by Barbara Lohr
“Hey, what’s happening?” her sister asked when Harper picked up.
“Just another sleepy Sunday afternoon, McKenna.”
Her sister snorted. “Doesn’t sound like you, Harper.”
McKenna always fussed over her, not that Harper minded. She described the Telfair Ball but skipped over the dancing part. No need to mention the lusting part either.
“Wow, sounds like you’re hobnobbing with Savannah’s finest,” McKenna remarked when Harper wrapped up.
“I am so not a part of that group.”
Her sister fell quiet for a second. “Hey, are you letting this job get you down?”
“That would be putting it mildly,” Harper admitted. “I’m taking care of a little girl who still eats mush at all her meals. I don’t like failure, McKenna. Her father seems to feel as helpless as I do.”
“Sounds like they really need you.”
“Sometimes I think you should have been a psychologist.”
“Told you before, I may deliver babies but I am not an expert with toddlers.”
“Enough about the job.” Going to the window, Harper pulled aside the gauzy curtain. In the bright Sunday afternoon sunlight, Bella sat on the stone bench, kicking her feet. “Are you dating anybody?”
“Not really. Are you?”
“No. Touché.” She turned away from the window. Where was Cameron? She didn’t want Bella down there alone. “McKenna, I don’t know what I’m doing here.”
“You’re helping out a little girl who really needs some support.”
“But am I equipped for this?”
“You have one of the biggest hearts in Oak Park and don’t you forget that.” McKenna slipped so easily into her coaching mode. “You’re the girl who used to bring home hungry mutts and mewling kittens. What you’re doing isn’t in line with your degree, but these are different times now, Harper. The fashion industry was hit hard. People might not have the income they did before the recession to spend on clothes.”
Harper felt the doors to her future closing. Her chest seized.
“Hey, Harper? You still there?”
“Hang on.” Fumbling for her purse on the bed, she grabbed her inhaler.
“Harper? Honey, you’re scaring me,” her sister’s voice hollered through the phone.
After a couple quick inhalations, Harper felt her throat ease. She knew on the other end, McKenna was counting to ten. She grabbed the phone. “Sorry. I’m fine. Funny, the pollen stuff doesn’t seem to affect my asthma as much as stress does.”
“Talking to me is stressful?”
“Oh, no. Not at all.” But her own thoughts were. Silence stretched between them and McKenna felt so far away. What Harper needed right now was a good hug from a sister.
“Maybe you need me to come down there and shake some sense into you.”
“You don’t have to do that, McKenna.” But hope flickered in her heart.
“Sure, try to discourage me. I love Savannah. Remember what fun we had when I visited you for that awesome St. Patrick’s Day parade?”
“Second only to New York’s.” The thought of seeing her sister lifted Harper’s weird mood.
“Great. I’m due for a couple days off. Selena will cover for me. Maybe you could suggest a hotel?”
“Let me talk to Cameron. He probably won’t mind if you stay with me. The mansion has a gazillion rooms.”
“Mansion. I like the sound of that.”
By the time they hung up, Harper was feeling so much better. Maybe she was just homesick. Maybe she missed the tree-shadowed streets of Oak Park. It would be great to see her sister and the parade would be a perfect time for McKenna to visit.
The Kirkpatricks were no strangers to St. Patty’s Day parades. Although Chicago had stopped dyeing their river green for environmental reasons, they still put on a gangbuster of a parade. Every year, a committee chose the queen. When Harper was a senior in high school, her father had nominated her for the honor. To her amazement, she’d won and ended up waving to the crowds from the float, her green gown rippling in the stiff March breeze. Smiling with the memory, she headed downstairs to make sure Bella wasn’t still sitting outside alone.
A visit from McKenna could provide a much needed distraction.
Chapter 14
Connie was cooking in the kitchen when Cameron came down from his home office. He hated taking business calls on Sunday but sometimes it couldn’t be helped. At least that’s what he’d always told himself. Now Harper’s words came back to him. Maybe being a good dad took more than putting food on the table. He should know that.
The smell of cooking helped soothe the sting of losing a prime property in the historical district. The trust had decided not to sell at this time. He’d made it clear that he would be ready when they were. In the past, his patience had paid off. Plenty of other projects needed his attention.
Including his daughter.
“What are you cooking up?” He peered over Connie’s shoulder.
“Ham and double-baked potatoes. One of your favorites,” she reminded him while he sniffed the air with appreciation. Cameron loved double stuffed potatoes heaped with melted cheese. “Harper asked if she could help.”
“Thought this was her day off.” He’d heard her on the stairs. His ears had become attuned to her light step.
“It is. She’s got it in her head that she wants to learn how to cook.”
“And you don’t think she can?”
Connie wielded that mixer like a weapon. “Not that hard. Harper’s a bright girl.”
“She sure is.” Pushing the kitchen curtain aside, he watched her kicking a soccer ball around with Bella. Harper was as graceful at soccer as she’d been on the dance floor. Letting the curtain drop, he popped a coffee container into the Keurig, not that he needed more caffeine. Since last night, he felt jumpy as a cat.
Bella’s shrieks rose from the garden as she chased after the ball. Now why hadn’t he thought of doing that with her? “Do you think it’s going to work out?”
Turning off her contraption, Connie said, “Your guess is as good as mine. I guess anyone can score a ham and punch in cloves. She’ll learn.”
“I’m not talking about the food. I’m talking about Bella and Harper.”
Connie gave him one of those glances that made him feel about five years old. “You just don’t want to interview again. I don’t blame you.” Going back to the stove, she tossed something in the pan that sizzled.
He wandered over to one of the huge Bosch stoves he’d had installed when he first renovated this house, not that Tammy ever used one. “What’s for dinner?”
With a shake of her head. Connie chuckled. “I already told you. Where is your mind today?”
He stared at her back. What could he say? She was right.
“Georgia ham and double baked potatoes. Collard greens on the side.” The smell of onions rose from her pan. “Is Miss Carrington coming for dinner?”
“Don’t know. She’s been sick.”
“Did you ask her?”
“Not yet.” He wasn’t up for the Grand Inquisition.
The wooden chopping board rang as Connie attacked some celery like she was using a nail gun. “Have a good time last night?”
“Why, yes, I did. Had to beat the men away, including Bubba.”
Connie laughed. “I’ll just bet.”
“Didn’t Harper look d-d-delightful?” He’d almost said, “damn hot.”
“More than delightful. More Chicago than Savannah, I might add. None of that sedate black or simpering lilac for that girl.”
“Well, Connie, why don’t you tell me what you really think?” Leaning one hip against the counter, he took a sip of coffee. “I do believe you’re right.”
Connie pushed the celery from the cutting board into the pan. “Bella might be a case where Chicago is called for.”
“Right again.”
Time to take his troubled thoughts into the library and he grabbed his mug. Sett
ling into his favorite leather chair, he called Kimmy. She assured him she’d be delighted to come to dinner. Her response was so quick he suspected Cecile had already talked to her.
“Are you sure you’re up to it?” he asked. Kimmy’s voice still sounded hoarse.
“Well, now, you are so sweet to ask but, sugga, I am feeling so much better. Really I am. Five o’clock or so?”
“I will await with breathless anticipation.”
Strong words that felt foolish. He’d been breathless last night. As he hoofed it upstairs, he wondered if he’d feel that way tonight.
When Kimmy rang the bell early that evening, he was there to answer. “You don’t have to ring the bell. You can come in and give a shout.”
Stepping inside, she offered a beautiful but pale cheek. “So sweet of you, Cameron. Did you manage without me last night?”
Yep, Cecile had definitely made that call.
He closed the door, and her strong perfume held him hostage. “Everyone was devastated by your absence. Why don’t we sit on the back porch?”
The day was cool but not too chilly. He needed some fresh air.
“Mint juleps, Connie?” he asked as they swept past the kitchen on their way outside. “Would that be all right with you, Kimmy?”
“Perfect. Hello, Connie.”
Did Connie even answer?
By that time, Harper and Bella had moved from the garden onto the porch. Pushing back a long curl, Harper looked up from a game of checkers. “Hello, Kimmy. Like your green outfit.”
“It is pretty, isn’t it?”
In fact, it was about the same shade of green Harper had worn the night before. He supposed Kimmy’s blonde hair made the difference in how it looked. And of course she’d been sick. “Teaching Bella to play checkers?” he asked. Connie must have shown Harper where the games were stored in the study.
“Yep. She’s darn good too.”
“Harper, I understand you filled in for me last night.” Kimmy settled into one of the rattan chairs.
So charming the way Harper blushed. “I tried. Pretty big shoes.”
“Not really.” Kimmy glanced at her feet. Her shoes looked like they were honed from pewter. No doubt she’d bought them in a Savannah boutique for an outrageous price.
Bella pretty much ignored them, intent on the game.
“You don’t want me to be able to hop over you, Bella,” Harper explained. “You want your man to reach the other side and get a crown. Then he can move every which way.”
To his surprise, Bella followed her nanny’s suggestion and blocked her.
“Way to go, girl.” Harper gave her a high five.
The smile on his little girl’s face tugged at Cameron’s heart. He leapt to his feet. “Think I’ll just go check on those drinks.”
Thirty minutes later, they were seated in the dining room. The group Sunday dinner had turned out to be a splendid idea, one of many from Harper. Bella, of course, had her bowl of mush in front of her, and he tried not to look at it. He had no idea what he could do about her eating problem. When he was growing up, he ate everything on his plate, glad to have it. He figured when she felt hungry enough, she’d eat.
Still, the child was thin as a rail. Clearly that approach hadn’t been working.
The ladies discussed the upcoming St. Patrick’s Day parade while he feasted on Connie’s ham, the taste of cloves on his tongue. No one could fix a ham like Connie.
At some point in the meal, Kimmy excused herself and returned with a bowl of banana, sliced very thin. “Bella, why don’t you try this? It’s so easy to eat.”
His daughter just stared at the bowl. Harper’s face drained.
“You might enjoy it, sweetheart. I’ll take a bite. See.” Kimmy lifted the spoon to her lips.
Bella was not impressed. In fact, she drew back.
“Oh, now, darlin’, you must open your mouth. Yes, you must.” Kimmy’s voice thinned as she scooted the spoon closer.
Bella batted Kimmy’s hand away and his favorite potatoes turned to a rock on his tongue. “Kimmy, maybe this isn’t such a good idea.” He put down his fork.
“She doesn’t want it.” Harper looked ready to vault right over the table.
Chin up, Kimmy filled the spoon again.
“Kimmy, I do believe Harper is right. Please put the spoon down.” Slowly he got to his feet.
Setting her lips as only Kimmy could, she inched the spoon closer. “Nonsense. The girl has to eat.”
The fact that Kimmy was a psychologist stopped him from saying more. Bella pulled at the collar of her little top, something she did when she was nervous. “Kimmy, stop.”
Face set, Kimmy tried again. With a wail that could be heard out on Truman Parkway, Bella shoved the spoon away.
The slop hit Kimmy’s top and everything else in the near vicinity. She gasped. “Oh, for heaven’s sakes.”
Harper was on her feet.
His ears rang as Bella let out another screech. Connie came to the doorway. The place was up for grabs. He didn’t miss the look Connie exchanged with Harper while Kimmy dashed off to repair her outfit. Clucking to her gently, he lifted Bella into his arms.
Disbelief numbed him. Sure, he’d wanted Kimmy to display some interest in Bella, but not like this. Connie cleaned up the dining room with stern disapproval, and Harper excused herself without even trying the peach cobbler. Bella disappeared into the TV room. Connie must be having a bad day because the cobbler had never been so tasteless. Despair churned in his stomach. Obviously still not feeling well, Kimmy kept dabbing her eyes with the napkin. She got up to leave before she’d even finished her coffee. He trailed her to the front door, his temples throbbing.
“I’m so sorry, Cameron.” Kimmy’s nose was red, whether from her cold or the episode, he didn’t know. “Maybe I shouldn’t have come.”
“You meant well, Kimmy.”
“I did. I really did.” More dabbing. “Really, Cameron You have to know that.”
She was blinking those eyelashes up at him. He patted her on the shoulder, which only seemed to make her mad.
After they air kissed, she left, her heels clicking on the pavement. Staring after her, he wondered why he didn’t feel more. Struck him that her cold wasn’t the only reason he hadn’t felt like kissing her good-bye. Cameron stood in the doorway and waved as she drove away. That red convertible made it clear she was Kimmy in the Morning. Everybody in Savannah knew that car.
Maybe that had been her charm when he was a new widower. Closing the door, Cameron remembered how numb he’d been after the crash. And there was Kimmy at that Chamber event, all condolences and sweet words. His business depended on connections. Together they could work a room like no other couple.
“Want me to take Bella up to bed?” Connie asked when he wandered into the kitchen. “I’ll take care of the dishes later.”
“No I’ll do it. But thank you.” Bella had been so upset.
“Come here, Pipsqueak,” he said sitting down next to her on the sofa in the TV room. He’d taken to Harper’s nickname for Bella.
Wordlessly, his little girl crawled onto his lap. Kissing the top of her head, he rocked her, felt her ease out a sigh. His hold tightened. “Maybe I’ll just carry you up to bed.” She snuggled closer.
Bella weighed no more than a sack of potatoes but she felt so frail in his arms. After he had her in bed, she asked for a story. He’d do anything to make up for the scene at the table. He never should have allowed it. Remorse left a bitter taste in his mouth while he read. When he finished one Dr. Seuss book, she handed him another and he gladly opened Old Hat, New Hat, reading in a ridiculously high voice that got her giggling.
“Sorry about tonight, baby girl,” he whispered before he turned out the light. “Sometimes I don’t think I’m a very good dad.”
Good God. How it hurt to admit that.
“Oh, no, Daddy.” Bless her heart, Bella threw herself against his chest. Those skinny little arms gripped his neck. “Yo
u’re the best, the very best. Really.”
He smoothed her hair. Couldn’t blink fast enough. Last thing he wanted was for Bella to see her daddy in tears. “So are you, sweetheart. So are you.”
She snuggled back down. He turned off the bedside lamp. The night lights were on. “Night, sweetheart.”
“Night, Daddy.”
Taking the back stairway, he circled back downstairs and wandered onto the side porch. From his favorite rattan chair he could see the moon through the live oaks. Usually he felt like lord of the manor sitting here. Not tonight. Every nerve in his body jittered. When he heard the clatter in the kitchen, he went in to talk to Connie. But Harper stood at the sink, arranging the plates in the dishwasher.
“Connie will do that.”
Glancing up, Harper drilled him with fiery green eyes. “I need something to do.”
He eased out a sigh. “Quite a ruckus, tonight wasn’t it?”
She slammed another dish into the rack. “Kimmy never should have tried that with Bella. For heaven’s sake, she’s a psychologist…” Her voice broke and she pressed her lips together.
“She was only trying to help.”
Tossing her head, Harper gave a harrumph he could feel deep in his gut. After jamming a pan into the bottom rack, she turned. “Do you mind if my sister comes to visit in March? Guess I don’t have vacation days, but I’ll make up the time somehow. McKenna loves the St. Patrick’s Day parade.”
So she’d called in the family troops. Was it that bad? The flashback of how Harper had felt in his arms the night before rocked him. Suddenly he was on sensation overload. He shook it off.
“Of course not.”
Harper swiped at a piece of hair, the hair that had mesmerized him while she gyrated last night. “She’ll stay in a hotel.”
Stubborn, the hair fell over one eye, and he tucked it behind her ear. “That’s nonsense, Harper. We have plenty of room. I’ll just let Connie know.” She could have all the damn days off she wanted. He couldn’t stand the thought of her leaving.
Bella wouldn’t be the only one left hurting.
Turning, Harper stripped off the rubber gloves and tossed them under the sink. The move was so homey. Suddenly he was back with his sister in the small kitchen that always smelled of burnt cooking lard.
