’ve liked, but they’d have a talk about that later.

  “Thank you.” Faith offered each of his kids fist bumps. “I’m just glad you didn’t get hurt.”

  Tom hoped his gratitude shone in his eyes well enough for her to recognize it. She smiled, so it seemed like she did. Hopefully, she wouldn’t mind what he was about to do next.

  “Miss Faith can’t sell some of this merchandise now. It’s broken. We need to pay for it.”

  Faith shook her head. “It’s just an old jar I used as a vase.”

  “The knobs are dinged up. I’m sure other things got dirty, at least. We owe you for that.”

  “Truly, this stuff isn’t valuable. That’s why it’s outside.”

  “I want my kids to learn actions have consequences, though, and they broke a big rule today. Twice. They can do extra chores at home and they can pay you what they earn, or if it isn’t too much trouble, they could do a chore for you after school or on the weekend. I’ll stick around to supervise, of course. What sounds better to you?”

  She bit her lower lip. Maybe she disagreed with his parenting techniques. Well, he was new at this, despite being a dad for six years. Lourdes had made and enforced the rules, but everything was different now.

  “They can come here Saturday afternoon,” Faith said at last. “I have a few jars of change that need sorting.”

  Logan smiled. “I like money.”

  “You don’t get to keep it,” Tom reminded him. Once he and Faith settled the details of the kids’ working for her, he tipped his head at his kids. “Now we should probably get out of Miss Faith’s way.”

  “What about our checker game?” Nora’s little lips pouted.

  “I’ll keep an eye on them, Tom,” Ender offered.

  “Okay.” He wanted another minute to talk to Faith, anyway. When the others returned inside, he shoved his hands into his jeans pockets. “I’m really sorry.”

  “Thanks, but it’s all right. What sort of antiques store owner would I be if I didn’t have a mess every so often?”

  “Thanks for being so good with my kids.”

  “I like them. We’ll have fun sorting coins.” She grinned. “Maybe I should show them a photograph of what your great-grandfather contributed to the town.”

  “What do you mean? You know about my family?”

  “It’s public record, part of town history, so yeah. See the stone foundation there?”

  At first, he thought she was pointing to the door alongside her shop window, which undoubtedly led to an upstairs apartment. Then he realized she meant the health-food store next door, separated from Faith’s Finds by a narrow alley, where a foot or so of river rock formed the building’s foundation below wood siding that had been painted McIntosh-apple red. “At Apple a Day?”

  “Your great-grandfather did that work. He was a mason.”

  “No kidding?”

  “He came here during the gold rush to make his fortune but found it didn’t pay as well as masonry. You didn’t know that?”

  He shook his head. “I wonder if my father knows. I’ll ask him later.”

  On their way back inside the store, she adjusted a sandwich chalkboard on which she’d written the name of the store and a handful of words:

  Old, Vintage, Antique, Loved.

  Something about the way she tweaked it, looked at it with a critical eye and then smiled, hit him hot in the solar plexus. This was about love for her. She was a person of care and kindness, with her store, this town, even his kids.

  That made her even prettier in his eyes, and she was already stunning, her soft wavy hair a perfect complement to her green-flecked eyes.

  Wait, what? No. He was not going there. He could objectively find her pretty, although he hadn’t thought about a woman that way since Lourdes. But anything more than that?

  Nope. He was all about the future, for him and his kids. And that did not include being attracted to Faith Latham.

  Chapter Four

  A gentle but steady rain fell Saturday afternoon, and lit by cut glass lamps, the antiques store had a cozy, homey feel. Not too many customers dropped in on rainy days like this, so Faith used the lull to dust the tea sets and dishes—always one of her biggest sellers. The work was repetitive but mindless, enabling her to think and pray about her proposal for the museum.

  It was a pity Mayor Hughes didn’t want a decent museum here, considering her ties to the town’s history. The park by the creek where the water flowed around a massive boulder, giving it its “widow’s peak” shape, was named after an ancestor of the mayor’s husband, after all. But the mayor’s mind was clearly not on Aesop Hughes’s discovery of a massive nugget nearby in 1851. It was on tax dollars, and Tom’s store would provide tax revenue, for sure.

  But it would do the same somewhere else in town, though. It didn’t need to be next door.

  At least Angie supported her, as well as a few friends like Maeve down the street. It would be nice to add Chloe to that list, but her sister hadn’t yet returned her call. Maybe she hadn’t received it?

  Or, more likely, other things were more important to Chloe. Faith shouldn’t have expected more but it still ached deep down.

  Westminster Chimes dinged out from the grandfather clock, striking one o’clock the moment the store door opened. Tom and the twins, donned in damp rain jackets, stood on the rug, stomping water from their boots. “Hello, there.”

  “Hi, Miss Faith.” Nora shoved back her hood, revealing her hair fixed up in a tidy French braid. “Like my hair?”

  “Oh, yes.”

  Tom raked his hair back away from his brow, mussing it in an endearing way. “My mom did it. I tried first, though.”

  Now that was more endearing than his mussy hair. “Did you?”

  Nora rolled her eyes. “Daddy’s terrible at it.”

  Logan looked up at Faith, his dark eyes wide and serious. “Where’s Bet-teeny?”

  He was so cute—both kids were cute in their own way, and Faith’s heart swelled with burgeoning affection for both of them. Nora never stood still and seemed to have no fear. Logan, however, was uncertain about things and clingier with his dad. Maybe he’d struggled since losing his mom.

  Faith tapped his nose. “Resting somewhere. I’m sure she’ll wake up while we’re sorting coins today.”

  Nora looked around the store. “Where’s your friend?”

  “Miss Angie? On a date at the train museum in Sacramento with your daddy’s friend Ender.” She glanced at Tom. Had he known their friends got along like chips and guacamole? Before he could say anything, though, the phone rang. “Excuse me a sec.”

  “Take your time.” Tom shrugged out of his olive green jacket.

  “Faith’s Finds,” she said into the receiver, as she gathered her pen and notepad. “How may I help you?”

  “Hi, Faith, it’s Willa Carew at the Cordova Inn,” said the familiar voice. “We love the buffet you found so much that I’m hoping you have another unique piece for the inn’s parlor.”

  Yay and yay—two pieces of good news. “That’s great to hear, and yes, absolutely. Are you thinking of filling that area by the window?”

  “How’d you guess?” Willa chuckled. “I want something outside the box.”

  Nora took a step onto the red-carpeted st
aircase that led to Faith’s apartment, ducking under the gold cord Faith used to discourage customers from trekking upstairs. “I found Bet-teeny!”

  Sure enough, Bettina was curled up on the landing four steps up. Tom smiled at Faith and then made a shushing sound. “Miss Faith is on the phone,” he whispered. “Let’s take your damp jackets off before they make a mess.”

  Faith jotted notes while Willa listed her ideas, but her gaze kept darting to Tom as he hung their outerwear on the tree rack by the front door. He caught her looking and she stared down at the notepad. “I have a rosewood game table, early nineteenth century, claw feet, with a folding top that reveals an inlaid chessboard. Does that sound interesting enough?”

  “Text me pictures, but it sounds perfect,” Willa said into her ear. “You have great taste and you know what kind of vibe we’re going for here at the Cordova.”

  The boutique hotel in Sacramento was an eclectic blend of vintage and modern, which created a fun yet restful atmosphere in Faith’s opinion. “I’ll send you the measurements, too.”

  “If you have anything else interesting and different, let me know. We’ll be refurbishing some rooms next month, and much as I love antiques, our customers have told us they also appreciate contemporary touches to accommodate technology. My grandma’s old secretary desk is adorable, but I can barely fit my laptop on it.”

  “Oh, I understand. A lot of pieces were smaller back when. Designed for different needs.”

  After a few more details, Faith ended the call and strode toward the little group sitting on the stairs to her apartment, patting her cat. “Sorry about that.”

  “Nothing to apologize for. Sounds like you made a sale.”

  “Possibly, yeah. I helped the Cordova Inn in Sacramento with an antique buffet for their breakfast room, and though their furnishings are a diverse mix in styles, it’s nice they kept me in mind this time, too. I’ll send over photos of the game table there.”