Fortune Finds Florist

“Please tell me you haven’t sunk your funds into some harebrained scheme.”

“As a matter of fact, I haven’t.”

“Then why plow up all that ground? And just how big of a greenhouse do you need, anyway?”

“My partner and I have decided—”

“Partner?” he interrupted sharply. “Oh, for the love of Mike!”

Sierra clamped down on her anger. “Sam is a well-respected custom farmer.”

“Farming is a very risky business, Sierra,” Frank said disapprovingly.

“I understand that, but Sam knows what he’s doing, and so do our backers.”

Frank blinked at that. “Backers? This project actually has investors?”

“Not exactly. We took out a loan.”

Frank rolled his eyes. “You’re going to lose Tyree’s whole future. Why can’t you be reasonable? If you’d sell this place and move in with me, you could reinvest and make your money really grow.”

“I’m not selling my home.”

“Why do you need this house? Mine is large enough for all of us.”

“I’m not selling my home.”

“Fine. Lose it, then. That’s what’s going to happen.”

Sierra put a hand to her head, where a dull ache had begun. “Dad, did you come here just to scold me, or was there another reason for your visit?”

He scowled, rammed his hands into his pockets and rocked back on his heels. “I’m concerned about my granddaughter. I called earlier, and Tyree said Dennis is taking her to lunch.”

“Yes.”

“He has no right to see her.”

“He’s her father.”

“He doesn’t pay his child support. He’s just using her.”

“I know that, and you know that, but Tyree doesn’t.”

“Then she needs to be told.”

“For pity’s sake, she’s eight years old!” Sierra erupted. “An eight-year-old cannot understand that her father isn’t capable of loving her.”

“Then keep him away from her! Take him to court if you have to.”

“He’s her father,” she repeated forcefully. “All that will happen if I take him to court is that he’ll be forced to pay his child support and my daughter will be even more angry with me than she is now when they also restrict his visits.”

“Well, you have to do something!”

“I am! I’m doing my best to maintain my relationship with my daughter so if and when her manipulative jerk of a father shows his true colors I’ll be able to help her overcome her disappointment and see that it has nothing to do with her.”

Frank made an exasperated sound, “That’s the most ridiculous idea I’ve ever heard. Keep him away from her.” He shook his finger in her face. “If you had listened to me, none of this would be happening!”

Sierra hugged herself and said nothing, wondering if it never occurred to him that if she had listened to him, they wouldn’t have Tyree to worry about or to love.

It was a difficult morning. Tyree had been glad to see her grandfather at first, but he made so many derogatory comments about Dennis that she was in a surly mood by the time he left, so she argued with Sierra about cleaning up her room before her father came. Sierra wound up threatening Tyree with losing television privileges for the evening if she didn’t get her room straightened by the time Dennis arrived. Tyree was still up in her room banging things around and grumbling about having to do chores on Saturday when Dennis drove up to the house.

Sierra stepped out onto the front porch to have a word with him about the importance of him having Tyree home at the appointed time. The weather held bright and mild. The buzzing of a circular saw filled the air with the sound of progress. Sierra glanced toward the building site perhaps thirty yards away and saw that Sam had stripped down to his undershirt. He finished the cut just as Dennis got out of his car. Sam put aside the electric saw and brushed sawdust from his forearms and hair before peeling off the undershirt and shaking it out.

Sierra smiled. One thing she’d noticed about Sam since he’d started working here was his natural penchant for cleanliness and order. He never put away a tool without wiping it down, and he kept himself and his work site as clean as possible.

Footsteps crunched on gravel. Sierra turned to face Dennis and caught a disparaging look on his face.

“So that’s the plowboy.”

Sierra glared at him. Once Dennis had been handsome. Tall, dark, powerfully built, he had seemed manly and strong, someone who could stand against her father. Soon enough, however, his true weakness had been exposed, and now he seemed to wear it in every tired line on his face and the sag of muscles gone soft. She wasn’t surprised that he’d heard about Sam, but he had some nerve speaking of him in that contemptuous manner.

“Don’t call him that. He happens to be my business partner.”

“Yeah? What’s he plowing besides the field?” Dennis sneered.

Sierra’s mouth fell open. “That’s a filthy thing to say!”

“Oh, come on, Sierra. Everyone knows you’ve bought yourself a boy-toy.”

“That’s a lie!”

“You think I care if you’re getting down and dirty with that kid? All that concerns me is what you’re paying for it.”

“That really is all you care about, isn’t it, Dennis? The money. You can’t bear the thought that someone else might get his hands on it!”

“I’m thinking about Tyree,” he insisted. “It’s her inheritance.”

“Funny, you sure weren’t concerned enough about Tyree to pay your child support when it was all I could do to keep a roof over her head. You weren’t concerned about our daughter at all until I inherited a million bucks.”

“That’s not so. I just haven’t been as lucky as you. I’ve had hard times.”

“So have I.”

“Well, I’m still having a hard time, but you just don’t give a flip, do you?”

“Not even a little one.”

“You are one cold b—”