Praise for Bonnie K. Winn and her novels

“Bonnie K. Winn’s Promise of Grace is an uncommon romance novel, stirring the deepest part of the heart with tenderness and compassion.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“In Protected Hearts, Bonnie K. Winn provides warm romance with a touch of suspense.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“A Family All Her Own by Bonnie K. Winn has some wonderful moments.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

“Bonnie K. Winn has done a fantastic job with this story, showing readers how Laura blossoms and realizes that she is able To Love Again.”

—Romantic Times BOOKreviews

Family Ties
&
Promise Of Grace
Bonnie K. Winn

CONTENTS

FAMILY TIES

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

PROMISE OF GRACE

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Epilogue

BONNIE K. WINN

is a hopeless romantic who’s written incessantly since the third grade. So it seemed only natural that she turned to romance writing. A seasoned author of historical and contemporary romance, her bestselling books have won numerous awards. Affaire de Coeur chose her as one of the Top Ten Romance Writers in America.

Bonnie loves writing contemporary romance because she can set her stories in the modern cities close to her heart and explore the endlessly fascinating strengths of today’s woman.

Living in the foothills of the Rockies gives her plenty of inspiration and a touch of whimsy, as well. She shares her life with her husband, son and a spunky Westie terrier who lends his characteristics to many pets in her stories. Bonnie’s keeping mum about anyone else’s characteristics she may have borrowed.

Family Ties

To every thing there is a season, and a time for every event under heaven…a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance…a time to embrace…a time to love.

—Ecclesiastes 3: 1-8

Dedicated to my husband, Howard, a man of faith and romance, an irresistible combination.

Prologue

Houston, Texas

The day was too bright, the sun too cheerful, Cindy Thompson decided. It should be gray, overcast, perhaps drenched with rain or swept by relentless wind. But only a mild breeze stirred the sweet, spring air. It was the best time of year in Houston. Plagued by heat and humidity, the near-coastal city could rarely boast of mild, pleasant days. But it was something Cindy had been accustomed to, growing up there alongside her sister, Julia.

But Julia no longer had to worry about hot and cold, about sunshine and rain. Still the light shone mercilessly on her mahogany coffin, revealing the grain of the highly polished wood and the creamy hue of the pure white floral spray. Two lone ivory ribbons proclaimed “wife” and “mother.”

Cindy swallowed another rush of tears, her gaze sliding yet again to her brother-in-law, Flynn Mallory, and his three tiny, identical daughters. Julia would be pleased, Cindy thought irrationally. The girls were dressed beautifully. Matching dresses of deep green velvet, no doubt from Houston’s finest children’s store, shiny black Mary Janes, spotless ivory tights.

The triplets were just barely twenty-two months old, matching bundles of endless energy. Cindy wondered how Flynn had managed to ready them with such precision. From what she’d known, Julia had been their sole caretaker since Flynn was always working, striving to improve his already-prosperous business.

Cindy had offered to help with the girls, but Flynn had firmly refused. Not much had changed. Flynn was still holding her at arm’s length. Shaking away the painful memories, Cindy bent her head for the closing prayer, offering one of her own for her beloved sister.

Silence sliced over the crowd now as they waited for Flynn to rise. He did so slowly, trying to hold three tiny hands with his own larger ones. Taking that cue, Cindy reached for baby Alice’s hand, since she was seated beside her. Flynn didn’t protest, for once looking out of control and a bit lost.

“Mommy?” little Beth asked, looking as lost as her father.

Flynn’s face worked, his lips seemingly trying to form words his heart refused to utter.

Seeing his pain, Cindy knelt down beside the girls, enveloping them in a hug. Then she gave each of them a single pink rosebud, Julia’s favorite. Quietly she led them to the casket, allowing each to place a flower on the sun-warmed wood.

Flynn watched helplessly, barely acknowledging soft-spoken condolences of friends as they filed past. Clearly his world had been shattered. Julia had been a rock, the nucleus of their family. Cindy had always imagined her sister growing old, surrounded by Flynn and a passel of adoring grandchildren. But that wasn’t to be.

Any more than her own happiness was to be.

Cindy shook away the thought, immediately ashamed of her pettiness. Her only concern could be the children. Cindy intended to delay her return to Rosewood. She wouldn’t abandon her sister’s children. She owed it to Julia and even Flynn’s resistance wouldn’t stop her. She knew, however, it was only temporary. She couldn’t hope to be included where she wasn’t wanted. But in the meantime she would shower the girls with love…and pray they wouldn’t forget her.

Chapter One

Rosewood, Texas

One year later

Driving slowly, Flynn Mallory surveyed the main street of the small Hill Country town he’d chosen to call home, a hamlet far different from Houston. And incredibly far from the only roots he’d ever known. He and Julia had never visited Rosewood. Cindy had made the infrequent trips to Houston, saying she could combine business with pleasure. It had suited Flynn. It wasn’t easy to travel with the triplets and he’d felt no need to survey Rosewood until now.

But Rosewood offered what his daughters really wanted—their aunt Cindy. For the millionth time, Flynn regretted the loss of his family…his entire family. There was no loving family member to turn to. No one who could offer help or advice. No Mallory grandparent, aunt or uncle who could help the girls know they were loved. Cindy wouldn’t have been his choice if he’d had anyone else to turn to. But his relatives were all dead and Cindy was the only member left of Julia’s family. Cindy was irresponsible and fun loving, but he could provide the stability his children needed. They could visit with Cindy once a week and get the emotional bonding they craved while he ensured a secure environment.

For a moment Flynn thought he’d taken a wrong turn. The eclectic, charming neighborhood was old and well-worn, the yards filled with ancient oaks and carefully pruned rose gardens.

Expecting a sleekly modern condo, Flynn looked for a place where he could turn his vehicle around. But then he spotted Cindy’s address. There was no mistake. The numbers sat atop a nameplate of swirling letters that spelled out Thompson. But he still wasn’t reassured. The softly faded old Victorian house didn’t fit his image of Cindy.

Climbing out of his SUV, Flynn strolled up the red brick sidewalk. A magnificent aged magnolia tree perfumed the air, its dark glossy leaves looking as though they’d been polished by hand. Flynn knew the slow-growing tree had to be at least one hundred years old. But the house looked that and then some.

Unable to stop staring, he climbed the steps to the wraparound porch. Flynn reached for a doorbell and found an old brass knocker instead. He glanced upward at the gently curving eaves, pounding a bit more loudly than he intended. And within seconds the door whipped open. A disheveled, startled-looking Cindy stared at him.

Since she looked flustered, he offered a smile. “I did call.”

Cindy pushed at a lock of flame-colored hair framing her forehead. Then she pulled back the door, opening it wider, looking surprisingly flushed. “Of course. I’m sorry. I got caught up in some painting and lost track of time.” She held up a brush covered in bright yellow paint, then glanced down at her paint-splattered overalls. “Give me just a minute to wash my hands.” She gestured past the foyer to an inviting room. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Not surprised that the irresponsible Cindy was off schedule, Flynn nodded, walked in, then went down the single wooden step into the parlor.

It was the only word to describe the room. A huge, leaded-glass bay window kept the old-fashioned room bright. The whimsical furniture was as intriguing as it was impractical. Delicate needlepoint chairs that didn’t look as though they could support real humans were drawn up to a table set with translucent cups and saucers, a matching bone-china teapot, and bite-size sandwiches.

Raising his eyebrows, he noted that a fainting couch replaced a more conventional sofa. Nothing about Cindy’s house met his expectations.

“I’m sorry,” she said, gliding into the room, sounding a bit breathless. “I promised my friend Katherine I’d have the bookcases for the Sunday school rooms painted this week. There didn’t seem to be so many when I volunteered,” she ended with a smile.

He shrugged, knowing little about Sunday school and its expectations. He’d been a boy when he’d last attended church. And that was a lifetime ago.

She moved toward the prepared table with a teapot. “It’s hot.” She gestured to the thick fabric covering the pot. “The cozy keeps it warm. Tea?”

“It’s not necessary.”

Cindy kept her smile in place. “Perhaps not, but it’s very civil.”

He relented, realizing she was being gracious and he was being ungrateful. There had been little time in the last year for niceties. Every available moment had been spent chasing the triplets and trying to decide whether he was making the right decision in moving to Rosewood. It wasn’t Cindy’s fault that he was feeling so pressed. She was simply trying to help. He forced himself to relax. “My appointment with the Realtor isn’t for another hour.”

Cindy poured the tea and handed Flynn a cup. “So you’re still certain you want to move here?”

Awkwardly he balanced the small, fragile cup, not ready to admit his apprehension. “I’m ready for a change of scenery. Everywhere I look or go, I’m reminded of Julia.” He caught her questioning gaze. “Not that I don’t want to remember…”

“I understand. But won’t you have to face it sometime?”

He frowned. “I’ve faced her death, the fact that I have to go on alone. But the girls need a change.” Unwilling to share how upsetting this was with her, he switched subjects. “And I couldn’t take looking for another baby-sitter.”

She offered him the sandwich platter. “That bad?”

He took a few of the crustless diamond-shaped snacks, his hands seeming unusually large and clumsy amidst the fragile delicacies. “Worse. I wanted to be sure that whoever was taking care of the girls was responsible.”

She drew her brows together, a shadow eclipsing the bright curiosity in her eyes. “That didn’t work?”

He paused for a moment, examining the odd little sprouts that edged the filling of the delicate sandwich. “Depends on your point of view. The first baby-sitter, Mrs. Sanders, took charge immediately. I imagine there were POW camps run with more humor. Even I was tiptoeing around the woman. I didn’t want the girls growing up believing they had to snap to attention in their own home.”

Cindy laughed. “Surely there was a compromise.”

“I hired former schoolteachers, and even a registered nurse.”

“Weren’t they better than the commandant?”

“Somewhat. But the truth is no professional caretaker’s going to love the girls and care for them like someone in the family would.”

Cindy’s fingers tightened around the handle of her teacup and she paused for a moment before she spoke. “You’re right, of course. But aren’t you worried about uprooting the girls?”

“From preschool?” Flynn shook his head, knowing it wasn’t the girls who would be uprooted. “They’re young enough to adjust to a move. More so than to the loss of their mother. The only reason I’m considering relocating is because of them.” Even if it meant reconnecting with a woman he considered best forgotten. “Everything I do is in their best interest.”

“I know it is, Flynn,” she responded, her gaze resting on him intently. “I’m just trying to be a good sounding board. This is a big step, and Julia’s only been gone for a year.”

“True. But I didn’t just wake up one morning with a wild hair. I’m able to provide almost every monetary need my children have, but I can’t produce a family I don’t have.”

Cindy nodded, knowing he, too, was the last member of his family. “I may be one of the few people in the world who can understand that.” It had been a devastating blow for Cindy to lose Julia since they were the last two left in their family. Still, something about Flynn’s uncharacteristic behavior bothered her. He was not the sort of man who moved to an unseen town on a whim.

“And you can’t force a connection,” Flynn was saying. “Children either feel that for a person, or they don’t. And the girls feel it with you.”

Tears misted in Cindy’s eyes and her lips trembled, emotion overshadowing caution. “They mean so much to me. Thank you for showing your trust in me.”

Flynn hesitated, but knew he had to be honest. His daughters were too precious to him for anything less than the truth. “You won’t have to take on any responsibility with them.”

She blanched, then recovered quickly. “Of course.”

Flynn didn’t want to hurt her, but she had to know the real purpose of their move, why he was doing this against all reason. “The girls need an emotional connection with you, rather than help with their upbringing.”

Cindy’s head bobbed up and down a bit too vigorously. “I understand. And I suppose you’ve worked out something for your company.”

He tried not to remember how much that hurt, as well. “After Julia died, my vice presidents banded together, running things so efficiently that it became apparent I wasn’t needed for the day-to-day operations.”

“Won’t you miss it?” she asked softly. “It’s been a big part of your life.”

More than she could possibly know. “I’m not content to glide along on past accomplishments.” He forced enthusiasm into his voice, guessing otherwise the words would ring with empty truth. “I need something new, something challenging.”

“And you can find that in Rosewood?” Cindy asked skeptically.

Flynn managed a reasonable chuckle. “Aren’t you being a bit snobbish about your adopted home?”

“Not at all. Just realistic. We’re a long way from boardrooms and stock quotes.”

“Not as far as you think. With the Internet, you can be in Iceland and have as much access to Wall Street as anyone in New York. But I just want the right place to retreat, one where I can recoup, try to start again.”

Her expression softened. “I know it’s been difficult for you. I miss Julia terribly every day. I remember her laugh, her way of making the worst situation bearable.” Cindy met his eyes. “It must be far worse for you—especially trying to be mother and father to the girls. But the important thing is that the girls do have you. The rest will come in time.”

Uncharacteristic doubt assailed him as it had since Julia had died. “You’re so sure?”

Cindy took a deep breath, the green of her eyes deepening to near emerald. He wondered at the emotion that skittered across her face. “As sure as any one person can be. The Lord never gives us burdens that are heavier than we can bear.”

He shrugged impatiently, thinking her talk of faith must be her latest fad, one that would no doubt be forgotten soon. He knew from experience that she’d be better off without that treacherous fantasy. “Church seems like ancient history.”

She searched his eyes. “That’s too bad. You won’t find anything more relevant and timely.”

He glanced at his watch. “Speaking of time, would you like to go with me to meet the Realtor? After all, you recommended Linda Baker. Besides, you know the town. You can steer me away from any lemons.”

The edge of her mouth curled upward. “Kind of takes the adventure out of the process, doesn’t it?”

“You’ve forgotten, Cindy. I don’t care for adventure.”

Cindy hadn’t forgotten. She’d simply pushed that truth to the back of her consciousness. Along with the cache of emotions Flynn Mallory created. While he waited in her parlor, Cindy reached for a change of clothes, remembering the first time she’d met him.

She and Julia were at a party. Spotting Flynn Mallory, Cindy knew immediately that everything about him seemed larger than life. From his shock of unruly chestnut hair to the fire in his dark eyes, to the fierceness of his determination. She had never met anyone like him. Immediately she was attracted to his strength and purpose. Unlike the other young men in the group, he had a maturity and confidence that set him apart. Cindy hadn’t doubted from the moment she met him that he would succeed. Everything about him said he wouldn’t allow anything less.

She’d been equally determined to make him hers.

And that remained one of the foremost failures in her life.

After she and Flynn had shared one electrifying gaze that she still couldn’t forget, Cindy had fallen hard and fast. Unable to still what had momentarily flowed between them, in the ensuing weeks Cindy had employed every trick she knew to interest him. Not because she wanted a mild flirtation, but because she had truly fallen in love with him.

But the more bizarre and outlandish her efforts, the more he withdrew. She and Julia saw him often in their social circle. But Flynn began to concentrate on Julia. He clearly valued Julia’s stability and desire to have a family.

And despite his initial attraction to Cindy, he seemed determined to ignore the adventure she craved. And that was something she’d never understood. For it seemed the fire in his eyes matched hers. It was the first and only time she’d ever felt that way about a man.

Even though it broke her heart, she backed off when he and Julia became serious. And she steadfastly accepted the position of maid of honor for Julia, cheerfully organizing showers, parties and wedding breakfasts.

If there were tears beneath the smiles, no one knew. And Cindy told herself that her feelings for Flynn would fade. That in time, she would come to view him as a brother. But that hadn’t happened.

Instead, to extricate herself from the situation, a few months after the wedding she had moved to Rosewood where her best friend, Katherine Blake Carlson, was the pastor of the community church.

In the time that followed, Cindy had seen her sister far less frequently than she would have liked. She made sure she visited when Flynn was away on business, keeping the pain at bay. When she did occasionally run into him, it all rushed back, though. He was unfailingly polite when they met, but she could tell that despite the passage of time he still saw her as flighty, unfocused. And she didn’t try to change that opinion. It didn’t really matter anymore.

Yet his tie to Julia and subsequent place in their family remained an unhealed wound. So Rosewood became Cindy’s escape, her place of peace.

And now Flynn Mallory was shattering that to bits.

Cindy shook back her hair, added earrings, then picked up her purse, feeling strangely nervous about being in Flynn’s company.

For an instant she remembered his startling phone call a month earlier—the one that promised to change her life and threaten her secure existence. She’d wanted nothing more than to ask him to stay away—not to move to Rosewood. But she couldn’t deny her nieces a chance for happiness. If she truly could help them, she wouldn’t put her own concerns ahead of theirs.

And it was nothing short of a miracle that Flynn had asked for her help. It was a complete turnaround for him…and a point she couldn’t stop questioning. Why, why was he doing this?

Taking a breath, Cindy stepped through the expansive arched doorway that led into the parlor. Flynn turned just then. And despite her best intentions, she caught her breath.

He stepped forward and she exhaled, praying silently for strength.

“I’m ready,” she announced, forcing cheerfulness into her tone.

When he glanced at her, she wondered if it was disapproval she saw registering in his expression. Self-consciously, she smoothed the soft fabric of her long, flowing, deep purple skirt. Belatedly it occurred to her that the choice might be a bit wild for Flynn. Julia had always dressed and acted much more conservatively. Their parents’ death had stolen Julia’s sense of adventure. Cindy had reacted in just the opposite fashion—she needed excitement and new challenges to feel alive. But then everything about her had been too wild for Flynn.

She tried not to dwell on that as they walked outside and settled into his SUV. Once inside it, however, her nervousness increased. The spacious vehicle seemed oddly intimate.

“So, what do you think of Rosewood?” she asked, trying to chase away her nerves.

He shrugged as he handed her the directions Linda had given him. “Haven’t seen much of it yet.”

“There’s a lot of history here, but not anything too high-tech.”

“You have electricity and phone lines?”

She blinked. “Of course.” Then she realized he was teasing. “Except on candle day, of course.”

He took his attention from the road. “Candle day?”

She met his gaze. “Keeps us from becoming too dependent on technology.”

He lifted his brows in acknowledgment. “Guess you hope it doesn’t fall on stormy days, then.”

She pursed her lips. “So the wind doesn’t blow out our candles?”

“Right.”

The teasing exchange allowed her to relax a fraction. “It’s really a good place to raise children. People watch out for each other, the schools are filled with teachers who care. And our church pulls together through good times and bad.”

“You make it sound idyllic.”

Cindy turned to gaze at the crepe myrtle trees in full bloom, their delicate blossoms coloring the landscape. As she did, she thought of her own loneliness, the empty nights, the longing for what would never be. “Not exactly idyllic. But genuine.”

“That’s rare enough in the world today.”

Agreeing, Cindy nodded. Seeing that they were nearing the turn to the address he’d given her, she pointed out the way.

“Linda promised to show me the best Rosewood has to offer,” Flynn commented as he made another turn.

“She’s a great Realtor, as well as a nice person,” Cindy acknowledged. “And hopefully she’ll have some decent listings.”

Glancing at her, he frowned. “That was said with a bit of doubt.”

Cindy hesitated. “Rosewood doesn’t have much growth, so there’s not a lot of new home construction. People tend to settle in and stay in one place. I think only one new subdivision’s been built in the last twenty years. So, not much was available when I started looking. Luckily I was able to stay with Katherine because it took me a while to find my place.”

“Is that how you wound up in the Victorian?”

“Oh, no! It’s exactly what I wanted. That’s why it took so long. I’ve dreamed of owning one of the painted ladies as long as I can remember. I didn’t want to settle for anything else.” Or anyone else, she added silently.

Flynn glanced at her in baffled astonishment and she wondered why he seemed so surprised. Belatedly she also wondered just what he had expected.

Then, rounding the corner, they arrived at the first house. A cheerful Linda Baker waited on the front porch.

As they walked through the house, Cindy found her gaze going more toward Flynn than the smallish interior. Sunshine spilled through the uncurtained windows, brightening the rooms. Flynn turned just then and the light framed his uncompromising features. Despite the fact that his lips didn’t rest in a smile, she was so drawn to him, it was nearly a physical ache. What was it about this one man that touched her heart in a way no other had?

His gaze shifted, meeting hers, and for a moment she glimpsed uncertainty. As instantly she knew it to be a rarity for him. Again she wondered why he was doing this. How could he consider moving to this sleepy town so far from everything that was intrinsically him?

Flynn again shifted his gaze, obviously unwilling to share that truth with her. But it didn’t stop her wondering, nor her awareness when he brushed by.

She pulled back swiftly, yet she could see his eyes widen in startled surprise. Her vivid purple skirt twirling, she spun away from him, practically running toward the front door.

A few moments later Linda joined her, keeping her voice low. “I really thought he’d like this one.”

Perhaps if Flynn didn’t find a house to his liking, he would abandon his plan to move to Rosewood, Cindy mused silently. Just as instantly she remembered her bond with Julia, her responsibility to her sister’s children.

Soon they were on the way to the second house. Then the third. Again, Flynn patiently outlined all of his needs to Linda, who listened carefully, but not too hopefully.

And it was only downhill from there. Everything they’d seen was in need of major repair. Also, none of the houses seemed to suit Flynn. Even with significant renovations, Cindy couldn’t see him in any of these homes, including the one they now viewed.

“This one’s a bit on the modern side,” Linda told him, obviously trying to interject some enthusiasm into her voice for the not-too-inviting house. “That should appeal to a forward-thinking man.”

“Hmm,” Flynn replied.

“It has quite a bit of potential,” Linda added hopefully.

Flynn glanced at the unusual roofline. “What was this originally? A school?”

“Yes. But it had extensive renovations when it was converted. The kitchen—”

Flynn, however, was shaking his head. “Anything left to show me?”

“I’m afraid not. The only other listings in town are a few two-bedroom starter homes that aren’t nearly as large as you’ve told me you need. Honestly, if I thought another Realtor would have something more appropriate, I would tell you. But there’s only one other company in town and we’re both on a multi-listing system. I’m afraid that with this temporary housing shortage, there just isn’t much of a selection.” Linda drew her brows together. “Actually, knowing what you want, especially considering your preference for contemporary, I think you ought to consider building.”

“Won’t that take a while?” Cindy asked, wondering if this could be the relief she’d hoped for.

“Probably,” Linda agreed.

“But I’ve already sold my house in Houston,” Flynn told them in a surprisingly defeated tone.

Cindy tried not to let her breath escape in a huge whoosh. “You did?”

“Yep. I thought I’d find something here.”

“Perhaps Linda has the right idea—build a house. Can’t you hold off the closing date on your house?”

“Nope.” His expression tightened. “We closed last Friday.”

Cindy winced.

“I wish I hadn’t told the girls we were moving right away,” Flynn muttered. “I realize now it was a hasty plan, but I never thought I’d encounter a housing shortage.”

Linda brightened suddenly. “Cindy, you’ve got a ton of room at your house. If Flynn decides to build, maybe he and his kids could stay with you until his house is finished.”

Nonplussed, Cindy stared first at Linda, than at Flynn.

“We couldn’t impose,” Flynn began.

“Well, it wouldn’t be imposing,” Cindy found herself saying. What could she say with Linda staring at her with those puppy-dog eyes and Flynn looking like a stalwart, if bereft, widower? “It can’t take that long to build a house,” she added weakly.

“And I have the perfect contractor!” Linda exclaimed. “Roy Johnson—my cousin. He just finished a job, and I know he’s available. And there’s plenty of land for sale locally.”

Flynn still looked torn. His gaze was probing as he met Cindy’s. “Are you sure about this?”

Her throat thickened as every bit of her common sense screamed No! “Of course. What’s family for?”

“But this is a lot to ask,” he responded in a tone that made Cindy wonder if he wanted to be talked out of the plan.

“Cindy’s always helping everybody in town!” Linda exclaimed. “I’m sure she’d love to help her own family for a change. She told me about those darling triplets of yours.”

Cindy stared helplessly at Flynn, realizing she’d been caught in a trap of her own good works and inability to spit out the truth.

But he was looking more than a bit flummoxed and reluctant himself. “I can rent an apartment while the house is being built.”

Linda shook her head. “Not in this town. Everything for rent is snapped up by the oil folks—Adair Petroleum’s opened a new regional office here to oversee pipeline and trucking operations. The only housing you can find is for sale. And there aren’t a lot of those—well, you just saw them. Because of this small boom, there’s a real housing shortage. To be honest, it probably won’t last long. Everyone at Adair should be settled in a few months down the road and then things will get back to normal. But that won’t do you a lot of good right now.”

Flynn looked at the unattractive house. “Then I’ll buy something temporary.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Cindy burst out. “Everything we’ve seen today will take a lot of fixing up just to be livable. By that time, your house could be built.” She felt herself digging an even deeper hole, but knew her conscience wouldn’t allow her to be quiet. The triplets didn’t deserve more disappointment. At their age, a few months’ delay would seem like an eternity. “Linda’s right. I have plenty of room. You and the girls can stay with me.”

“I would like to oversee the construction of the house,” Flynn pondered, still not sounding convinced, but rather, trapped.

Which put them both in the same position.

“Then it’s all settled!” Linda exclaimed, looking like a Girl Scout who’d done a good deed, and certainly the only happy member of their trio. “I’ll assemble lists of available land right away.”

Cindy forced her smile to widen as she met Flynn’s gaze. “Looks like you’re all set.”

He considered her words for a moment, looking as though he wished he had another option. Any other option. “I can put the furniture in storage. We could probably be here in about two weeks. That’ll give you time to change your mind, Cindy.”

Two weeks. The words flashed through her like a bad mantra. Two weeks until everything she knew was turned upside down. Two weeks until the man she loved moved into her life. And her house.

Chapter Two

Flynn couldn’t hold three hands at once. He tried, but one always slipped away. He’d taught the girls to hold each other’s hands so they wouldn’t get separated. But on days like today excitement outweighed caution.

They stood on the curving sidewalk that led to Cindy’s house. As they did, Flynn took a deep breath, wondering yet again if moving to Rosewood was a mistake. He’d almost turned the SUV back around a dozen times on the drive from Houston. It didn’t matter that the house was sold; he could find another place to live in Houston.

“Swing!” Alice exclaimed just then, pointing to the old-fashioned two-seater that was suspended from the tall rafters on the front porch.

“An’ flowers,” the softer-spoken Mandy added.

“Mommy flowers,” Beth chimed in, referring to the roses her mother had loved.

Flynn felt that subtle clutching of his heart—one that always followed mention of Julia. The girls spoke of her less and less often, their young memories fading already. Yet, each comment was a new wound. However, it was a wound of guilt—one that came from the reminder that he wasn’t thinking enough of Julia.

Flynn was appalled that he, too, was beginning to forget little things, that days passed with little or no thought of her. He wondered if the progression was normal, or if he was as unfeeling as his own mother had been.

The front door opened just then and Cindy stepped onto the porch.

“Cinny!” In unison, the girls shouted their name for her. Breaking away from him, they hurried up the sidewalk and then the wide steps. Reaching the porch, three compact bodies hurtled toward his sister-in-law.

Laughing, she caught them, exchanging huge hugs and kisses. “Hello, darlings! I thought you’d never get here!”

“Us here,” Beth replied, grinning.

“And you’re so tall,” Cindy continued. She cocked her head, studying them in mock amazement. “By next week you’ll all be as tall as me!”

The girls giggled madly.

“Uh-uh!” Alice protested.

“I don’t know,” Cindy teased, shaking her head. Then she reached down, picking up the toddler.

Immediately, the other two clambered to be picked up, as well. Still laughing, Cindy scooted over to the swing, reaching for the other two, lifting them up to sit beside her.

“Now there’s a picture,” Flynn told her as he neared the porch, realizing as he spoke it was true. Cindy looked as unaffected and natural as the triplets. It was a warm and fuzzy image that could have graced a magazine layout.

“Daddy sit, too!” Beth demanded.

But he shook his head as he bent automatically to kiss Cindy’s cheek.

The startled response in Cindy’s eyes surprised him. But then it seemed to surprise her, as well.

Cindy spoke quickly to fill the gap. “Why don’t we go inside and get you all settled in?”

“Swing!” Beth demanded when Cindy stood up.

Flynn plucked his daughter from the swing, preempting her demand. The more malleable Mandy moved toward the door without protest. Alice, somewhere between mild Mandy and belligerent Beth, seemed to realize it was best to comply, as well.

“Why don’t I show you where the bedrooms are?” Cindy told him as she led the way. “Let’s grab the girls and head upstairs.”

Flynn obliged, picking up Beth and Alice. Mandy was content to latch on to Cindy. Upstairs, Cindy pointed out the room she’d chosen for Flynn. Although small, it was the least feminine one in the house. And directly next to it, she led them into a large bedroom, outfitted with three kid-size beds and an overflowing toy chest.

Squealing, the girls wriggled free and hurried over to the new bounty.

Overwhelmed, Flynn stared at her. “Cindy, you shouldn’t have gone to so much trouble. This is too much.”

She shrugged nonchalantly. “I do a lot of volunteer work and I bring home kids all the time so I had a lot of stuff.”

“In threesomes?”

Cindy grinned. “Well, not exactly. But it wasn’t that difficult to do a little rearranging.”

He stared at the freshly painted pink walls, a captivating also newly painted mural, ruffled lace curtains and a newly upholstered window seat that matched the mural. “A little rearranging?”

“Okay. Guilty as charged. But I enjoyed doing it. And, really, cross my heart, I had the other kid paraphernalia.”

Despite her protests, gratitude flooded him. Julia had lavished attention on her children, but they’d sorely missed a woman’s touch since then.

“Look, Daddy!” Alice shouted, bringing him a bright pink-and-silver unicorn. The soft stuffed toy was toddler safe with no plastic eyes or nose for little ones to swallow.

He knelt down beside her. “That’s nice, baby.”

Happy with her treasure, Alice scooted away. Just as suddenly, Flynn felt exhausted. The past year had been an endless succession of trials and emotions. And now, without warning, Cindy had opened her life and home to them. It was as overwhelming as it was gratifying.

To his surprise, when he rose, he saw unexpected understanding in Cindy’s expression. But she didn’t comment on it. Instead, she smiled before turning to the triplets. “Okay, girls, we have tofu tacos for dinner. Who wants to eat?”

But the triplets were practically headfirst into the toy box.

“Probably should have told them about the tacos first,” Cindy mused. “No matter.” She glanced at Flynn. “Unless you’re hungry?”

“I’d kill for some coffee.”

She grinned. “You won’t have to get that drastic. I could use some myself. Why don’t we put up the safety gate at the top of the stairs and find our caffeine fix?”

“Won’t get any argument from me,” Flynn replied. But he made sure the safety gate was secure before he joined her in the farm-style kitchen.

He glanced around appreciatively. She had incorporated new appliances that resembled ones of yesteryear next to original freestanding cabinetry. She’d kept the integrity of the original structure, yet updated it enough to make it workable. He wondered what all the fronds of hanging dried herbs were for. Mixed among the bluish and sage green were also dried bouquets of roses and heather. It reminded him of a potently fragrant garden that had been preserved from past summers. “This is some kitchen.”

“Thanks. It’s one of my favorite rooms. I’m reworking them one at a time.”

“You’ve got a pretty big house, Cindy. Planning on filling it up soon?”

For a moment she froze, her hands filled with a pitcher and carton of cream. Then she laughed, a nervous sound in the otherwise relaxed kitchen. “What makes you ask?”

“Just a comment on your home. I didn’t mean to pry. Just thought maybe you were dating someone special.”

Her fingers clenched the handle of the pitcher before she relaxed enough to pour the cream. “You have a vivid imagination.”

“I thought maybe that was why you moved here.”

Suddenly breathless, she made a production of looking for the sugar. “Excuse me?”

“I couldn’t see any other reason for a young woman to move to the boonies. I thought it must be love.”

“Love?” she asked, her voice sounding strangulated.

“I am prying. Sorry.”

She fussed with the coffee cups, then added a plate of cookies to the tray before finally bringing it to the table. “No need to apologize.”

“Still, it’s a great house.”

Cindy smiled. “Anything newer or smaller cost a fortune. Not many people want to fix up these old painted ladies. This one needed a lot of gutting and repair. Not to mention horrendous utility bills that are eating into my trust fund.”

“You wouldn’t trade it for a new one,” he mused accurately, surprised to realize how much she seemed to fit with the charming old house.

“Nope. It’s drafty, always in need of fixing—and I love it.”

He accepted the coffee she offered, studying the rose pattern of the fine bone china cup and saucer. “No generic mugs for you.”

Her gaze followed his. “It’s one of my weaknesses—collecting china. But I only have one complete set. I collect orphaned cups and saucers—I must have twenty of them, each a different pattern.”

Flynn glanced at the other collectibles that lined her glass-fronted cabinets. “You like old things—antiques, I mean.”

“They have history. I like to imagine the people who once owned them.” She stared upward at the tall ceiling of the kitchen, then the original arched wooden-paned windows that brought the sunshine inside. “I couldn’t imagine living in a house that’s squeaky new, that hasn’t had time to develop character.”

“Like the one you convinced me to build,” he commented wryly.

She flushed suddenly, not a gentle blush, but a violent wave of color, a shortcoming that seemed to be a side effect of being a redhead. “I’m sorry. I really didn’t mean—”

But he dismissed her protest. “I know what you meant. And you’re right. This house suits you. I’m just not sure yet what suits me.” He’d known once, but everything about his life was uncertain now. Especially this move, the one that had him sitting next to her.

Compassion filled Cindy’s eyes. “You’ll know again, Flynn. It may not seem like it now, but you’ll find your way.”

“You sound remarkably certain.”

“It’s my faith,” she explained gently. “It makes me sure there’s a path for me. I might stumble now and then, but at the end of the day it’s always there.”

He nodded out of politeness, his own abandoned faith scarcely a bitter recollection.

Still, in comfortable silence they sipped the strong coffee and nibbled on buttery shortbread cookies.

Flynn cocked his ear, listening for the sounds of his daughters.

“I have a baby monitor,” Cindy remembered suddenly. “I’ll hook it up after dinner. In fact, it has enough units for all the bedrooms upstairs and one here in the kitchen.”

Quizzical, Flynn studied her face. “Why do you have a baby monitor?”

“As I said, I bring home kids now and then from my volunteer work. With a big old house like this, the monitor saves a lot of steps. One of the first little ones I brought home with me kept escaping from his crib. That’s when I discovered baby monitors. Of course, with that little curtain climber, I could have used an alarm system.”

An unexpected smile crossed Flynn’s face. “That bad?”

“Unequivocally. And, of course, to make matters worse, he was an absolute charmer, so I could never stay mad more than a few seconds.”

“That would be rough,” Flynn remarked.

“Especially when it was time for him to go home. The house was deadly dull and I didn’t get nearly enough exercise.”

A thud from upstairs echoed through the floorboards. “I have a feeling you won’t be lacking in exercise now.” He stood. “I’ll go check on them.”

Cindy watched him leave, feeling her heartbeat settle to a near-normal rate. At this pace, she’d be a wreck in less than a day. Watching everything she said, trying not to read something into his words…. Briefly she closed her eyes, masking the questions. But not the big one. Had she made a terrible mistake in agreeing to let Flynn stay in her home? Would he somehow discern her hidden feelings? And could her heart stand this constant assault?

Again she heard a few thuds overheard, then the clatter of many small feet on the wooden stairs. Rounding up the troops, she realized.

In moments, the girls scampered into the kitchen and many of her apprehensions faded. How could she not give everything in her power to them? They were Julia’s legacy, the only tangible link she had left. Little Mandy clutched Cindy’s leg and the last of her reservations melted even more. Whatever it took, she would help these girls. No matter what it cost her own heart.

The following day, Flynn used a few rocks to anchor the blueprints on a portable camp table. Rudimentary but effective. The breeze was light, yet it ruffled the rolled paper just enough to keep it out of alignment.

Cindy glanced at the papers, then at the lot Flynn had purchased. “Are you happy with them? The architect drew up the plans awfully fast.”

His gaze remained on the lot, but he didn’t look especially pleased. Instead it was a contemplative expression. “Rand Miller’s a friend. And he put together the complex for my insurance company.”

“Does he design homes, too?”

“Usually bigger ones than I’m planning, but yes. He’s doing this one as a favor to me.”

“Has he seen the lot?” Cindy asked, her eyes on the triplets who seemed determined to pull up all the wild buttercups scattered across the field grass.

“We took a ride out here before he drew up the plans. Luckily, Linda showed me this lot first—so it didn’t take any time to decide.”

“The view’s good,” Cindy mused, appraising the gently knolled lot. “Are you planning to put the house at the top of the little hill?”

Flynn nodded. “That’ll make the best use of the plans. I want a lot of windows—so many, it looks as though the walls are made of glass. Which works out well since I’m going to have a solar energy system.”

Cindy pointed to the drawing of the roof. “This looks kind of unusual.”

“Good eye,” Flynn replied. “That’s a cooling pool. With all the brush out here in the fields, there’s a higher fire risk. The pool will keep the roof from catching a stray spark.”

“Hmm.”

Enjoying her polite but puzzled expression, Flynn laughed. “You don’t sound convinced. It’s not only for safety. We can swim in the pool, as well.”

“Ah…” Politeness gave way to pleasure, softening her face in an unexpectedly attractive way.

Not that she wasn’t already pretty…. Flynn felt his thoughts jerk in surprise. He’d always known what an attractive woman she was, but that had never mattered in the past. Not when Julia was alive. And because he and Cindy were all wrong for each other, it could never matter in the future.

“You’ll be glad of that in the summer,” Cindy was saying, her smile nearly as bright as her blazing hair.

“What’s that?” he replied, distracted by the wash of unpleasant memories.

She drew her brows together as she glanced at him in quizzical surprise. “That you can swim in the pool.”

“Oh…Yes.”

But Cindy didn’t seem to think his mental detour was significant. “The kids should love it.”

His expression mellowed. “I want to build swing sets and a playhouse, too, make the house a place they want to be.”

Cindy’s smile was at once tender yet nostalgic. “You’re a good father, Flynn.”

But he couldn’t easily accept the compliment. “I spent a lot of time away from them when they were babies. Julia was so competent. She and the girls were a perfect unit. It didn’t seem as though she really needed me to be there.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth, Flynn realized they were true. He’d never verbalized this vague feeling and it both surprised and embarrassed him that he’d made the confession to Cindy.

“Perhaps it just seemed that way,” she suggested gently. “The way our parents died changed Julia forever. You know she blamed it on their incurable zest for adventure.” Cindy paused, her expression reflective. “And I always felt that was why she became so efficient and capable. So much so that she no doubt thought taking charge of the girls was good for both of you. And she probably didn’t realize she was radiating such a self-sufficient image.”

“Maybe,” Flynn acknowledged, not completely buying the explanation. Cindy was right about their parents. Julia had confided early on that’s why she wanted stability and security, but it didn’t explain shutting him out. “I should have seen past that, made sure I was involved in raising my own children.”

Cindy moved a bit closer. “The important thing is that you’re here for the girls now. As difficult as this sounds, they probably don’t remember any of that earlier time.”

He nodded glumly, suspecting it wouldn’t be long before they lost all memory of their mother.

“Oh, Flynn! You don’t think they’ll forget their mother, do you?” Cindy exclaimed, obviously only that very moment realizing they could forget Julia.

But he couldn’t find any glib reassurances to offer. “I’ve worried about it. Even now, they speak of her less and less often.”

Dismayed, Cindy stared at him, tears misting her vivid green eyes, as she brought one hand to her mouth.

Flynn moved closer, his fingers closing around her arm. “Between us they’ll remember.” It was as much a promise as a resolution. A promise born of one he’d made long ago.

“She loved them so much,” Cindy murmured. “They have to know that.”

“They’ll see it in you,” Flynn told her, the response surprising both of them.

Cindy’s chin lifted, her eyes meeting his. “They will?”

“They’ve held an attachment to you that’s remarkable, considering how young they are, how seldom you used to see them. I can’t help but think it’s your connection to their mother.”

Slowly, almost painfully, Cindy nodded. “There was a time when Julia and I were so close, we used to imagine we were twins.”

Flynn frowned, the words giving him weighty pause. “You never seemed much alike to me.”

A smile rose from the pain on her face. “Probably not to anyone else. We don’t look anything alike—I’m the only renegade redhead besides my grandmother. And I’m as boisterous as Julia was refined, but it was something deeper. A connection in our souls. And that only strengthened after our parents died.”

“But you didn’t visit all that often. And you moved away from Houston,” he pointed out, wondering yet again about his elusive sister-in-law, remembering how he’d shut out any thoughts of her once Julia was his.

Cindy turned, her gaze fastening on the gently winding road that was nearly obscured by the great tracts of irrepressible wild grass. Her open expression didn’t slam shut; rather it sidled away so subtly, he wondered if he imagined the change.

“People grow up and away,” she finally answered. “Distance need not be more than a physical impediment. I don’t think it was for us.”

“She missed you,” Flynn admitted. “Especially since you were the last of your family.”

Pain vaulted past subtlety, ravishing her face. “I had no idea.”

“Don’t take the words to heart. But you should know how she felt, how she always valued your relationship.” He couldn’t admit that Cindy’s absence from their lives had been a relief to him. Flynn hadn’t needed or wanted reminders of what she represented, of what he had tried to escape every day since childhood.

Despite his reassurance, only a sparse bit of comfort mixed with the trepidation painting her face. “I should have visited more. I shouldn’t have let…”

“What?” he asked, when her words trailed away.

She brushed a tear from the corner of her eye, then shook her head. “Nothing.”

“Did you have an argument?” Flynn asked, wondering how he could have not known that.

“No.” For a moment her face brightened. “Julia wouldn’t have allowed it. Besides, she was my other half. Surely you’ve noticed that we were complete opposites?”

The fact that Cindy was her sister’s opposite in every way was still Cindy’s biggest downfall in his opinion, the reason he’d chosen Julia over her, yet he nodded.

“We seemed to complete what the other lacked. And I feel like my other half’s gone forever.” Suddenly she looked horrified. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I keep putting both feet in my mouth and tromping around like they’re clad in combat boots. I’m so sorry. You truly have lost your other half.”

“No need to apologize. We both lost her.” His gaze moved to include the girls, who were tossing wildflowers skyward, then giggling madly as the blossoms fell down upon them. “We all did.”

“Children are so resilient,” Cindy mused. “It’s one of the ways the Lord protects them.”

Flynn lifted his eyebrows but he didn’t respond, thinking it wasn’t worth arguing over. His own faith was long gone, and he still believed it wasn’t something Cindy would be spouting for long. “Hmm.”

But Cindy didn’t argue in defense. Instead, the expression in her eyes was so knowing and certain it defused any debate. At once, Flynn felt old defenses lock into place.

As his thoughts rumbled, he spotted the girls as they started running toward the road. Even though only a handful of cars had passed in the last hour, Flynn and Cindy both bolted after them. It didn’t take long to corral the children.

“All right, girls, you know better than to run toward the road,” Flynn began in a stern tone.

But the girls laughed as they jumped up and down, cutting off his reprimand.

Since where they stood was still plenty of distance from the street, Flynn tried not to overreact.

“Cows!” Alice hollered, pointing across the road.

Glancing up, Flynn saw a mild-mannered herd of dairy cattle munching on the grass. “So that was the attraction,” he muttered.

“You have to be wary of small-town dangers,” Cindy agreed in a serious tone. But the twinkle in her eyes gave her away.

“They do look pretty ferocious,” Flynn replied, seeing the cattle’s only movement was the swishing of hairy tails and the methodical chewing of cud.

A tiny giggle escaped even though Cindy was clearly trying to keep it under control. “We have some wild ice-cream socials here in town, too. Gotta be on your guard all the time.”

Flynn glanced down the empty road. “I can see that. There might even be a horse or two in the next pasture over.”

“Horsie!” Beth and Mandy repeated in delight.

“Cow!” Alice insisted.

“Just wait until a new movie comes to town.” Cindy couldn’t repress her grin. “The excitement’s enough to do you in.”

“I think for now the horses and cows will keep us entertained.”

Cindy’s expression was knowing and skeptical. “We’ll talk in six months when the biggest action in town is the fall carnival.”

“I haven’t been to a carnival since I was a kid.” The thought was unexpectedly warming. But Flynn knew what Cindy was driving at. Clearly she thought he would grow tired of small-town life, that Rosewood would lose its appeal. But everything else that had once held appeal for him was now gone. Yet instinctively he felt that the tiny town was right for him. Was it possible he’d been given another chance? Another place to call home?

Chapter Three

“I’m on to you guys,” Cindy told the girls with mock seriousness as she wiped one face, only to see another triplet smear granola cereal across her cheek.

They only giggled more.

Each of the girls was secured in a booster seat, bowls and spoons in the same vicinity, as they sat around the breakfast table with Cindy.

“Here you are,” Flynn greeted them. Awakening only moments earlier, he’d been startled to find all three girls gone from their beds. Passing Cindy’s room, which was next to the girls’, he could see it was empty, as well.

Cindy and his daughters glanced up at him in unison. The girls garbled out greetings mixed with cereal and juice, slurry versions of “Daddy.”

“Morning,” Cindy greeted him.

Flynn was unable to shake the frown from his face. “You didn’t have to do this.”

She shrugged easily. “No big deal. I was up, they got up. So we’re eating.”

“But they’re a lot of trouble to feed and—”

“Not really. Besides, it’s more fun than eating by myself with only the newspaper for company.”

“Oh.” Deflated, he wasn’t certain what to say. For the past year, despite a housekeeper, nannies and sitters, much of his daughters’ care had fallen on him. It was disconcerting to see how easily Cindy took over the chore. “They weren’t up this early the last few days.”

“Takes a while to get settled into a new place. And it’s possible I woke them when I got up.”

“I didn’t hear anything.”

“You’re two rooms over. Besides, like I said, it’s no big deal. Actually, it’s kind of fun.” Mandy decorated her golden, honey-blond hair that moment with a glob of cereal. Cindy laughed aloud as she reached for a damp towel. “For the most part, anyway.”

“I’m up. I can take over.”

“Why don’t you grab some coffee?” Cindy smoothed the towel gently over Mandy’s hair, removing most of the cereal. “No sense jumping in till you’re awake.” She stood just then, moving over to the refrigerator, drawing out a container of organic apple juice.

His mouth opened as he intended to tell her to back off, that these were his children, that he would feed them breakfast. She spun around, however, at that moment her face pulling into a tentative look of speculation. “You know, I may have to take you up on that offer. I got so caught up in the girls I forgot today is Tuesday, my Rainbow class day.”

Pottery, he guessed, or some similar sort of thing. She’d always been involved in one crazy project after another. Julia had reported on her sister’s escapades often enough. But that had only reinforced his opinion. Cindy was fun, reckless and totally without responsibility. He’d finally stopped listening to Julia’s tales, having learned enough about Cindy. He had grown up in a home where fun had been valued over stability and it had ruined all their lives. It was the reason he’d always remained detached from Cindy. Now she was offering him back the responsibility for the girls so she could run off to some mindless class. “Fine.”

She smiled. “I have a few minutes, though, if you’d like that coffee.”

His voice sounded stiff even to his own ears. “It’s not necessary. I have managed to feed them and drink my coffee for the past year.”

Her brows drew together. “Of course, but—”

The phone rang, cutting off her reply.

Flynn could only hear one end of the conversation, but he didn’t need to listen long to learn that it sounded as though she planned to meet half a dozen friends for the day’s outing.

“Fine, I’ll pick up Lisa and Heather on the way, too,” Cindy continued on the phone. She glanced at her watch. “But I’d better run.” She turned back to Flynn after clicking off the phone. “You sure you’re okay on your own? I could make some arrangements if—”

“No. I told you I didn’t want our staying here to interfere with your life.”

“It’s not. It’s just that today—”

“Go,” he replied shortly, sliding into the chair nestled between the girls.

Looking as though she wanted to continue what she was saying, instead Cindy nodded. “I’ll see you later, then.”

That was more like it, he thought to himself after she left the kitchen. He hadn’t asked for or wanted Cindy’s help. Turning back to the girls, he saw that they weren’t happy with her disappearance, though.

“Cinny,” they wailed in unison.

“Daddy’s here.” He comforted them.

“Cinny!” they continued demanding.

“Cereal?” he questioned, pushing a measure of enthusiasm into his voice, staring down at the unfamiliar granola, thinking it didn’t look very appetizing.

But when he glanced up, three minor storms had descended over their faces.

“It wasn’t my idea for her to leave,” he attempted.

Beth, always the loudest of the triplets, banged her spoon on the edge of the table. “Cinny!”

“Okay, time to settle down and eat your breakfast.”

Although they weren’t happy with the request, they eventually complied. Three sticky faces later, he was near the end of his patience. It was going to take forever to get the girls cleaned up, not to mention the damage they’d done to Cindy’s formerly spotless kitchen floor. It wasn’t how he’d anticipated the day, but there was no getting around the fact. He was going to be scraping up granola for at least part of the morning.

Cindy was tired. Her usually endless supply of energy was running low. It had started draining that morning when Flynn pulled his stiff, get-out-of-my-face act. She’d tried to repump, knowing the Rainbow children needed all she had to give. But his mood had intruded on hers the entire day—even though today had also been filled with rewards.

None of them was the large variety that impressed most people. Rather the small ones, like when Heather offered to share a toy. Not remarkable for most children. But then Heather wasn’t the average child. She’d lost her parents and younger brother in a car accident. Now, living with an aunt and uncle who didn’t really want her, she’d become hostile, desocialized. A few months earlier Cindy had convinced the child’s guardians to allow Heather to attend the Rainbow class.

The class had begun three years earlier with one lonesome little girl, Lana, the child of a single father who was desperate to round out his daughter’s life with the happiness she’d lost along with her mother. Cindy, full of love she’d yet to give anyone, lavished it on Lana, finally coaxing smiles, then laughter from her sad little face. Then another emotionally scarred child had come along. And another.

Katherine had encouraged Cindy when she’d suggested forming a group. And the Rainbow class was born. Children continued to join, all with a variety of needs, no two the same. Yet they came together in the Rainbow class, a healing, nurturing place.

Normally days spent with her “Rainbow” kids were ones of great satisfaction. But the nagging feelings she’d carried with her from the house had stolen some of that pleasure.

As she pulled into her driveway, Cindy couldn’t halt a jolt of apprehension. It wasn’t a simple emotion, but one tied in to her feelings for Flynn, his obvious dissatisfaction and the grand mess she’d made by inviting him to stay in her house.

For the first time since purchasing the winsome Victorian, she was reluctant to enter. Her throat caught—this, her place of refuge, was no longer a sanctuary. Forcing the dregs of her energy to respond, she pushed open the front door.

And entered chaos.

The triplets, who appeared to have dragged every toy in the house to the front hall and parlor, were running through both rooms as though flung like buckshot.

Paralyzed for a moment, she watched in stupefied fascination as Flynn entered the hall and tried to harness the girls.

He glanced up just then, all his earlier stiff resentment gone, replaced by a sheepish embarrassment. “It’s really not as bad as it looks.”

She placed her purse on the hall table. “That’s a relief.”

“Nothing’s broken—I put all the fragile stuff up high.” Cindy glanced at her assortment of antique scarves and shawls that normally hung from a brass rack near the door. Apparently the triplets had tugged them free. Now they were strung haphazardly over and across the rich marquetry floors. Sunlight from the second-story rotunda usually shone on the intricate pattern of oak, bird’s-eye maple and rare East Texas long leaf pine. Now, however, it was hardly visible under the mess.

“Things got a little out of control,” Flynn admitted.

“So I see.”

Flynn followed her gaze, releasing a low groan. “I didn’t realize they’d gotten into your scarves, as well. To be honest, I thought once I’d put the breakables out of reach, they’d be safe while I mopped the kitchen floor.”

Amazed, she stared at him. “Why did you feel you had to mop the floor? I just did it—”

“Breakfast,” he explained, the one word conveying paragraphs.

“Oh.”

He met her gaze. “I know I said I didn’t need any help, rather emphatically if I remember correctly. Truth is, back home we had a housekeeper. While she wasn’t their nanny, she kept all the messes and spills cleaned up. I never realized how difficult it would be to watch the girls and clean up their fallout.”

She felt a chuckle unexpectedly germinating and tried to suppress it. “Sometimes things aren’t as easy as they appear.”

He glanced around the nearly destroyed area. “I’d say that was an understatement. Unless you have a strong objection, I’d like to find a housekeeper as soon as possible.”

Cindy allowed a fraction of her smile to escape. “I don’t think that’s really necessary.”

“You want to live like this?”

“That’s not necessary, either.” She kept her tone mild, guessing the end of his rope was nearly frayed. “I often have four or five children here at one time. But it does take a little organization, some planning.”

He stared at her in disbelief.

“I do have a grasp on those concepts,” she told him wryly.

“Still—”

She held up one hand. “I’m really not accustomed to depending on others, especially in my own home. To be honest, it would seem like an intrusion. How about if we try it my way for, say, a week? If it doesn’t work, we’ll look into finding a housekeeper.”

“A week?”

She chuckled. “You sound about the girls’ age. It’s a week, not a year.”

“Maybe so. But the week I’m anticipating will seem like a year.”

Cindy bent down, retrieving a hand-beaded silk shawl that was the prize of her collection. “Look at it this way. Your stuff’s in storage so I’ve got the most to lose.”

“Point taken. I just hope you don’t regret your offer.”

Regret. It was her constant companion, a reminder she couldn’t shake with hurricane force winds. But having become an expert at disguising her feelings, she only smiled, edging toward the kitchen. “I’d better check things out, start on dinner.”

“The floor’s clean,” he responded.

She glanced at the wreckage in the parlor and hall and nodded. “Well, that’s one positive.”

“Don’t worry, Cindy. I’ll put things back to rights.”

She disappeared into the kitchen. It wasn’t possible, she knew. Even if the house was fashioned into Architectural Digest perfection, things could never be made right. Not while he held her heart in his hands, and didn’t even realize he controlled its very rhythm.

Dinner was spectacularly uneventful. Only a few spoonfuls of mashed peas landed on the floor, soon wiped clean. Flynn wasn’t certain just how Cindy had accomplished it, but control prevailed throughout the meal. But it wasn’t a disciplinary nightmare. To the contrary, the girls were happy, easy to handle.

Perhaps it was a woman thing, he mused. Julia had always had just the right touch with the girls, as well. But that wasn’t something he expected Cindy to share with her sister.

Bathtime was also competently and quickly accomplished. Soon, the girls were snuggled in their sleepers, tucked into their matching beds.

More than a bit amazed, Flynn studied Cindy as they reached the bottom of the stairwell. He wondered if she was part magician, making the care of the triplets seem effortless.

Having reassembled much of the parlor, he began gathering some of the scarves still strewn across the floor.

Cindy stooped down, as well, carefully picking up each ancient slip of fabric.

“These are really…different,” Flynn finally decided aloud.

“That doesn’t exactly sound like a compliment.”

He held up one sheer red scarf, threaded with gold, edged with long strands of dark fringe. “They suit you.”

Her smile was wry. “Again, I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”

Flynn paused, the scarf awkwardly filling his hands. “Look, I know we don’t see many things the same way.” He held up the exotic red silk. “But I don’t have any frame of reference for stuff like this.”

“Granted,” she replied, a touch of a sigh flavoring the solitary word. “Julia was always practical, unlike me. Cotton versus silk, that was us.”

He studied the weariness she couldn’t quite disguise. “We haven’t gotten off to the best start, have we?”

She shrugged. “It’s a big adjustment. You’re used to running things your way.”

“And you’re used to being on your own.”

Cindy lifted her face, new shadows deepening her obvious fatigue. “Yes. That I am.”

Flynn sighed. “I knew this was a bad idea. We’re messing up your life, your home.”

“I’m not a neat freak,” she replied after the barest pause. Then her eyes shifted away. “We knew going in this wasn’t an ideal situation, but if it helps the girls, I can manage. How about you?”

He fingered the soft, exotic scarf. “I’ll do whatever it takes to make the girls happy.”

“Then there’s no more to say,” she responded.

Flynn wanted to search her eyes, to see how Cindy really felt, but she stood, turning to the brass rack. He owed her an apology, but it was difficult to spit out. He’d spent the better part of his adult life making certain he had nothing else to be sorry for. And he doubted even his unsettling sister-in-law could change that.

Cindy chose to be especially quiet the following morning as she worked in the downstairs conservatory. Not wanting a repeat of Flynn’s displeasure, she’d tiptoed around her bedroom as she’d dressed, then slipped silently down the stairs, knowing how to avoid the creaks in the ancient steps.

Her night had been restless, filled with dreams caused by thoughts she couldn’t chase away. So she’d risen early to escape them, needing to lose herself in activity.

Picking up a box filled with old photos, she started to put it aside. Then she glanced at the picture on top. Settling the box on top of the table, she withdrew the photo. It had been taken years ago. Her parents, Julia and herself. They were on vacation at Disneyland. Julia and their mother both looked pretty, smiling gracefully. But Cindy and her father were wearing goofy hats and glasses, wide, silly grins covering their faces. She eased a thumb over the slick surface, remembering the good times, the pain of loss that had faded, but never disappeared.

Flynn coughed from the doorway.

Startled, Cindy dropped the photograph.

He entered, reaching down to pick it up before she could. “Nice picture.”

She nodded, not willing to delve into her unreconciled loss. “Kind of early in the morning for reminiscing, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t actually. Just saw that picture and it brought back a lot of memories.”

He looked at it again. “You and Julia were on different wavelengths.”

Cindy swallowed the pain of that comment. “She was always more like Mother, refined, graceful, elegant.”

“And you were like your father?”

“I guess so. He was the adventurer—the one who wildcatted after the days of oil wildcatting were past. He liked to pursue the impossible.”

Flynn’s gaze shifted between Cindy and the picture. “I’m not like my mother, either.”

Never having heard much about his family, she wondered about them. “What was she like?”

His face closed. Tossing down the picture, he shrugged. “Just a mother.” Then he glanced at the newly cleared desk. “What are you doing in here?”

“Making a temporary office for you.”

His eyes swept over the newly arranged room. “You didn’t have to do this—”

“You’re beginning to sound like a broken record,” she interrupted. “You need a place to work in until you get the office space you want.”

“I’m hoping to get that set up soon.”

“Fine. I’ll need the room back after a while anyway. It’s one I use sometimes for one of my volunteer functions. And in the future it may be the permanent spot for the class.”

He frowned. “Then why go to so much trouble?”

This time she didn’t shift her gaze, instead meeting his. “It’s who I am.”

He studied her, clearly baffled.

But then that was the point. She’d always baffled and alienated him. And moving to Rosewood wasn’t going to change his impression. Only reinforce it.

Chapter Four

Two days later, Flynn pushed aside the sage-green sheers that covered the tall conservatory windows. Tapestry drapes that puddled beyond the woodwork onto the floor were tied back with thick, silky tassels. It seemed Cindy left no detail unattended. Two pairs of aged leather wing chairs were grouped beside a small fireplace. And a Georgian library table served as a desk, covered by neat stacks of his work papers.

Like the rest of the house, this room was cozy. He was no decorator, but the furnishings she chose reminded him of older homes he’d visited in England and France. Even the landscapes and botanical prints looked as though they could be European in origin.

It was restful, snug and casual, yet he itched with discomfort. He glanced down at the candy bowl filled with sunflower and pumpkin seeds. The house and the temporary office suited him no better than the birdseed she called food.

From the window he could see the swish of a weeping willow in the gentle breeze. And across the street, an elderly gentleman handled his roses with the care usually reserved for rare orchids.

A knock, so quiet it barely penetrated the thick mahogany door, reached him. He turned. “Come in.”

Cindy, looking somewhat like a wary redheaded comet, poked her head in. “Do you need anything?”

Flynn shook his head. “I don’t know what it would be.”

“Enough paper? A snack? Maybe some coffee?”

Although he appreciated her concern, he’d never been comfortable accepting help. “Cindy, I’m not accustomed to having someone make all my decisions for me.”

She blanched for a moment. “I didn’t realize an offer of coffee constituted interfering.”

Flynn drew one hand back across his hair. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Her green eyes still looked stormy. “Then what?”

He gestured around the room, overwhelmed and embarrassed by her generosity. “This. Everything. I didn’t ask for an office, but you produced one anyway. Even after I told you I didn’t want it.”

Cindy’s fingers curled around the edge of the door. “You don’t have to use it,” she replied evenly. “After all, you’ve rented another office. If you don’t mind moving in there while they’re renovating, I certainly don’t.”

The pull and tug vibrated between them.

Suddenly half a dozen small footsteps thudded across the floor. “Cinny! Daddy!”

As the triplets approached, Cindy turned, ending the immediate need for resolution. She knelt as the girls reached her. “Why don’t we go swing in the backyard? Let Daddy work.”

“You’ve been taking care of the girls all day. Why don’t I take them outside?”

“I want Cinny!” Beth retorted.

Cindy glanced between Flynn and his daughters. “If your daddy helps you swing, I could set the table in the backyard and we could have supper there.”

“Supper?” Mandy asked.

“Veggie burgers,” Cindy replied. “They’re yummy.”

Flynn didn’t agree, but also didn’t want to snap her olive branch in half.

“Yummy,” Alice repeated.

He glanced at his daughters, more content in the last week than the last year. For that he could eat veggie burgers and granola. He could also somehow find a compromise with Cindy.

“And I’m about done with work for today,” he added, finding a second note of accord.

“Wanna make yummies,” Alice was requesting.

Cindy ran gentle fingers through her blond curls. “I can always use a good helper.”

“Good helper me,” Alice agreed.

“So you are.”

“Wanna swing with Daddy,” Beth stated more assertively.

“Me, too,” Mandy spoke up.

Flynn walked toward them, stretching his hands out toward the girls.

Beth and Mandy readily placed their small hands within his. Seeing the unsettled look that remained on Cindy’s face, Flynn relented. “Veggie burgers, huh? I don’t suppose we could have French fries with those?”

Unexpectedly her lips twitched. “To cancel out the healthy effect of the meal’s veggie portion?”

“Something like that,” he agreed. “I’m more a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy.”

Her smile widened. “Is that why you pick all the sprouts out of the salad?”

He winced. “I thought I was a touch more subtle.”

“Not especially.”

Surprise melted away the last of his reserve. “No kind demur?”

“No. That would have been someone else. Not me.”

Julia, he knew. Cindy wouldn’t say it in front of the girls, but it was true. Julia had always smoothed over any potential bump that could have put a ripple in any conversation. It had been the tone of their entire relationship.

Flynn walked outside with his daughters, losing himself for the moment beneath the cover of towering oaks and ivy-covered lattice work. The yard smelled of honeysuckle vines that poked fragrant blooms through the cracks of the weathered fence.

The swing set that sat on the longish grass was old, not new and shiny. But it was so sturdy, it could hold eight children; now it only needed to support his two small daughters.

Glancing back toward the house, Flynn wondered what it was about his sister-in-law that commanded such affection from his children. Alice had always clung the closest to him, never wanting to be separated. Beth might toddle off on her own, Mandy sometimes only a few feet behind. But not Alice. She was Daddy’s girl.

Only, now she seemed to be Cindy’s girl.

Inside, Cindy allowed Alice to pat and roll the burgers into shape. They were beginning to resemble small boulders.

“A Flintstones supper, Alice? Good job.” After washing the child’s hands, Cindy led her to the ancient French doors that opened to the backyard. “Why don’t you go swing for a while with Beth and Mandy?”

Happy to be with both Cindy and her father, Alice scampered contentedly away. Watching her, Cindy couldn’t help but wonder if all memories of Julia were fading from their young minds. For a moment she felt a stab of longing for her deceased sister, one more poignant than she’d felt since her untimely death. Even now, Cindy railed against the unfairness.

Colon cancer had struck silently, without warning. And Julia, in typical fashion, had persisted in acting as though nothing could go wrong with her perfect life, her perfect family. Ignoring the final, irreversible symptoms, she had died within six weeks of the diagnosis.

Julia’s little family was adrift. In Cindy’s backyard. Peering out the large windows, she saw how gentle Flynn was with his daughters. It was a side he showed only with them. Cindy couldn’t even remember seeing him treat Julia with the same tenderness. His manner toward Julia had always been filled with deep respect and devotion, but not tenderness. It was as though he’d placed Julia on a pedestal—one her sister had relished. Suddenly she wondered why.

The girls’ giggles floated through the open French doors. The low murmur of Flynn’s voice accompanied the happy sound. Even though she couldn’t understand the walls he constructed or the reasons for them, Cindy could see the joy he brought out in the girls. Although reluctant to cease her uncensored view, she gathered the charcoal lighter and matches.

Once outside, Flynn spotted her as she approached the grill. “I’ll start the fire,” he offered.

“Great. My least favorite part of eating outside.” She handed him the supplies, checking quickly to see that the girls were still safe.

Within a few minutes Flynn had a good fire going. Cindy rounded up condiments and place settings. However, when she brought out the plate containing the misshapen burgers, he raised his brows.

“Pretend we’re in Bedrock,” she told him breezily.

“I’m still getting fries, right?”

She nodded.

“Fine. We can be in Oz then for all I care.”

It was so out of character for Flynn that she paused. Musing, she returned to the kitchen to prepare his French fries.

By the time she brought them to the table, Flynn had finished grilling the burgers. The girls ran from the swings, their short legs pumping with the effort.

Once they were seated, and their burgers assembled, Flynn and Cindy concentrated on their own plates.

He stared at his burger with a noticeable lack of enthusiasm. “Do you have something against regular food?”

“Regular food?” she repeated. “As in cholesterol-clogging, energy-draining junk food?”

He took a hefty portion of French fries. “Absolutely.” Tasting one, his expression changed. “Are these made some…uh…special way?”

“They’re made from potatoes and they’re fried,” she replied enigmatically.

“In what?”

“Olive and canola oil,” she admitted.

He sighed. “Does everything you cook have to be so…healthy?”

She took a moment’s pity on him. “We do have a fast-food joint in town. You can always get a fix there.”

He picked up another fry, his words hesitant. “You’ve been doing all the cooking and I don’t sound very grateful.”

Cindy felt the saddening, one that came from a place she could never quite conquer. “It’s not what you’re used to.” Smiling to hide the pain, she glanced down at the simple dinner. “None of it. Me, this house, the food you think suits birds and squirrels better than people. You probably feel as though you’ve landed on another planet.”

He glanced at the girls, but they were more interested in spearing pickles than the adult conversation. “It is different,” he finally admitted. “But I needed a change. And the girls wanted Aunt Cinny.”

Caution slid past logic. “They’d have forgotten me in time.”

He glanced up, catching her eyes.

“Yes,” she replied to the unspoken question there. “Like they’re forgetting much of the past year.”

In the quiet, the chirp of early-evening crickets mingled with the girls’ random giggles and murmurs.

“Are you already tired of us?” he questioned in a low tone that didn’t carry down the table.

She could say so much, so very much. Her gaze flew to the girls, cheerfully smearing Cindy’s homemade mayonnaise on the table. Correction, she couldn’t say anything at all. “No. It’s great having the girls here.” She paused. “And you, of course. The house is full of noise and smiles and laughter. I wouldn’t trade that for anything.” She wouldn’t, Cindy realized, despite the heartache. It wasn’t simply an empty assurance for Flynn.

“Veggie burgers are probably good for us,” he offered finally.

Cindy’s laugh spilled between them. “Then you’ll love the carob-chip cookies.”

“I don’t suppose you have any genuine chocolate in the house.”

She tried to resist the pull of his eyes. “Well, I’m not a fanatic!”

“So you can be tempted?”

Oh, so tempted. She scrambled for a reasonable reply. “I eat the way I do because I like it, not to prove a point.”

“Do you ever eat out?”

“Of course. I’m willing to try most anything.”

His expression was reflective.

When he didn’t reply, she prodded him. “What?”

He shook his head. “Nothing really. Just that Julia never wanted to try anything new.”

Of course not. Steady, dependable Julia never made Flynn grimace in displeased surprise. “That must have been a comfort.”

“Yes,” he agreed.

His reply took away her words, her desire to keep the conversation flowing. She was so everything Julia wasn’t. So everything Flynn despised.

The following day Flynn examined the progress on the office space he had rented. The renovations weren’t coming along as quickly as he’d hoped. Although they were only weeks from completion, he wished it were mere days. He needed to get his office out of Cindy’s house.

Never having had to wrestle with a woman over the issue of control, he found himself uncertain how to deal with Cindy.

Julia had never questioned his opinions, in fact preferring to let him assume all the responsibility and worry of their decisions. It had become their custom for him to decide and for her to comply. It irritated him that Cindy had him wondering if that had always been for the best.

A knock sounded on the outer door. “Hello, anyone here?” a man called out.

“In here,” Flynn responded, rounding the corner.

A tall, dark-haired man approached, extending his hand. “I’m Michael Carlson.”

“Flynn Mallory,” he responded automatically.

“Katherine’s Carlson’s husband,” the man continued.

Flynn searched his memory.

But Michael began to grin. “I see that my wife and her friend didn’t tell you about this visit.”

Flynn shook his head.

“Katherine and Cindy are friends.”

“Oh, the pastor,” Flynn remembered.

Michael’s grin spread. “Yeah, that’s what I thought at first, too.”

“Sorry, I—”

“It’s okay. Most people aren’t used to women ministers. Actually, Cindy asked me if I could stop by, take a look at your renovations. She said your contractor’s behind on the job.”

“Oh.” Flynn issued the solitary word.

“I see she didn’t tell you. Listen, if you’d rather call someone else, fine by me.”

“I need to get this place operational as soon as possible. But you’ve probably got a lot of important jobs to be overseeing rather than looking at this dinky office.”

Michael shook his head. “I work on all kinds of jobs. I do a lot of remodeling as well as building stores, offices, the new headquarters for Adair Petroleum. And like I said, Cindy asked.”

“And that’s all it took?”

“Yeah, pretty much.”

Flynn couldn’t hide his surprise. “Guess things work differently in a small town than a place like Houston.”

“I imagine so. All I’ve known are small towns. I didn’t grow up in Rosewood, but a place pretty close in size.” Michael looked around at the partially demolished space. “So, what’s this going to be?”

Flynn smiled. “Software Development.”

Michael nodded. “And you can run that kind of business from anywhere. Rosewood’s as perfect as Silicon Valley.”

Flynn studied the other man with new respect. “My thoughts exactly.”

“You’ve picked a good town, lots of good people here.”

“That’s what Cindy’s been telling me.”

Michael studied him. “But you’re not sure yet. That’s okay. I don’t judge an orange by its peel, either. Get to know us first.”

Flynn wasn’t accustomed to this much directness, but it struck a chord. “Good advice.”

Michael’s gaze roamed around the building. “Now, let’s see if you like the rest of it.”

Hours later, Flynn headed back to Cindy’s house. Michael Carlson had carefully examined the office structure. Then he’d offered to have a word with the contractor Flynn had hired. But Flynn wasn’t comfortable accepting help from strangers. Or friends for that matter.

Even though he hadn’t appreciated Cindy’s interference, Flynn liked Michael. Instinctively Flynn believed he was honest, capable.

Still, that brought him round to why Cindy had asked Michael to stop by. Why she felt a need for control, one he hated to admit equalled his own.

Entering the house, he didn’t hear anyone; in fact it seemed deadly still. The panic that had struck him once as a child and never fully disappeared now crawled into his throat.

His walk a near run, he traveled through the front rooms, finally jogging into the kitchen. He was ready to turn back and tear up the stairs, when he heard the hum of voices from the backyard. The French doors were closed. Only one kitchen window was slightly ajar, dimming the sounds.

Pulling open the doors, he searched for and saw his daughters. Relieved, he watched for a moment as they played with three children he hadn’t seen before.

And in the background Cindy’s distinctive, upbeat voice blended with that of another woman’s. Flynn took a few steps forward.

It was bright in the yard, the warming spring sunshine pushing past overhanging branches, muted only by the slats of the faded white lattice arbors. And Cindy sat in the sunshine and shadow.

There was something different about her, he realized, walking farther into the yard. Fully animated, unreserved, she was as brilliant as the deep fuchsia azaleas blooming around her.

Glancing up, she spotted him, and some of her vivacity faded. Still, she smiled in welcome.

“Hello, ladies,” he greeted them.

Her friend tossed back long dark hair and extended her hand. “I’m Katherine Carlson. I’ve heard so much about you and your daughters. It’s a real pleasure to meet you.”

He hesitated for a moment, amazed that this attractive woman was the “female preacher.”

She noticed and her grin widened. “Yep. It’s true. I’m the woman minister.”

He collected his manners, shaking her proffered hand. “No wonder your husband looks like such a happy man.”

Confident, unflappable Katherine blushed.

Cindy, to his surprise, winked at him with an equally wide grin. “Then I guess that means Michael found you this morning.”

Katherine recovered a trace of her composure. “I hope he was able to help. Michael subcontracts out a lot of the smaller jobs. If your contractor’s one of those, he would probably listen to Michael.”

Flynn met Cindy’s eyes. “I do want to get things going quickly. I’m not comfortable working from Cindy’s house.”

Katherine shrugged. “Beats me why anyone would rather work in an office building than this charming place, but I’m sure Michael could help if you ask him.”

“That’s great,” Cindy concurred, not relinquishing Flynn’s gaze. “I’ll be needing the conservatory for one of my groups soon anyway.”

Katherine glanced between them, but didn’t comment on the visible tension. “Looks like the kids are getting along well.”

Belatedly Flynn and Cindy pulled their gazes from each other.

“So it does,” Flynn agreed, wishing Cindy wouldn’t look at him that way. There was no reason to feel guilty about telling the truth. Then he really looked at the kids. “How old are your children?”

Katherine’s face softened. “David’s the oldest. He’s eight. Annie’s six. And baby Danny’s fourteen months.”

Flynn watched them for a few more minutes. “The older ones are good with your youngest and my girls, as well.”

“They’ve always treated Danny as though they found him under the tree on Christmas morning,” Katherine replied with a winsome laugh. “But then, since he was a gift from God, that’s not so bad.”

Flynn swallowed the comment that sprang to mind. He didn’t have to agree with people to remain polite. “Still, you should be proud of them. Older children aren’t always so gentle with toddlers.”

Surprisingly Katherine’s eyes brightened with an unexpected sheen of tears. “I’m so proud of them I could burst. Annie, David, Danny and their father are the best things that ever happened to me.”

Cindy’s gaze suddenly held red-hot warning. So he chose his words carefully. “My girls mean the world to me, too.”

Katherine recovered her composure. “I know. Cindy’s told me about your late wife, and all the sacrifices you made to move to Rosewood.”

Startled, Flynn stared at Cindy.

However, her expression didn’t lighten. In fact, if he could identify the emotion lurking there, it would be suspicion. And for the life of him, he didn’t know what caused that.

“Mommy!” Annie hollered, running up to them, all dark hair and huge blue eyes. Seeing Flynn, she turned suddenly shy.

“Hi,” he said first. “I’m Flynn. You must be Annie.”

She bobbed her head up and down. “Uh-huh. Can the girls swing with me?”

Katherine stood. “How about if I supervise?” she asked Flynn.

He agreed and in moments he was alone with Cindy. “Is something wrong?”

She studied him. How could she tell him she still had doubts about his uncharacteristic move to Rosewood? She felt a desperate need to safeguard the life she’d built, afraid that her heart would outweigh her caution. Knowing none of it could be said, instead she shook her head. “No. I just didn’t expect you home so soon. I thought you wanted to work in your new office space.”

“About that…Why did you ask Michael Carlson to come by, without telling me?”

Exasperated, she all but snorted. “Are we back to that again? Are you a total control freak?”

“Not any more than you apparently.”

She counted inwardly to ten. “I know I’m not like Julia. I’m sure she deferred to your every comment and dictate. But I don’t operate that way. I do have opinions. And while I don’t always insist they’re right, I intend to express them.” Cindy paused. “Well, unless they hurt someone’s feelings, of course. But I’m not retiring and complacent. I have ideas. I make my own decisions.” She met his gaze, feeling her chest tighten. “And I’m not going to try to be someone I’m not.”

“I don’t recall asking you to,” he replied mildly. “But I would appreciate a heads-up when you send someone like Michael over.”

She frowned. “Didn’t you like him?”

“That’s not the point.”

“Everybody likes Michael,” she responded in instant defense, never forgetting how happy he had made her once-lonely best friend.

“Are you being deliberately obtuse?” Flynn asked. “I’m only asking that you not blindside me.”

“Then you did like Michael?” she asked hopefully. She knew Flynn needed to broaden his circle of acquaintances. And Michael was one of the nicest people she knew.

“He was all right,” Flynn replied.

Cindy took a deep breath, remembering that men didn’t verbalize their feelings, that Flynn had probably revealed all that was masculinely possible. “He and Katherine have been my anchors since I came to Rosewood. They’re good friends to have.”

“Hmmm.”

She sighed inwardly. “I mean they could be good friends for you, too, Flynn.”

“I’m not especially looking for a wild social whirl.”

For a moment the past hung between them, the gregarious, fun-loving social circle they’d once traveled in, the one that had brought the Thompson sisters together with Flynn. Cindy fiddled with a bluebonnet she’d plucked from the grass. “No, but everyone needs friends.”

“I don’t need to borrow yours.”

She wondered if it was Julia’s death alone that had created such intense barriers. “They’re not trinkets to be lent. One of the best things about a small town is getting to truly know people.”

“But it seems most of the ones you know are connected with the church.”

She frowned. “And that’s so bad?”

“It’s not for me.”

“Have you considered getting to know them before judging their value as friends?”

The negative motion of his head was reluctant. “Cindy, I appreciate all you’ve done for the girls…for me. But like the office, or sending Michael Carlson, it’s not necessary. You’re doing too much already. I’m used to calling my own shots.”

Unwanted compassion shadowed her thoughts and her voice. “But isn’t that a lonely way to live?”

He raised his brows. “Seems I could ask you the same thing. After all, you moved to a town where you knew only one person, and you live alone in a house big enough for a huge family. Doesn’t that seem a bit lonely to you?”

Pain, both past and present, assaulted her. He would never know just how lonely she’d been. How difficult her life had been since he’d pilfered her heart. And meeting his eyes, she wondered how she could continue hiding that from him.

Chapter Five

By Sunday morning, however, Cindy was ready to put that aside. She’d invited Flynn to attend services with her, but he had curtly refused. She had nearly expected the same response when she told him she wanted to take the girls. He’d hesitated, but finally agreed, telling her the social part of Sunday school probably wouldn’t hurt as long as she didn’t fill the girls’ heads with unrealistic ideas. In her opinion, nothing taught at her church was unrealistic, so she took him at his word.

And she chose to ignore the look on Flynn’s face when they left. One that said this, too, was simply a fad Cindy would outgrow.

The girls loved Cindy’s classic bright red convertible Mustang. Since she had left their curls loose and free, she didn’t care that the breeze mussed their soft hair.

“What’s at church?” Beth asked.

“That’s where we go to learn about God and Jesus.”

“Daddy says there’s no God,” Beth replied innocently.

Still the pain shot straight to Cindy’s heart. There was no easy answer, none she could offer that wouldn’t confuse Beth. “Not everyone believes the same way, sweetie. As you get older, you’ll learn about lots of new things.”

“Is God new?” Beth asked.

Cindy smiled despite the pain still squeezing her heart. “No. He’s older than the sky and the grass and the flowers and the trees.”

“Is He older than Daddy?”

Another trickle of amusement sprouted at the child’s guileless words. “Sure is.”

“Real old, huh?”

“Yes, sweetie. Real old.”

When they arrived at church, Cindy felt the welcoming fellowship like a balm to the wound that was Flynn.

Once the girls were happily ensconced in their class, Cindy was awfully glad she’d insisted on bringing them, despite Flynn’s reservations. Again she remembered the look on his face any time she mentioned church. The man knew so little about her, it was pitiable.

It came as no surprise to Cindy that the triplets charmed everyone with their identical heart-shaped faces. It was difficult to withstand twins, impossible to resist triplets. Luckily, they were too young to let all the fawning go their heads.

Katherine popped into the classroom, her eyes lighting up when she saw Cindy and the girls. Crossing to Cindy’s side, she lowered her voice. “So you were able to make off with them?”

Cindy nodded, her brows raised in a matching mock conspiratorial motion. “It wasn’t exactly the great heist, but I’m happy they’re here.”

“Any chance Daddy will be joining them?”

Cindy shook her head.

“Has he just fallen out of the habit?”

“I’m afraid it’s much more than a broken habit.”

“It isn’t an unbreachable problem,” Katherine reminded her, alluding to her husband’s once-lost faith.

“I’m glad it worked out for you and Michael, but I don’t know about Flynn….”

“I wasn’t certain at first about Michael, either.”

Cindy’s smile was bleak. “It’s not as though this is a break in our relationship. We don’t have a relationship to crater.”

“I’m afraid you’re focusing only on the big picture.”

“In what way?”

“I think you need to take it one day at a time. See what unfolds. Learn if Flynn realizes you’re no longer a frivolous twenty-one-year-old. You told me that you’ve scarcely seen Flynn since he married your sister. To be fair, he hasn’t had a chance to learn about the real you. Instead, you’re an inaccurate memory. Don’t you think it’s time he got to know the real Cindy? While you’re at it, subtly find out if he’s in a crisis of faith, which calls for prayer, rather than worry.”

Cindy looked at her friend whom she knew to be both caring and wise. “I haven’t really thought about it that way. Maybe he’s not as sure as he thinks he is.”

“Sometimes we’re so overwhelmed, we can’t see the pieces as they separate and change.”

“You know what, Katie-cakes?”

Katherine’s grin erupted. “What?”

“I think you’re in the right job.”

Eyes rolling, Katherine hugged her lightly. “And you, my friend, are on the right track.”

Maybe not yet, Cindy realized. But tomorrow was another chance, one she could use to apply Katherine’s advice. And she was nothing if not tenacious.

The drive to Houston the following day seemed longer than Flynn remembered. But perhaps that was because Cindy was at his side. He took another glance at her bright red dress, saucy hat and delicate high-heeled sandals. Hardly the outfit he’d expected her to choose for a board meeting. But then, when had Cindy ever done the expected? “You sure that Katherine will be all right taking care of the girls today?”

Cindy didn’t disguise her sigh. “She knows it’s for a good reason. Her calendar is clear, and to quote her, ‘How can I possibly repay you for baby-sitting my children dozens and dozens of times?’ It’s not as though we have a meeting every day, or even every week. It’s only once a month.”

Flynn thought about the shares he’d inherited from Julia—half the stock in their family oil business. Ironically, it made he and Cindy unlikely partners, even though he’d ignored his inheritance until now. There had been no time—and it had been too painful a reminder. But Cindy had been insistent about attending the meeting. “Do we have to do much today?”

She shook her head. “Nope. The management staff has been in place for years, they know exactly what they’re doing and we’re just there to listen and vote if necessary.”

He looked at her curiously. “I would think you’d care more about your family’s business.”

“Did you ever feel that way about Julia’s participation?”

Nonplussed, he hesitated. “Well, no. But she—I mean you—”

“What you mean is that Julia had a purpose in her life that you don’t see in mine, therefore she was excused. It happens that I chose to focus my life in a different direction.”

One of fun and frolic. Just as she had when he’d met her. All motion and energy, but no substance. A flibbertigibbet, his late grandmother would have called her. “It’s not up to me to judge your decisions.”

Her eyes clouded. “No. But that doesn’t stop you, does it?”

He held up one hand. “How about a truce for today? We can enjoy the big city—have lunch at a five-star restaurant without worrying that we’ll be wearing half of it courtesy of the triplets.”

She relented. “I suppose you’re right. I usually do a little shopping while I’m in the city, too.”

Flynn grimaced.

Cindy’s laughter filled the closed space of the car. “Typical male reaction. I thought we could at least pick up something for the girls.”

It was his turn to relent. “I suppose so.”

Reaching downtown Houston, Flynn concentrated on the traffic-filled streets. “Gets worse every day.”

“I don’t know. I find all the people invigorating.”

Despite the distraction of tall buildings and hordes of pedestrians, he turned to stare at her. “Yet you moved to Rosewood?”

“Mmm,” she murmured.

And she didn’t reveal much more as they parked, then attended the meeting. It was only afterward that she brightened again, suggesting they go to the Galleria for their shopping excursion.

FAO Schwarz was a child’s fantasy. And Cindy seemed much like a child herself as she oohed and ahhed over the treasures the store contained. She agonized over the selection of three unique stuffed toys.

“Don’t you want them to match?” Flynn asked.

She shook her head. “I’ve never taken to the notion that twins and triplets should be treated as a unit. It’s fun to dress them identically at times, but they have to know they’re individuals, with different tastes, dreams.” Cindy reached for a stuffed bunny, still unable to decide.

“Aren’t you going to get one for yourself?” he couldn’t resist asking, seeing how absorbed she was in the task.

An unexpected tinge of color warmed her cheeks. “I do have a weakness for them, but I’ll resist this once.”

Funny, he thought she would indulge her least whim. Maybe she was having an off day.

But the thought had barely faded when she started looking at more toys.

“Actually, I don’t want to spoil the girls,” he told her. “It’s great that you want to be generous, but I think we’ve gotten enough things for them.”

She picked up the stuffed bunny she’d discarded a few moments earlier. “These aren’t for the girls.”

Once a playgirl, always a playgirl. Flynn was amazed that a woman of Cindy’s age would want the bunny. But then her indulgences weren’t his concern. Still, he felt a flash of remembered disappointment. One that was reminiscent of their first meeting. He’d seen the promise in her eyes, and had felt the disappointment of learning she was as scattered as Julia was collected.

With their purchases tucked safely in the trunk, Cindy talked him into an exotic restaurant that boasted only the unusual. She had promised to forgo granola and vegetarian fare, but he wasn’t sure this was much better.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, excitement deepening the green of her eyes.

“Let me put it this way. I don’t recall ever finding myself torn between ostrich and buffalo as my only possible entrée choices.”

Her face, bright and mischievous, only sparkled more. “Great, isn’t it? I mean any place can offer steak or fish.”

Flynn had a sudden longing for just that banality. “So they could.” He turned the menu over, glancing at the back. “I don’t suppose they have pasta.”

She rolled her eyes. “We had pasta for dinner last night.”

“True. And what are the chances of finding spinach-and-wheat pasta twice in a row?”

Some of the pleasure in her expression dimmed. “Oh.”

He swallowed a sigh. “Most pasta doesn’t have that much flavor.”

But her former sparkle had disappeared. “That’s diplomatic.”

“It really was good,” he insisted. “I’m not used to a pine nut sauce, but the noodle part was good.”

Unexpectedly she laughed. “We really should have gone to a steak place, shouldn’t we? It’s not too late. We haven’t ordered yet.”

“No. This is fine. How many chances will I have to try exotic meats?”

“If you stay at my house long enough, you might be surprised.”

His actual surprise was the grin he found pushing his lips upward. “So, what do you recommend? Which delicacy won’t we be trying?”

She took pity on him. “Both the buffalo and ostrich taste like beef, just a touch milder. And they’re lower in fat, cholesterol and calories.”

“It must work,” he admitted.

Puzzled, she tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re still turning heads, and none of the calories are sticking.”

When she didn’t immediately reply, he glanced up from the menu. But instead of a warm blush or sly demur, she had paled. “Something wrong?”

Cindy shook her head a bit too quickly and forcefully. “No. Just hungry. I didn’t have any breakfast.”

Flynn wasn’t sure why, but he was certain that wasn’t the truth. Still, he didn’t argue the point; instead he listened as Cindy asked the waiter for a bowl of soup. He played along deliberately, sensing whatever was bothering her would only be exacerbated by anything else he could say.

It was unusual for Cindy. She normally steamed ahead with unrestricted fervor, energy and an undue need for control. But she never seemed weak.

And it affected him with unexpected emotion. Cindy had never struck him as needing protection.

As he watched, she pushed at the roll on her plate, but never picked it up. So it wasn’t hunger. He wondered what it could be, what had so thoroughly shaken her. But throughout the meal she didn’t meet his eyes.

And that made him want to know all the more.

A few days later Cindy tucked the new toys into place in the Rainbow classroom. She had chosen each one with a particular child in mind, and she could just picture their faces when they came to the next session.

“Hey, you,” Katherine greeted her, strolling into the room. “I thought I saw the light on in here.”

“Just getting things ready for tomorrow.”

Katherine glanced around the empty room. “And where are your three new appendages?”

Cindy smiled, but her heart wasn’t in the effort. “Flynn has them. I think he believes I’d like to take them over.”

Katherine’s smile was wise, knowing. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely. But not away from him. And Flynn has this all-or-nothing mentality.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve considered the possibility that he thinks you might need a break from their constant care?”

Cindy furrowed her brow as she sank into one of the kid-size chairs. “No.”

“It’s not a competition,” Katherine reminded her gently.

“I don’t look at it that way!”

“Not even a little bit?”

Deflated, Cindy stared at her friend, the only one who knew her secrets and still didn’t judge her. “I suppose I do feel I have a lot to prove.”

“Do you remember when I was agonizing about Michael? Trying to change myself into the woman I thought he wanted?”

Cindy nodded.

“And do you remember what you told me? That if he didn’t love me for myself, he wasn’t the right one for me?”

“All too well,” Cindy admitted. “I guess that’s the crux of it. I don’t really want to change for him, yet I suppose I hoped he’d see me in a new light, realize my value.”

“If he doesn’t, then he’s blind.”

Cindy’s smile struggled to form, but failed. “Don’t you see? He always has been as far as I’ve been concerned. After he took one look at Julia, I was as appealing as an Easter egg you find in the middle of the summer.”

Katherine couldn’t stifle a smile. “Oh, Cindy. How can he not see how special you are? How much joy and adventure you bring to everything?”

Cindy shrugged. “He doesn’t care for adventure—that’s why he chose Julia.”

Wincing for her friend, Katherine met Cindy’s gaze, her voice gentle. “You also told me that I couldn’t be a substitute.”

“Believe it or not, that’s been the foremost thing on my mind these days. Even if I never find another man to love the way I do Flynn, I won’t settle for being Julia’s substitute.”

“I suspected as much.” Katherine hesitated. “Do you suppose now that Flynn is here, some of the illusion of denied love will lose its appeal?”

Cindy couldn’t control the tears that spurted, or the trembling of her lips. “That’s just it. Now that he’s here, it’s just worse. I don’t know why. I can’t explain it. There is something about Flynn and only Flynn that’s in my heart and won’t go away. I’ve tried, Kath, I really have.” The tears gave way to gulping sobs. “I’ve tried not to love him, but it’s still there, every moment of every day.”

Katherine reached out, enveloping her in a hug, one that vibrated with great shaking wails of pain. And one that Cindy was helpless to stop.

That same evening Flynn tried to keep the lid on the rice cooker, while making sure the girls didn’t tug on any of the pot handles on the stove. But that was harder than he’d expected. Fearing they’d pull a pot off and burn themselves, he put them in the next room with a children’s video.

He’d chopped and diced for what seemed like hours. He’d found a fairly palatable-sounding recipe in one of Cindy’s cookbooks. It was a tofu stir-fry seasoned with oyster sauce. The instructions promised that the tofu would then taste like oysters. He had his doubts, but the dinner he was preparing wasn’t for him. It was for Cindy.

Belatedly it had occurred to him that perhaps she was worn-out. She still kept up her hectic social schedule with her Rainbow thing as well as other functions, and she’d also assumed the majority of the triplets’ care. Cooking dinner wouldn’t make a big dent in that pressure, but maybe it would create a small vent. The girls had loved going shopping for the ingredients. But some of their suggestions had the stir-fry looking a little questionable.

“What’s going on?” Cindy asked from the doorway.

Flynn spun around, seeing her gaze take in the messy kitchen. “You’re early. I’d planned to have everything cleaned up before you got here.”

“Oh,” she answered in a small voice.

“But I did get the table set in the dining room.”

“The dining room?” she echoed.

“Yeah. The stir-fry should be done soon.”

“You’re making stir-fry?”

He held up the cookbook. “I found the recipe in here. Between the grocery and health food stores we found everything we needed.”

“That’s what you were doing today?”

He smiled. “As you pointed out, there’s not a lot of action in Rosewood. And the girls enjoyed it.”

“Well…”

“I’d planned to have it all arranged in the dining room, but…surprise!”

“Surprise?” she echoed, looking stunned.

“Yeah. To say thanks for all you do for me, for the girls.” He walked toward the small sitting room just off the kitchen. “Girls, Cindy’s home.” As they scampered toward him, he stopped Alice, whispering to her, “Get your surprise.”

In a few moments Alice returned and came toward Cindy with a bouquet of daisies.

Cindy’s eyes misted as she accepted the flowers, then gave Alice a fierce hug.

“They seemed to suit you,” Flynn explained. “The daisies, I mean.”

Cindy’s throat worked. But Beth and Mandy were rushing at her, as well. Scooping them up in a hug, she hid her face behind their compact bodies. And Flynn couldn’t help wondering what was going on in that fiery head of hers.

Finally her face emerged as she settled the girls back on to the floor. “This is really nice. The dinner—” she held up the bouquet “—the flowers. Thanks.”

“I don’t say it often enough, but you’ve changed our lives and we appreciate it.”

Remarkably he thought her eyes brightened with the suspicion of tears. But that couldn’t be. Not freewheeling Cindy. She was all laughter, not tears.

She lowered her face, presumably to sniff the daisies. Her voice was soft, nearly muffled. “And you have changed mine.”

The girls pulled at her hands, tugging her toward the dining room to show off the table setting. But Flynn didn’t follow, instead remembering the remarkable look on her face, the remembered feelings it evoked. Feelings he thought he’d put to rest the day he proposed to Julia.

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

Two 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.”

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