Her Cinderella Heart. Ruth Scofield

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СКАЧАТЬ nod of goodbye. Then he directed his teasing gaze toward Cassie and did a very bad Bogart imitation. “You still owe me a cup of coffee, sweetheart. With cream.”

      Cassie chuckled along with the others while her face went red. She could kick herself. She’d totally forgotten the coffee. “Um, anytime. You just come on along to the sunrise service on Easter Sunday and I’ll buy you coffee and breakfast afterward.”

      “I’ll see what I can do.”

      His smile flashed, sending her heart tumbling, and then he and Pastor Mike were gone.

      “Wow, Cassie.” Pam nearly chortled as she spoke. “I think you just made a date with that new guy right under Lori’s nose.”

      “I can’t believe I did,” Cassie muttered, staring at the empty doorway. “I never do things like that. I’m usually too shy. Honestly, it just slipped out.”

      “Well, there wasn’t anything mousy about that exchange,” Pam insisted.

      Cassie spent the next few minutes glowing. Could he be the man of her dreams?

      She’d stopped dreaming of such foolish things when she’d entered her thirties, still living at home while taking care of her aging parents.

      She sighed. Over the years, when all her women teacher friends talked of their boyfriends or husbands, she’d come to hate their pitying and snide secretive stares. Nearly forty and never been married….

      She wasn’t that unattractive. She’d dated a few men, but her problems at home made her less than desirable. She met very few men in her day-to-day job, also. And she just wasn’t the type of woman to meet men in bars.

      How likely was it that Peter would come again to New Beginnings?

      No, she wouldn’t count on seeing him again. Like Lori, he had a cosmopolitan air about him, as if he ran in far more sophisticated circles than the people that came to New Beginnings.

      And she was about as unsophisticated as you could get, even for these parts.

      No, she shouldn’t really expect to see Peter again. Most likely, his parting words were only meant to make her feel better about her clumsiness.

      Yet she knew, as she later entered her empty, silent house and climbed the stairs to the back bedroom she’d occupied all of her near forty years, that she’d dream of him tonight.

      Peter…with the summer-sky eyes…

      Chapter Two

      Peter Scott Tilford flew out of the Lee’s Summit airport in western Missouri at seven the next morning in his small private jet. The airport was a little small for a jet, but he’d managed. Seated beside him was his pilot, Jackson, a man who could keep his thoughts to himself and who never interfered with Peter’s plans.

      He’d contact his office as soon as he crossed the Appalachians, Peter thought. He’d been out of touch with his staff for three days and they’d be half frantic. No one knew where he was except his personal assistant, Tony Swartz, who was sworn to secrecy.

      That was the way he’d wanted it. This was a personal matter. Very personal. News coverage and gossip about his current activities was the last thing he needed splashed all over hungry tabloid press.

      He felt jubilant. After all these years, he’d hit pay dirt. Now he had to make contact.

      The plane climbed to cruising altitude and Peter settled back. He’d been fortunate about not being recognized. He’d keep it that way for as long as possible, but it would take some juggling. Someone would recognize him eventually.

      Private, easy, unhurried time—that was what he needed. He didn’t want to scare Eric away. But in Peter’s world, privacy was a highly prized commodity. Could he get it?

      He’d have to carve it out carefully, but he’d do it. Take time to talk with Eric, to know the man he was sure—this side of a DNA test—was his younger brother. He wanted to do that without any outside pressures. He wanted more than five or ten minutes to become acquainted with the only remaining living person that he knew was a blood relative.

      Did Eric want to know him? Be friends? Re-kindle a family relationship?

      Did Eric even remember he had a brother? And what were those memories?

      That was the information Peter needed most.

      Peter prided himself on his ability to size up a person within the first few minutes of meeting and talking with them. Many of his business decisions had been made within a very short time. He evaluated everyone involved in a project, not just the logistics. In fact, he’d earned a reputation for lightning decisions based on how he scrutinized his opponents and associates.

      That was true until three days ago.

      Then he’d talked to Pastor Michael Faraday. The minister had gently pointed out that in such an important matter of family, it might not be wise to make a snap judgment. Peter’s ultimate decision was too important, surely, to rely on only a few minutes of acquaintance between Eric and himself. They should have had a lifetime of understanding between them; brothers should know each other well. But they’d been cheated of that.

      According to the pastor, Eric was a very private man, not given to making friends easily. He had to give Eric time. Go slowly, Pastor Mike had advised.

      Peter had been a teenager the last time he saw Eric. When Eric was only four, his mother, Faye, took him and fled from her marriage, from Peter’s father, Randall, and everything he stood for, changing their identities along the way. He hadn’t really blamed Faye. His father had created his own chaos.

      After his father died, Peter expected Eric to show up to stake a claim to his healthy inheritance, but he never had. Later, it wasn’t important to wonder too closely what had happened to his brother; if Eric wanted any part in Peter’s life, he would come forward. After all, Eric and Faye knew where to find him. He wasn’t hiding. But he hadn’t known where they could be found.

      Then last year…

      A familiar pain crept up like a fog. Last year Peter’s only son had died of leukemia. Danny. Filled with a sorrow unlike any he’d ever known, Peter fought the tears that threatened. He felt unmanned by them, but they persisted whenever thoughts of his son surfaced. When would the pain ease?

      He still grieved deeply, and guessed he always would. He’d had great hopes for Danny. Great plans.

      The times he’d spent with his son were now confined to precious memories. Danny wasn’t coming back and he had to face the fact that he had no family left.

      No one at all, except for Eric.

      Then after months of silent suffering, he’d come out of his personal fog and finally began to look for his brother. Now he’d found him. He was elated with his hopes for a new relationship.

      Yet questions haunted him. What kind of man was Eric? Did Eric grieve for his mother, Faye, who was now also dead? What had they done with their lives? Where had they lived? He wanted to know everything.

      Instinctively, he trusted Mike Faraday. He’d flown to western Missouri at the suggestion of СКАЧАТЬ