A Father For Bella

He glanced toward Faith while she poured the milk into the pan.

She turned, wearing a pasted-on smile. “After coming to our rescue, it’s the least we can do.” She stirred in three heaping tablespoons of chocolate powder. “After we drink this, we’ll get you settled in your room. I’m sure you’re tired from the drive.”

She was suddenly strictly business, which was fine by him. He hadn’t come to Whispering Slopes to make friends, especially with a woman as attractive as Faith. “Actually, it’s only a little over two hours from where I live in Bethesda, Maryland. It’s just outside of Washington, DC.”

Bella pounced into one of the four stools lining the earth-toned granite island situated in the center of the kitchen. “That’s our capital.” She twirled her finger around a loose curl and smiled. “That’s where you live? Cool!”

Joshua slid into the empty stool next to her as he caught a whiff of the sweet cocoa. “You’re right, Bella, it is our capital. It was a great place to grow up. What else do you know about Washington?”

She gazed up toward the pendant lighting, pursing her lips. “Well, the President lives there, and the pandas at the zoo—they’re from China. Have you ever been there?”

His mind flooded with warm memories of trips to the zoo with his mother. She had always been there for him...the one person who’d loved him right. His father could never spare an afternoon for his family. “Oh, yes, many times. My favorite part is the ape house.”

“I love monkeys, too.” Bella giggled. “Mommy, can we go to that zoo sometime?”

Faith poured the hot chocolate into the first of three oversize red-and-white mugs. “Maybe someday we will. Now, who wants marshmallows?”

Bella bounced in her stool. “I do, I do! I want the mini ones.” She turned to Joshua. Her eyes, the size of walnuts, tripped his heart. “Do you like the small ones, too, Mr. Joshua?”

“Yes, but only five, please.”

Her head slightly tilted. “How come?”

“It’s my favorite number.”

“Mommy, can I have five?” She grinned at Joshua. “It’s my favorite number, too.”

Faith raised an eyebrow. “But you always like them overflowing in the cup. You love the marshmallow mustache.”

“Just five.” She turned her gaze back to Joshua.

Her mother shrugged her shoulders. “Okay, then.”

Joshua watched while Faith filled each mug with the rich, creamy chocolate. She counted the marshmallows and tossed a few extra into her cup. She peered at Joshua and her cheeks reddened.

“Hot chocolate just isn’t the same unless it leaves a marshmallow mustache.” She slid a mug in front of him.

He took a sip and ran his tongue along his lips, savoring the sweet marshmallow residue. When he spied Faith doing the same, his heartbeat quickened—she sure was cute. Joshua pulled his shoulders back and looked away. He didn’t need any distractions.

* * *

Seeing guests come and go at the Black Bear was normal for Faith, but she wasn’t in the mood to entertain the guests this evening. Her mind was preoccupied after she’d read the disturbing news about the inn, just minutes before Bella wandered off. Her stomach knotted as she thought about what could have happened. She was thankful Joshua had arrived when he did.

He was certainly striking. At five feet and eight inches, she’d always considered herself tall, but next to him, she felt tiny. He’d be about six foot three, she guessed. It was difficult not to stare at him, with his closely cut dark hair and chiseled features, but his looks were a good reason why she needed to keep her distance. Obviously, he’d captured Bella’s heart. Most nights, Faith overheard her daughter saying her prayers. Bella always prayed for a daddy and a new husband for her mommy.

“Mommy, did you hear me?”

She jumped at the sound of Bella’s voice. “I’m sorry, sweetie, what did you say?”

“Can Mr. Joshua come to our house for dinner tonight?” Bella gazed at her newfound hero with starry eyes.

Faith bit the inside of her cheek and glanced toward Joshua, who appeared completely at ease with the question. “Bella, don’t be silly. We’ve taken up enough of his time. He hasn’t even checked into his room.” She noticed the empty mug. “Speaking of, Mrs. Watson typically checks in our guests, but if you’re finished, I can take care of that.”

Bella hopped off her stool. Plato, who’d been asleep on a fluffy brown pillow by the back door, jumped up. His toenails scrabbled as he scurried along the hardwood floor, his tail moving like windshield wipers in a driving rainstorm. Bella grabbed Joshua’s hand. “I can show him!”

He smiled at Bella before turning to Faith. “I appreciate your hospitality, but I don’t want to keep you from going home.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s almost dinnertime, and isn’t tonight a school night, Bella?” He rubbed the top of her head.

Faith walked to the sink. “Yes, it is.” She poured the rest of her hot chocolate down the drain and rinsed the cup under some warm water. “Let’s get you settled into your room.” She dried her hands on the striped dishtowel and flung it on the granite counter.

“Oh, man, school ruins everything, even if I’m only in kindergarten.” Bella scooped Plato into her arms and kissed the top of his head. “I’m going to go watch Mr. Watson. He’s building something in the basement.”

“Don’t bother him while he’s working. We’ll head home as soon as I get Mr. Joshua checked in.”

“I won’t bother him.” She skipped out of the room with her dog tight in her arms, whistling a random tune.

Joshua turned to Faith and smiled. “You’ve got your hands full with that one.”

“You’re not kidding. I think the child was born whistling.”

They headed out of the kitchen and into the foyer. Chatter from the dining room echoed across the foyer. The aroma of tangy mustard and brown sugar tickled her nose. Home-style meat loaf smothered in onions was Chef Michael’s specialty, and Faith’s favorite.

“The Black Bear must have a great chef. That’s quite a crowd.” He pointed toward the dining room. “And the food...it smells wonderful.”

Her heart sank as the newspaper article she’d read before Bella took off seeped back into her mind. Would Michael lose his job? Would she lose hers? And what about her home? The inn couldn’t be going up for auction out of nowhere, but according to the paper that was the owner’s plan. Why hadn’t she been told? As the manager for four years, she should have been informed.

She couldn’t think about that—not now. “Yes, Michael came from a popular restaurant in New York City about three years ago. He gave up the frantic pace of city life. We’re grateful we hired him. He knows how to bring in the crowds.”

“They’re not all guests, are they?”

She shook her head. “No, we’ve got a lot of the locals who love his food.”

Where would everyone eat after the inn was sold? The paper said there were rumors of an upscale resort and condos. What would happen to the quaint cottage she rented on the property? Bella called it their gingerbread house. It’d been their home since the fire.

Faith stepped behind a mahogany counter and tapped her fingers on the keyboard. “Oh, I see you have reservations for four weeks.” Her head tilted to the side. “Our guests normally don’t stay that long. Many are weekend warriors who come up to hit the slopes. You must be a great skier.”

He examined his fingernails. “I’m okay, I guess.”

Faith scrolled through the information and took notice of the Bethesda address he’d mentioned earlier. Her best friend from high school had graduated from George Washington University in DC. Real estate in the surrounding area wasn’t cheap. She wondered what Joshua did for a living, but didn’t want to appear nosy by asking. “It’s nice you’re able to take so much time off from work.”

He nodded and pulled his credit card from an eel-skin wallet. “I assume you take this? Or would you rather have a different kind?”

Faith grabbed the card and swiped it through the machine. “This is fine.”

The click of the equipment printing the receipt filled the air while they waited.

“Earlier, I heard an advertisement for the inn on the radio. Do you do any other form of advertising?” He slipped his credit card into his wallet.

He was certainly curious about the business. Perhaps he was only making conversation. “Not really. Word of mouth works well for the Black Bear.” She tugged the receipt from the machine and slid it across the counter for his signature.