“Absolutely,” Kaitlin agreed. “I’d love to have her come work for me, but she’s too busy. I hope the bed-and-breakfast succeeds.”
“It has to,” Quinn said. “She’s too good. Once anyone eats her cooking, or sees how much effort she’s put into the house, they won’t be able to resist.”
“I think we need to find her a husband, though,” Martha said quietly.
Quinn tried to hide the sudden protest that welled up in him. “I’m not sure she’s interested in a husband.”
“Probably not after being married to Christopher,” Martha said crisply. “But Sara needs a father, and Molly could use some help around here.”
“She’s managing just fine,” he insisted. The thought of Molly and another man didn’t seem right to him, but he didn’t examine his feelings too closely.
“Are you coming to the open house on Sunday?” Kaitlin asked him, changing the subject.
“Yeah, of course. I think Dad and Brady are coming, too. And I’m sure Seth and Jenna will be here. Jenna has designed Molly’s stationery and things.”
“From what I hear,” Pam inserted, “I think most of the town will be here. There’s a lot of curiosity, partly caused by Ursula’s animosity.”
“That woman is half-crazy, don’t you know,” Martha said.
Quinn realized it was Ursula’s behavior that had sent Molly running to his office. Not such a bad thing.
“It’s time to open presents!” Sara announced.
“Sara,” Molly remonstrated quietly, “your friends haven’t finished their cake and ice cream yet.”
“Hurry!” Sara exclaimed.
Quinn suspected Sara’s response wasn’t quite what Molly had hoped for.
Kaitlin rose from the table. “I think it’s time for cleanup again.”
Martha started to get up. Quinn reached out a hand and stopped her. “You stay put, Martha. I’ll help.”
Martha nodded.
As he moved away from the table, he heard Pam murmur, “My, I had no idea Quinn was so—so domesticated.”
Truth to tell, he hadn’t, either. If someone had told him a month ago that he’d be attending a child’s birthday party, he’d have laughed in his face. But it seemed so right to be at Sara’s party.
To be helping Molly.
Being part of the afternoon’s events satisfied something he hadn’t even known he needed. He suddenly realized he felt part of a family.
He froze.
“Quinn, is something wrong?” Molly asked as she dumped the remains of the dessert into the trash bag.
His gaze flew to her face. “No! No, nothing at all. How long does the party last?” The sudden urge to escape had nothing to do with the party—and a lot to do with the panic filling him.
“If you need to leave, we can manage. You’ve been a big help. I appreciate it. Just tell Sara you have to go back to work.”
Her easy acceptance of his need to escape surprised him. And calmed him. Molly wasn’t trying to trap him into anything. In fact, she’d encouraged him not to come. And now that he was here, she wasn’t demanding he stay.
“No, I just wondered. It’s hard to believe they can keep this energy level going for so long.”
“Now that they’ve had sugar, they can go for several more hours.” The rueful smile on her beautiful lips made him want to kiss her. He took a step backward.
“Quinn? Just tell Sara—”
“I’m not going anywhere,” he assured her, even though he was shaking inside. He’d never been attracted to a mother before. But then, Molly was an exceptional mother.
He’d get over it. In fact, better that he stay. She’d get ornery when the children continued to be so demanding. He was sure she would. Better to see her feet of clay than to leave now, thinking her perfect.
WHEN SHE HAD THE CHILDREN seated in a circle on the rug, Molly handed the first present to Sara, hoping her daughter remembered the rules she’d drummed into her last night.
The first gift was a picture puzzle. “Oh, look, Mommy! A puzzle! I love puzzles. Thank you, Margaret.”
Pride swelled in Molly’s heart. She smiled at her daughter and nodded.
Sara began to get a little giddy as the presents piled up. She’d never received so much at one time. Molly carefully tried to keep her in check, reminding her of her manners when she forgot.
Finally all the presents had been opened, even one from Martha, except for the large box Quinn had carried in. Sara eyed it with awe. “It’s so big!” she squealed.
“Maybe it’s a train!” Jeremy suggested.
“I think it’s a big dog!” another little boy exclaimed, standing to spread his arms as far as he could. All the children began to speculate and the noise level rose in the room.
Molly suggested Sara rip off the brightly colored paper and reveal the gift before the guessing got out of hand. In no time, Sara had done so. Suddenly the room got quiet.
“A dollhouse, Mommy!” Sara whispered, excitement in her voice. “It’s a dollhouse!” Suddenly she looked up from the box, seeking the giver.
Molly watched, her heart in her throat when Sara found Quinn, watching the proceedings from the table. She flew across the room and threw herself at him, her little arms folding around his neck. “Thank you,” she exclaimed, her lips placing several kisses on his cheek.
“I’m glad you like it, sweetheart,” Quinn assured her, hugging her back.
QUINN WAS HAPPY his present had been a success, though Sara’s enthusiasm had dimmed slightly when she realized she couldn’t open the box and take it out. The dollhouse was in pieces, waiting for someone to put it together.
Which explained why he was standing in the kitchen waiting for everyone else to leave. Pam had offered to take Martha home, for which he was grateful.
“Thanks for all your help, Pam,” Molly was saying. “And, Martha, we’re so glad you came.”
“I wouldn’t have missed it,” Martha said.
Molly escorted the two of them to Pam’s van, along with five of the children.
Quinn was pretty sure Molly had forgotten he was still there when she came back into the house, a tired look on her face. After feeding the children, serving cake and ice cream, supervising the unwrapping of presents, she had led the children in games.
Sara stood beside Quinn. “Wasn’t that the bestest party ever?”
“It certainly was. And you were a very good hostess, little Sara.”
“Mommy ’splained about being a hostess.” Sara leaned against his leg. The sugar appeared to be wearing off and Sara looked tired.
Molly came back in. “Oh! I hadn’t realized—Sara, did you thank Mr. Spencer for coming to your party?”
“Yes, Mommy, and for my bestest present, too. When can you put it together?”
Quinn smiled wryly at Molly’s effort to remain enthusiastic about his gift. He knew she had a busy schedule between now and Sunday.
“I’m not sure, sweetie, but I’ll do it as soon as I can,” she promised.
“I have a better idea,” Quinn said, watching Molly.
“What?” Sara asked, lifting her face to him.
He bent over and scooped her up in his arms. “How about you go lie down and take a—” he remembered just in time to use the right word “—a rest, and I’ll work on the dollhouse. Maybe when you get up, I’ll have it all put together.”
“Couldn’t I help you?” Sara asked, her arms around his neck.
Quinn swallowed, realizing how hard it was to remain firm when those big blue eyes were pleading with him. “Uh, I think Mommy wants you to have a rest.”
“Quinn—I mean, Mr. Spencer is right, Sara. You’ve had a big afternoon. You need some quiet time.” Molly crossed the room and took Sara from him. “And I suspect Mr. Spencer would like some quiet time, too. We’ll get your dollhouse put together another day. You have lots of toys to play with until I do.”
“But, Mommy—”
“Sara.”
That one quiet word had Sara capi
tulating. “Okay,” she whispered, and put her head on Molly’s shoulder.
As she walked toward the kitchen door, Molly said, “If you need to leave, feel free to go. I appreciate all the help you gave me.” With a small smile, she disappeared from sight, along with Sara.
Quinn surveyed the kitchen. Molly had kept up with the cleaning as the party progressed. Everything was almost shipshape. In fact, it was hard to tell a party had taken place. He could leave, knowing Molly would be able to rest.
But he wasn’t leaving.
He took out two more paper plates and cut two pieces of Sara’s cake. Then he added a scoop of ice cream to each piece and set them on the table, with spoons.
As Molly came back through the kitchen door, he was taking his first bite of the cake she’d made.
“Oh! I’m sorry, I forgot you didn’t get any cake.”
“I hope you don’t mind me helping myself,” he said, offering a smile to charm her.
“Of course not.”
“I fixed some for you, too. You didn’t have a chance to eat any, either.”
“I warned you children’s parties are rather hectic,” she pointed out as she sat down.
“Great cake.”
“Thank you.”
He watched her as she took her first bite of cake and ice cream. “How did you learn to decorate a cake like that?”
“There are kits. It’s easy. I like doing that sort of thing. I talked to Jenna about fixing a sign for Sunday, offering my services for birthday cakes or special occasion desserts.”
“Are you sure you’ll have time?”
“Yes, of course.”
“Martha said you need a husband.” He hadn’t intended to tell her about that remark, but it still bothered him.
Molly froze, a bite halfway to her mouth. She put the spoon back on her plate. “Martha’s wrong.” She shoved away the plate in front of her.
“Hey, I didn’t mean to ruin your appetite.”
She stood and carried her plate to the sink, scraping the remains of the cake and ice cream down the disposal and tossing the plate into the trash.
“You didn’t. I want to thank you for coming today. It meant a lot to Sara to have you and Martha here. And the dollhouse is a wonderful gift. Too expensive, of course, but I can’t make her return it. It would break her heart.”
“Return it? Of course not!” he exclaimed, alarmed at the thought.”
“Well, thank you.” She stood, staring at him, and he realized she was waiting for him to leave.
“You’re welcome. And I have a bargain to make with you.” He wasn’t sure she’d agree, but something insisted he try.
“A bargain?”
“Yeah. I’ll stay and put the dollhouse together, if you’ll feed me more chicken casserole when I’m finished.”
“Oh, no, that’s too big an imposition!” she exclaimed.
“Are you kidding? I’ll enjoy myself, and I know you don’t have time to put it together with everything you have to do for Sunday.”
“Sara can wait for her dollhouse until next week,” Molly protested, her jaw squaring. “It will teach her patience.”
He cleared his throat. She wasn’t going to make this easy. “Patience is important to learn, but I feel responsible since I got her the dollhouse. Consider it part of my gift.”
“But I have things I need to do. I can’t—”
“My point exactly. You do what you have to do, and I’ll put the dollhouse together. You don’t need to entertain me.”
She stared at him, as if weighing his words, and he waited, wondering if he’d convinced her. Not that he intended to give up.
“Fine,” she finally agreed with a sigh.
He was only being responsible, he assured himself. There was no reason to feel so relieved, as if he’d been given a reprieve.
He finished his cake and ice cream and carried the plate to the trash. “Great. I’ll get started. May I use the table?”
“Of course. I’ll wipe it off first.”
In no time, he was seated at the table, the box open, trying to read the ridiculous instructions. He was convinced they’d been written by a sadist.
Molly worked at the sink, doing the last of the cleanup. She was close enough that he could ask her what she thought the words meant. When she came to look over his shoulder, he breathed in her scent, feeling warm and comfortable.
And excited.
THE AFTERNOON WAS a unique experience for Molly. She worked in the kitchen while Quinn put together the dollhouse, casual chitchat interspersed with comfortable silence.
She’d seldom shared anything other than sex with Christopher. He’d dropped any pretense of enjoying her company once he’d realized her father wasn’t going to share his money with him. Not that her father had been wealthy. He’d been comfortable.
When he’d died the year before Christopher’s accident, she’d realized her situation and had put her inheritance in a certificate of deposit that Christopher couldn’t touch. But in the end, she’d had to use the money to pay off debts after Christopher’s death. So he’d gotten the money he’d wanted anyway.
Spending the afternoon with Quinn, sharing insignificant observations or offering suggestions, was quite an experience.
“What are you making now?” he asked her as she filled various-sized cake pans.
“A Christmas tree cake. I’m going to stack it, each layer smaller than the one beneath. With green icing and decorations, it should resemble a tree.”
“That’s clever,” he assured her with a grin. Then he held out the directions. “Look at this. Do you suppose this is slot M?” he asked, and she stepped over to the table again.
“I think so.” She stepped back, hesitant to remain too close to him, and studied the dollhouse. “You’re almost finished with it. Sara will be so excited.”
“I enjoyed seeing her face when she unwrapped it,” he said, a reminiscent smile on his lips. “What does she want for Christmas?”
“We haven’t had a chance to discuss Christmas, there’s been so much going on. But I imagine we’ll visit the Santa at Gates Department Store soon. The other children will remind her.”
She went back to work on her cake.
“Does it ever scare you?”
His question brought her around to face him again. “What are you talking about?”
“The responsibility of being a parent. Does it ever scare you?”
Molly drew a deep breath. “Yes. The other day, when she was running such high fever, I was afraid I wouldn’t do the right thing. Fortunately, I had some help that day. And I do appreciate it.”
“I’m glad I could help.” He appeared to be concentrating on the dollhouse, so she turned back to the stove.
“You said her father ignored both of you. Why? If he didn’t want to be married, why— Did you get pregnant before the wedding? Did you force him to marry you?”
Chapter Nine
Molly spun around and glared at him. “No! I did not force Christopher into marriage. And this is none of your business.”
“I know it’s not, but I’m trying to understand. I mean, you heard me say I had no room for children. That’s a decision I’ve made because— Well, for personal reasons. But he married you. Why?”
She shrugged her shoulders as she turned her back on him. “I’m not sure. He thought my father had a lot of money and he desperately wanted to live in the fast lane. I think, early on, he was attracted to me. Until I agreed to marry him. Then the challenge was gone.” She paused, then said in a low voice, “And Sara…Sara was a mistake as far as Christopher was concerned. He’d had too much to drink and woke me up and…”
“He wasn’t a nice man, was he?”
“No.”
“So you regret your marriage?”
“Yes, but never Sara. I could never regret my little girl. She’s my reason for living.”
“My mother didn’t feel that way.”
Molly’s gaze sharpened. Quinn seld
om mentioned his family, and he’d never said anything about his mother. “How do you know?”
“She left when I was a little boy. Ran away with her lover.”
“You haven’t tried to contact her?”
“Seth had a friend look into it. He just told us she died twenty-three years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
Quinn shrugged his shoulders. “It doesn’t matter.”
The kitchen door swung open and Sara stood there, staring at the dollhouse. “Look! It really is a dollhouse. Thank you, Mr. Spencer!”
“Perfect timing, Sara, my girl,” Quinn assured her. Sara ran to his side and he lifted her into his lap. He handed her the mother, father and two children that came along with the house. “Here’s the perfect family to live in your dollhouse.”
Sara held the woman doll, one finger stroking her hair. “Look, her hair is the same color as mine and Mommy’s.”
“You’re right,” he agreed. “And the daddy’s is dark.”
“Your hair isn’t dark,” Sara said, looking up at him.
“That’s true, but then I’m not a daddy.”
“Why not?”
“Sara,” Molly said, a warning tone in her voice.
“But, Mommy—”
“Do you want your dollhouse upstairs or here?” Molly asked, hoping to distract Sara.
“Can I keep it on the table?”
“No, we have to eat at the table. You can put it on the floor over by the television so you can play with it while you’re watching some of your shows, if you’d like.”
“Okay.”
“I’ll carry it for you,” Quinn said, standing.
The pair crossed the room. Molly was surprised when Quinn sat down on the floor with Sara. Much to her surprise, he played with Sara and the dollhouse for almost an hour.
“Are you two ready for dinner?” she finally asked.
“I’m hungry,” Sara agreed. “Can I have some more birthday cake?”
“Only if you eat your dinner first. Come set the table.”
When Quinn began to help, Molly protested. “Quinn, you’re a guest. Sara will—”
“We’re a team, aren’t we, Sara?” Quinn asked, grinning at Sara. “So I’ll help.”
Patchwork Family Page 9
