The Only Child. Carolyn McSparren
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Название: The Only Child
Автор: Carolyn McSparren
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
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Once inside, Molly pulled out Quentin’s head and began to add soft bisque to his chin. She worked silently for twenty minutes until she heard the gate alarm. She covered the head, put it back into the refrigerator, closed the shop and walked up the hill to meet Logan.
He was dressed for business. “Good morning,” he said formally.
Every time Molly left him a trifle loosened up, he reappeared as distant and formal as ever. He was like some kind of plastic that had a memory—melt it, bend it, curl it into a ball, it sprang right back to its original rigidity.
“Can you handle cholesterol?” she asked.
He smiled. “Upon occasion.”
“Good, because we’ve got country ham and hot biscuits for breakfast.”
LOGAN DRANK his coffee and watched Molly straighten the kitchen. He’d enjoyed breakfast. Molly had kept up a cheerful line of patter about her small farm and the animals. It all served, as he supposed it was meant to do, to keep his mind off the task at hand.
The food had been good, but eating with Molly gave it an even better flavor. She had served the meal on bright yellow Italian pottery. Watching her as she moved easily among the pots and pans, he thought her the most appealing woman he had ever met.
With a sudden startling jolt of insight, he realized he had an appetite for her, a simple physical hunger. He wanted to nibble her all over, taste her, feel the texture of her skin and curl her crisp hair around his fingers. He jerked himself from his reverie. “What?” he asked.
“I said, have you told Zoe we’re leaving tomorrow?”
“I told her I was leaving. I did not mention you.”
“Logan…”
“I’m not protecting your honor. I’m guarding my privacy. And I’m protecting Zoe against disappointment.”
“I don’t agree, but it’s your decision.”
“You see, Dulcy was much more to Zoe than simply her brother Jeremy’s child. She and Rick can’t seem to conceive—no reason that the doctors can find, but they’ve been trying for years without success. I think Zoe was jealous of the ease with which Tiffany got pregnant.”
“I can understand that. Sherry Carpenter loves me dearly, but she can’t help begrudging me Anne and Elizabeth.”
“It goes even deeper with Zoe. After Dulcy was born, Tiffany decided to go back to school to finish her degree. She didn’t want to be bothered with a baby. She dropped Dulcy off at the shop nearly every morning. Sydney was too ill to look after her, so we set up a kind of nursery in the workroom at the back, and Zoe took over Dulcy. She was everyone’s pet, but she was Zoe’s special love.”
“Then surely she’d be overjoyed to think that Dulcy might be alive.”
He shook his head. “I can’t raise her hopes. We may not find Dulcy. Perhaps she is dead.”
“I’m sorry, Logan, but we can’t put that toothpaste back into that particular tube.”
“I know that,” Logan said. “I’ll pick you up Thursday afternoon about two. We’ll get a rental car in Wichita, spend the night there and drive to Moundhill first thing Friday morning. Doctors often take long weekends. I don’t want to miss seeing the staff at that hospital.” He glanced over at Molly. “I’ve reserved two hotel rooms in Wichita for Thursday night.”
Molly let out her breath. Good. “Can’t we leave here early Friday morning?”
“No air connections. Molly, we haven’t discussed money.”
“Yes, we have. You said you’d pay all the expenses.”
“And I will. But you’ll be missing at least a weekend’s work, possibly more if we have to trace Tiffany beyond Moundhill.”
“I hadn’t planned to be away more than a couple of days. I can catch up when I get home.”
“I shouldn’t need you any longer than that.” Logan knew he was lying. He needed Molly beside him every step of this journey, and that included helping him get reacquainted with his grandchild. But he wasn’t about to tell her that until she was a long way from home. Then he trusted her maternal instincts would take over.
“Zoe still wants your dolls for MacMillan’s.” He smiled. “I agree with her. The store can arrange contracts for your portrait dolls, but that’s not enough to pay you for coming with me. The usual industry-consulting fee is five hundred a day. That’s fifteen hundred dollars if you get home Sunday evening.”
“Wow! I’m in the wrong business!” Molly laughed. “But you and I may be at each other’s throats by dinnertime Friday.”
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