Chapter Six
A few days later, Flynn entered his daughters’ room. Once again he admired all of Cindy’s handiwork, but still he felt she had gone overboard. She claimed she wasn’t spoiling the girls, but he was worried about all her overly generous gestures. From experience he knew it wasn’t wise to grow up believing life was always this kind.
He reached down to pick up a discarded pair of pajamas the girls had left behind. As he stood, he noticed a new addition to the room. A picture of Jesus.
All the betrayal of his past choked him. It was one thing to spoil the girls, it was another to tamper with their beliefs.
Hearing Cindy’s steps in the hall outside the room, he called out for her. “Would you come in here?”
The echo of footfalls on the wooden floor paused, then turned into the room. “Yes?”
“What’s this?”
She glanced around the room. “What?”
“Don’t play games. This picture.”
Cindy looked back at him wryly. “Well, I think that’s pretty obvious.”
“What’s it doing in here?”
She pointed to another picture on the wall—one filled with cartoon characters. “I’m decorating their room.”
“The picture of Jesus isn’t a decoration. It’s a statement.”
“I think that’s an exaggeration. The girls aren’t even three years old yet.”
“The younger the mind, the easier it is to brainwash.”
“Brainwash?”
“Influence, then.”
“Flynn, they’re babies!”
“Then why the picture of Jesus?”
She hedged for only a moment. “I like the idea of Him looking over them, protecting them.”
“That’s a fairy tale,” he told her flatly, deep anger and remembered pain darkening his thoughts.
Shocked, she stared at him. “You can’t mean that!”
“Don’t delude yourself, Cindy. Especially for a craze you’ll forget by next month.”
Hurt flashed in her eyes. “Is that what you think of me? That I’m chasing fads like a teenager?”
Exasperated, unwilling to face the pain in her expression, he threw up his hands. “All I asked is a simple question.”
“Then I’ll give you a simple answer. Your lack of faith is going to hurt your daughters. If you’re having a crisis of faith—”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” he responded, with only the slightest grip on his anger.
She studied him, opened her mouth, then closed it again. Nodding, she turned away.
“Cindy?”
She glanced at the picture on the wall. “I’ll take it down later. But I can’t guarantee that you won’t see it somewhere else in the house.”
Unable to watch her leave, he turned toward the window. Then he heard the sound of tiny steps, then a tug on his jeans.
Flynn glanced down. “Hey there, Alice.”
“Up?” she asked.
He obliged, picking her up until they were at eye level.
“Daddy?”
“Yes, sweetie.”
“Why you hate Jesus?”
He hadn’t known a fist to the gut could be delivered by a guileless toddler. “What makes you say that?”
Alice screwed up her precious face. “Me heard fight with Cinny. I wanna have Jesus here.”
“But it’s only a picture.”
“How come, then?”
Why not indeed? It was only a picture, it had no power over them. Over him.
Yet the torturous question accompanied him as he went through the motions of the day. It was late afternoon when he finally sought Cindy out again.
She was in the kitchen, preparing a huge casserole.
“That’s quite a lot of food,” he commented, not certain how to begin this discussion.
“For tonight,” Cindy replied. Then she glanced up, catching his puzzled glance. “Remember the people coming over tonight? I told you about them.”
“Oh, right. I’ll clear out pretty soon.”
Exasperation flooded her expression. “Flynn. I invited them over to meet you.”
He’d completely forgotten, caught up in hours of rare contemplation, a prisoner of a past he’d never outrun. “Of course.”
A buzzer went off and she walked to the oven, pulling out a fragrant tray of rolls. Searching for a place to put them on the crowded tile counter, she glanced up at him. “Did you need something?”
He moved aside the casserole dish at the end of the counter, making a place for the rolls. “I’ve been thinking…”
Uncharacteristically, she didn’t jump in with words to ease his way.
Which made him feel even stiffer, more uncomfortable. “It’s about this morning…the picture. You can leave it in their room.”
She studied him silently, again surprising him. Flynn wondered where all her fiery words had gone. Especially when she only nodded.
He considered an apology, but the place inside him that held those words had been dammed up long ago. “Do you need any help?”
She seemed to consider this, too. Then she gestured toward the fridge. “You could put the salad together.”
“Sprouts included?”
But her usual ready laughter didn’t surface. “Whatever you’d like to put in it. The vegetable drawer is pretty full.”
They worked in silence for a while. Flynn wasn’t certain how to break the strain, how to bring the sparkle and laughter back to Cindy’s face.
She glanced up at the clock. “Yipes, I still have to shower and change my clothes before everyone gets here.”
“I can finish in here,” he offered, surprising himself as much as Cindy.
“Well, I did want to tidy up—”
“I can take care of it,” he insisted.
She took a final glance at the food, then nodded. “The table’s set and—”
“Go.”
“And I—”
“Go.”
And she did.
It didn’t take long to clean up the kitchen, then check on the girls who were making Play-Doh teddy bears on the faded, terrazzo terrace. Because of the tall, wide windows he’d been able to watch them as Cindy had been doing before he arrived.
He remembered the first time he’d tried to feed the girls and clean up while watching them. It had never occurred to him to put them in the safety of the fenced backyard. An old wooden toy box beneath the awning held a large and varied collection of toys to keep them occupied.
His daughters looked content, having assimilated into Cindy’s life and home as though they’d always been here. He thought of the gathering Cindy had planned for the evening, suspecting she hoped to accomplish the same for him. Knowing that hadn’t been possible since he was a child, equally certain it would never be possible again.
There was something about a group of people who’d known each other long and well. Their chatter filled the air, snatches of conversation that melded from person to person. It seemed everyone was talking at once, but in a good way. No one was excluded, no one hanging outside the fringes of the group.
And due to Cindy, Flynn was included, as well. She’d introduced him to the collection of people who ranged greatly in age and background. Ruth Stanton, a perky seventy-two-year-old woman, welcomed Flynn as warmly as did people of his own age, and some much younger.
Having met Michael and Katherine Carlson before, Flynn felt a little more comfortable with them. Michael in turn introduced him to Tom Sanders, clearly a good friend, also a casual, warm person. Then he met Gregg Rosentreter, Roger Dalton, Don Westien and Gary Simpson. All the men, obviously good friends, were welcoming.
The fact that it seemed everyone at the party attended Rosewood Community Church wasn’t lost on Flynn.
Seeing Cindy heading toward the kitchen, Flynn followed her, relieved to see no one else was in the room. “How’d you go about assembling the guest list for tonight?”
She thought for a moment. “Well, you’d met Michael and seemed to like him. I thought you might have something in common with the other guys he’s friends with—also, they’re people I especially like.”
“No other motive?”
Frowning, she narrowed her eyes. “Such as?”
“They all go to your church.”
She relaxed a fraction. “That’s where I met my friends.”
“All of your friends go to your church?”
A touch of exasperation entered her expression. “It’s not a requirement. I’m friends with some of my neighbors, other people I’ve met in town. But, yes, my closest friends are those from the church. You’ll notice I did invite most of the people who live on this street, as well.”
“To throw me off the scent?”
Something flickered in her green eyes, a flash she quickly disguised. “The sole purpose of tonight’s party is to introduce you to people in the town you’ve chosen to call home. I’m sorry it bothers you that so many of them attend my church. But I could hardly walk the streets and invite total strangers.”
Looking at her, the evidence of her temperament, as fiery as her hair, challenged him. Again, he couldn’t help comparing her to Julia, remembering how his late wife would never have confronted him. “No, I don’t suppose you could. Cindy, I do appreciate your effort but—”
“You didn’t ask for a party. I know. Just me being me again.”
“Cindy—”
The tall swinging door pushed open. “Here you are,” Katherine exclaimed. “Can I help do anything?”
Flynn watched as Cindy reluctantly pulled her gaze away. “Yes,” Cindy replied shortly. “Keep Flynn entertained. I’ll take some more punch into the dining room.” The door swung smartly behind Cindy as she exited.
Uncomfortably Flynn studied Katherine, wondering if he was about to get a sermon.
Katherine strolled over to the oven, opening it to peek inside. “Cindy makes killer crab puffs.”
“Pardon me?”
“Her crab puffs—they’re great. I know she’s into granola and nuts, but she can cook up a storm of gooey, good stuff when she wants to.”
“Oh. Well, we’ve gotten used to her cooking.”
Katherine laughed. “Better you than me. When she and I go out, I pick the restaurant and you should see her put away a hamburger and shake.”
Flynn suspected Katherine wanted to talk about more than food, yet he stuck to the safety of the subject. “The main course tonight is vegetable lasagna.”
“Now that’s one of her healthy creations I love.” Katherine closed the oven door. “But that’s our Cindy, a mass of contradictions.”
He should have escaped right after the crab puff remark. Now he was stuck. “Yeah, I suppose so.”
“How many trust fund kids do you know who devote their lives to volunteer work instead of shopping and gliding around the world?”
Flynn stiffened. Apparently Katherine didn’t know her friend as well as she thought. “For the time being, anyway.”
But Katherine didn’t immediately rebut the reply. “So, that’s how it is.”
“Excuse me?”
“Nothing. I’m glad you and your daughters are getting settled in.”
“Well, we will when my house is finished.”
“Of course. It’s always difficult to blend two lives.”
Flynn remained cautious. “Cindy’s been patient, but we’re intruding on her routine.”
Katherine shrugged. “I haven’t heard that from her. It’s a difficult time for you and your daughters and I know she’s thrilled to be able to help out. But you know Cindy, she just wishes she could do more.”
Flynn studied her, wondering at any hidden meaning. “I’m not sure what that would be.”
Katherine’s smile, however, was enigmatic. “She probably doesn’t, either.”
The kitchen door was pushed open again. Without looking at Flynn, Cindy walked over to the oven.
“They looked almost done when I checked them,” Katherine offered.
“Thanks.”
Katherine nodded, then left the room.
The remaining silence was a palpable thing.
Flynn felt forced to end it. “Katherine says you make killer crab puffs.”
“Yeah, well, Katherine tends to be a bit prejudiced.” Cindy withdrew the baking sheet, transferring the appetizers to a porcelain tray. “We’d better get back in there.”
“Cindy?”
She didn’t meet his eyes. “Yes?”
“I seem to have a way of irritating you on a daily basis. I guess I’m just not used to someone taking control of things, offering so much. It was really great of you to arrange this party tonight.”
This time, she did raise her eyes, her green eyes darkened to the color of sheltered, unlit forests. “So what else is new? I’ll never be like Julia and everything I do is a daily reminder of that.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
Cindy walked toward the door, one hand on the old wood, prepared to push it open. “Yes, it is. Even if you don’t want to admit it.”
Flynn followed her slowly. Why did Cindy think he would want her to behave as Julia had? Julia was his wife and Cindy was…Cindy.
Walking into the crowded parlor, he was immediately swept into the group of people. Michael made a point of including him in his conversation with Tom Sanders.
It was a friendly gathering. Everyone seemed genuine, most made hospitable offers ranging from baby-sitting services to help on the house he was building. It was rather amazing.
“We start softball practice this Saturday,” Michael was telling him.
“I’m not sure I have time to—”
“We don’t take no for an answer. Just ask Michael,” Tom Sanders added.
Michael’s grin was wry. “I can vouch for that. It’s a lot of fun. And we can always use another player.”
Flynn looked from one determined face to the other. “Why don’t we see how Saturday shapes up? I don’t want to dump the kids on Cindy for the day.”
“Are you kidding?” Tom asked. “She’s nuts about your girls.”
Puzzled Flynn stared at him. “And you know that…how?”
“She talks about them constantly,” Tom replied. “She’s as proud of them as any parent.”
Unconsciously Flynn stiffened. “She’s their aunt.”
Tom shrugged. “I wish I’d had an aunt like Cindy, someone who makes everything seem like a treat. I think Cindy could make fun out of a pile of sticks in the rain.”
Flynn studied Tom, wondering if the man had more than friendly feelings for Cindy. “So, you and your wife have been friends with her for a while now?”
“I’m not married,” Tom replied. “Not anymore.”
Which meant he and Cindy could well be more than friends. Funny, he didn’t seem like her type. Flynn shook away the thought. It wasn’t any of his business whom Cindy chose to date. Yet he found himself observing Tom, evaluating the other man.
As the evening drew to a close, all the departing male guests reminded Flynn of the upcoming weekend softball game. And, oddly, he was tempted to go.
When the door closed behind their last guest, Flynn watched as Cindy began to quietly collect bowls and trays. He joined her, filling his hands with the delicate china Cindy treasured. “So what do you think about their insistence that I play softball?”
“I think you should do what you want to.”
Flynn angled his head. “That doesn’t sound like you.”
She turned briefly. “How would you know?”
“What?”
“You don’t know me at all. How could you possibly think you would recognize when I’m being myself?” Not waiting for an answer, she disappeared into the kitchen.
Flynn was left holding the delicate china, as deceptively fragile, it seemed, as Cindy herself.
The softball field was much like Rosewood itself, old-fashioned and appealing. A small shack sold ice-cream cones, canned soda and homemade hot dogs.
Cindy made sure the triplets held hands, an uneven line of rambunctious little bodies. She’d been surprised that Flynn had agreed to come to this first practice. Reluctant to the point of reticence, she had expected him to find a thousand excuses not to go.
She wondered if Michael’s unscheduled, unexpected visit the previous night had made a difference. Busy with the triplets, she hadn’t heard their discussion. And then this morning, Flynn had announced his intention to attend the game.
Seeing her friend, Cindy waved at Katherine, who waved back while angling her head in Flynn’s direction.
No need to be subtle, Cindy wanted to shout. But Flynn hadn’t seemed to notice. Relieved, she walked the girls around the small field.
Tom approached with a grin. “So, how are the four most beautiful women in town?”
Cindy winked, recognizing Tom’s harmless teasing.
He responded by tugging her pert ponytail, making the girls giggle.
Since Tom was much like a brother, she only shook her head in bemusement.
He knelt down, bringing his gaze eye level with the triplets. “So. You going to clap and cheer for Daddy or for me?”
“Daddy!” they chorused loyally.
He whistled. “Tough crowd.” Standing back up, Tom reached for Cindy’s cooler. “I’ll carry this over to the bleachers.”
“Thanks. That gives me at least one free hand.”
“Cute kids, Cindy.”
“Yeah, they really are.”
Tom glanced down, seeing that the girls weren’t paying attention. “Lucky break Flynn decided to move to Rosewood.”
Cindy withheld the sigh that had been building inside since Flynn’s first mention of relocation. “Yeah, lucky.”
Tom slowed his steps. “Everything okay, Cin?”
She met his concerned gaze. “I finally have some family here. It’s spring. What could be wrong?”
He hooked his arm with her free one. “Remember, you can tell me if something’s wrong. I have a sturdy shoulder.”
She glanced up at him with a heartfelt smile. “So you do.”
“Cindy?” Flynn snagged her attention.
Startled, she glanced at him, not aware he’d walked over to their little group. “Yes?”
He glanced at her arm, still loosely linked with Tom’s. “Are you sure you can handle all the girls by yourself?”
Tom discreetly dropped her arm and self-consciously she pushed at the hair that fell across her forehead. “Of course. Why?”
Flynn glanced once again at Tom. “They can be a handful.”
She shrugged. “I brought treats.” She motioned with her head to the swing set, slide and seesaw in the park beside the softball field. “And there’s plenty to keep them busy. Besides, they can’t wait to see you play.”
“Daddy play!” Beth demanded.
Flynn scooped her up. “In a few minutes.”
Mandy tugged at his pants leg, as well, but Alice hung on to Cindy’s hand. Flynn obliged by picking up Mandy, giving both girls a hug, then putting them back down.
“We have to let Daddy go practice,” Cindy explained.
“Me play, too,” Beth demanded.
“No,” Cindy told her firmly. “This is Daddy’s day.”
“She could walk to the field with me for a few minutes,” Flynn replied.
Cindy wanted to thump him. And he thought she was spoiling them? “I spent quite a bit of time explaining to the girls that this is a grown-up game, that little girls don’t get to play.”
“I didn’t intend to let her play.”
“No, but I’ll spend the entire time keeping her off the field if you take her out there.”
“That’s an exaggeration,” Flynn replied.
Tom cleared his throat. “I’d better get back to the practice.” He held up the cooler. “I’ll put this on the bleachers.”
“Thanks,” Cindy replied, wondering why Flynn was scowling as though he had ants in his shoes.
“Sure,” Tom replied, walking away quickly.
“What’s with you?” Cindy asked.
Flynn’s scowl didn’t lighten. “Problem?”
“You just chased away one of the nicest people here. Some special reason why?”
“You tell me.”
Puzzled, Cindy grasped Alice’s hand a little tighter. “So, are we going to grapple over taking the girls on the field?”
He looked at her for a long moment. “No, I don’t guess we will.”
Then his gaze shifted toward Tom. “Nothing to argue about at all.”
Confused, Cindy stared after him as he stalked on to the field. And for the life of her, she couldn’t imagine why he hadn’t taken to Tom.
“Men,” she muttered.
“Men?” Beth asked.
“Yes, sweetie. We’ll talk more about them when you’re older. For now we’ll stick to Cinderella and Prince Charming.”
Mandy drew her brows together. “Like Daddy?”
Yep. However, Cindy was the only girl in the world whose glass slipper wouldn’t fit. At least not for Prince Flynn.
Chapter Seven
T wo mornings later, Cindy carefully banded the remaining stacks of paper, making certain each was straight and in order. She glanced down at the three nearly filled cardboard boxes, then back at the almost bare desktop.
It didn’t take a crystal ball to know that Flynn wouldn’t appreciate the fact that she’d packed everything without consulting him. But a late-night phone call had taken precedence over Flynn’s makeshift office.
Her Rainbow class, already strained by growing pains, had suddenly acquired six new members. And even Cindy, who possessed an inordinate amount of energy, knew she didn’t have enough stamina to spread that thinly. The only solution was to cut the class in half so they would be manageable groups. That meant two different meeting times.
And they had run out of space at the church. Rosewood Community had begun a small private academy in the Sunday school building the last year, and they already needed the space allotted to Cindy’s Rainbow class. Obtaining it for an additional day each week wasn’t possible.
As her class had grown, she and Katherine had discussed the necessity of relocating the Rainbow group. That’s when Cindy had handpicked her own conservatory for the purpose. Then Flynn had needed an office and she’d been able to put off the move. But now there was no other choice. Her parlor, with all its breakable collectibles wasn’t suitable. And she couldn’t keep the kids in the yard the entire time.
“Hey, what’s going on?” Flynn demanded from the doorway, his sleep-tousled hair still a bit wild.
Cindy glanced up, immediately assessing his displeasure. “I need to use this room for my Rainbow class.”
He frowned. “So you’re just clearing out my stuff?”
“You did tell me you wanted to handle your own office arrangements, in fact all your arrangements.”
He gestured to the boxes. “Is this what you call allowing me to handle my own decisions? Packing my things without consulting me?”
She rolled her eyes. “Do you want me to remind you how often you’ve mentioned that you’d prefer the office space you rented to this one?”
“One small point—it’s not ready yet.”
Cindy shrugged. “Michael offered to help. But you wouldn’t even let him make a phone call. If you had, maybe the space would be finished by now.”
“I don’t impose on strangers.”
“Michael’s not a stranger!”
“Not to you. I barely know him.”
Exasperated, she tossed down a manila folder. “By your choice. My friends have extended themselves, but you purposely remain distant.”
“Another thing I don’t believe I asked for,” he reminded her in a tight voice.
She leaned back against the desk. “Look, Flynn. I don’t know how things were done with your friends. But in a small town like Rosewood, we depend on each other and our faith.”
“One more strike and you’re out.”
Dismayed, she stared at him. “I still can’t believe you mean that.”
Impatiently he smoothed one hand back over his chestnut hair. “And you accused me of ignoring what I didn’t want to hear?”
She fiddled for a moment with the deep blue antique glass inkwell. “I hate to think of you having such a gaping hole in your life, one nothing else can fill.”
“And I hate to think I’m going to have to endure a sermon. If I’m going to move today, I’d better get to it.”
But she didn’t stir, instead raising her eyes. “I wouldn’t have put you out of your office if it wasn’t for a good cause. My Rainbow class has nearly doubled and there’s no other space available.”
Flynn muttered under his breath.
Cindy couldn’t distinguish the words, but suspected she wouldn’t want to hear them if she could. Turning around, she scribbled on a notepad, then ripped the page free. “We can still call Michael about your office.”
“How about if you let me make that one decision?”
“Of course.” She handed him the paper. “Here’s his number.” She took one more step toward the door, then hesitated. “I know you think I want to wrestle away your control. But it’s never been about that. I feel how much pain you’ve been in since you lost Julia, then all the responsibility of raising the girls on your own. I was just trying to make things easier for you, to let you not have to worry for once.”
Flynn stared at her, not replying.
And so she left him there, not certain what he would have said if he’d spoken. Nearly as certain she wouldn’t have wanted to hear the words.
Later that morning Flynn studied the bare, dusty space he’d rented. Not much had been accomplished since he’d examined it a week before. He bent to test one of the outlets. No current. He couldn’t even plug in his laptop. The spot where the phone jack was to be installed was still a bare empty hole.
He sighed. He could run his computer off the batteries and depend on his cell phone, but it was hardly an ideal situation. And he was eager to set up the business that had been fermenting in his mind. Details were coming together daily, and he was having new development ideas on an almost hourly basis. He also needed to hire a few employees. Glancing around, he realized he couldn’t expect anyone else to work alongside him in this disaster area.
Reluctantly he pulled the wadded-up piece of paper from his pocket. He stared from his cell phone to the number Cindy had scrawled. With equal hesitation he punched in the number.
Michael didn’t seem to think it was odd that he’d waited so long to call, agreeing to stop by within the hour.
It was an unusually long hour for Flynn. He couldn’t repress the memory of Cindy’s face, the seeming sincerity of her words. What was it about her that seemed to be crawling under his skin? Admittedly in a way that had never before happened. Not even with Julia. Safe, unthreatening Julia.
And the realization made him want to run, fast and far. Then he pictured his daughters’ precious faces. They adored “Cinny” and no amount of logic or reasoning could change that.
Still the minutes dawdled. It wasn’t Michael, Flynn knew. It was his own past pushing at him. A familiar suffocating feeling gripped him and Flynn headed outside.
It was there that Michael found him, as he pulled into the parking lot. He had brought coffee for them both. Sipping from thick paper cups, they canvassed the area.
It didn’t take long for Michael to make an assessment. “This should have been finished not too long after we talked the first time,” he told Flynn bluntly.
“Can you recommend another contractor?” Flynn asked. “I know you work mainly on big projects, so—”
“I told you I do all sorts of construction. I’d be happy to put a crew on it,” Michael interrupted.
“But this is a piddling job compared to what you’re probably accustomed to.”
He shrugged. “You need an office. I have a crew.”
Flynn narrowed his eyes. “Did Cindy call you?”
“No. Should she have?”
Flynn hesitated. “I’m not accustomed to accepting favors.”
Michael grinned. “Don’t worry. I’ll send you a bill.” He glanced at his watch. “How ‘bout some lunch?”
“I don’t want to tie up your entire afternoon.”
“Gotta eat.”
“Yeah,” Flynn agreed. “So we do.”
Rarely allowing himself to get close enough to form fast friendships, it surprised Flynn to find himself comfortable in Michael’s company. But for once he didn’t question it. Cindy had provided more than enough questions to chew on.
Many of the kids in the Rainbow class had been to Cindy’s house before. And they were happy to return. She had set up projects in the conservatory, kitchen and on the terrace.
It rarely mattered to the children what tasks she chose. They simply enjoyed the nurturing and acceptance Cindy offered. Originally she had assumed that the boys wouldn’t enjoy making cookies, but they had lined up alongside the girls at the big, oak table in the kitchen, eager to roll the dough and cut out shapes.
“I gotta horse!” young Ricky Dunn announced, holding up the sturdy dough.
Cindy couldn’t contain a smile as she glimpsed his precocious grin and widened deep blue eyes. Although his shock of thick, dark hair needed to be trimmed, he looked perfect to her. This particular child had endured so much sadness in his young life, it was a thrill to see him excited over something as simple as a cookie. His father had died when Ricky was barely a year old. And his mother had been suffering from cancer for the last few years. Even someone as young as Ricky could see that his mother continued to look worse, rather than better. And just a year before, he had lost his only remaining grandparents in a freak accident when a pilot light was extinguished and they died in their sleep from the lethal, escaping gas. Now Ricky was alone in the world with only his fragile, ailing mother.
So Cindy was understanding when he sometimes acted out, getting in one minor scrape after another. She sensed the fear behind the acts and offered him nurturing acceptance.
Now Ricky’s comment had the others offering her views of their own cookies. She kept a huge old basket filled with cookie cutters, some from her own childhood and newer ones she’d purchased to fit even the smallest hands.
Allowing the kids to each pick one favorite cutter, she then encouraged them to trade and share with the others. So many of them desperately needed that social skill, one that wasn’t easily acquired in their dysfunctional families.
“What in the world?” Flynn muttered from the hallway.
“Making cookies!” Beth chirped, still slathering sprinkles on her tiny, misshapen mound of dough.
Cindy glanced at Flynn’s face, set in lines of surprised disapproval. “So, how’d the move to your office go?”
“Fine.”
She thought it would be easier to pull the moisture from a year-old apple than words from Flynn at times. Holding in a sigh, she smiled instead. “We should have a batch done soon.”
“Mmm,” he replied.
“Oh, you don’t know the kids.” Cindy laid down the spatula she held, moving from child to child, resting her hands lightly on each one’s shoulders as she introduced them to Flynn.
He greeted them kindly, yet Cindy could still sense his reserve. Seeing the questions in his eyes, she picked up a tray, motioning for Flynn to follow her into the dining room. When they were alone, she turned to him. “Shoot.”
Lifting a brow at her directness, he spoke as bluntly as she had. “What’s with all the kids? Some sort of charity play date?”
Cindy stiffened in automatic defense. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“A few of them look as though you picked them up at a shelter.”
Mild fury blended with her protective instincts. “I didn’t realize you were a clothing critic, as well.”
He waved a hand in dismissal. “I’m guessing you just didn’t know what you were getting yourself into.”
“No, that’s where you’re wrong. I know precisely what I’ve taken on. Why do you suppose the Rainbow class is so important to me?”
His eyes widened in surprise. “This is your Rainbow thing?”
She nodded.
Shock battled with disapproval in his expression. “Why didn’t you tell me it was a kid class?”
She shrugged. “I assumed you knew. What did you think I was doing?”
“I don’t know, pottery or some social thing.”
Exasperation literally oozed from her pores. “You thought I’d run off the first day you were here, leaving you to deal with the girls on your own, for a pottery class?”
He shrugged. “It really wasn’t any of my business.”
Frustration fumed, but she couldn’t spit out enough words to express it.
Flynn gestured toward the front of the house. “You told me you needed the conservatory. Yet you’ve filled the kitchen with kids.”
“I need both,” she explained with what little was left of her patience. “We do story and music time in the conservatory. And the floor’s perfect for nap time.”
“Music?” he questioned. “Are you hoping to produce another Mozart?”
She counted silently to ten. “Not necessarily. But I wouldn’t dismiss the idea, either.”
He frowned. “The piano’s in your parlor and I haven’t heard you play it since we’ve been here.”
“I’ve been busy,” she replied with a renewed touch of exasperation. “Besides, I also play the violin, guitar and mandolin. That’s what we use in the conservatory.”
Flynn studied her in surprise. “I didn’t know you were musical.”
She gritted her teeth against the rush of words begging to be spoken. “There’s a lot you don’t know about me, Flynn.”
He glanced back toward the kitchen. “Why did you have to include the triplets in your charity project?”
She might thump him yet, Cindy realized. “I would appreciate you not referring to my Rainbow kids as a charity project. And why wouldn’t I include the girls?”
“Well, by the look of some of those kids…”
A big mallet, she decided, one that would pound some sense into that thick head of his. “Are you saying my ragamuffins aren’t good enough to play with your children?”
An unexpected look of shame flashed in his eyes, then was gone. “What do you know about them, Cindy? They could be the products of pretty unsavory backgrounds.”
“Exactly, Flynn. That’s why they need me. Not every child has the luxury of loving parents and a father who can snap his fingers and produce every material need they could ever want.”
Another sort of flush infused his face. “I worked hard for every penny I earned. I wasn’t a trust fund baby who could play at will and still have a fortune at my disposal.”
She felt the stab at his insult and instantly wondered if he’d ever said such a thing to Julia. “Yet you married a trust fund baby.”
“You and Julia couldn’t be more different if you’d been conceived on separate planets!”
That truth nearly took the breath from her. But she refused to let him know it. “Then, lucky you for picking the right sister. Now, if you don’t mind, I have children to supervise.” She stalked toward the doorway, pausing to glance back around. “And if you’d like to start teaching your daughters the value of snobbery and condescension, feel free to yank them out of the kitchen.”
Three days later Flynn and Cindy were still tiptoeing around each other. Which made him glad that Cindy had taken back his temporary office.
Though he’d expected Michael to complete his space sooner than the previous contractor, he had been amazed by the skill and speed of his experienced crew.
Even now, Michael was checking over the last of the finishing work. “I think you should be set by the end of next week.”
“That’s great.” Gratified, Flynn studied the other man. “How do you manage to oversee all the projects you’ve got going?”
“I don’t,” Michael admitted. “I used to try. Then I met Katherine. She convinced me that my children needed to be seen by me more often than a baby-sitter, so I hired a second-in-command. Now I choose the jobs I want to manage, and still have enough time for my family.”
Puzzled, Flynn drew his brows together. “I must be missing something. That chronology doesn’t work.”
Michael nodded. “I guess no one told you. Katherine and I were married about two and a half years ago.”
Flynn couldn’t hide his surprise. “The way she treats them, I thought David and Annie were her children.”
“Yeah. That’s part of what makes her so special. Sounds hard to believe, but I honestly think she has the deepest feelings for our two oldest kids. Not that she isn’t equally loving with the baby. But I guess she fell in love with David and Annie first.”
Flynn considered a polite comment, then pushed it aside. “It’s none of my business, but did you divorce or—”
“Like you, I lost my first wife. Never dreamed I’d ever marry again. And Katherine couldn’t be any more different from Ruth.” He shrugged. “Maybe that’s why it works so well. I don’t think I could have lived a life of comparisons, accumulating similarities instead of building a new life.” Michael pushed his cap back. “I’m beginning to sound like a segment on Oprah.”
Unexpectedly Flynn laughed. “I’ve barely talked to anyone besides Cindy since I moved here, so it didn’t even faze me.”
“Whew,” Michael replied. “Katherine and Cindy have a unique way of getting people to think along their wavelengths. But for some reason, I have a sudden need to watch a ball game or drive about a hundred nails in the wall.”
Flynn thumbed his hand toward the nearly completed interior. “I doubt your crew would appreciate the gesture. I have a better idea. Why don’t we get a card game together?” Then he stopped. “I forgot there for a moment that I don’t have a house to offer.”
“Cindy wouldn’t care. But there’s no need. Mine’s available. Katherine has a Mommy & Me thing planned for tonight. I can call the guys.” He paused. “Guess you’d better make sure you have a sitter for the girls.”
“Yeah,” Flynn replied slowly, knowing he didn’t want to ask the favor of Cindy.
“Why don’t we say seven o’clock? Just call if there’s a problem.”
“Sure.” Flynn pulled himself out of his thoughts. “And thanks for getting this place together so quickly.”
“It’s what I do.”
The words had a familiar ring, but Flynn couldn’t pinpoint them until hours later when he faced Cindy. They were almost identical to ones she had uttered earlier.
“Can you give me the names of a few baby-sitters you trust?” he asked, watching as she prepared shish kebabs made with chunky vegetables.
“Any special reason?” she asked.
“Michael Carlson’s getting a card game together for tonight. I don’t want to just dump the girls on you.”
She paused, a metal skewer in one hand, a cherry tomato in the other. “Wasn’t that the point of moving the Rosewood? So the girls wouldn’t be left in the care of baby-sitters?”
“You’re right. I can cancel the game.”
She made an odd, strangulated sound. “I will be happy to watch the girls.”
“You sure you don’t have plans?”
She picked up a pearl onion, adding it to the skewer. “Tell you what. I’ll watch the girls tonight if you’ll be available Friday evening.”
Instantly Flynn thought of Tom Sanders, wondering if she and Tom had a date. “Something special on?”
“Not really, but I’m going out. So, do we have a deal?”
Flynn wasn’t sure he was ready to see what was behind door number two, but he nodded. “Sure.”
Cindy picked up a chunk of green pepper. “Have fun at the card game.”
“Yeah, right.” Flynn wasn’t able to understand why he suddenly couldn’t think of the game, only what Cindy had planned for her night out.
Chapter Eight
C indy rechecked her dangling green rhinestone earrings. They were flashy, but definitely went with the dress. Her makeup, too, was stronger than usual. But on stage, her normal light cosmetics washed out. It was only one of the tricks she’d learned since joining Noah Brady’s band.
Despite her lifelong love of music, she’d never considered joining a group. But Noah, once convinced that Cindy had no interest in serious dating, had been relentless, nagging and hounding her until she agreed to participate in a one-time-only gig.
That had been nearly two years ago. Smiling softly, Cindy remembered Noah’s disappointment when she’d told him only casual dating was on her agenda. She’d never confided to him about Flynn. No, only Katherine knew of those hopeless feelings. And although she accepted dates, Cindy never encouraged the men to believe she was interested in a serious relationship. If they pressed for anything more, she stopped going out with them.
Noah had been more persistent than any of the others. But also more understanding when he sensed her hidden pain. She hadn’t expected to expose that to anyone, and he’d never pressed for details. But she guessed he had figured out it was a hopeless love. So he’d changed tracks, becoming a good and trusted friend. It seemed she’d acquired more big brothers since moving to Rosewood than she could have ever imagined. Michael Carlson, Tom Sanders, Noah Brady. Even though she’d never had a brother, she couldn’t imagine a blood relative being any more dependable and concerned for her welfare.
Leaning forward, she inspected her outfit in the cheval mirror that stood in the corner of her room. Tonight’s dance was a high school reunion, and the green glitz of her dress would be perfect since it was one of the school’s team colors.
Hearing the doorbell ring, she also heard the scrabble of little feet as they trod across the entry hall floor. Although she’d cautioned the girls not to answer the door, they considered it a game, always trying to outrun “Cinny” to welcome whoever stood on the porch.
Luckily it was Noah, who immediately made the girls giggle with delight as he produced three puppets, demonstrating how they worked, then handing them to the girls.
Soon they were settled in the parlor. Noah didn’t take one of the chairs or a place on the fainting couch. Instead he chose the piano bench, running his fingers lightly over the keys.
“No late cases?” Cindy asked him, referring to his medical practice.
“Nope. Cleared the calendar.” Strong, sculptured fingers that performed with such perfection in the operating room danced over the keys.
Despite their fascination with the puppets he had brought them, the girls were drawn to the music, especially since Noah chose to play a children’s song. And within a short time, they were crowded on the bench beside him.
After a few rousing songs, Beth tried to plunk her stubby fingers on the keys. Unruffled, Noah started teaching them the basic notes of “Chopsticks.” Delighted, they all reached toward the piano at once. Good with kids, Noah completed the uneven quartet.
Soon, more laughter than music filled the room.
And that was how Flynn found them. He could hear the strains of piano music from the front steps. But it was the laughter that intrigued him. Recognizing his daughters’ giggles, his own smile grew.
Until he stepped into the parlor.
Cindy stood directly behind a man Flynn didn’t recognize. And his girls were bunched beside him on the bench. It was a cozy picture.
A far-too-cozy picture.
Flynn’s jaw tightened. Who was this man now charming both Cindy and his daughters?
Laughter and music continued to fill the old house, drowning out the sounds of his entrance. Although the girls kept their attention on the pianist, Cindy turned suddenly.
It surprised him. Why was she the only one to notice him?
Her hand came down lightly on the man’s shoulder and he stopped playing. The girls, finally sensing Flynn’s presence, jumped down from the bench, hurtling toward him.
He knelt down, accepting their hugs, gratified by their response.
Then Beth held up a small puppet. “Look what Noah gived me!”
“We played piano, too,” Mandy added also holding up her puppet.
Even little Alice displayed hers, a soft bunny-shaped toy.
“Well, isn’t that nice,” Flynn managed as he stood back up.
The man had risen from the piano bench. He approached, extending his hand. “Noah Brady.”
Flynn accepted the handshake, offering his own name. “Looks like you’ve won over my daughters.”
Noah shrugged. “I love kids. Don’t have any of my own so it’s a pleasure to spend time with someone else’s.”
“Right,” Flynn agreed, wondering who he was. What he meant to Cindy.
Belatedly he realized Noah was dressed in a tux and Cindy was wearing a sparkling deep green gown, one that made her hair look like fire. It was equally clear they were dressed for a very special evening. Ignoring a squiggle of unwanted, insensible resentment, he reached for the anchor of his daughters’ hands.
But Beth wriggled away. “Dr. Noah’s gonna show us more piano.”
Dr. Noah? Flynn glanced pointedly at Cindy.
“Noah’s a surgeon,” she explained. “Which is probably why he has the right touch for music.”
The right touch. Perhaps that wasn’t confined only to music. It seemed the man was capable of making Cindy smile and laugh with abandon.
Cindy corralled Beth. “Dr. Noah will have to show you how to play another time. Otherwise we’ll be late.”
“Me go, too!” Beth demanded.
“Not this time, sweetie,” Cindy replied. “This is a grown-ups-only evening.”
Flynn wondered why the words felt like ground glass beneath tender, bare feet.
“You come back?” Mandy asked Noah.
“Sure. I love having a captive audience. But Cindy’s right. We’d better be going.” Again he extended his hand to Flynn. “Good to meet you. Hate to steal Cindy away, but the evening wouldn’t be complete without her.”
No, Flynn supposed, it wouldn’t.
Cindy pulled an exquisitely beaded shawl from the hall rack, then picked up a tiny jeweled bag from the hall table. “We shouldn’t be too late.”
Flynn stared at her, wondering who this dazzlingly beautiful woman was. Normally dressed in jeans or overalls, she now looked like an exotic stranger. One who was going out with the handsome doctor. Struggling to maintain his composure, Flynn nodded. “Fine. The girls and I will probably order a pizza.”
“Whatever you think,” she replied easily.
Where was her normal lecture on the benefits of healthy eating? Had the good doctor turned Cindy’s head so much she didn’t give the girls’ welfare a passing thought?
But before the notion could process, Noah swept Cindy outside, the duo looking perfectly suited. Flynn bit down on the thought, but it escaped nonetheless.
He should be glad, happy Cindy had found such a person. Instead, all he could feel was a growing wall of resentment.
Cicadas and bullfrogs filled the night air with their own sort of music, accentuating the solitary hoot of a secluded owl.
The lonely sound fitted Flynn’s mood. Any other time he would appreciate the scent of the native honeysuckle that roamed through the trees and over the weathered fence. But he’d been restless most of the evening. That had only increased since he’d put the girls to bed. Because then his mind could wander without distraction.
Flynn took a deep breath, inhaling clean air that wasn’t tinged with big-city smog.
Flynn wondered if Cindy and Noah were dancing beneath the stars that stood out so clearly in the uncluttered sky. No reflection from thousands of lights dimmed the deep midnight color. Everything about this place was so different than what he was used to.
And he didn’t want to dwell on the fact that Cindy was the most different of all.
He stood that way for a long time, hearing the quiet neighborhood sounds, ones that were now familiar to him. Mr. Elliott next door put out his cat. Mrs. Anderson whose backyard aligned with Cindy’s, called for her little poodle, then closed and locked her door once he was inside. And somewhere not too far away, he could the distant strains of a teenager’s music.
The theme for the evening—music.
The thought barely surfaced when he caught the drifting scent of a new fragrance. Recognizing it, he spun around, not willing to be part of a possible good-night kiss between Cindy and her date.
But she stood alone, framed by the ancient French doors, before cautiously stepping out on the terrace. “Flynn? Is that you?”
“Yes. Didn’t mean to get in your way.”
She stepped closer. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Isn’t Noah with you?”
She shook her head. “Well…no. Are the girls asleep?”
“Hours ago. Although I still can’t get them settled in as quickly as you do.”
She shrugged a slim shoulder, partially exposed by the narrow straps of her dress. “It’s not a contest.”
“So it isn’t.”
Silence slithered between them, broken only by another call of the distant owl.
Cindy stepped out of her strappy high-heeled sandals, her voice as soft as her face. “My feet are killing me.”
A night of dancing would do that. “I imagine so.”
“It’s pretty out here at night, isn’t it?” she mused, her face dreamy beneath the partial moonlight.
Flynn wondered if Noah had put that expression on her face.
“I’m usually so caught up in one thing or another that I don’t appreciate what’s literally in my own backyard,” she continued.
Mr. Elliott opened a side door and coaxed in his cat. One final meow was cut off by the closing door.
“So, does this Noah guy go to your church, too?” Flynn asked, hoping he sounded appropriately casual.
She paused for a moment, crickets filling in the silence. “Yes, that’s where we met. He’s the musical director.”
Flynn frowned into the darkness. “I thought he was a doctor.”
“He is. A plastic surgeon. But he volunteers as the musical director for our church. We don’t have a large budget—certainly not one that would stretch to include a paid musical director. We had a fire a few years ago that we’re still paying for. Besides, Noah’s incredibly talented. He once considered music instead of medicine.”
“And which profession suffered the most from his choice?”
She laughed, a quiet, skeptical sound. “Neither. He gives his all to his patients when he’s at the hospital. And he absolutely inspires the kids and teenagers at church. He’s helped to turn around more than one wayward child by including them in the choir.”
“Practically a saint,” Flynn muttered.
“What?”
“The girls were very impressed by him. They want you to invite him over again.”
She shrugged. “No problem. I see Noah often. And if he’s coming to pick me up, and his schedule permits, he can arrive a little early, see the girls.”
Flynn stiffened, glad that the blackness of the night hid the motion. “I’m sure they’d like that.”
Another silence vibrated between them. But the crickets weren’t enough to fill the gap this time.
“Is something wrong, Flynn?”
He shook his head. “Nah. There’s something about the quiet that makes a person think, evaluate.”
“Funny, we fill up nearly every moment with television, music, computers or conversation. One of the downfalls of modern technology, I suppose.”
But Flynn wasn’t in the mood for small talk. “Why didn’t you invite Noah to the party you gave to introduce me to your friends?”
“I did. He had an emergency call and didn’t leave the hospital all night. It’s hard for him to know if he’ll ever be able to keep plans he’s made.”
“That must be annoying,” Flynn remarked.
She shrugged. “He doesn’t really seem to mind. He’s so dedicated. And he just shuffles other commitments. He has a lot of friends who step in when there’s a real crunch.”
“He sounds almost too good to be true.”
She laughed again. “I thought the same thing when I met him. But now I know him well enough to realize he’s the genuine article.”
So Cindy was infatuated with the town hero. That should be a comfort. He wondered why it wasn’t.
He glanced over at her, realizing she was only a handspan away. Again the subtle scent of her perfume snagged his attention. He had only to reach out and he could touch her, catch her hand within his.
She turned, meeting his gaze. “I’m glad we’ve been able to work things out, that we can trade off watching the girls as we need to. I want you to feel that Rosewood is really becoming your home, that you can find wonderful friends here, as well.”
“Friends like Noah?” he questioned, watching her face.
But her pretty features didn’t give anything away. “Exactly. You couldn’t ask for better people than Noah or Michael or Tom.”
It was an innocent statement, absolutely guileless, equally unrevealing.
She hitched up the shawl, covering her arms. “I’d better head inside. As much as I enjoy the night sky, the girls will be up early.” She smiled. “And I need my beauty sleep.”
He watched as she walked away and into the house. That’s where she was wrong. With or without sleep, Cindy was a beauty. And it seemed the men in this small town weren’t blind to the fact. Staring again into the ever-deepening darkness, he wondered why that, too, was a thought he couldn’t shake.
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