Patchwork Family (6 page)

But he made no move to leave.

After an awkward silence, she repeated, “Thank you for tasting the muffins.”

“Why do you have to eliminate any of them? They’re all wonderful.”

“I thought I should have a signature muffin. You know, build a reputation for special things.” She almost relaxed with her response until she appeared to remember that she was angry with him.

“I think you’ll build a reputation for good food, whichever kind of muffin you serve. But variety might be fun. You could serve one kind each day of the week. You didn’t have any blueberry muffins. Or surely there are other kinds.” He searched his mind for kinds of muffins. He wasn’t sure why he wanted the conversation to continue, but he did. “Maybe there are zucchini muffins?”

She smiled. “I could make pumpkin muffins.”

“There you go! That would be perfect for Thanksgiving. Or turkey muffins, with the leftovers. Ham muffins for Easter. Rhubarb muffins.”

She laughed at his silliness, and he grinned in return. Seeing Molly laugh was a delight in itself.

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“Maybe, but I think any kind of muffin you make would be good, if these are any indication.”

“Sara was disappointed you didn’t pick the strawberry one.”

“I know,” he agreed. “She kept pushing another bite toward me. Which was pretty impressive since she wanted to eat those bites herself.”

“You noticed,” Molly said with a grin. “I have to watch her. She has a definite sweet tooth.”

“She’s a beautiful little girl, both in her appear
ance and her behavior, Molly. You’ve done a great job raising her. Christopher would be proud.”

Suddenly the friendliness in the air, the warmth, the welcome, all disappeared. Molly’s face was grim and closed. She stood. “Thank you for your help.”

“Wait!” He hadn’t intended the protest, but he wasn’t going to be shoved out the door until he knew what he’d done wrong. “What did I do?”

She turned away, clearing the table. “Nothing at all. I just don’t want to take up more of your time. I know how busy you are.”

He stubbornly remained in his chair, as if standing would make it easier for her to dislodge him. “It’s Friday afternoon. I’m not so busy.”

“If you don’t have work to do, I’m sure you have social plans. I don’t want to make you run late.” She kept her back to him, rinsing the dishes.

He decided to invade her space. Grabbing more dishes, he carried them to the sink. He couldn’t have shocked her more if he’d slapped her.

“What are you doing?” she demanded, outrage in her voice.

“Helping you.” It seemed obvious to him, but not to her.

“I don’t need your help!” she assured him. “I can manage.”

“I can see that. Doesn’t mean I shouldn’t help, though. I do have manners, you know.”

“So, in a restaurant, you offer to clean the kitchen before you leave?”

“In a restaurant, I pay a bill, which covers cleaning the kitchen,” he returned, keeping his voice level. He wanted to get to the bottom of what had upset her. So he wouldn’t do it again. If she ever
opened her door to him. Not that it mattered, of course, but there was no point in making enemies when it wasn’t necessary.

“By the way,” he added, before she could speak, “Amanda is coming back this evening. She’ll be in the office on Monday.”

“Good,” she snapped, telling him without additional words she wouldn’t be consulting him again.

He stood there, his hands on his hips, watching, trying to figure out how to scale the wall she’d built.

She turned and wiped her hands on a towel. “I’ll get your coat for you.”

“Wait just a minute,” he protested. “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what I said wrong.”

Molly felt like an idiot.

The man had made a simple remark. If she’d contained her emotions, simply accepted his words for their good intentions, she wouldn’t be in such an awkward position.

“You didn’t say anything wrong, Mr. Spencer,” she assured him quietly, keeping a tight rein on her emotions. “I overreacted.”

“To what?”

“Your comment about Christopher.” She headed toward the coatrack to get his overcoat. Surely her reasonableness would speed him on his way.

“But all I said was Christopher would be proud—”

“I know. As I said, a perfectly lovely sentiment.” She held out the coat to him. He ignored it.

“I didn’t realize your grief would still be so raw,” he said, concern on his face, making her feel even worse.

The weight of the overcoat made it necessary to lower it against her body. “There is no grief.”

She’d shocked him. He stared at her, saying nothing.

“I’m sorry. I know this is Christopher’s hometown, and I’ve tried not to offend anyone. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep my remarks to yourself.”

“But even if you and Christopher didn’t— Sara was his daughter. Wasn’t she?”

Molly stiffened. “Are you asking me if I was faithful to my husband?”

“No! No, I wouldn’t— It’s none of my business!”

“Sara is Christopher’s daughter. But surely you don’t find his attitude difficult to understand. I heard you explaining why you’d never have children.”

Now he appeared as upset as her. Great. She’d turned a molehill into a mountain. Then she’d turned it into the Alps.

“My choices are irrelevant, Mrs. Blake. But surely, once Sara arrived—”

“Christopher ignored both of us. This is a pointless discussion, particularly after you’ve been so helpful.” In a desperate attempt to make nice, she added, “Let me wrap up some of the muffins. You can have them for breakfast tomorrow.”

She hurriedly put two of each type of muffin in a plastic bag and handed it to Quinn. Then she handed him his overcoat and led the way to the front door, praying he’d follow.

The sound of his heavy tread reassured her. She opened the front door and turned to face him. “Thank you again for your assistance.”

“Thank you for a delicious lunch.”

She nodded, anxious to have him on the other side of her closed door. Before she could make any more mistakes.

“Tell Sara goodbye for me.”

That only made her feel even more guilty. He was
being very polite. “Of course. Thank you for your patience with her.”

He nodded, but he didn’t move.

She didn’t know what else to say. Licking her suddenly dry lips, she ventured a look at him.

He smiled. “If we get any more polite, I’ll have to bow before I leave.”

Some of the tension left her shoulders. “I’m sorry. I don’t seem to behave well around you, Mr. Spencer. But since Amanda is coming back to town, I shouldn’t have to bother you again.” There. That should satisfy him.

“I’ll miss the muffins,” he said with another smile.

She returned his smile, but she didn’t make any offer to keep him supplied. Better to cut all ties.

Once again he told her goodbye and left the house.

She could finally shut him out of her life.

So why did she feel so empty?

Q
UINN DIDN’T RETURN
to the office. He decided everything on his desk could wait until Monday. Instead, he went home.

He frowned. He was living with his father, in the family home. When he’d come back to Tyler, he’d been like a bird with a broken wing. He’d needed to heal. Having finally gotten his courage to risk his heart, he’d found it tossed back into his lap, rejected. Marietta, the woman he’d thought he loved, had had a bigger target. She’d met an Englishman with a title.

While he’d told himself it was his pride, more than anything, that had been hurt, he’d found himself reliving the rejection he’d felt in his childhood, when his mother had disappeared from his life.

And he’d vowed never again to risk his heart.

It took too much energy to care about where he lived, so he’d returned to his old bedroom. But now, after time spent at Molly’s, his choice seemed so…so sterile. The housekeeper his father hired, Eva, kept everything clean. But there was none of the warmth, the pride, the caring, that was obvious in Molly’s house.

None of the smiles.

He thought of Sara’s infectious laughter, her beaming smile. Those big blue eyes that could look so guilty for the smallest infraction.

He’d never realized how much a child could play on one’s emotions. How easily she could worm her way into a man’s heart. How protective he felt.

What kind of idiot had Christopher been? Maybe it would take time to warm up to having a child. But Molly? He had ignored Molly?

Sara’s brightness and warmth came directly from Molly. A man would never be cold in a household with those two. And at night, his mind immediately continued, picturing one of the king-size beds, he’d be in heaven.

He immediately dismissed that thought. She was a mother, damn it. He shouldn’t be thinking of her as a—as a woman. A sexy woman.

But he couldn’t seem to help himself.

That night, his dreams were warm, happy ones, centered around two blondes. When he awoke the next morning, he was reluctant to leave his bed, knowing it would dispel the lingering remnants of his dreams.

Yesterday afternoon he’d placed the muffins in the refrigerator. This morning he hurried to the kitchen
and heated them in the microwave, eager to again taste Molly’s handiwork.

“Something smells good,” Elias growled as he came into the kitchen just as the muffins came out of the microwave.

Quinn jerked in a guilty start. “Uh, yeah. Muffins.”

“Ah. You went to the bakery.”

He didn’t lie. But he didn’t correct his father’s guess, either. What difference did it make?

His father selected one of the muffins. Quinn noted that he’d chosen one of the strawberry ones. He grinned. His father had a sweet tooth, too, like Sara.

After pouring two cups of coffee, he carried them to the table and slid one to his father, who’d just taken his first bite.

“Hey, this is good,” Elias intoned. “What kind—”

“Strawberry.”

“Never tasted anything like it before. Are they all strawberry?”

“No.” He named the other kinds, watching his father survey the plate. He could tell he wouldn’t have any muffins left over.

He was sure of that when the back door opened and Brady came in. He almost groaned.

“I brought some doughnuts,” Brady announced before he saw the muffins. “What’s this? Has Quinn become Betty Crocker overnight?”

Quinn didn’t respond and Elias was too interested in what he was eating. “Taste this,” he ordered his second son, pinching off a piece of his muffin.

While Brady and his father discussed the strawberry muffin, Quinn took a knife and cut the remain
ing muffins in half. He wanted some of each of them and he was going to have to share.

Fortunately, there weren’t any questions. The men were concentrating on the taste, with muttered appreciation when they tasted a new one.

Until there was nothing but crumbs on the plate.

“I think we may have to buy stock in the bakery,” Elias commented as he sipped his coffee.

Brady protested, “But that’s where I bought those doughnuts. I didn’t see anything like these.” He waved at the empty plate. “I don’t think they came from the bakery.”

“But Quinn said—”

“No, I didn’t. You guessed the bakery and I didn’t correct you.”

“So are you telling me you made them? Do I have a son who intends to give up law to be a baker now?”

Quinn shook his head. “A friend made them.” He’d hoped to avoid any more questions, but his father perked up like a retired fire horse put between the traces for one last run.

“I didn’t know you had any friends who could cook. I thought they all dined in restaurants.”

Brady snapped his fingers. “It’s the blonde. She wanted to say thank-you for taking her little girl to the hospital. Why didn’t she send me some muffins? I’m the one who made her well.”

Quinn sipped his coffee and avoided looking at his relatives.

“A looker and she can cook like this? I think I want to meet this lady,” Elias said.

“You’ll have your chance. She’s having an open house for the entire town next weekend,” he said,
determined to keep everything impersonal. “She owns the new bed-and-breakfast in town, on Ivy Lane.”

“The old Blake house?” Brady asked. “I heard something about that, but I hadn’t made the connection to Molly. Interesting. Did she buy it?”

“She inherited it. She’s Christopher’s widow.” Quinn remembered their last conversation. Not a grieving widow, she’d told him. He was surprised at how much relief that thought gave him.

“Christopher Blake was no prize,” Elias said.

“I don’t remember much about him,” Brady said. “What was wrong with him?”

Quinn waited for his father’s answer with great curiosity. He remembered the man vaguely, but they’d never been friends.

“He was a pretentious snob, interested only in himself. He neglected his mother shamelessly.” Elias didn’t forgive a lack of family consideration.

Molly had said Christopher ignored her and Sara. An even greater sin than ignoring his mother, in Quinn’s eyes.

“What’s the blonde like?” Elias asked.

Quinn considered his answer. He didn’t want to sound too enthusiastic, because his father would read more into it than he intended. But he had to be honest. “She’s a ray of sunshine. She and Sara. And a hard worker. Wait until you see the house. She’s done wonders with it.”

“Hasn’t Jenna been working with her? Seems to me I’ve heard her mention something about a bed-and-breakfast.” Brady stared at Quinn, waiting for his answer.

He nodded.

“I believe I’ll plan on going to that open house. When did you say it would be?” Elias asked.

“Next Sunday afternoon.”

“You going?” Brady asked.

Quinn realized both men were watching for his response. Damn. He hadn’t been able to throw them off the trail. “I guess so,” he said, trying for an offhand manner. “After all, she’s our client.”

“Ah,” Elias said. “Maybe we can all go together, so you can introduce us. I’d like to thank her for the muffins.”

W
HAT A HECTIC WEEK
!

In addition to the open house on Sunday, Sara’s birthday fell on Friday. Four days a week, Sara was at the preschool program at Kaity’s Kids day care until three-thirty. On Friday, though the day care center remained open, the preschool ended at noon. It was the perfect time for Sara’s birthday party, so Molly was hosting twelve four-year-olds for the afternoon.

Kaitlin Rodier, the owner of the day care, was coming, of course. Her workers would take care of the other age groups at the center. But Sara had insisted her teacher be invited.

Since Kaitlin was one of Molly’s closest friends, she was delighted to have her come, but she was also afraid it would seem like work to Kaitlin. After all, she would’ve already spent the morning with the small guests.

But Molly could use the help.

Since she was inviting the entire town to the open house, she’d decided the best way would be to put an invitation in the paper on Friday, Saturday and
Sunday. Jenna had promised to take care of that chore, and she stopped by on Wednesday morning with the ad to show her.

“Oh, Jenna, that’s wonderful!” Molly enthused. The large square had the rose and tulip entwined with ivy. “And they’ll be able to print it in color?”

“Yeah. It’s going to look terrific.”

“Yes, it will. Eden is going to do some flower arrangements that will reflect our logo.”

“She does very good work. I’ve been in there several times,” Jenna agreed.

“And how are you feeling? You’re not doing too much, are you?” Molly asked. Jenna had recently married, but she was already pregnant. The entire town had been talking about her and Quinn’s older brother Seth.

“I’m fine. Seth won’t let me do too much. And his family…if I even hint at wanting something, they all jump up at once. A woman could get used to this.”

Molly blinked several times. “Even Quinn? I thought he wasn’t interested in children.”

“I don’t know about that, but he’s been very nice to me.” Jenna looked at Molly. “Didn’t I hear he was doing some work for you?”

“Um, he helped out while Amanda was out of town.”

“Ah. Well, I’ve got to run, but if there’s anything else you need done, just let me know. I should be picking up your order for stationery next week.”

“Great. I appreciate all the work.”

“I appreciate the business,” Jenna replied with a smile.

After Jenna left, Molly vacuumed the rug in the
entryway, polished the banister on the stairway and swept the hardwood floors.

Then she broke for lunch. While she ate, she made her shopping list for Sara’s party. She’d received specific instructions from her child about what to serve. Frankly, hot dogs didn’t enchant Molly. Nor could she demonstrate her cooking skills with such mundane fare.

But the party wasn’t about her. It was for Sara, and she’d requested hot dogs.

Then Molly made a second shopping list for the weekend. She planned to have the house spotless by Friday evening. If she kept the party contained to the kitchen and breakfast area, that shouldn’t be too difficult.

Saturday she’d do all the cooking, except for the last-minute preparations. Sunday she’d be relaxed and ready to greet her neighbors.

After lunch, she continued to polish and scrub. Sara would be brought by the car pool she and several other mothers had organized. Tuesdays and Fridays were her days to drive, so today she could remain at home.

At three-fifteen the doorbell rang. Checking her watch, she wondered if school had let out early. Hurrying to the door, she swung it open, her gaze fixed on where Sara’s head would be.

Then traveled up the dark overcoat until it reached Quinn’s face. She hadn’t seen him since their embarrassing encounter last Friday.

And she had no idea why he was here now.

She’d discussed her case with Amanda by phone. Amanda assured her Quinn had handled everything.