Father Most Wanted. Marie Ferrarella
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Brooke’s eyes narrowed. Now where was she going with this? “What does that have to do with—”
“You have his name, then. Track him down if you like him,” Ada said.
Yup, way out of hand. Why did her grandmother insist on trying to match her up? She knew what she’d gone through with Marc, how badly her heart had been broken. She wasn’t about to go on that merry-go-round again, at least not anytime soon.
“Oma, I didn’t say anything about liking him.”
Ada’s sharp green eyes went right through her, saying she knew otherwise. “This is the first conversation we’ve had about a man who wasn’t your father that’s lasted more than six seconds.” Point driven home, she continued, getting down to the practical. “Now then, there are places on the Internet that can cough up entire histories of people if you know where to look.”
Brooke felt as if she was standing in the path of a runaway train, and if she didn’t do something right now, she was going to be flattened. In self-defense, she picked up a book and held it out to her grandmother. “Tell me more about this Brownie troop.”
Ada waved away the question and ignored the book. “You don’t want to hear about them.”
When pushed to the wall, Brooke could be every bit as stubborn as her grandmother. And right now she was being pushed. “Oh, yes, I do. Passionately.”
Momentarily diverted, Ada smiled. “Wonderful. Then you won’t mind if I bring them to the shop tomorrow. First thing in the morning. Only one troop at a time, I promise. It’ll be our first field trip.”
She’d walked right into that one. Brooke shot Heather a look that clearly threatened her with bodily harm if she dared to be late tomorrow.
There were thirty-eight Brownies in all.
Thirty-eight girls under the age of ten wandering through her store the next morning. For the most part, Brooke had to admit that they were quite well behaved.
Nonetheless, it didn’t hurt to keep her fingers crossed while they remained in the store.
Brooke leaned in close to her grandmother. Ada was surveying the scene much the way Queen Victoria might have at a family gathering—except with a great deal more amusement. “It looks like a miniature-Scout jamboree in here,” Brooke commented.
Ada nodded her agreement, then looked around. There was no one in the store except the Brownies. “I hope I’m not scaring away your business.”
Brooke began to deny the allegation, then thought better of it. “It’s for a worthy cause.”
“Speaking of business, here comes a customer.” Ada nodded to her left at the man entering the store. There were three little girls with him. Identical little girls. “That wouldn’t be your man, would it?” Ada asked, smiling.
Though Brooke loved the woman with all her heart, she fought the urge to stuff her into the supply closet—just until Tyler left. “Oma, you have got to stop listening to Heather. If you’ll excuse me.” She began to walk away to wait on Tyler.
“Never with more pleasure,” Ada said. If she could have, she would have given Brooke a push to send her on her way. “Heather was right. He is gorgeous.”
Brooke wished her grandmother came with a muzzle.
Tyler was looking around the store as she approached, and from where she was, he looked more than a little taken aback.
“Hi, I didn’t expect to see you back so soon.” She shifted her attention to the girls. “Finish your books already, girls?”
“Yes,” Stephany told her shyly.
Tiffany, it appeared, couldn’t take her eyes off the girls milling around the store, all of whom were glamorously older than she and her sisters and, thus, to be looked up to. “Why are those girls all wearing brown dresses? Do we have to wear brown dresses to be here?”
“You can wear whatever you like.” Brooke saw that an explanation was necessary. “They’re wearing brown dresses because they’re part of a group called Brownies. That’s the group you join before you become a Girl Scout.”
Bethany digested the information before looking up at her father. “Can we be Brownies, Daddy?”
One step at a time, he thought. “We’ll talk.”
Brooke had the impression that he didn’t think scouting was quite right for his daughters. She was getting the feeling that the man was the overly protective type.
“Is this a bad time?” he asked her.
He looked ready to leave and she found herself not wanting him to. “No, a good time. I like business.”
Tyler shook his head. She’d misunderstood. “No, I meant a bad time for us to stop by.”
She spread her arms, welcoming them all in. “The more the merrier.” And then she leaned back and said to him as if in confidence, “You know, it might not be a bad idea at that.”
He hadn’t been under the impression that they were discussing anything. “What might not be a bad idea?”
“Letting your girls become Brownies.” She knew her grandmother would welcome three new members. Nothing Oma liked better than a houseful of kids. “If they’re new in the area, I can’t think of a better way for the triplets to make friends.”
Her enthusiasm wasn’t shared. “They can do that in school.”
“True, but—” She took her cue from the look on his face. The look that told her she was trespassing. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to tell you how to raise your daughters.”
With the apology tendered, he felt like a heel. “And I didn’t mean to sound as if I was biting off your head.” He knew he was still far too edgy about the situation. He was going to have to work on that. “Actually I stopped by to ask if there was any way I could repay you.”
The last thing she wanted was for him to feel indebted to her. “For what? I really didn’t do anything.”
He wasn’t accustomed to selflessness and modesty in the same package. He put his hand on Tiffany’s shoulder. If he could, he would have had all three fitted with tracking devices. “You have no idea what you’ve done.”
She pretended to go along with the idea. “Well, in that case, I’ll take a big-screen TV and a ticket for a round trip to Hawaii.”
He laughed. She had an offbeat sense of humor, but he liked it. “The girls were thinking more along the lines of going to that old-fashioned malt shop in the mall that sells candy.”
“The big place with the little tables,” Tiffany chimed in.
“Please?” Stephany asked.
“We want you to come,” Bethany told her.
She knew the place they were talking about. The one with the decadent chocolate sundae. “I think that might be arranged.”
He nodded toward the Brownies. “What about them?”
“Heather can handle them.” She indicated her sister in the far end of the store. “Besides, they can’t stay here forever. My grandmother just brought them by for a short field trip.”
“Your grandmother?” he repeated, puzzled.
Pausing for a second to locate her, Brooke pointed Ada out. “That sprightly-looking woman standing over by Rolphie the Runaway Rodent.”
“Your murals have names?” he asked.
She laughed and the sound charmed him, reminding him of notes plucked on a harp. “My murals are based on cartoon characters.”
“You should know that, Daddy,” Tiffany said.
He suppressed an indulgent