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Bachelor Protector

Год написания книги
2019
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“I don’t blame you, but I need to know what therapy program you’re supposed to be following and any other information you and Mom have left out. How about that medication they were giving you for the nightmares? Don’t you need refills?”

His brother shrugged. “It wasn’t helping, so I stopped taking it. Anyway, I can’t talk now. Kurt is showing me the Poppy Gold greenhouses today. I have to find out when he’s coming.”

Nathan got out his own phone but was obviously waiting for Tyler to leave before making the call.

Tyler finally went inside, hoping it was a good sign that his brother was carrying his cell. In the hospital and rehab center, Nathan had resisted being in contact with friends or hearing about the affairs of the world. Their mother had been the same, which was why Tyler had figured neither of them would have heard about the incident in Illinois. It helped that this sort of story, without any fatalities, usually wasn’t in the news for long. And as it turned out, they also must have been busy getting settled into Poppy Gold.

Tyler massaged the muscles at the back of his neck. The past two weeks had been rough. After being treated for his injuries, he’d returned to Italy and finished his work there, only to fly home and discover his family was gone.

But at least he’d broached the subject of medical care with Nathan, however unproductive the conversation had been. Perhaps they could talk about it as a family and figure out what they were planning from here...because he suspected they weren’t going back to the East Coast any time soon.

* * *

KURT FULLERTON PARKED behind his daughter’s catering business for his usual midmorning check to see if she needed anything.

“Hey, Dad,” Sarah called as he came through the back door. He’d been there earlier, and she still looked so pale and tense that he frowned.

“What’s up?” he asked.

“Just busy.”

Kurt wasn’t sure. Something told him something was going on, but she probably wasn’t going to tell him; she’d inherited his ex-wife’s slender grace and his pigheaded nature.

Wanting to taking care of his daughter was a tough habit to kick, especially since he hadn’t been around much in her early years. After his wife had run off with another man, he’d brought Sarah home to his parents, convinced that caring for a toddler on an army base was impossible for a single father.

Now he knew that he’d given up too easily. Lizzie’s actions had embittered him, and for a while he’d become the hardest-living son of a gun in the army. Instead he should have done his best to be a good dad.

“You hardly ever let me do anything to help around here,” he complained.

“That isn’t true,” Sarah shot back. “You shop for me every week, and you’re always finding something else to do. And that isn’t even counting all the work you did remodeling the two kitchens. Twice.”

“That’s nothing. I like being involved and knowing what’s going on.”

Kurt just wished he’d known more about Sarah’s troubles with her louse of a husband.

A timer buzzed and Sarah hurried to remove loaves of bread from the ovens.

Kurt went to the front counter and got a cup of joe, then ambled down the short hallway to the office to visit with Rosemary.

“Good morning, Kurt. Don’t you want something to go with your coffee?” she asked. “Sarah made poppy-seed muffins earlier. I’ve never seen anyone get as much done as she does.”

“That’s my girl. But I’d better not indulge, I already had her egg and ham pie when I brought over a batch of green onions from the greenhouse.” He patted his stomach.

* * *

ROSEMARY TRIED NOT to laugh. Sarah had confided that her father, along with the rest of the male half of Glimmer Creek, wouldn’t eat anything called quiche, so she’d put a puff pastry crust on top and called it egg pie.

“Working here is terrible for the waistline,” Rosemary admitted. “I haven’t tasted a single thing that isn’t delicious.”

“You’ve got a long way to go before you need to worry about your waistline,” Kurt assured her. “Me, I’ve got a linebacker build, unlike my brothers. I’m glad Sarah didn’t get my shape.”

Kurt’s large family intrigued Rosemary. Nine siblings, and most of them had several children, as well. It was sad that he’d never found someone else after his divorce, but she understood how difficult it was to risk loving again. After all, while her husband’s death had been devastating, the grief had also renewed an old, wrenching sorrow...the loss of her first child.

One-year-old Kittie had been the light of their lives. Bright and full of fun, she’d brought joy to everyone. It was only after her death from spinal meningitis that they’d moved to Washington, DC, and Richard’s dedication to his career had turned into an obsession. Rosemary hadn’t handled the loss any better; she’d dived into fund-raising for nonprofit organizations. They’d even decided not to have more children, only to discover Tyler was on the way.

“Sarah has your eyes,” Rosemary said, hoping her voice wouldn’t break. It wasn’t that she loved Tyler and Nathan any less, but it was wrenching to remember her daughter.

“Except they’re pretty on Sarah.” He grinned and drank a gulp of coffee.

Rosemary thought Kurt’s eyes were nice on him, too. He was an attractive man, not classically handsome like her husband had been, but good-looking, with a reassuring manner.

“Do you ever think about grandchildren?” she asked wistfully. A year earlier, she’d had high hopes of becoming a grandmother. Nathan had been engaged and looking forward to fatherhood, then his fiancée had decided she couldn’t handle being a soldier’s wife.

“I’d love them,” Kurt said, “but Sarah’s marriage was pretty bad. I don’t know when she’ll be ready.” He finished his coffee and got up. “Better get going. I wouldn’t want my daughter to think I’m interfering with your work.”

After a moment, Rosemary heard him in the kitchen saying goodbye to Sarah. She envied their close relationship. She’d seen it from her first day at the bakery when Kurt had delivered a load of supplies.

A thoroughly nice man, Rosemary had concluded after watching father and daughter together. She was glad for them, but it was a reminder that she didn’t have a similar relationship with her own children.

Maybe that was why she’d gone along when Nathan insisted on leaving the rehab hospital...because she’d hoped it might bring them closer.

* * *

GREAT-UNCLE MILT came into the shop to see Sarah shortly before the lunch-hour rush.

“Hey, Uncle Milt, how about a sandwich?” Sarah nodded to Aurelia, who began packing his favorite meal into a bag.

“I should say no, but I won’t. Just put it on my account. I mostly came to tell you about that fellow from yesterday.”

“Oh?” Sarah said cautiously, hoping he didn’t know Tyler had shown up again. “Let’s go for a walk.”

Aurelia handed Great-Uncle Milt his lunch, and they headed down the street.

“I spoke to Zach and he did a standard background check at the police station,” Great-Uncle Milt explained as they strolled toward the city park. “It turns out Tyler Prentiss is connected to an investigation in the Chicago area.”

Sarah nearly tripped. She didn’t have a high opinion of Rosemary’s eldest son, but she didn’t think he was a criminal.

“What sort of investigation?”

“Earlier in July a building under construction collapsed and injured several workers. Prentiss was the original architect, though another architect took over the project in February and made changes. Nonetheless, the owner is blaming Mr. Prentiss. The investigation could take months to resolve.”

Sarah wasn’t surprised that Rosemary had been silent about the incident; it wasn’t something you’d casually discuss. “It doesn’t sound as if he could be responsible if changes were made to his original design.”

“I realize that, and Prentiss’s work is highly regarded, which I’m sure the authorities are keeping in mind. Other than this, his record is spotless. Not even a speeding ticket.”

“I appreciate the update.”

Sarah wasn’t sure what to make of Great-Uncle Milt’s revelation, though it actually made her feel more sympathetic toward Tyler. She knew what it was like to be to be exhausted and not thinking straight.
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