Substitute Daddy

Several smallish, broken-down barns and a clapboard farmhouse that had seen better days sat in the middle of the clearing. In the background were acres of grass and weeds bisected with weathered whitewashed fencing. The house and farm buildings were screened from the road by the thick trees and scrub that had been flying by his window minutes before.

He turned his attention back to the house and frowned. More than half of the white paint had peeled to bare, weathered wood and several of its forest-green shutters were missing. On the front porch, two wicker chairs rocked languidly in the warm early-summer breeze. A rainbow of flowers blooming along the foundation of the porch brightened the dismal setting, but only a little.

Brett pushed open his door and climbed to his feet. He looked around, unable to connect this place with the woman he’d been tracking. Or at least his image of her. Had everything she said been a lie? This did not look like the house of a decorator.

Now that he thought about it, if, indeed, she’d been an interior designer with a business of her own and plans for an antique shop, as she’d said at the wedding, how could she have left all that behind five years later to stay with Gary and Leigh in their spare room until the baby was born? That kind of absence would be death to a business.

And if all that was a lie too, how did she expect to support a child? The detective’s report had said the place was run-down, but that it would be worth good money to a developer. It also said she had made no move to sell so that clearly wasn’t part of her plan. What the report or his detective hadn’t warned him of was that she was impoverished.

Brett stood there appalled, his anger growing. This was where Melissa planned to raise Gary’s baby? He pictured a barefoot child who looked like Gary, wearing tattered clothes, crouched by the side of the road watching the world go by without him. And shuddered.

What advantage would the child have living in poverty in the back of beyond? Even having him as a guardian would be better than this! He could hire a nanny to provide the everyday security a child needed and he’d make sure to be there for the big moments whenever possible.

Straightening his shoulders, Brett walked forward, prepared to do battle for his brother’s son. He’d just put his foot on the bottom step when Melissa spoke through the sagging screen door. “What do you want?” she demanded, her tone hostile.

He took a deep breath. “You skipped lunch,” he quipped, striving to keep this meeting as friendly as possible. He was a man on a mission with a child’s well-being at stake and alienating the child’s mother wouldn’t help matters. And he couldn’t let his brother’s child be brought up this way.

“I had nothing more to say to you or your family,” she answered. Her expression was calm. Almost serene. “‘Doing lunch’ would have been overkill.”

Brett arched an eyebrow. “Is that why you ran? Because you had nothing to say?”

“I didn’t run. I drove home. It’s a free country,” she said, still annoyingly composed though no less unfriendly.

He took another calming breath. “We need to talk,” he reiterated.

“Oh? What could we possibly have to talk about?” She pushed open the rickety screen door and stepped onto the porch.

She was still delicate and thin, the pregnancy not showing at all. Her blue-green eyes flashed with anger. He fought a smile that tugged at his lips. She might be angry and sound tough, but with her blond hair curling loosely about her lovely heart-shaped face and the soft material of her light-blue dress fluttering around her calves she looked sweet and innocent. And seductive as hell.

What the hell’s the matter with you?

“Look, what I have to say won’t take long,” he said, forcing his thoughts back on track. “Gary’s baby is all I have left of my brother. I have a proposition. Come back to Pennsylvania and live in the carriage house on the estate. It’s an attractive little place. Warm. Clean. After the baby’s born, if you sign over custody, I’ll set you up in business in any city of your choice. You could even have standard visitation rights. It’s your smartest way out of the jam Gary and Leigh’s deaths have left you in.”

Melissa blinked, her mouth a silent O, then suddenly her blue eyes shot sparks and the words came out in a torrent. “And I thought my first encounter with you left a lingering bad taste.” She took a step forward. “You will never get my baby, Brett Costain. Do you understand?”

“We’re talking about a lot of money. And a lot of responsibility off your shoulders.”

“A baby is not a responsibility. It is not a jam. A baby is a cherished gift.”

Brett felt the heat of his emotions rise as words tumbled out of his mouth. “I’ll go as high as $100,000. That’s the best deal you’ll get and you know it.”

“Deal? Money? That’s all your family cares about, isn’t it? I’d heard the tales from Leigh and Gary all these years but I had no idea how—” She broke off and shook her head looking terribly, terribly sad. Her teeth clamped on her bottom lip, and she turned her head to stare out over the barren fields. “Your family hurt Gary for years. And Leigh…” Her sister’s name was a broken sigh on the summer breeze. “Go away!”

“Look, Melissa—”

“No. You look. I want you to leave. Now! I went to high school with Sheriff Long. He’s a good friend. I think he’d take my word that you’re trespassing. This is my baby now and no Costain is getting their mercenary hands on my child.”

“Not if a judge decides otherwise,” he countered, all thought of equitable settlements blasted away by fear for Gary’s child.

Melissa’s eyes widened then narrowed. Her voice now held no sadness, only rage. “If you aren’t off this property in two minutes, I’m calling Hunter Long. That would give you about twenty minutes to get out of this county with him hot on your tail. The clock’s ticking. If you tangle with Hunter Long, your name and money won’t help you a bit. Have a nice day.”

She turned regally, her skirt swishing seductively, walked inside and slammed the heavy front door, rattling every window in the dilapidated house. Brett stalked back to his BMW roadster and threw himself behind the wheel. He wasn’t in the mood to tangle with a county mountie on the warpath so he turned his car around and drove out to the main road. Once there, he pulled to a stop, needing a moment to collect his thoughts.

He’d come here to ask for the occasional visit with the child. But after seeing the way she lived, there was no way he could have left it at that. The only thing that was clear was that he wasn’t going to get Gary’s baby without a fight.

Brett blinked. Get the baby? A fight? What the hell had he said? What the hell had he done?

Chapter Two

About an hour after Brett left, Melissa heard the jingle of a horse’s harness and the rattle of Izaak Abramson’s wagon. She put down the old coffee grinder she’d just brought up from the cellar and walked out on the porch, promising herself time to clean it up and admire it later.

She waved a greeting.

“Good day to you, Miss Missy,” Izaak called. “I have some time today to look at your barn.”

What good news! Smiling at Izaak’s childhood nickname for her, Melissa skipped down the steps toward the man wearing the same kind of plain black pants and gray shirt he always wore. With Izaak there were rarely surprises.

“Then it’s okay?” she sighed, hardly believing at least one of her worries was over.

Izaak nodded. “Margaret spoke to the elders and explained about the baby. We are all still allowed to be friends and we may still work with you on your shop. They don’t like English science but understand that you are not immoral. Just misguided.”

Melissa ignored her annoyance at his last statement and breathed a sigh of relief. It was going to work out. Only now could she admit to herself that she’d been terribly worried. There was no telling how Izaak and Margaret’s elders might have reacted to Melissa’s impending single motherhood—no matter how impersonally it had come about.

“I’m hoping there’s a way to have the barn ready by the time the baby’s born. It would be so much better to be able to open the shop close to home and not have it actually in the house.”

Izaak sighed and shook his head. “You should not need to support yourself. It is the English way to have a child with no father to guide him.”

His disapproval hurt but she straightened her spine. “Now, Izaak, I know Margaret explained to you that this was supposed to be Leigh and Gary’s baby and that I was supposed to act as its aunt.”

Melissa had known Izaak Abramson her whole life. His parents’ farm bordered her uncle’s, and when she was young, he’d been the object of her dreams. Back then he’d been a handsome, smiling young man who gave her rides on his horse. When he’d married, Melissa had been crushed. He’d promised to wait for her, after all. But her five-year-old heart had healed quickly with a few hugs and attention from Margaret, the love of his life.

Izaak sighed. “Yes and I know the baby is of English science. But it will be Leigh’s baby no longer and the father is not here to help you raise him either.”

His concern touched her and Melissa felt tears once again well up in her eyes. “No. Neither of them are here, are they?”

Izaak shook his head and clumsily patted her shoulder. “I’ve made you sad again. So suppose we look at this barn you have decided to make into a store. Now what is this name we will have on this barn that is no longer to be just a barn?”

She smiled. Izaak had always made her smile. “Stony Hollow Country and Classics and you know it. It’ll be a great partnership. You, me and Margaret.”

And it would be. She had the knowledge of antiques and had been collecting them for the day when her dream came true. She also had the wood. Two falling-down barns’ worth! Izaak Abramson had the know-how to turn that weathered wood into furniture. The country movement in decorating had turned old-barn-wood furniture into a valuable commodity and Melissa and Izaak were going to cash in on it. And Margaret’s quilting was simply gorgeous. Melissa would feature beautifully displayed Amish quilts—another sought-after product. And there was the quarter-sawn oak furniture Izaak and his brother Od painstakingly built too. They wouldn’t get wealthy, but that wasn’t the purpose. A good life was.

And she was going to give her child just that. She wouldn’t let Brett Costain and his threats make her believe anything else. She’d nearly collapsed when she’d seen him on her porch, but she’d reached inside herself and had faced down one of the supreme Costains. She would do the same in court if it came to that. She would have to.

Melissa could hardly believe she’d stood on her porch, looking down her nose at him, and ordered him off her land. It gave her a little thrill that it had worked so easily. And so well. He was gone—tail tucked between his legs, driving hell-bent-for-leather toward Philadelphia. He was gone.

Gone but not forgotten, a small voice inside her protested.

Okay. He’d hurt her once. She could admit that. She’d seen him as her irreverent, charming knight on a white charger. She’d gotten all caught up in Leigh’s fairy-tale wishes for her. And she’d been a fool. They both had.