Father Most Wanted. Marie Ferrarella
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“Can we come back tomorrow, Daddy?”
“Yeah, can we?”
“Please?”
“We’ll see,” he answered, but he had a hunch it was a foregone conclusion that they would be back, if not tomorrow, then soon. Besides, the woman was genuinely kind to his daughters. That put her store on the plus side. He smiled at her over his shoulder as he ushered the trio out. “Thanks again for all your help.”
Brooke inclined her head. “Anytime.” She completely missed her sister, entering from the opposite direction, until she almost turned into her.
Unmindful of the near collision, Heather stared at the departing quartet, specifically its tallest member. “Wow. Now there’s a man who looks good coming and going.”
Brooke could only shake her head as she retreated into the store. Heather’s official course of study at the university was child psychology, but there were times Brooke was convinced her younger sister’s real major was men. She certainly went through her share of them.
“Hello, Heather, so nice of you to finally decide to join me.”
Heather deposited her purse behind the counter with the kind of carelessness that came from someone who was carrying nothing worth stealing. “Don’t get snippy. My alarm clock didn’t go off.”
A knowing look creased Brooke’s face. “Was that before or after you threw it against the wall?”
Heather pried the lid off the café latte she had bought from the coffee shop. “I only did that once and that was because it woke me up when I had a terrible headache.” She sniffed. “I’ve been very nice to my alarm clocks ever since.” She ran her tongue along the inside of the lid before throwing it out, then sidled up beside Brooke. “And never mind me, just how did you help Mr. Gorgeous and just what did you mean by ‘Anytime’?”
Leave it to Heather to put the wrong spin on things. “One of his daughters wandered into the store. I helped reunite them, that’s all.”
“Obviously winning his undying gratitude,” Heather commented. She looked at Brooke, her eyes bright. “Sounds like a good beginning to me.”
Brooke knew where this conversation was going, and for once, the train was not going to leave the station. “In case you hadn’t noticed, little sister, the man has three daughters.”
“So?”
“So?” Brooke shut her eyes. There were times Heather was incorrigible. “So that usually means one wife somewhere.”
Taking a long swig of her coffee, Heather remained undaunted. “Not necessarily in the present tense.” She followed Brooke as she began replacing the books that had been part of Tiffany’s original selection. “Maybe he’s divorced and he’s got custody of the kids.”
Brooke turned around to look at Heather. Her sister had gained a thin white mustache, courtesy of the latte. Brooke paused to wipe it away with the tip of her thumb. “And your reasoning for this being?”
“Most dads don’t shepherd their kids through a mall in the middle of the week if there’s a mommy in the immediate picture,” Heather informed her smugly. “They do it on the weekends if they do it at all.”
Brooke remained unconvinced. “Maybe he’s trying to be nice, give his wife a break.” She inserted a tall storybook in between two others, careful not to bruise the spines. “He said they’d just moved here recently. Maybe she’s home unpacking and needed some time to herself.”
Heather drained her container, then sighed. “Why are you always so willing to look at the gloomy side lately? I can remember when there wasn’t a pessimistic thought in your head.”
“Yeah, well, so can I, but then I grew up,” Brooke said. “And what gloomy picture? There’s no gloomy picture. There’s no anything. We’re just speculating about a customer.”
“You’re speculating about a customer, and I’m speculating about a possible hunk.” Crumpling the container, Heather tossed it into the wastebasket. “I mean, he’s a hunk either way, but the question is, is he an available hunk?”
“No, that isn’t the question, because that doesn’t interest me in the slightest.”
Obviously frustrated, Heather threw up her hands. “And that’s exactly what I’m worried about. When are you going to get over it, Brooke?”
Brooke had no idea why her temper suddenly snapped. She’d been fine a minute ago. “Over what? Marc?” Her laugh was entirely without mirth. “I was over him the minute I filed for divorce.”
Heather shook her head. “I don’t mean over him—I mean over him.”
Brooke stopped replacing books and looked at her younger sister. There was no one she was closer to, but that didn’t mean the sisters understood each other all the time. “Are they teaching you English in that college of yours?” She looked back at the last book she was holding, trying to remember where it went. “Because if they are, I’d ask for my tuition money back if I were you.”
“You know what I mean.” Heather moved around until she could look directly into her sister’s face. Brooke was trying hard to ignore her.
That had never stopped Heather before. “Over what Marc did to you. Just because he cheated—”
Brooke looked at her sister sharply. “Cheated?” she hooted. “Cheated is having a one-night stand, not a touring season. Or seasons, as the case was,” she said. “I think the only one Marc didn’t wind up getting naked with was the mayor’s wife and her dog, and that was probably only because he couldn’t arrange a convenient meeting.”
Heather knew all about Marc. Her sister had broken down one night and given her all the gory details. Aside from seeing red, her main emotion had been concern about her sister’s health, until Brooke had assured her that she’d had herself tested for every sexually transmitted disease possible. She’d done it despite Marc’s assurances that he had taken proper precautions. The way she saw it, nothing he said was trustworthy.
Heather continued to press her sister. No matter how awful her ex-brother-in-law had turned out to be, it was time to leave the past behind and move on. “Still, one rotten human being doesn’t damn the whole species.”
“Maybe not,” Brooke allowed, “but it certainly makes you stop and think, doesn’t it?” An almost bitter reproachful smile twisted her lips. “About how blind you can be.”
Heather slipped her arm around Brooke. Five years younger, she was taller by two inches. “You loved the jerk. You saw what you wanted to see and he was clever.”
Brooke wasn’t about to excuse herself. “I thought I saw what was there.”
Heather wasn’t going to stand by and let her sister beat herself up. “You tended to think the best of everyone, remember?”
“Yes, I remember. But that was the old me. I’ve grown up.” Squaring her shoulders, she stepped back. “I’m a lot more suspicious now.”
Heather looked at her thoughtfully. There was nothing more in this world she wanted than to have the old Brooke back. The one who could laugh without reservation. Love without reservation. “But not a lot happier, are you.”
Picking up the shipping list, Brooke waved her hand at Heather. “Practice your child-psychology skills on someone else, little sister.” She waved the list in front of Heather’s face. “In the meantime, we have a large shipment of books to distribute over the shelves. Let’s get to it.”
Heather gave her a smart salute. “Aye-aye, Captain.”
“Good.” Brooke nodded. “Obedience. I like it. And while we’re at it, you can tell me exactly why you only got three hours’ sleep last night.”
Heather stopped short.