Harper's Wish

“You should at least tell Paige,” Tessa said. “Maybe she can help you out, pull some strings to get you another job in the city. Not that I don’t want you here,” Tessa quickly assured. “In fact, you’re welcome to stay at the cottage as long as you like.”

Harper gave Tessa a grateful smile, trying to mask her discomfort at the thought of telling her older sister how she’d been fired from her job. Paige was the golden girl of the family—graduating with top honors from college and going on to attain her master’s in risk management analysis before she’d been hired on at their father’s investment firm. Paige had climbed the ladder with her usual dexterity and efficiency, and while Harper loved her, she always felt inferior around her older sister. The last thing she wanted was to ring her up and ask for job help.

“I can’t wait that long,” Harper said. “I need a job now. And I appreciate your offer to stay here for as long as it takes, but I refuse to live here without contributing to the household expenses.”

Tessa opened her mouth to protest, but Harper held up a hand.

“I mean it, Tess. I’m not going to sponge off my baby sister. I want to pull my own weight.”

“Harper, this cottage is as much yours as mine—”

Harper held up a hand to forestall this thought. “No, Tessa. This is your home. I appreciate your letting me stay here until I get back on my feet, but the cottage belongs to you and you alone.”

After all, Tessa had been the one who had moved in here when their grandmother was dying. She had nursed Nana in the last days of her life. It was a role she was already qualified for as a pediatric nurse, but that hadn’t made the task any easier. Because her baby sister had been there for their grandmother on a daily basis, and because Tessa loved this town, Nana had left the cottage to her. Nana had made sure Paige and Harper received bequests of equal value upon her passing, but since Findlay Roads had become a resort destination, the burgeoning real-estate market had tripled the value of the cottage.

But Harper didn’t begrudge her. No, the cottage was Tessa’s and for good reason. And Harper had no intention of living there as if the place were her own.

She pushed her plate aside and suppressed a sigh. Of all the people in the world, why did it have to be Connor Callahan who owned the Rusty Anchor? She drummed her fingers on the tabletop, lamenting every harsh review she’d ever written and letting a sigh escape.

“How about if we do lunch tomorrow? I could take the afternoon off. We’ll go shopping in that new boutique on Second Street. My treat.”

Harper shook her head. “Thanks, but I think I’ll hit the pavement again and see if I can find any other job openings.” There had to be something available, even with most establishments already hired up for the season.

Tessa stood to clear the dinner dishes. “Try not to stress yourself out about it. Things will look up soon. I’m sure of it.”

She touched a reassuring hand to Harper’s shoulder, and Harper nodded. But as soon as Tessa turned around, she rested her cheek in her palm and frowned.

* * *

“WAKE UP, MY lazy bones.”

Connor nudged his daughter’s sleeping form and grinned at the way she burrowed her head beneath her pillow with a tiny groan.

“Dad!” He heard a muffled cry of indignation.

“It’s too beautiful a day to stay in bed.” He tugged the coverlet down and laughed as she squirmed. Seating himself on the edge of the mattress, he gently pulled aside the pillow. Molly blinked owlishly at him and then gave a yawn.

“I told you not to stay up so late, didn’t I?”

She huffed in annoyance.

“I’m dropping you off at the Evanses’ for the day. What do you want for breakfast?”

She stretched out her arms and legs and curled her toes as she sighed. “Pop-Tarts.”

He clicked his tongue. “No, Molly, a proper breakfast.”

She twisted around and rolled herself into his lap. “Pop-Tarts are a proper breakfast. They’re made with whole grains. It says so on the box.”

He smothered a laugh at this logic. “How about blueberry pancakes?”

Her eyes lit up. “With whipped cream?”

He eyed her.

“And extra blueberries?” she pressed.

“You drive a hard bargain. That’s not much better than Pop-Tarts.”

But she grinned, knowing she’d already won. As a single father, he found it difficult to deny her some days. As if his acquiescence could make up for the way her mother had walked out on them.

“Extra blueberries it is.”

She gave a tiny squeal of joy, smacked a kiss on his cheek and then hopped out of bed before padding in the direction of the bathroom. He rose and headed for their apartment kitchen above the restaurant.

Forty minutes later, Connor finished cleaning the remains of the whipped cream off Molly’s face.

“How are you enjoying your summer so far?” he asked as he tossed the paper towel into the waste bin. “Do you miss the first grade?”

“Nope,” Molly replied. “Summer is my favorite time of year because it means no more school.”

Connor pretended to be shocked. “But Molly...what about Christmas? I thought that was your favorite time of year.”

Molly sighed as if exasperated by her father’s lack of understanding. “That’s only ’cause there’s presents at Christmas.”

Connor laughed as he cleared the table of the remains of the breakfast. Molly helped bring over her plate and fork. Before she could scamper away, he knelt down so he was eye level with her.

“Now, listen, Molly, I want you to be on your best behavior at the Evanses’ today, yeah? No more pranks like you pulled at the Marshalls’ last week.”

She nodded, but he knew better. Molly seemed to find mischief no matter how many times she promised not to.

“That means no taking Piper’s mom’s makeup and using it to paint the baby.”

Molly frowned. “Piper’s mom doesn’t have a baby.”

“Right.” That had been the Browns. “Well. No trying to shave the dog, either.”

Molly rolled her eyes. “Piper has cats, not a dog.”

Connor sighed. “Okay. My point is...no getting into trouble, right?”

She nodded, her expression all innocence. “Yes, Daddy. But can’t I just stay with you today?”

Connor tugged on one of the braids he’d made in her hair. He noted they were already coming loose with stray wisps of his daughter’s brown hair fluttering around her face. He’d never been that good at doing her hair.

“I thought you liked spending time at Piper’s house,” Connor replied.

Molly shook her head. “Piper’s house is too clean,” she pronounced. “And Mrs. Evans makes us pick up all the toys before we can do anything else. I’d like it better if Piper came here instead. Can she, Daddy? Please?”