A Family to Cherish. Ruth Herne Logan

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СКАЧАТЬ Meredith. “This afternoon good for you? Around two?”

      “Fine.” She didn’t smile at him, but squatted low to share a smile with his daughter. “Thanks for the advice. I like the way you see colors.”

      Rachel’s warm expression said the words meant more than just a casual compliment. “Thank you. I liked working with you.”

      “Then we’ll have to do it again,” Meredith promised. “Since your dad and I will be working together, that shouldn’t be a problem.”

      She stood and Cam noticed the same wince he’d witnessed in the mercantile, as if her knees didn’t care to cooperate. He had a couple of joints like that, but the fact that Meredith didn’t acknowledge it this time scored extra points in his book. Not that he was keeping score. And the cool look she sent him said she wouldn’t care if he was keeping score because he’d gone into the minus column for not jumping on the teacup-and-flower bandwagon.

      Oh, well.

      Raising girls in a world rife with sensuality and innuendo was difficult enough for a man alone. Feeding into girly mumbo jumbo didn’t make sense to him, especially for two gifted competitors like Sophie and Rachel. No, he’d stick to the familiar basics. Home. Work. Family. And sports channels on cable.

      He jerked his head toward the mélange of wall-covering books in front of Meredith. “We’ll discuss this—” he made a face to underscore his negative opinion of wallpaper

      “—later, okay?”

      “Which ones to use? Perfect.” She sent him a pert smile, a quick flash of teeth that said she’d go toe to toe with him. A long time ago, he’d have enjoyed that prospect. Now?

      Not so much.

      Meredith called her sister-in-law Callie once Cam left the store. When Callie answered with a quick hello, Meredith waded in. “Explain to me again why men are necessary?”

      “Propagation of the species?”

      “Modern technology could argue otherwise.”

      “Because they’re better at digging up septic tanks and killing spiders?”

      “There are machines for the first, and I can squash a spider with barely a grimace.”

      “Because they smell good on Sunday morning?”

      Meredith had been close enough to Cam to know he smelled good on Saturday mornings, too. Very good, in fact, a hint of savory and spice. She hauled in a breath and asked for the third time that week, “Refresh me on why you and Matt are too busy to fix up this old house for me.”

      “Cam can’t do it?” Callie asked. Meredith’s moment of silence offered answer enough. “Oh, I see. Cam can do it and you’re running scared.”

      “Annoyed possibly. Not scared.”

      “And he hasn’t had an easy time since losing his wife,” Callie continued.

      “A fact everyone left out of the equation,” Meredith muttered. “Why didn’t someone tell me he was a widower? With kids?”

      Callie hesitated.

      Meredith read the conversational gap and sighed. “All right, I get it. I’m not exactly approachable about the past, all the teen drama.”

      “Those were rough times for you and your family.” Callie’s voice held assurance and affection. “I saw that in Matt. I see it in you and Jeff. When parents mess you over big time, it’s an adjustment that can take a long time to fix.”

      Meredith didn’t want or need fixing. She was hardworking and industrious, with great shoes and hair. Although her nails could use some work, she noted, looking down. And when did looking good become a crime?

      “Mere, we’d do it if we could.” Callie’s tone softened and Meredith felt like a first-class jerk for playing the guilt card. “You know that.”

      Meredith did know that, but changing family dynamics fast-forwarded her into a new reality. Callie and Matt were expecting a baby and Matt was in the process of adopting Callie’s son, Jake, an eight-year-old sweetheart.

      Meredith’s older brother Jeff had gotten married on New Year’s Eve, and if Hannah’s recent pale features were any indication, Meredith figured she’d have two new family members before year’s end. Two bundles of joy to feed and rock. Anticipation mixed with envy. There was a time she’d thought of her future in those terms. Home. Family. Cute husband. Children.

      An incoming text interrupted her pity party. She saw three words and Cam’s number, and smiled in spite of herself while Callie was left hanging.

      Pink teapots? Really?

      The shared joke jerked her out of her self-imposed funk. “I’ll talk to you later, Callie. And give Jake a hug for me.”

      “Will do.”

      Meredith saved Cam’s text, put the phone away and closed the wallpaper books. Once outside, she drew a breath as frigid March winds swirled dust devils of stinging snow mixed with rain beneath her coat. Warmth came late in the foothills. She’d grown accustomed to softer springs in Maryland. Early buds, cherry blossoms, spring bulbs burgeoning forth. That wouldn’t happen for a while in the Southern Tier of New York, but lamenting the weather didn’t make the short list. Weather was what it was.

      Great hair? Meredith walked by the old-time mercantile, shoulders back and head high, just in case Claire Dennehy was watching.

      Great hair was priceless.

      Chapter Four

      “I can’t find Sally.”

      “What?” Cam set aside the wood specs he’d been configuring, closed the laptop and slipped it into the cushioned bag that afternoon.

      “Sally, the kitten. She’s gone.”

      “You named that last kitten? Even though she’s not staying?”

      “Well, she still needs a name,” Rachel interjected practically as she burrowed into her coat like a pup chasing its tail. “All little kitties need names, Daddy.”

      Sophie followed them to the car, her reluctance to leave slowing her step, shading her gaze.

      “The mom will find her, honey. They always do.”

      Sophie looked up at him, pensive, then shifted a troubled look to the barn. “Are you sure? She’s awfully small. And the other two are right there with their mom, eating.”

      “I’m sure.”

      “Daddy, can we play dress-up at Meredith’s?” Rachel’s concern was more readily appeased than Sophie’s. Today was no exception.

      “You mean Miss Brennan’s?”

      “She doesn’t care. Really.” Rachel gave that notion a dismissive wave and grasped his hand. “I think she likes СКАЧАТЬ