The Doctor's Family Reunion. Mindy Obenhaus
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the way it sparked his brown eyes. “She’s a golden retriever. I bet there aren’t many people she doesn’t like.”
“Yeah.” Austin knelt beside the animal and stroked her back. A smattering of freckles dotted his nose and cheekbones—like Trent had at that age. “You were at my mom’s shop.”
“You’re a very observant young man. I’m Trent.”
“I’m Austin.”
“I know. Your mom’s an old friend of mine.”
The boy’s eyes widened. “Really? Did you know my dad?”
Trent recognized that gleam of expectancy. For years after his mother died, he’d held on to the hope of one day meeting his father. He wanted to reveal to the boy that he was his dad. However, he knew that wasn’t necessarily what was best for Austin.
“What has your mom told you about him?” Bolstering himself for what could be an uncomfortable response, he focused on a couple of magpies vying for a scrap of bread.
“Not much.” Austin shrugged. “Just that he loved me, but he had to go away.”
The reply surprised Trent and pricked his conscience. At least Blakely had acknowledged him in some sense.
He inhaled the aroma of pine. “She’s right, you know.”
“So you do know my dad.”
Trent’s gut clenched. He wouldn’t lie by saying no, but even if he said yes, would Austin perceive it as a lie whenever he did learn the truth?
“Do you think I’ll ever meet him?”
Thankful for the reprieve, Trent said, “That, I can promise you.”
Austin beamed.
“By the way...” Trent straightened. “How was the basketball game?”
The boy stood beside him now. “Too short.”
“Bummer.”
“Yeah.”
Trent wasn’t ready to relinquish these few precious moments with his son. “Well, I’m not doing anything. How about a game of one-on-one?”
“You mean it?”
“Sure. There’s got to be a hoop around here somewhere.”
“There’s one at the park. Just down the road.” Austin pointed in the direction of the city’s hot springs pool. “I’d have to get my ball, though.”
“No problem. Why don’t you let Ellie Mae run you home, and I’ll meet you at the park?”
“Awesome!”
As his son jogged away, Trent wondered how Blakely would react if Austin told her who he was meeting. He’d give it an hour. If Austin didn’t show by then, Trent might have to pay her another visit.
The roar of the falls faded in the distance as he picked his way back down the rocky terrain, heading in the direction of Fellin Park. Obviously he and Blakely still had plenty to talk about. But one thing was for sure—now that Trent knew about Austin, nothing would keep him and his son apart.
* * *
Blakely was ready for a long soak in the motel’s hot tub. Or maybe she’d sink into a bubble bath where she could be alone. Her body ached from lifting heavy-duty tires. Her mind reeled from worrying about Trent and Ross, her son and Adventures in Pink.
Plus, she had no idea what to fix for dinner.
She cut through the motel’s front office, stopping to check how many guests were booked. It wouldn’t be long before every motel in town would be filled to capacity, especially on the weekends.
“Gran?” She continued down the hall that separated the office and housekeeping areas from the main part of the house.
“In here, dear.”
Jethro yipped, stopping when Blakely scooped the Yorkshire terrier into her arms. Ellie Mae nudged her hand, looking for some love of her own.
Blakely leaned against the doorjamb of the laundry room. The fragrance of spring-fresh fabric softener filled the air. “Hey.”
“Hey, yourself.” Gran smiled, pulling another load of white towels from the dryer. “You look beat.”
“Nothing a good dinner and tub of hot water won’t cure. Where’s Austin?”
“Still at the park, I guess.” Her grandmother halved then quartered a wash cloth and set the neat square on the stainless steel worktable. “He did tell you, didn’t he?”
“Yes. I just thought he might be home by now.”
“Well, if I know my great grandson, he probably ran into one of his friends. He’s a good boy, though. He’ll be home before dark.”
“I suppose you’re right.” She nuzzled the soft fur on Jethro’s neck. Gran was usually right. Blakely wished she could talk to her about Ross Chapman. But it would break Gran’s heart. After all, she and Granddad had run two of the most successful businesses in town for almost forty years. Through good times and bad.
Now the season hadn’t even started—her first as owner—and Adventures in Pink was already on rocky ground.
Shoving a stack of towels aside, Gran rounded the long table. “Would you prefer I fix dinner?”
“No, I’m just being whiney. You have enough to do.” With Granddad gone, responsibility for the motel fell solely on Gran. Yet she never complained.
Blakely would do well to take lessons.
The bell dinged in the office.
“Putting on new tires today?” Her grandmother paused on her way out the door.
“How’d you know?”
Gran ran a thumb across Blakely’s cheek, then held it up to reveal a black smudge. “It’s written all over your face.” Chuckling, she continued down the hall.
Blakely groaned. No telling how many people she’d talked with looking this way.
She set Jethro to the floor and shuffled toward the bathroom. “I am so ready for this day to be over.”
This was the first time she’d prepped a new fleet of rental Jeeps without Granddad’s supervision. With so many details, she feared overlooking something. It was a labor-intensive and time-consuming process, yet one that would pay off when the vehicles went to auction at the end of the season.
Standing by the bathroom sink, she grabbed her face wash and squeezed a small puddle of the creamy cleanser onto her fingertips. It was that attention to detail that kept customers coming back to Granddad’s place year after year. Details Ross Chapman would never understand.
Who did he think he was, barging into her shop, threatening Adventures in Pink? The man made her angry enough to spit fire. The only good part of his visit was the look on Trent’s face when he realized they weren’t alone.
Fear tapped at the edge of Blakely’s mind as she hovered over the marble vanity, scrubbing her face. Why did Trent have to show up now, after all these years? How would she explain things to Austin? He’d always been curious about his father, especially once he started school. Would he be mad at her? At Trent?
She pressed a hot-water-soaked washcloth against her cheeks and forehead. Trent must think her the same girl who’d once fallen for his boy-next-door routine. Accusing her of keeping Austin a secret in the next.
She tossed the rag into the sink and grabbed a soft white towel from the bar on the wall. I don’t want you to think I expect anything from you, Trent. Just know that I’d never keep this child, your child, from knowing his or her father.
How she’d agonized over that dumb letter.
“Handwritten