About That Man. Sherryl Woods
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weeks. “You’re going to run off another housekeeper if you’re not careful,” he warned his father.
“So what if I do? It’s my house.”
“We’ll remind you of that when you start grumbling about having to do the dusting,” Tucker said, grinning.
King wondered what he’d ever done to deserve such disrespectful sons. If he didn’t need their help with Daisy, he’d have thrown them out and gone through with his threat to disinherit them.
“We’re getting off-track,” he said instead. “I expect you to do something about this situation with your sister. Make sure that boy leaves here with his uncle, preferably tonight. Am I making myself clear?”
“If you feel so strongly about this, why aren’t you over there telling Daisy what you think?”
“Because she doesn’t listen to me any better than the rest of you. If I show up, it’ll only make her dig in her heels.”
“True enough,” Bobby said. “Daisy got her stubbornness from you.”
“She got it from your mother,” King contradicted. “I’m a perfectly reasonable man.”
Tucker and Bobby hooted so loudly at that it brought the housekeeper peeking through the kitchen door. King gave up. He’d either made his point or he hadn’t. Tucker and Bobby would do what they wanted to do, the way they always did. So would Daisy, for that matter, even if it ruined her life. He could console himself that he’d tried to fix things.
He frowned at the eavesdropping housekeeper. “You might as well get on in here and clear the supper dishes, Mrs. Wingate.”
“Will you be wanting your pie and coffee now?” she asked as she eased into the room, giving him a wide berth as she loaded a tray with the dinner plates and serving dishes.
“I’ll take mine in the study,” he said. “These two can take theirs wherever they want.”
“I’m thinking I’ll take a couple of extra slices and head on over to Daisy’s to see what’s what,” Tucker said, glancing toward his younger brother. “What about you?”
“Sounds like a plan,” Bobby agreed.
King regarded them both with satisfaction. Maybe their skulls weren’t quite as thick as he’d been thinking, after all.
“You’ll let me know what you find out,” he ordered them as Mrs. Wingate delivered his piece of apple pie and coffee and set a covered pie plate in front of Tucker.
“You could come along,” Tucker suggested.
“Not on your life,” King retorted.
“Scared of the heat,” Bobby observed.
“Probably so,” Tucker concurred.
“No, just saving the big guns for later, in case you two mess this up,” King told them. He scowled. “Which I am counting on you not to do.”
“Daddy, we will do our best, but this is Daisy we’re talking about,” Tucker reminded him. “I haven’t won an argument with her since she was old enough to talk.”
“Then it’s high time you figured out why that is and changed it,” King told him, shaking his head at the pitiful admission. “What kind of sheriff lets a little slip of a woman walk all over him?”
“One who’s smart enough to know when to cut his losses,” Bobby suggested.
“Exactly,” Tucker agreed.
King threw up his hands. “I swear to God I am calling my lawyer right this minute and changing my will. I’m leaving everything to a bunch of blasted bird-watchers. They’re bound to have more gumption than you two.”
“Glad to see we’ve made you proud yet again,” Tucker said, giving him an unrepentant grin as he headed for the door with the pie plate in hand.
Bobby gave his shoulder a squeeze as he passed. “See you, old man.”
“I’m not old,” King bellowed after them, then sighed. He might not be old at fifty-nine, but his children were going to send him to an early grave. Every one of them seemed to be flat-out dedicated to it.
4
D aisy had spent the past few hours preparing Tommy for meeting his uncle. She had really tried to put the best possible spin on things for his sake, but he wasn’t any more thrilled by the prospect than she was. She had no answer for all of his questions about why he’d never even known of the man’s existence. Frances hadn’t been willing to share a single detail when Daisy had tried to pry a few out of her.
“I’m telling you I ain’t going nowhere with no cop,” he said flatly as he spooned soup noisily into his mouth late Thursday afternoon as they awaited the arrival of Walker Ames. Molly meowed plaintively, as if she understood his distress.
She had allowed Tommy to stay home from school, and she had taken the day off as well. It had probably been a mistake, since they’d spent the entire time sitting around the house brooding about whatever was to come. And when Frances had called midafternoon to report that Walker hadn’t even shown up yet, Daisy had been ready to take Tommy and vanish. What sort of man was late to a first meeting with his own nephew?
But he was in Trinity Harbor now. Frances had called from the Inn a few minutes ago and said they’d be by around six. Daisy had fixed Tommy a bowl of soup and a sandwich to distract him, but she hadn’t been able to touch a bite of food herself.
Tommy’s declaration hung in the air, adding to her stomach’s queasiness. How could she in good conscience send him away with a man he didn’t know? How could she not, when that man was his only living relative?
Finally she met Tommy’s belligerent gaze. “Tommy, do you trust me?”
“Some,” he conceded grudgingly.
“Then believe me when I tell you that you won’t go anywhere unless it’s for the best.”
He eyed her warily, his blue eyes far too skeptical for a boy his age. “Who gets to decide what’s best?”
The question made her pause. The truth was, she supposed that Social Services or the court would have to make the call. But Tommy was ten. He ought to have some say. And she intended to have quite a lot to say herself once she’d seen this Walker Ames with her own eyes. She considered herself to be a very good judge of character, although there was the matter of Billy Inscoe to contradict that fact.
“All of us,” she said finally. “You, me, a judge, the social worker and, of course, your uncle.”
When the doorbell rang, Daisy froze. Tommy dropped his spoon, sending splatters of soup every which way. For once, Daisy ignored the mess. For one wild moment, she considered grabbing Tommy by the hand and hightailing it out the back door, but that would only postpone the inevitable. She reminded herself that her students–rambunctious teens, at that–considered her quite formidable. A mere policeman would be no match for her at all.
“You can stay in here and finish your soup,” she said, then gave Tommy’s hand a reassuring squeeze. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”
“Whatever,” he said, his doubt plain.
With Tommy’s skepticism ringing in her ears, she went to do battle with the man she was already inclined to think of as the enemy.
Walker wasn’t sure what he’d expected in terms of age or appearance when Frances Jackson had told him that his nephew was being cared for by the daughter of one of the town’s leading citizens. He’d simply dismissed her as some small-town society do-gooder without giving her another thought.
And maybe that was precisely what Daisy Spencer was, but she also happened to be years younger than he’d anticipated–no more than thirty, he guessed–and so beautiful it