The Dad Next Door. Stephanie Dees

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СКАЧАТЬ The mayor and his wife had dinner parties here.” At her side, Joe pulled off the sunglasses, sliding them into his shirt pocket. There was an ugly, twisted scar streaking from the corner of his eye into his hairline.

      She swallowed a gasp as he turned toward her, catching her staring. “Your eyes are blue,” she blurted.

      “So are yours.”

      “Right. Of course they are.”

      Amusement deepened the dimple in his cheek and she glanced wildly around for a change of topic. “I can just see it, the room filled with tables covered in crisp white linen, sparkling crystal, heavy silver. What kind of food did they serve, do you think?”

      Joe stepped farther into the room, a glint of humor in his eyes. “I’m not quite old enough to have come to the parties, but my mom told me about them. I think the governor was here a time or two.”

      She nodded, turning slowly in the room, hearing the music that had once played. What would her life have been like if she’d grown up here with her biological family? Would she have had pretend parties with her friends in this grand room? Even thinking it made her feel guilty, like she was cheating on her real family, the family that raised her. But one day children would run and play, spin and twirl, in this room.

      She turned back to him. “How in the world did they live in this place with it in this kind of shape?”

      Joe’s brows drew together. “They didn’t. From what I understand, they moved to a house in town about ten years ago.”

      Well, that explained a lot. And yet, there was something here, some sense of the past that was captivating. There were several rooms opening off to the right of the large hall, a parlor-type room, bedroom, bathroom. “Do you know where the kitchen is?”

      “It runs along the back of the house. It used to be outside, but Mrs. Carter had one built inside the year she moved in.”

      “Wait. The kitchen was still behind the house when the former mayor got married?”

      “Yes, too hot in the South back in the day to have the kitchen inside.” Joe led the way to the back of the house. “Why do you call him the mayor and not your father?”

      The dim corridor was cool, almost chilly, despite the heat outside, the humid air soft on her skin. “He was only my biological father. I didn’t know him. My twin sister and I were adopted by another family.”

      She walked into the kitchen and stared hopelessly at the peeling linoleum and kitchen cabinets, which were painted a color that might have been fashionable about thirty years ago. All hint of laughter vanished. There was so much work to do if she was going to make this sagging place into any kind of home. She tried the deep breath thing again, and again it clogged in her throat.

      Behind her, he said, “I’m sorry.”

      “About my father?” She shrugged. “It’s okay. I didn’t know him. And I had a great mom. One good parent is better than two bad ones.”

      “You think so?” He locked eyes with her, the blue of his startlingly clear in the shadowy room.

      “Of course.” She looked away. That she didn’t need a father was something she’d told herself all through her growing-up years. The real truth was somewhere in the middle. There was a hole where a father should’ve been, yeah, but nothing compared to the gaping cavern of not having parents at all.

      The one visit she and her twin sister, Jordan, had with their birth father had left her with more questions than answers about who she was. Her birth mother had died shortly after giving birth. Their dad didn’t feel like he could raise infant twin girls on his own, so he’d put them both up for adoption.

      She looked back at Joe. “Kids need a constant in their life. Just showing up is half the battle.”

      “I hope you’re right.” Joe pulled his phone out of his back pocket and looked at the screen. “Listen, I have to go. My daughter, Amelia, is going to be waiting for me at the school. If I don’t get there on time...well, let’s just say I need to show up.”

      She smiled. “Thank you for bringing the key by. I’m sorry if I seem a little distracted. Being a homeowner is new to me.”

      “No problem,” he said again. “Do you need anything?”

      “No, thanks.” Her eyes filled—the traitorous truth that she did need. So much. Too much. She needed connection and roots. To build something lasting, to somehow fill the void that her mom had left, and the one that had always been where her father should have been.

      No one could help her with that, not even a handsome stranger with kind blue eyes. Okay, yeah, she’d noticed he was handsome, but she wasn’t interested. She’d done love and gotten her heart stomped on. And she definitely didn’t have time for casual. So, no, thanks.

      “Okay, if you’re sure.” He slid the aviators back over his eyes, then pulled a somewhat tattered business card out of his wallet. “It’s old, but the cell number’s still good. Feel free to call me if you think of anything.”

      Claire glanced at the soft-edged card. “Full-service operation you’re running here.”

      “Always aim to please.” He smiled for the first time, and despite her earlier lecture to herself, her heart gave a silly little skip. “Welcome to Red Hill Springs, Claire.”

      His footsteps echoed in the empty house as he left. She followed and watched from the front door as he drove his old F-150 down the drive. When he turned onto the highway, she looked up.

      What she could see of the sky through the overgrown bushes was crystal clear and a shade of blue she’d never seen in the city. Are you there, God? Because I really need You to show up.

      She hesitated, then looked back at the sky. Like, now.

      Maybe God didn’t like being given a timeline, she didn’t know, but maybe He would understand that she had one. This place had to be up and running and making ends meet within six months, or she was toast. And not the good kind of toast, either. The burned kind that made your house smell bad and no one would eat, even if you scraped off the top layer.

      Turning back to the house, she sighed and reached for the light switch. Nothing happened.

      “Oh, perfect.” She closed her eyes. “Just...perfect.”

      * * *

      “The café was buzzing today about the mayor’s daughter turning the plantation house into a bed-and-breakfast. She filed a permit for renovation last week before she ever set eyes on the place.” Joe’s mom tasted the lima beans and turned the heat off on the stove.

      “Is that so?” Joe washed his hands at the sink in his mother’s kitchen.

      Her eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter. “Yes. I think it’s about as bad as the time Hester Jenkins set John’s Dale Earnhardt collection on fire on their front lawn.”

      He shot his mom a glance. “I wouldn’t know about that.”

      “Oh, that’s right. You were somewhere in the sand when that happened.”

      Somewhere СКАЧАТЬ