She’d given up her apartment and moved her things into the house just yesterday. When the Madison satellite location was up and running, Paige would move on and Kelly would remain as the manager. Her days of traveling were over. She was home.
In the gazebo, she became Kelly Delgado, wife of Scott, mother of Dani. They’d already filled out all the paperwork to begin the process of their first, but definitely not their last, adoption.
Dreams really did come true.
ALONG CAME A DAUGHTER
Rebecca Winters
Dear Reader,
Who can forget the teenage years when our emotions carried us to the heights of joy one minute, only to plunge us to the depths of despair the next? We experienced agony and ecstasy on a daily basis. Have you ever wanted to go back to that precarious time? Frankly, I’m not sure my heart could take it unless I relived it through a good story.
Along Came a Daughter will touch your heart as this vulnerable teenager gets her first job and ends up bringing her father and her new boss together. Love is kindled and bursts into flame. Becoming a family is the only thing that will satisfy them, but it takes this lovely girl to make it happen.
Enjoy!
Rebecca Winters
CHAPTER ONE
DON’T EVER CUT YOUR HAIR, mon amour.
Every time Abby Chappuis stood in front of the mirror in the morning, she remembered what her husband had said. André came from a family of French-Swiss blondes. Maybe that was why he’d loved her ash-blond hair. That’s what it was. Long, unruly hair unsuited for work in a restaurant.
Years ago, she’d learned how to confine it in a fat French braid that hung down her back. André would undo it at night as a prelude to making love.
Getting it cut would be like severing a tie to her husband’s memory. She couldn’t do that any more than she could remove her wedding ring.
After darkening her lashes to make her translucent green eyes stand out, she applied a generous coat of coral lipstick. Pink didn’t do a thing for her.
She took the gold studs out of her ears and fastened her edelweiss earrings, André’s first gift to her. The white flowers matched the ones embroidered among the colored flowers on the black weskit she wore over her dress. A dash of floral perfume and she was ready for the day.
On her way out of the bedroom she tied a clean white apron around her slender waist. The staff wore royal-blue dresses for the lunch crowd and red for dinner. Abby worked in comfortable low heels. Being five foot seven, she didn’t need the extra height.
Once she’d locked the door to her apartment, she went downstairs to open the front double doors of the restaurant. The sun hadn’t burned off the morning mist yet, as she breathed in the invigorating ocean air.
From the entrance she could watch the locals and tourists going out on the fishing boats. Sailboats would dot the horizon the moment the fog rolled out.
Abby loved Oceanside, California. She considered herself fortunate to be at this place in her life, owner of her own business, able to be paying back the bank loan. If there was a vital part of her personal life missing, she’d learned to live without it, because there would never be anyone like André.
She waved to Wally, who ran the frozen chocolate-banana concession next door. His wife, Sheila, came around with her children most days, and had become a good friend.
Farther down she spied Art setting up tables out in front of his seafood restaurant. Instead of being cutthroat competitors, with a dozen different places to eat and shop down here on the wharf, it felt as if they were all a family.
“Mrs. Chappuis?” A deep, unfamiliar voice sounded from behind her. Abby turned to see a tall, fit man in his mid-to-late thirties approach with a definite sense of purpose.
Dressed in cream trousers molded to—clearly—powerful thighs and a matching sport shirt covering very broad shoulders, she knew she’d never seen him before. She would have remembered. But he knew who she was. He’d even pronounced her name correctly.
The stranger had been blessed with a virile masculine presence that would stand out in any crowd. Abby even had to admire his short-cropped hair—more black than brown. He was one of the most striking men she’d ever seen.
That was saying a lot considering the number of male diners who frequented her restaurant year after year. However, he didn’t seem to reciprocate her appreciation. In fact, his midnight-blue eyes were almost accusatory, putting her on her guard.
“Yes—may I help you?”
“I’m looking for the owner of the restaurant. Is he around this morning?”
André had been gone six years. “You’re looking at her.”
The man’s charged gaze searched hers as if she were some sort of puzzle that wanted solving. “My mistake,” he muttered. “I was led to believe you were the manager.”
By whom? “I’m both.” Abby derived a certain amount of pleasure in setting this particular man straight. “What can I do for you?”
“My name’s Richard Jakeman.”
Ah. “You’re Brittany’s father.” Now that she thought about it, she could see the resemblance.
Abby had taken the girl at her word when she’d told her she lived with her father in one of the luxury high-rise beachfront condos Abby could see on the other side of the bay. That explained why he’d come along the pier from the direction of the harbor street.
There’d been no mention of a mother during the interview. Abby didn’t pry. She assumed the girl’s mother had either passed away or Brittany’s parents were divorced and she lived with her father. Maybe she was visiting for the summer.
When the teen had come by last week asking for a summer job, the only thing she’d mentioned about home was the fact that getting to work on time would be a cinch. A two-minute walk from the complex.
His jaw tightened. “I understand you’ve hired her.”
And you’re not happy about it. No mystery there.
Most parents would be happy to know their child had the drive to go looking for a job. If Abby had children, she’d be thrilled if they were as resourceful.
She extended her hand. “Welcome to Chez André, Mr. Jakeman.” She registered his firm grip. “Why don’t we go inside where we can talk in private.”
“If you have the time,” he said, before relinquishing her hand.
Was it her imagination that he was angry with her? Or was she reading something that wasn’t there?
“I’ll make time for you.” She checked her watch. “It’s only ten o’clock. The restaurant doesn’t open for business until noon. Come in.”
He followed her inside to one of the tables. The staff hadn’t arrived yet to put on the tablecloths and setup. To Abby’s surprise he helped her into a chair before sitting opposite her. That hadn’t happened to her for a long time.
The tantalizing smell of the soap he used reached her nostrils. She didn’t like being this aware of him.
“My daughter applied for work without telling me,” he declared.
Uh-oh.
“I can see why. I feel like I’ve entered an authentic Swiss chalet. Your place is very charming.”
“Thank you.”
“But—”
“But Brittany didn’t say anything to you until after I let her know she was officially hired.”
He folded his hard, muscled arms. “She didn’t inform me of her fait accompli until this morning while she was getting ready for school.”
Today was Monday. Brittany had worked Wednesday through Friday last week without telling him?
“I’m sorry you didn’t hear about it before now.”
“Believe me, I am, too.”
Abby wouldn’t blame him if he were fuming. Being a parent, he had every right to be upset. She could hardly reconcile the well-mannered teen as a person who would keep this from her father.
“I’m here to get her unhired. She won’t be coming in anymore.”
“I see.”
“We have plans for the summer. What
ever she might have told you, she’s in school to keep up with the rest of her class. Brittany’s too young to work—she’s never had a job before.”
“You mean, except for babysitting and helping you at work on the odd occasion.”
That seemed to take him by surprise. He nodded. “No formal training.”
“I wouldn’t expect it of a girl who’ll be celebrating her sixteenth birthday next month. Sometimes no experience is better. Then I don’t have to untrain a person. You would know all about that since Jakeman Commercial Real Estate Developers is one of the most successful companies in Southern California.”
His eyes glittered. “If she told you that to impress you, I’m sorry.”
“Actually I was the one who connected the dots. In fact, I was impressed because she didn’t name-drop. Take it from me—your daughter was hired on her own merits.”
He gave her a frank stare. “Which are?”
“She’s a smart, lovely young woman who said she needed a job.”
“Needed a job?”
“Her exact words.”
“Nothing could be further from the truth.”
In terms of money, maybe not. Unfortunately, Abby couldn’t betray Brittany’s confidence. A confidence that might hurt her father.
“You can be proud of your daughter, Mr. Jakeman. She’s been a welcome addition around here. Everybody likes her—she’s eager to learn and willing to take directions without complaint.”
There was more to it than that. First of all, Brittany had been hurt by a boy who’d viewed her as daddy’s little rich girl. The label had stung. She’d wanted to get a job like any normal girl. But Abby wasn’t prepared to give away that confidence. Secondly, Abby felt drawn to his daughter and liked her a lot. The decision to hire her had been based on instinct, and Abby’s had rarely let her down.
“I’m glad to hear it. But, Brittany knows our move to my Oceanside branch is an experiment of sorts so we can spend more time together,” he explained. “Did she tell you we’re only going to be here until fall?”
“She did. As it happens, summer is my busiest time. I need the extra help. Brittany indicated she was out of school at five to twelve and would be free to work weekdays from noon until you get home from work at six every evening.”
The furrow deepened between his dark eyebrows. “Shouldn’t you ask for parental consent before you go ahead and hire a fifteen-year-old?”
Brittany was one month shy of sixteen, but Abby wasn’t willing to get into this with him. The man had issues. How he’d produced such a pleasant child was an enigma to her.
“The law doesn’t require it. In my opinion, any presentable teen who comes to my restaurant asking for a job shows all the signs of being mature enough to take on adult responsibility. What goes on between you and your daughter is your business, not mine.”
Abby pushed herself away from the table and stood. “Please tell Brittany it was a real pleasure to meet her, and I wish her well. I’ll send her paycheck in the mail tomorrow. Now, if you’ll excuse me, my suppliers will be here any minute. Have a lovely day, Mr. Jakeman.”
She walked through the restaurant and down the hall, never turning around to see if he’d gone. He’d upset her on several levels, but right now she was more concerned about Brittany’s feelings. Abby could only imagine the teen’s disappointment.
She’d been so anxious for a chance to prove herself. To prove a certain senior back in Escondido that he was wrong about her.
As Abby thought back to the girl’s confession, she remembered Brittany had even fought back tears, talking about the guy she’d had a crush on. “He said I was a spoiled rich girl who had maids waiting on me all day long. After he said my dad gives me everything I want so I don’t need to work, I told him I earned money babysitting. He laughed and said that wasn’t a job. He told me to get real.”
At Brittany’s age those remarks would have hurt Abby, too.
“Everyone needs to work,” she’d said in a quiet voice. “Especially rich girls who might not always be rich one day.”
Her comment had made Brittany smile.
“Are you willing to wash dishes?” Abby asked her.
“I’ll do anything!”
“I pay eight dollars and fifty cents an hour.”
Abby was jerked from her thoughts by the sound of a truck backing up to the service doors.
She could cry for Brittany, the girl had been so excited about her first job. Over the past few days the teen had gotten off to a great start. How sad.
Abby would miss Brittany’s spirit, but the situation was out of her hands. The gorgeous, wealthy Richard Jakeman was in charge. Did he have any idea what a lucky man he was?
CHAPTER TWO
A LONG TIME AGO, Rick had learned there was no secret shortcut to getting home early on a weeknight in five o’clock traffic. Now that June had come to California, the Pacific Coast Highway reminded him of Moses’s exodus from Egypt.
Even Oceanside, which wasn’t quite as popular with tourists as Laguna or San Clemente, seemed to be overrun. From now on he would leave his office by three-thirty to get home at a decent hour.
He gripped the steering wheel with impatience, eager to reach the condo and show Brittany his surprise. Even poor old Buddy, who was on his last legs, would like it. That is if Rick ever made it home.
His cell phone rang for the dozenth time. He checked the caller ID, hoping it was Brittany. But his distraught daughter hadn’t returned any of his calls. Liz Wright. He’d phone her back later. The attorney he’d been seeing on and off for the past few months hadn’t been happy about his move. Rick couldn’t help that. Brittany would always come first.
They’d made the decision to live by the water for the summer in a furnished condo. She would invite her friends to stay over. He would cut down his workload to spend more time with her.
It had all sounded fine in theory, then came the first crisis when Brittany declared they didn’t need Jennifer, their housekeeper, anymore. Had insisted she was grown-up and could run things by herself once they settled in Oceanside.
Rick didn’t doubt her ability. He just didn’t like her to be by herself for hours at a time, so he’d brought Jennifer with them. Things hadn’t been the same since. His normally affable Brittany had become quiet and standoffish.
He’d thought they were making it through the teenage years without too many problems. But after learning his daughter had gotten a job without discussing it with him or asking his permission, he realized he’d been living a fantasy.
Since she’d kept Jennifer in the dark about her after-school activities, too, the news had hit him particularly hard. He’d never known his daughter to lie like this deliberately. Wanting a job seemed to have come out of nowhere.
Worried over the change in his one-and-only offspring, he made another call to her on his cell phone. When she didn’t pick up, he left another message.
“Guess what, kiddo? I’m three blocks from you.” He’d probably get home faster if he parked and walked the rest of the way. “You’re really going to like my surprise.”
After hanging up, he called Jennifer. “I’m almost home. Would you ask Brittany to come to the phone, please?”
“I would, but she went out a little while ago.”
“Is she still upset?”
“Devastated is the word I’d use. After school, she stayed in her room and cried her heart out. When she finally came out, she refused to eat and said she was going to take Buddy for a walk. That was about an hour ago. Isn’t it amazing how much that job meant to her?”
Not really. But then Jennifer would have had to meet Mrs. Chappuis to understand part of the appeal. He frowned, not liking the direction of his thoughts. “We moved here to enjoy the ocean.”
“I know, and I think it’s a wonderful idea for both of you. Give her some time.”
Time wasn’t exactly the problem. Rick didn’t want Jennifer to know part of his daughter’s rebellion stemmed from having a hou
sekeeper around. He hoped Brittany wasn’t acting out because he’d told her she was still too young to be home alone. It crossed his mind that if she got upset enough, she’d meet up with the wrong kids. He didn’t want to think about the trouble she could get into.
“Is our picnic fixed?”
“All packed and ready to go.”
“Thanks, Jennifer. You’re a saint. I’m heading into the garage. See you in a minute.”
Relieved to be home at last, he parked the car and got out, nodding to a couple of his new neighbors. The over-thirty brunette with the dark tan he’d seen before entered the first elevator with him. He pushed the third-floor button.
She leaned in front of him, brushing his shoulder, and pushed four, then smiled. “Hi. Since we’re neighbors, we might as well get to know each other,” she said flirtatiously. “I’m Pam Brooks.”
“I’m Richard.”
“Nice to meet you. You must have moved in recently.”
“About ten days ago.”
Her gaze drifted to his ringless left hand. “Is there a Mrs.?”
The woman wasted no time, but her aggressiveness turned him off. “No.”
Rick enjoyed women as much as the next man. He’d had his share of relationships in the past, but he liked to do the chasing. Before he could tell her he was seeing someone else—or had been—he didn’t know if he wanted to keep it alive with Liz—the elevator stopped and the doors opened. Relieved, he stepped out.
“Brittany—” he called to his daughter, who was walking toward their condo with her head down, Buddy at her heels. They must have come from the stairs.
In a few swift strides Rick reached her and gave her a hug, one she didn’t reciprocate. Buddy barked a greeting. The woman in the elevator forgotten, he ushered his family inside.
“We’re all home!” he announced to Jennifer.
“Now I can stop worrying!” she called back.
Brittany pulled away from him and dashed to her room with Buddy. Rick followed slowly and closed the bedroom door so they could talk in private.
She sank down on the bed and undid the dog’s leash, still refusing to look at Rick.
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