“You might still be late to work. Easier if I come and get you. What time do you usually start your day?”
“Eight thirty.”
“Perfect. I usually arrive then, too. See you tomorrow. About eight fifteen.”
Bret watched Nina until she disappeared through the elegant front door of the old hotel. She really didn’t like taking help from him, and he couldn’t help but wonder why. Some of her aloof attitude might be explained by being a Yankee. But he had a feeling there was more behind her standoffish personality. Something more serious than a change in regions.
If she allowed him to be her chauffeur, he might be able to figure her out and help her adjust. He also had a feeling she needed a friend.
As he entered his 1940s-Craftsman house, a short while later, he inhaled the aroma of something delicious that made his stomach growl. He found his dad standing at the stove.
His father glanced over his shoulder and scowled.
“You’re late.”
Bret was in no mood to do battle with his dad tonight. “A friend needed a ride home from work. It was on the way, so...”
“Where to? Timbuktu?”
“The Emerald, downtown.”
His dad scowled deeper. “That’s not on your way home.”
“It was today. What’s for supper?”
“Roast beef and noodles, and you almost missed it.”
“Where are my girls?”
“In the playhouse. Call them in. It’s time to eat.”
Bret headed toward the back door. He was thankful every day that his father was helping him raise his little girls, but there were things he and his dad didn’t see eye to eye on. Bret walked to the edge of the deck and stood straight as an arrow. “Hear ye. Hear ye. Are there any princesses on the premises?”
Squeals and giggles greeted him as two little brown-haired girls dashed from the pink-and-white playhouse toward him. At five and eight years old, they were growing up too fast for his liking. He knelt down just in time to grab them both in a big bear hug.
“We’re so glad you’re home.” Olivia smiled and patted his shoulder.
“I love it when you come home, Daddy.” Five-year-old Georgiana buried her head in the crook of his neck.
“I love coming home to my girls. Gramps has supper ready. Go get cleaned up so we can eat. And use soap.”
Bret’s eyes grew moist as he watched his daughters go inside. He loved them more than he could bear, and he wanted so much for both of them. He would do anything for them. But his failure as a husband had caused Sylvia to walk out on the three of them, leaving his children without a mother to love and nurture them as they grew. He’d tried his best to make up for the vacancy in the girls’ lives, but there was only so much a father could do.
He shook off the gloomy thoughts. He’d learned it didn’t do any good and only made him feel worse. Instead, he focused on the girls’ sweet faces and their happy smiles. It always lifted his spirits. After all, Livvy and Georgie were all that mattered to him.
The evening meal passed with the usual chatter from the girls, a spilled glass of milk and a round of the old “she started it, no she did” game.
Bret stacked the dishes beside the sink, as his father scraped them off and loaded them into the dishwasher.
“So, who was this friend you took home?”
“She’s the therapist filling in for Kitty.”
“Single?”
“I don’t know.”
“Well, find out. Is she old, young, homely, what?”
Bret fought to curb his irritation. His dad was convinced that, if his son would just try marriage again, it would all work out. He’d never liked Sylvia. Always claimed she wasn’t honest, and wasn’t as committed to the marriage as he was. Bret spent a lot of his marriage overseas, serving in the army, and he always thought his dad was being his usual critical self. When he came home, things seemed fine to him. Until his last tour of duty.
He’d royally screwed up his mission assignment. He’d allowed the soldier he was sworn to protect with his life die. He’d barely had time to adjust to that debacle, when Sylvia had walked out, leaving the girls with his dad.
With his enlistment almost up, he’d taken an early discharge and gone home. But it was too late to save his marriage. He’d sold his house, moved in with his dad and put all his assets into purchasing the building and starting Phase II. He devoted his life now to helping veterans and being the best dad possible for his girls.
“Dad, I’m not looking for any relationship. When would I have the time?” With two massive failures in responsibility, he wasn’t looking for a chance to mess up again.
“That’s what I’m here for.”
“You do enough as it is.”
“I’d do more if it meant you were happy and settled again. With the right woman this time.”
“There’s no way to know if she’s right or not.” He’d loved Sylvia. He’d believed their marriage was good.
“I’ll know. I picked your mother, didn’t I? I’d find a good woman for you, too, if you’d cooperate.”
His dad meant well, but he didn’t understand the thin veneer of emotional scar tissue that could be easily opened, allowing the old pain and guilt to seep through his whole being. “Right now I need to get two little girls to cooperate and get to bed.”
Bedtime was always hectic, but he wouldn’t trade it for peace and quiet. The little smiles, the hugs, the giggles, even the arguments, made him feel alive and filled him with hope. He prayed every day that the Lord would take up any slack left by his ineptitude. He was trusting the Almighty completely.
Bret closed the door to the girls’ room, pausing a moment to snag one last glance at the precious, beautiful treasures. Oh, how he longed to protect them from the bumps and bruises of life. He’d had a similar feeling when he’d first met Nina. He had the overpowering sense that she needed protecting, despite her independent facade.
She was a puzzle, and he wanted to put all her pieces together to find out who she really was. This was the first time in years that he’d been drawn to a woman. Better not let his dad know he was interested. Besides, Bret knew he’d picked poorly the first time, and he’d likely repeat that mistake. In fact, he was. The first woman he’d noticed in years and she wasn’t the warm and motherly type, but cool, distant and aloof. He really knew how to pick them.
No. He’d keep his interest in Nina as simply that. Interest. Thankfully, she was only going to be here a short while, and then she’d return to Yankee Land and all would be well. So why was he looking forward to seeing her again in the morning?
He was an idiot.
* * *
Safe in her hotel room, Nina soaked in a hot tub until the water cooled. Then she slipped into lounge pants and an oversize shirt, before ordering room service. She settled down with the files she’d brought home, but concentrating was difficult. Coming here was the biggest mistake of her life. Today had made that perfectly clear. She didn’t belong here. She’d had visions of slipping quietly into Kathryn’s job, reacquainting herself with counseling private patients and passing the days until her friend returned.
She hadn’t counted on a man who had made it his job to look after her, or a secretary who was cheerier than a songbird at first light. Neither was she prepared for the warm weather and the lack of transportation. She should have done her research and been more proactive before accepting Kathryn’s offer.
Nina rested her head on the small sofa in her room, digging her fingertips into the hair at her temples. No. She had to stop being a hermit, hiding away from life. That was why she’d come here—to shake herself out of the dull, unfeeling life she’d had before. Losing her job had forced her to see what she’d become. A sad, lonely, closed-off human being. She didn’t like that person, but she’d lived this way so long, she didn’t know how else to be. The offer from Kathryn was the answer to her prayers.
Her gaze landed on the stack of files she’d brought home. She had people depending on her. Patients who needed her. There wasn’t time to feel sorry for herself. She picked up the folder, opened it and got to work.