Harlequin Heartwarming June 2021 Box Set

by Patricia Johns

  “Like this?” Becca slowly dragged the bread downward, releasing a shower of crumbs to the plate below, and a few on the floor, but Ripley took care of those.

  “Exactly like that. Keep going, while I cut up the ham.” Once Becca had produced a sufficient pile of breadcrumbs, Rowan started her grating a carrot. Meanwhile, she sautéed the ham to bring out the flavor, added pasta to the boiling water and set the timer for eight minutes.

  “The mac and cheese package says seven minutes.”

  “You and Zack must make a lot of mac and cheese.” With a full-time job, a second volunteer job and a child to care for, it was no wonder Zack would go for boxed mixes and carrot sticks.

  Becca giggled. “Zack says I eat so much mac and cheese I might turn orange.”

  Rowan laughed. “Well, in tonight’s mac and cheese, we’re using a white cheddar so it won’t be orange, but the carrot shreds and broccoli will give it nice color.” She swiped a piece of carrot from the pile Becca was creating and popped it in her mouth. “Yum!” Becca grinned.

  By the time Becca had finished grating the carrot, she was tired of that chore. “Why don’t you set the table?” Rowan suggested, as she stirred the pasta and added the frozen broccoli into the boiling water.

  “I don’t know how to set a table. We always eat at the bar.”

  “We can sit at the bar if you want to, but I think it’s nice to sit together at a table where it’s easier to talk while we eat. Your choice.”

  “What do I do?”

  “Well, we’ll start with plates.” Rowan took three from the cabinet. “Put one in front of each chair.” The timer went off. She drained the pasta and broccoli into a colander and turned the oven to preheat. “Then silverware. Do you know your right from your left?”

  Becca held up her right hand. “The one with the birthmark is my right.”

  “Good. Knives and spoons go on the right, but we don’t need them tonight.” Rowan handed her napkins and forks. “Forks and napkins go on the left. Fold the napkin in half and set it on the left of the plate, then put the fork beside it or on top of it.”

  “Why?” Becca asked.

  “I asked my Gran that once, and she said it had something to do with knights holding their swords in their right hands, but I think now it’s just because that’s how we’ve always done it.”

  “So it’s a rule.” Becca nodded, satisfied. She carefully folded the napkins in half and set them to the left of the plates before setting forks on top. She turned to Rowan. “Now what?”

  “Now, we make a cheese sauce.” Rowan had just finished grating the white cheddar. “Come over here, and I’ll show you how.” Ten minutes later, they’d created a smooth creamy sauce. “You stir and I’ll add the Parmesan, a little at a time.” Given a choice, Rowan would have preferred to grate her cheese fresh, but it would still add a nice flavor kick.

  “That cheese stinks,” Becca said.

  Rowan laughed. “Yes, cheese is one of the few things that can smell stinky but taste good.” Together they assembled the casserole and put it in the oven. Becca peered through the glass. “How long until we eat?”

  “Half an hour.”

  “What do we do until then?”

  “Well, first we should clean the kitchen—” Rowan thought back to summers with Gran and Grandy “—and then—do you like games?”

  “Like tag?”

  “I was thinking more along the lines of table games. Do you have cards?”

  “I think so.”

  “Good. Let’s wash dishes first, and I’ll show you a game my grandmother taught me.”

  Rowan filled the sink with water and detergent, but before she started washing, she scooped up a dab of the suds and wiped them onto Becca’s nose.

  Becca giggled. “You, too!” Rowan bent down so Becca could put suds on her nose. “We’re twins.”

  The back door opened, and Zack walked in. “Sounds like a party in here.”

  “We’re washing dishes,” Becca told him.

  He grinned. “Looks like to me you’re playing in the suds. Something smells great.”

  “We made macaroni and cheese, but Rowan showed me how to make it with real cheese and other stuff.”

  “It will be ready in about twenty-five minutes,” Rowan told Zack. “How is the cow?”

  “All stitched up. I really appreciate you staying with Becca.”

  “We had fun, didn’t we, Becca?”

  “We’re going to wash dishes and then Rowan is going to teach me a game her grandmother taught her. We have cards, right?”

  “Somewhere.” The look he sent Rowan’s way seemed a mixture of pleasure and puzzlement. “I’ll get washed up and look for the cards.”

  “If you have something you need to be doing instead of looking for cards, we could play something else, like tic-tac-toe.”

  “No, believe it or not, I don’t have anything else that needs doing right now.”

  While he searched for the cards, Rowan washed the skillet she’d used to brown the ham and handed it to Becca, along with a dish towel.

  Becca went to work, polishing every inch of the skillet. “I hope Zack likes our dinner. It’s the first time I ever cooked anything.”

  “Did you like cooking?”

  “It’s fun!”

  “I think so, too.” Rowan smiled. “Maybe next time, we can make cookies.”

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  NEXT TIME? Zack was busy searching for cards, but he overheard Rowan pledging to make cookies with Becca. He hoped she understood that Becca took these things seriously. But Rowan didn’t seem like the type to make idle promises.

  Someone had moved the pile of junk mail and set three places at the dining table. Zack tried to think of the last time he’d eaten a sit-down meal there. Well before Becca moved in, for sure. He hadn’t found much time for playing games with Becca, either, but at least they’d established a tradition of reading together before bed every night.

  Now, where would he have stashed playing cards? Somewhere was a novelty set some veterinary medical supply had handed out. The drawer under the living room coffee table yielded a handful of pens, paper clips, a rubber dog toy and a spare stethoscope. He’d been wondering where he put that. No cards, though.

  Rowan and Becca had their heads together in the kitchen, measuring something into an empty jar. Rowan screwed the lid on tight. “Now we mix it up.” She demonstrated by shaking the jar like a maraca while dancing a salsa step. “Your turn.” She handed the jar to Becca.

  Becca boogied around the kitchen, shaking the jar. When Rowan was satisfied that the contents had mixed, she had Becca pour the dressing over salad greens, and together they tossed the salad using the bear-claw-shaped salad tongs Christine had given Zack as a housewarming gift.

  Zack wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Becca quite so carefree. Never in Clarissa’s company, for sure. When she was with her mother, Becca always tiptoed around, as though by being “good,” she could earn her mother’s love. If she ever became the least bit noisy or demanding, Clarissa would send her off to the housekeeper, pleading a headache.

  Zack finally found the cards in a box in the coat closet just as the timer chimed. “Our casserole should be ready,” Rowan told Becca.

  “What about our card game?”

  “We can play after dinner,” Zack assured her.

  They all sat down at the table. The macaroni and cheese sure looked a lot better than anything Zack had ever created. When Rowan unfolded her napkin and set it in her lap, Becca immediately did the same.

  Rowan picked up Becca’s plate and dished up a small serving. “More?”

  “Yes, please.”

  “You’re so polite,” Rowan commented as she added more.

  Becca sat a little taller in her chair. “Just a little of the vegetables, though.”

&n
bsp; Rowan laughed as she added salad and set the plate in front of Becca. “Zack?”

  He handed over his plate and Rowan served up generous portions before serving herself.

  Becca took a bite. “This is really good. I even like the green stuff.”

  “Broccoli,” Rowan said.

  “It’s great,” Zack agreed. It really was. Bits of ham flavored the cheesy pasta, along with broccoli and carrot. Far better than anything that had ever come out of this kitchen. “Thanks so much, Rowan.”

  “Thank Becca. This dinner is mostly her doing.”

  “Well, thank you both. May I have more of that macaroni and cheese, please?”

  Rowan winked at Becca while she dished up another serving. “Zack likes your cooking.”

  When they’d finished dinner, Rowan started to load the dishwasher. “Leave it,” Zack told her, as he put foil over the leftovers and set them in the fridge. “You’ve put in enough work. Let’s play.”

  “All right.” Rowan dealt the cards and explained the rules.

  Becca caught on quickly. “Zack, do you have any threes?”

  “Go fish.”

  She drew a card off the top of the pile, looked at it and gasped. “I got a three!”

  “That means you get to go again,” Rowan told her.

  “Rowan, do you have any threes?”

  “I do.” Rowan grinned. “Two of them.”

  “Yeah, I got a book!” Rowan laid the four cards together on the table in front of her. “I’m winning!”

  “You sure are,” Zack agreed. In more ways than one.

  They played two more games, but eventually Zack announced, “It’s past your bedtime.”

  “I’m not sleepy,” Becca protested.

  “You’ll be sleepy at camp tomorrow if you don’t get to bed. Brush your teeth, and I’ll be up to read you a story.” He wanted a moment alone with Rowan to let her know how much he appreciated the time she’d spent with Becca.

  “I want Rowan to read to me tonight and meet Zuma.”

  “Zuma is Rowan’s stuffed mountain lion,” Zack explained.

  “Oh, Zuma the Puma.” Rowan looked delighted. “I would love that, if Zack doesn’t mind.”

  “I suppose you can have a turn just for one night,” Zack said.

  “Goody. Today was fun,” Becca said. “Rowan, can we cook dinner again tomorrow?”

  Rowan’s smile faded. “Sorry, sweetie. I’ll be on a plane tomorrow.”

  “You’re leaving already?” After she’d promised Becca she would make cookies? And Maggie that she’d get more donations for the fundraiser?

  “Just for two days. I’ll be back Thursday night.”

  Zack relaxed. “Better get those teeth brushed if you want to have time for a story,” he told Becca and waited for her to disappear up the stairs before turning to Rowan. “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For what? For everything. For watching Becca while I worked, and for cooking, and most of all for making Becca smile.”

  “Doesn’t she smile often?”

  “Not as often as she should.”

  “Rowan, I’m ready,” Becca called from the top of the stairs.

  “I’ll be right up.” Rowan turned to Zack. “Thank you for sharing your little sister with me tonight. She gave me a reason to smile, too, and I really needed that.”

  * * *

  ZACK HAD LOADED the dishwasher and thrown in a load of laundry by the time Rowan came downstairs again. “All tucked in.” Rowan shuffled the cards they’d left lying on the table. “We took turns reading. Becca said that’s how you always do it. She’s an excellent reader. How old is she?”

  “She just turned eight.”

  “She’s such a great kid.”

  “She is,” Zack agreed.

  “I was surprised when you said she didn’t smile often.” Rowan slipped the cards into the box. “She seems so eager to please.”

  “Yeah. Sometimes I think she worries that if she does something wrong, I’ll send her away.”

  Rowan looked concerned. “Did something happen to your parents? Is that why your sister lives with you?”

  “My dad—our dad—died recently. Becca’s mom...” He blew out a breath of frustration. “She’s somewhere in the Caribbean. I think.”

  “What do you mean, you think? You’re taking care of her child and you don’t know where she is?”

  “Not exactly,” he admitted. “She was staying at a resort there, but when I tried to leave a message with the front desk, they said she’d checked out. I imagine she’ll call soon.” Or at least the next time she had a problem with a credit card.

  “I don’t understand. Why is Becca’s mother in the Caribbean when she’s here?”

  How to explain? “Clarissa has never exactly taken to motherhood. Dad was the parent. Clarissa treats Becca like—well, not a pet, because my clients are all better parents to their pets than Clarissa is to Becca. More like a neighbor’s kid she speaks to occasionally but doesn’t take any responsibility for.”

  “I see.” Rowan shook her head. “No, I don’t see.”

  “I don’t, either,” Zack admitted. “But that’s the way it’s always been. Right after Becca was born, Clarissa left her and went off to some resort for a couple months to ‘shed the baby weight.’ After Dad’s funeral, she asked if I’d keep Becca for a little while. That was two months ago.”

  “What happens when she comes back?”

  “I’ve been thinking a lot about that lately.” Zack hadn’t confided to anyone, but somehow Rowan felt like the right person. “I want custody. Becca doesn’t deserve to trail around after her mother, pawned off on housekeepers or nannies. She needs a stable life. And I intend to give it to her.”

  “That’s wonderful!” Rowan came around the table and hugged him.

  He chuckled. “What’s this all about?”

  “Sorry.” She drew back. “I’m just so glad that Becca has you as a big brother.”

  “Don’t be sorry. It was nice. You really care what happens to Becca, don’t you?”

  “Of course. She deserves a wonderful life. And you’re the one who can make it happen.”

  “I hope so. Between my job and the wildlife center, I feel like Becca’s getting short-changed.”

  “Every parent I’ve ever talked to feels that way sometimes. You’re doing a terrific job.”

  “You don’t know about all the instant mac and cheese dinners.”

  “Oh yes, I do, and I also know Becca loves them. Don’t beat yourself up.” Her face grew more serious. “Will Becca’s mother fight you over custody?”

  “She might. Clarissa can be touchy.”

  “She sounds like a joy to have around.”

  He shrugged. “I’ve always gotten along with Clarissa, mostly for Dad and Becca’s sake. But now that I’m the executor of my father’s estate, that might change.”

  “Oh?”

  “Clarissa’s pulling something. She was my father’s fourth wife. She signed a prenup but now there’s no sign of it. She says he tore it up when Becca was born.”

  “And you don’t think that’s true?”

  “We also can’t find a will written after his marriage to Clarissa or after Becca’s birth. The most recent one we found was written during his third marriage. It mentions that wife and me, and appoints me executor. But, according to state law, the divorce means wife number three doesn’t inherit. And if a current wife is not mentioned in a will that predates the marriage, the wife gets one hundred thousand, plus half of the remaining estate.”

  “I gather that would add up to more than the amount in the prenup?”

  “Quite a bit more.”

  “What about Becca?”

  “Since she wasn’t born when the will was made, she’s autom
atically assigned a share equal to mine. Roughly, one-fourth of the estate.”

  Rowan thought for a moment before she answered. “It does seem unlikely that someone would have taken the trouble to draft a prenup but not update his will. Is there any reason he would have destroyed the prenup and the will when Becca was born?”

  “A little over three years ago, Dad had a minor heart attack. Afterward, he mentioned he planned to leave everything above the prenup to Becca and appoint me her trustee. But I never saw the papers, and we can’t find them or any lawyer who says they drafted them. The estate lawyer I hired, named Teagarden Jones if you can believe it, says without the paperwork, it’s just hearsay.”

  “It all sounds pretty complicated. If Clarissa were going to destroy documents, why would she have left the former will around? Would she know the third wife would be out and she would be in?”

  “It took me about five minutes to find the information on the internet, so I would say yes. Contrary to the impression she tries to create, Clarissa is no airhead.”

  “Wouldn’t it have been safer to go—what do you call it when there’s no will?”

  “Intestate.”

  “Right. Wouldn’t that have been a surer option? Or would her share have been less that way?”

  “No, it would have been the same amount. Maybe she left the old will to avert suspicion.”

  Rowan raised an eyebrow. “Apparently it didn’t work, since we’re both suspicious.”

  “You, too? You’ve never even met Clarissa.”

  “I’ve met you. You usually give people the benefit of a doubt. So, if you think she’s up to something, I believe you. What are you going to do about it?”

  “I’m not sure there’s anything I can do. If the documents are gone, and there’s nothing to indicate his wishes, as executor, I have to fall back to the will we found.”