Стальные небеса. Ирина Котова
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chicken on the stove and garlic-cheese biscuits rising in the oven filled the large country kitchen with delicious aromas. For as long as Hailey could remember, cooking had been one of her mother’s passions. And the woman was a master.
Kathy Randall motioned for her daughter to add more milk to the potatoes she was whipping. In her late fifties with dark blond hair cut in a stylish bob, blue eyes and a perpetual twinkle in her eyes, Hailey’s mother loved life and it showed. “Are you telling me Winn Ferris has a son?”
“So he said.” Hailey frowned and resumed chopping broccoli for the salad. Though there was no reason Winn had to tell all, she fought back a twinge of irritation. “It’s kind of a big secret to keep.”
“Does he have a wife to go with the son?” There was a hint of disapproval in Kathy’s voice. No doubt she was recalling the various single women the business executive had dated since arriving in Jackson Hole.
“The boy’s mother, the woman who died in the boating accident, was Winn’s former girlfriend. The guy who died with her was her fiancé. Apparently they were planning to be married next month.”
“How sad.” Kathy gave a sigh of empathy. “Was the child with them when the boat exploded?”
“No. He was playing at a neighbor’s.”
“Lucky for the boy. If you can call any child who loses his mother lucky.” Kathy shifted her gaze to Hailey. “Dying before you and Tripp were grown was my worst fear. I knew your father would do his best, but I believed you needed me.”
“I did need you.” Hailey gave her mom a quick hug. “I still do. Who else will teach me how to cook?”
Her mother laughed. “I think of all those years I tried. You simply weren’t interested.”
“It’s moved into the priority range now,” Hailey told her mom, completely serious. “Unless I want to survive on takeout or soup and sandwiches every night, I have to learn.”
“Well, I’m happy to further your educa—”
The backdoor slid open and her father stepped inside, the border collie at his side. “Is it time to eat?”
Frank Randall was a tall man with a rangy body and thick salt-and-pepper hair. Naturally thin, he’d regained the weight he’d lost last year during his successful battle with melanoma.
“Just about,” his wife said. “Hailey was telling me that Winn Ferris—”
Hailey’s phone rang as her mother was explaining the situation to her father. She glanced down. “It’s Winn.”
Her father inclined his head. “Why is he calling you?”
“I’m about to find out.” Hailey walked from the kitchen into the great room, where the warm earth-toned walls complemented the soaring beamed ceilings in muted white. “Hi, Winn. How are you?”
“Fine.” His voice was low and tightly controlled. “We’re in Denver now and should land in Jackson at about eight. Cam refuses to eat, but I need to get something into him. Do you remember the chicken noodle soup you made last week?”
“Of course.” The soup had been her first foray into making homemade noodles. In a neighborly gesture, she’d taken some to Winn as well as Mrs. Samuelson, who lived on the other side of her.
“Do you have any left?”
Winn’s question broke through Hailey’s thoughts. While she’d eaten or given away the last of it, she knew her mother had some in her freezer. “As a matter of fact, I do.”
“Thanks, Hailey.”
The hint of weariness in Winn’s voice tugged at her. Though she didn’t know all the particulars, she figured his stress level was sky-high.
“It’ll be okay, Winn,” she said in a low soothing tone. “It will all be okay.”
* * *
After enjoying a meal with her family, Hailey returned home with a half gallon of her mother’s chicken noodle soup and a loaf of homemade oatmeal bread. Winn would never know that this was her mother’s soup instead of her own. Although he might think it was even better the second time around.
While the airport wasn’t far from their condos, if his plane landed at eight, it would be a while before Winn got home. Hailey used the time to take Bandit for a walk, then began brushing him, while keeping her ear cocked for the sound of Winn’s car.
It was almost nine when she heard his garage door slide up. Rather than jumping to her feet and rushing to the door, Hailey waited, knowing Winn would call once he and the boy were settled.
He’d told her Cameron was eight. A lot of her brother’s friends—her friends as well, she reminded herself—had children close to that age. When Hailey had practiced full-time as a speech pathologist in Denver, she’d worked with many children. She liked kids, got along with them, hoped to have a couple of them herself one day.
Idly, she wondered what Winn was like as a father. He’d always been so focused on his business interests that it was hard to imagine him devoting time to anyone or anything else.
Of course, Winn had dropped what he was doing to get his son and bring him to Jackson Hole. Her hand stroked the top of Bandit’s head and the dog emitted what sounded like a moan of pleasure.
Taking care of a pet had been more work than she’d imagined. If she was Winn and facing the total care of a little boy, she’d be freaking. Other than asking for her help with dinner, Winn had sounded composed and as self-assured as ever on the phone. Yet, something told her he’d sound that way even if he was on the deck of the Titanic as it was sinking. From what she’d observed, Winn kept his feelings close.
Tired of sitting, she put the brush aside and rose. Moving to the refrigerator, she peered inside for something to eat. She’d finally decided on a carton of yogurt when her phone buzzed. Hailey smiled as Winn’s name flashed on the screen. “You two ready to chow?”
“We are. Or at least I am.” Winn hesitated. “Hailey, about Cam—”
Though he couldn’t see her, she found herself cocking her head. “What about him?”
“He...” Winn paused. “Nothing. We’ll be here whenever it works for you to come over.”
The call ended and Hailey stood staring at the phone, her brows knitted. Something was definitely up. She shoved the yogurt back into the refrigerator and hurriedly grabbed the container of soup and the loaf of bread instead. With curiosity fueling her steps, Hailey headed next door.
* * *
Winn tried not to stare at the little boy sitting silently on the sofa, hands folded in his lap. Cam still had the same shock of brown hair and hazel eyes that tended toward green, the same skinny frame and big feet. But that was where the resemblance to the son he’d known and loved ended.
This child was pale, with freckles that stood out like shiny pennies across the bridge of his nose. There was no laughter in his eyes, no mischievous glint, just...emptiness and sorrow.
The boy had just lost someone dear to him, Winn reminded himself. Regardless of her actions toward him, Vanessa had been a kind and loving mother. When she’d cast Winn from her life, his one consolation was that Cam would never lack for love. He hadn’t known Brandon, other than to despise the man’s deliberate attempts to keep him away from Cam.
The boy might have been Brandon’s child by blood, but Winn had raised him for the first six years of his life. Now, Brandon and Vanessa were dead. And Winn was Cam’s legal guardian.
It was only natural the boy would seem different. Of course, he’d be standoffish and silent. Not only had he lost his parents, he’d been snatched by a man he thought had deserted him and relocated far from the only home he’d known.
“My neighbor, Hailey, is bringing over soup.” Winn