by Mary Brady
It was not. Nervous energy started her pacing the house again. She warmed up her coffee, pulled the stove out and finally retrieved the spoon that managed to fall back there last week, and took all the spices from the cupboard and scrubbed the shelf.
She tried to read again but the room was too hot, so she opened the window farther and then it was too bright, so she let the blinds down halfway.
Despair had not yet set in, but her butt was seriously dragging along the bottom.
Hunter was everywhere. Patty and Carol inquired about him. Christina encouraged her to be sure she was happy enough without him. Even her mother said it was too bad he was gone, as he’d have been a great candidate for the newly vacated town council seat. Every time her mother said that, the subtext was clear: Hunter would also make a great son-in-law.
And her favorite distraction had found other things to do.
Brianna had a slumber party to attend on Friday. She had asked if she could go to Portland with another friend the next day, to which Delainey had had to say no. There was only so much of this newfound independence a mother could be expected to accept at one time.
Today, as on many a day, Delainey had gone into the jewelry box and gotten out the letter with the return address from Parental Rites Laboratories. Inside was the piece of paper that would tell her if her daughter belonged to Hunter or if she belonged to a man who might never know her or ever love her.
Hunter would know for sure by now because she’d had the results for long enough that the envelope had gotten creased and smudged from handling. After seeing her own ancestor who looked so much like Brianna, Delainey was sure she knew, too, but she could not get herself to open the envelope.
Hunter was right. Knowing might mean having to let go of something precious.
She got up and tucked the letter back into the box with the photo of Micky, determined never to take it out again. She knew it was a lie as soon as she told it to herself. Every time she said never again, two days later, she’d take out the letter, hold it, flick it with her finger, put it against her forehead as if osmosis might give her the information and then she’d return it to the jewelry box unopened.
If Hunter called her to make some kind of arrangement to take his daughter to Chicago for a visit, she’d know for sure. Short of that, she was never going to look inside the envelope—she was almost sure.
The attorneys Hunter had hired fit into Morrison and Morrison much more easily than he had, but maybe it had helped that Mr. Hero had picked them out himself. The Hale case had paid the bills and it seemed the cost-cutting measures they had put into place would help. Some of the money remaining after the bills had been paid went into everyone’s retirement accounts, with Shamus and Harriet getting, and deservedly so, the lion’s share. A vow was made by each and every one of them to help Morrison and Morrison pay its bills without dipping into their new contingency fund.
Hunter had sent her an email last week, the friendly kind, like the ones they exchanged after those three weeks when they were twenty-two. He had finally given in and had a decorator do up his condo for him.
Thinking of Hunter sitting in his condo all by himself made her sad—until she thought he didn’t have to be by himself. He’d need only smile and he’d have many opportunities for company.
That made her feel worse.
Better he be lonely.
Oh, what difference did it make? He was there and she was here and the choice had been theirs.
Her phone rang. It wasn’t Hunter. It was never Hunter. She’d know right away because she’d programmed a special ringtone for his number. She had set everyone else to ring with the default.
Shamus’s name appeared.
“Hello, Shamus. How are the two of you doing?”
“I’m worn to a frazzle, but I’m happy to say Connie’s symptoms are under control and we’ll be coming home soon. I hate to ask this of you, Delainey.”
“Ask anything of me, please, Shamus.”
“Our son and his family are coming on Monday. Would you please go out to the house tomorrow and turn the thermostat up, maybe check things out? I’d appreciate it.”
Delainey wanted so badly to ask if Connie was healing or if she was just comfortable. Instead she said, “I’d be happy to, Shamus.”
She hung up thinking, At least he didn’t ask about Hunter.
* * *
SUNDAY WAS A beautiful day and Brianna woke up early. “Can we go over to Aunt Christina’s now?”
“Pumpkin, do you think she’s awake?”
Hand on her hip, she replied, “Do I look like a pumpkin? Now, can we pleeeease go? We need to bake cookies all day for the bake sale tomorrow.”
Christina had generously volunteered the oven in Dora for baking, since Delainey’s chose the week before the fund-raiser to fail. If enough funds were collected, and they always were—wink, wink—the first-grade class would take a bus to Portland and spend the day with the six-year-olds from their sister school.
“I’ll call her and see if she’s up.” And see if she’s alone, Delainey thought as she phoned her sister.
“Hello, baking people,” Christina answered.
“Hey, I thought I’d call before we came over, just in case.”
“There is no just in case.”
“Oh no, what happened?”
Christina laughed. “Don’t be so alarmed. What happened is I’m not jumping into anything, including the hay. I’ve learned my lesson.”
“My sister is no fool.”
“Well, I did volunteer my kitchen for cookie baking with a six-year-old.”
“And her mother.”
“And her mother.”
“But would you mind if I dropped Brianna off? Shamus called and asked if I’d go over to his house, have a look around, make sure things are okay. His son and family are arriving tomorrow. Shouldn’t take me more than four or five hours.”
“Nice try, sis. I’ll give you an hour before I send the police after you.”
“Deal.”
Brianna was more than beside herself as they carried bags of supplies, cookie sheets and various odds and ends into Dora’s newly repainted kitchen.
“Bye, you two. See you later.”
Christina shook a semiplayful finger at her. “One hour.”
“Right,” Delainey said with a wicked laugh as she headed out the door.
Delainey let herself into Shamus’s house with the key from under the doormat. Most people in Bailey’s Cove kept a key under the mat. A compromise they all made with Chief Montcalm to not locking their doors.
When she stepped inside, the air was chilly and stale. Where would the thermostat be? She flipped on light switches. In the main hall were pictures of the Murphy family. Shamus and Connie must have been in their thirties in the first one.
She touched Connie’s picture. Please be all right, she thought. She smiled at the Murphy children from dimples to caps and gowns. And then the grandchildren.
She was still smiling when she looked up to see an impossible apparition standing in the doorway to the family room.
Hunter.
She gaped for a moment, long enough for a big knot to form in her throat.
“Don’t be mad at Shamus. I asked him to get you to come. I wanted someplace private to talk and I wasn’t sure you’d even meet me.” His face looked strained and the dazzle was gone from his fabulous eyes.
What do you want of me? What? What? She still didn’t say anything. It was his turn to fill the void with incriminating words.
“You broke me.” When he said the words, he looked lost.
“I have no idea what you’re telling me.” She didn’t know but his words frightened her. His confidence and poise had always been an integral part of Hunter Morrison.
“More specifically, you and the people of Bailey’s Cove.”
“We’re just ourselves.”
“It’s not a blaming thing.... This town’s people, you included, are the real treasure of Bailey’s Cove.”
“I can’t argue with you about the people here.” He was stalling. Was what he’d come to say really that bad?
“Did they ever find any more pirate’s loot?”
“A ring similar to the one Daniel MacCarey’s aunt handed down to him, but that’s all.”
“Did the Goldens ever let anybody know what was in the package Thelma left behind?”
“Not anyone from the office, but I think Edwin Beaudin, Monique’s dad, has been elected to the group.” He was really hedging. What could he have to say that was worse than goodbye?
“Maybe we’ll find out when we’re elected to the group.”
Brianna! He had opened the letter and found out she was his daughter and he’d come to ask for some of her time. Wait...“we’re elected.” Now, what did he mean by that? She didn’t want to talk about treasures or the elder crowd of Bailey’s Cove. If he had come to stake a claim in their daughter’s life, she wanted to know. “Hunter, why are you here?”
“Chicago is wrong for me.”
Delainey couldn’t even let herself think about what he meant by that. For all she knew, he had come to tell her he was moving to London or Mumbai. How would she cope if he wanted to take Brianna?
“I’m sorry to hear that.” She pushed away the viciously mounting dread. Ask the questions, a fierce voice inside her head told her. “Will you be moving?”
“I think I will.”
She had just handed him her heart and he had punted it out across the universe. Berlin? Rio de Janeiro? Brianna could only speak English, she thought foolishly.
“Delainey.”
“What?” No, don’t ask me to give up my daughter. “What?”
He stepped in closer and she held her ground. Whatever he had to say, she could take it.
“Did you open the letter?”
“Letter? No. I didn’t look inside. I couldn’t do it.” Today, I promise, she thought.
The pain deepened on his face and in his eyes. He had read the letter and Brianna was not his daughter. The agony of finally knowing shot through her and she stepped in.
“Oh, Hunter.” She put her arms around him to hold him close. “I am so sorry. I’m sorry for all of us. I don’t know how I could have hoped all this time, but I did. I really did.”
He held her and kissed the top of her head, the way he often had in the past.
“Maybe if we told Brianna you’re adopting her, we’d all feel better. I’ll make sure she understands up front it doesn’t mean you’ll be living with us. If I make the situation clear right from the start, she’ll only be a little brokenhearted when you have to go back to Chicago or wherever you’re going.”
“Maybe if you were my wife.”
She pushed back.
“That is not funny.”
“I am not trying to be funny.”
Was he really saying...?
“Then I’ll tell you, I’ve imagined that so many times. In fact, I’ve created a whole fantasy life for us.” She stood the collar of his jacket up to keep the cold air out. “Pathetic, huh?”
“Very. Do we have any more children?”
“We do, a boy and another dark-haired daughter.”
“Do you have one of these?”
When she looked at him, he was holding a ring with a diamond big enough to fund Bailey’s Cove for a year.
She leaped away.
“I can’t take that. Save that for your real wife.”
“Will you marry me?”
“Hunter, why are you doing this to me? Why are you doing it to you?” She was just glad Brianna was happily baking cookies with Christina.
“I need a wife.”
She put a hand to her throat. “Don’t even tease about such a thing.”
“I have a house and a job.” He reached out and pulled her closer to him.
“I can’t come to Chicago. I can’t and you know I can’t.”
“Here.”
He handed her an envelope. She didn’t need another unopened envelope in her life, so she ripped it open and pulled out a picture. It was Hunter and a man holding a real-estate sign between them. She looked closer. It was a local real-estate agent, Harmon Marcus. What was Harmon doing in a picture with Hunter?
She snapped her gaze up to his face. He was ignoring her, staring out the window at the harbor.
Ignoring her. She punched him on the arm. “What does this mean? You and Harmon are standing in front of a house right here in Bailey’s Cove. I recognize it. It’s right near here.”
“I told Harmon nothing was final until you approved.”
“You can’t buy me a house.”
“I didn’t buy you a house. Valedictorian? I don’t see how you even graduated from high school. I bought us a house.”
“Here? Why?”
“Duh.”
She punched him again, only this time she was crying and she could hardly see. “Yes. Yes. Yes.”
“About time.” He slid the ring on her finger and kissed her mouth, kissed away her tears and held her against him until she stopped sniffling.
He handed her a crisp white handkerchief. “Blow your nose. You’re a mess.”
Laughing, she took it. “People still use these things?”
She wiped her eyes and blew her nose hard and with a smirk held it out to him.
“I do not want that back.”
She laughed again and tucked it in the pocket of her jacket.
“I stood in the window of my condo and looked out over Lake Michigan. Nice view, but I miss having real conversations with people. I missed Carol’s glasses and Patty’s newfound sense of style. I missed eating at Pirate’s Roost and having people stop by and say hello. I guess I just need...to be nurtured instead of to sell my soul.”
“You’ve come to the right place, ’cause we’ll nurture the heck out of you, mister.”
“So what are the worry lines around your mouth for?”
“I’m afraid to be too happy. None of this seems real. My daughter is happy, my mom is healing, Christina has the Three Sisters’ renovation off to a good start and she has a new boyfriend, I’m going to law school— How did you get me that scholarship, by the way?” She shot a richly deserved accusatory look in his direction.
He raised his eyebrows and pointed a thumb of dismissal at himself. “It wasn’t me.”
“What does that mean?”
“I had nothing to do with it. You applied, they picked the best candidate, and you were it. Is that so hard to believe?”
She grinned. “Well, hmm. I guess not. I am smart, determined and hot.”
“Very hot.” He put a finger under her chin, tipped her face up to his and kissed her lightly on the lips. The kiss was sweet and gentle and made her want him more than ever because he seemed to be saying he was right where he wanted to be and had all the time in the world. “And you deserve every good thing that comes to you.”
“Welcome back, Hunter Morrison. I love you more than I ever have.”
His expression brightened. “Me too. Since the sixth grade, but I was too stupid to wake up to it. I love you, Delainey. I will always love you, and I will show you every day how much.”
She stood on her tiptoes, captured his face with her hands and brought his mouth down to hers.
“It will be fun making up for lost time,” she said when she broke the kiss. “And Brianna will be beside herself.”
“Should we go tell our daughter?”
“Our daughter is with Aunt Christina at Dora.” Delainey point
ed at the door. “They’re baking cookies for a fund-raiser. Although Christina may be on the fainting couch by now.”
Hand in hand, they headed outside.
“You said you had a job?”
“Harriet called and she’s not coming back. Her granddaughter is living in Italy and she’s gone to live there for a while. She asked if I was interested in staying on at Morrison and Morrison.”
“She has no idea what went on here, does she?”
He smiled and shook his head. “Maybe she’ll ask when she checks her retirement funds.”
“How will Morrison and Morrison ever be enough for you?”
“I have been appointed by Zachary Hale as his intermediary with the Chicago firm. The formal work will be completed in Chicago, but Hale and I will remain on the East Coast.”
“So you’ll be gone to Boston and Chicago from time to time.”
He nodded. “From time to time. And perhaps elsewhere, as there will be more cases I’ll handle from here.”
She sucked in a breath of amazement, a warm feeling threading through her at the coming full circle of it all. “And we can make it Morrison and Morrison again.”
He smiled at her and dropped a kiss on her lips. “And the job has the best perks I’ve ever heard of.”
She and Hunter took her car and soon pulled up in front of her sister’s place.
The side door of Dora opened into the kitchen. Through the window they could see the cookie production well under way. Brianna was covered with flour or powdered sugar and Christina look frazzled but she was clearly having fun.
Christina saw them first and her jaw dropped.
She nudged Brianna with a spatula and then pointed at them with it.
The girl shrieked and flew out the door. Hunter got the first hug and Delainey got the second one and she wasn’t jealous at all, but it was powdered sugar on her daughter’s face and hair.
“You taste good,” Delainey said, and licked the sugar from her lips.
Brianna gave Hunter another hug. “We’re making cookies. Do you want some, Mr. Morrison?”
“More than anything,” Hunter replied. “More than anything.”
