Teardrop Lane (26 page)

Turning around, he smiled at his niece. “Let’s hear it.”

Her shoulders lifted as she filled her lungs with air. Misty was obviously nervous. His trepidation rose. If this were Keenan, he’d brace himself for a report of a broken window or dog bite—Keenan being the one to use the teeth. But with Misty—did this have something to do with Rose? Had she found out what bee was in the doctor’s bonnet?

“I gave a report in school today.”

He wondered if she knew she was wringing her hands.

“Okay. Did you blow it? It’s not the end of the world, I hope you realize. I know that you’re very smart and want to grow up and go to college, but you shouldn’t put so much pressure on yourself. Not at your age, anyway. One bad grade every now and then won’t derail you.”

“I didn’t blow it. I got an A plus.”

Cicero folded his arms, tilted his head, and studied her. “Okay, then what’s the problem?”

“Not a problem. I would like to present it to you, and I’d like you to promise not to interrupt until I’m done.” Hmm. Something told him he wasn’t going to like this.

“Okay.”

She licked her lips and began. “My report was on the benefits of owning a dog.”

Oh, crap
.

“Misty, we’ve been down this road before.”

“You promised you wouldn’t interrupt!” she snapped.

He sighed heavily, but she’d trapped him admirably, so he propped a shoulder against the doorjamb and admitted to being cornered. The girl had her facts down. He learned that petting a dog lowered blood pressure, and that kids who have dogs miss fewer days of school due to sickness. She explained that owning a dog teaches responsibility, and that children who have dogs have better self-esteem. “Dog owners recover faster from heart attacks and have higher survival rates, too!”

That was probably her best point of the bunch, considering that he was playing father to the dervishes of destruction.

He lost track of the number of points in her presentation, but he sensed she was winding down. He had words of praise for her report ready, along with the well-practiced refusal to add a dog to their family when she threw him an unexpected loop.

“I’m not asking that we adopt a dog, Uncle Hunk.” She recited the handful of unassailable reasons against the idea that he repeated whenever the question arose. “It’s a big commitment. Pets can be expensive. Now is not the time.”

Warily, he considered his response. He would not be outsmarted by a nine-year-old.

“That was an excellent report, Misty. I’m not surprised your teacher gave you an A plus. Gabi has gone for sandwiches. Do you want me to call her and ask her to bring something for you?”

“No, thank you. Our new house has a fenced yard.”

Well, hell. He’d tried.

“Dr. Nic gave a talk at school earlier this week. She
said that there is a big need for temporary foster homes for dogs. This summer, when we are out of school and in the new house, I thought it would be a good way for us to be good citizens and thank Eternity Springs for being so nice to us by providing a temporary foster home for a dog.”

Oh, you’re good
.

“And, we can learn how hard it is to take care of a dog. Once we see it for ourselves, we can quit bugging you so much about wanting a puppy.”

Very, very good
.

“Worm, as time goes on, you and I are going to tangle horns over and over. Sometimes, you’ll get your way. Other times, you’ll have me wrapped around your finger so tight that I won’t be able to tell you no. But every so often, you’ll reach for something that you won’t have a gnat of a chance getting me to agree to.”

He hated crushing her spirit, but better nip this one in the bud.

“Just so you know, this is one of those gnat times. As long as you are living with me, we won’t have a dog. Period. Give it up.”

“Are you allergic?” she asked in a little voice.

He considered his answer, then settled for bald honesty. “No, Misty. Bottom line is I won’t have a dog. Let it go.”

The rapid blinking of her eyes signaled the threat of tears, but she bravely lifted her chin. Cicero saw her mother in her then, and his heart gave a twist of pain. Despite it, he was in no danger of melting. Not about this.

Both he and Misty turned toward a sound in the back room of the shop. Gabi set a pair of brown paper bags on the table in the break room.

“Soup’s on,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Hey Misty. I
bought cookies to go with our sandwiches. Do you want one?”

“No thanks, Ms. Gabi. I’m leaving. I have to get to my piano lesson.”

“Be careful crossing the street,” Cicero told her.

The look the girl gave him before she left silently declared that this subject wasn’t closed. When they were alone in the break room, Gabi asked, “So what do you have against dogs?”

“I don’t have anything against dogs. I like dogs. I just won’t own one.” He unwrapped the sandwich she handed him and snagged a bag of chips. “So, Legs, are we selling the T-shirts she was wearing or are they strictly promotional?”

An intelligent woman, Gabriella went along with the change of subject. An hour and a half later, she declared their work at Whimsies done. “Thank you so much for all your help, Cicero. I think we’re officially ready for our grand opening.”

“Good, because I’m ten minutes late picking up the ankle biters. I don’t want to abuse your mother’s hospitality.”

“She won’t care if you’re late. She’s in heaven doing the grandmother thing, and she’s taken your kids under her wings like her own.”

Cicero knew it was true, so he took the extra time before heading to Maggie’s to stop by the studio and grab the mail he had ready to send. He saved it for Daisy because dropping envelopes into the mail slots at the post office was one of her favorite things. He lifted the stack from his desk, then turned to leave. A woman’s sharp voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Cicero!” Sage Rafferty exclaimed, anger flashing in her eyes. “I couldn’t believe it when I looked out of the gallery window and saw you walk into your studio.
Why are you here? Why didn’t you go to Gunnison with Rose?”

“You’ve got it wrong. She had her Mexican food in Gunnison yesterday remember, and I wasn’t invited to go with her.”

“Not yesterday. Today. She was supposed to go to Gunnison this afternoon.”

“Why? Does she have a guy there on the side now?”

Sage held up her hand, palm out. “She didn’t tell you, did she? I swear I want to wring her neck. She promised!”

“Promised what?”

“No way would I have stayed here if I’d known you wouldn’t be with her for the exam. Why does she think she has to face this alone?”

“Face what alone? What exam?”

“You know what? Rose isn’t my patient. She’s my sister. I’m not bound to any confidentiality agreement.”

“Dammit, Sage. What are you talking about?”

“Rose thinks her cancer has come back.”

Rose sat in her room at the B and B trying to convince herself that she honestly was absorbed in the PBS program about volcanoes. She did find geothermic forces of nature interesting. It wasn’t like she had
Real Housewives of Eternity Springs
on TV.

A smile flickered on her lips, the first in hours. If somebody decided to produce that particular show, she’d darn well watch it. It’d be a hit with the female demographic, without a doubt. The men in town were to-die-for hot.

“To die for,” she muttered aloud. “Great word choice there, Dr. Anderson.”

She lifted the ice pack away from her breast and decided she’d iced it enough. The radiologist who’d performed the core needle biopsy had been gentle, quick, and efficient. Soreness and bruising appeared to be minimal. She almost wished the procedure had caused her significant pain since she desperately needed something to distract her from her thoughts right now.

She could call Sage. That would certainly provide a distraction.

Rose had kept her sister updated throughout the day by text messages, but by around three o’clock, Sage had apparently decided that texts weren’t good enough.
She’d started calling. And calling. And calling. Finally, Rose had sent a text explaining that she simply wasn’t up to talking, but that she’d phone tomorrow immediately upon receiving her test results. She’d also asked Sage to get someone to cover for her with the kids in the morning.

The kids. Her heart twisted at the thought of them. She’d wanted so badly to provide some stability for the little loves. They’d faced one blow after another. It wasn’t fair. And here she’d begun to think that maybe—just maybe—she’d found the family she’d hoped for. Found the man—

Her thoughts turned to Cicero. Thinking about him was almost as difficult as wondering about her test results. No, that wasn’t true. She couldn’t think about one without thinking about the other. It hadn’t escaped her notice that he hadn’t attempted to call her today. Nor had he texted.

He must be wrapped up in his work, which was no surprise, really, what with the retail shop’s grand opening around the corner. She wondered if he’d noticed that she hadn’t called today, either. He’d be home with the kids by now. Maybe he—

Her cellphone rang and she checked the number. Cicero.

“Speak of the devil,” she murmured.

She yearned to answer the call, to hear his voice and to pour out her fears. She literally sat on her hand to keep from reaching for the phone. It rang six times before going to voicemail. She waited to hear the ping that indicated a new message. Instead, the phone rang again. It rang every five minutes for the next half an hour, until finally she shut it off, and returned her attention to the erupting volcano on TV.

Ten minutes later, she startled when her room phone rang. For the space of two rings, she stared at the old-fashioned
phone on the bedside table. She hadn’t told Sage where she’d be staying. Had she guessed?

More likely it was the front desk letting her know that the pizza she’d ordered for supper had arrived. Rose seldom ate pizza, and never had both Mexican food and pizza in the same week, but tonight she’d decided to indulge herself. Cautiously, she picked up the handset. “Hello?”

Her innkeeper said, “Dr. Anderson, a gorgeous bouquet of flowers just arrived for you. Would you like to come downstairs and get it, or should I send the deliveryman up with it?”

Flowers? Who could have sent her flowers? No one knew where she was staying. Well, except for Lynda Rydzell. Rose had mentioned where she’d reserved a room during her appointment.

Lynda. Oh. Wow. Had she received the lab results? Were they bad and this was her way of expressing sympathy?

Don’t be stupid, Rose
. Yes, the lab was doing a rush on her results out of professional courtesy, but it was beyond ridiculous to think along those lines. It was much more likely that Sage had guessed where she’d stay the night and tracked her down with an apology for the phone harassment. “If you’d send them up, I’d appreciate it.”

“Will do,” the innkeeper said.

Rose pulled a robe on over her sleep shirt and dug bills for a tip out of her purse. At the sound of a knock, she opened the door. The bouquet was big and bright and cheerful. But when she shifted her gaze from the flowers to the deliveryman, her smile froze.

“Hunt!”

“I’d like to wring your neck.” He shoved the flowers at her and strode into her room.

Rose stood in the open doorway, holding the flowers, her mouth gaping open like a two-pound trout.

He prowled his way to the center of the room, then stopped and whirled around. His jaw was set, his eyes hot with anger, accusation, and maybe, a little bit of fear. “I need you to explain something to me, Dr. Anderson,” he snapped. “How did you and I go from ‘you matter’ to ‘you aren’t important enough to share the big stuff with’?”

She’d hurt him. It was there in the drawn line of his mouth and in the way he folded his arms.

Surprised, she asked, “How did you find me?”

In a half rage, he answered, “Sure as hell not from the directions you gave me, or because I checked in to the bed-and-breakfast with you. Not because I drove here with you, or shared this day with you.”

Guilt steamrollered through her. She set down the flowers. “Hunt—”

He held up his hand. “No. I’m talking. I wasn’t important enough to talk to before. You have to wait your turn.”

“That’s not true!”

“Isn’t it?” he exploded, throwing his arms out at his sides. “You shut me out, Rose. You didn’t trust me. Why not? You know what I think? I think it’s because you have no faith in me, that’s why. One man treats you like a jerk so that means all of us are asses, right?”

She closed her eyes and she heard a catch in her voice when she said, “No, Hunt. That’s not it at all.”

“I tell you what,” he continued, as though she hadn’t spoken. “I’ve had two women in my life totally piss me off. One was the foster mother in the foster home from hell when she ignored the fact that we were living with a young psychopath, and the other was Amy Parnell when she threw away my kids. You have managed to
take my pissed-offedness to an entirely new level. You want to know why?”

He wasn’t looking for an answer, she knew, so she didn’t try. She just kept her mouth shut.