Almost Home (4 page)

“Three weeks?” Dallas frowned. “You were only married for three weeks? Jeez, Wade, why bother?”

“Because she was dying,” he said softly, “and I wanted her to die in peace.”

For the second time in less than ten minutes, Dallas was momentarily stunned. When she recovered, she raised her hand and gently touched his face. “Oh, sweetie. What happened to you in Texas?”

“Like I said, it’s a long story.”

“Like I said, I have all day.” Dallas took him by the hand and walked the rest of the way up the steps in silence. When they got to the deck, she paused and asked, “Is Austin your son?”

“He is now.”

He opened the door for his sister, and waited while she entered the house, a million questions on her face and in her eyes.

He waited for the boys and the two dogs at the top of the stairs, and wondered where to begin to tell the story he should have told them months ago.

T
HE
bell over the door in Steffie Wyler’s ice-cream shop, One Scoop or Two—known locally as “Scoop”—rang for what Steffie thought was probably the five hundred and fiftieth time in the past two hours.

“Top of the list of things to do as soon as the afterdinner rush dies down: deep-six that damned bell,” she told Tina, one of two of her part-time employees who were working that night. “It was a cute idea when the shop first opened and I’d get a dozen customers in the morning and maybe twice as many in the afternoon. It’s no longer cute. If I had a gun, I swear I’d shoot it off the door from here.”

The bell rang again and she glanced up as the latest group entered the small onetime crabber’s shack that now served as Scoop’s home, and her words died in her throat. Dallas MacGregor, a regular customer, came into the shop, trailed by her great-aunt and the tall, ridiculously handsome guy who’d been the object of Steffie’s affection—and lust—since before she was old enough to know the difference between, well, affection and lust.

The last time she’d seen Wade MacGregor, he was driving away from the inn at Sinclair’s Point on the night of the local police chief’s wedding—driving away and leaving a hurt, confused, and wildly frustrated Steffie standing alone in the parking lot after they’d danced away most of the night. No explanations. Just “Gotta go. Got a plane to catch. See ya.” And just that fast, he’d disappeared.

Okay, maybe it wasn’t quite that abrupt—there’d been some mumbling about something unexpected coming up—but Steffie’s big plans for the rest of the night had faded into the moonlight along with the exhaust from Wade’s rental car. That had been four months ago, and she hadn’t heard a word from him since.

Jerk
.

She tried to ignore the smile of recognition that spread across his face when he saw her. Tried just as unsuccessfully to keep her heart rate under control. Tried to push from her mind the scenes her imagination had conjured up of Wade walking into Scoop—like he just had, all nonchalant and gorgeous, smiling a special smile just for her—at which time she put the “Closed” sign on the door and they fell into each other’s arms and frantically …

“I said two scoops of chocolate.” The customer she was waiting on waved a hand in front of her face to get her attention. “That’s pistachio.”

“Oh. Sorry. I thought you said …” Steffie shook her head and forced herself to focus on the task at hand and hoped that no one noticed the red flush that she felt spreading from her neck to her hairline. “Sorry.”

She returned the pistachio scoops to the container and remade the cone. “You can take it right over there to the cash register and Claire will ring you up,” she told the customer, then nodded to the next person in the line that had formed in front of the glassfronted case. “What would you like, ma’am?”

Seven customers later, Steffie looked over the counter and found Cody Blair, Dallas’s son, waiting his turn. He held the hand of a little boy, a beautiful child who had dark curly hair and big brown eyes.

Neighbor’s kid, I guess
, Steffie thought.
Cute as a button
.

“What can I get for you, Cody?”

“I want two scoops of chocolate midnight madness,” he told her solemnly, then added, “please.”

“One scoop is plenty, Cody.” Dallas tapped him on the head.

“Uh-uh.” Cody turned to his mother. “I’m sharing with Austin.” He leaned over and lifted the child. “Right, Austin? We’re going to share.”

Austin struggled to turn, and lifted his arms over his head.

“Daddy!” Austin reached up. “Daddy!”

“Right here, ace.”

Steffie watched in dumb fascination as Wade reached over Cody and plucked Austin from his arms.

“Daddy’s right here.”

Daddy?
Daddy?

“Stef, could you put two spoons in Cody’s dish?” Dallas was asking from what seemed like another planet. “And maybe put a very small scoop of vanilla in there with it.”

Steffie’s hand clutched the scoop. For a moment she wished it was something more lethal.

Man attacked by crazed ice-cream lady wielding metal implement; film at eleven
.

“And two spoons, if you would?” Dallas repeated. “Stef?”

“Right. Two spoons.” Steffie focused on the cardboard containers of ice cream in the cooler. “Two chocolate midnight madness and one vanilla.”

“Small scoops,” Dallas added.

“Right. Small scoops.” Steffie repeated softly as if reminding herself of something very important. “Two spoons.”

She completed the order and held it over the counter to Cody, who stared into the dish.

“You forgot my chocolate sprinkles.” He held up the dish for her to see.

“So I did.” Steffie shook her head. “What was I thinking?”

She grabbed a spoon and sprinkled the tiny chocolate pieces over the ice cream and handed it to Cody.

“Better?” she asked.

He nodded. “Thank you, Steffie.”

“You’re welcome.” She turned her attention to Dallas. “And what can I get for you?”

“I think some of whatever lemony thing you might have.” Dallas’s eyes scanned the cooler.

“Sorry. Nothing lemony tonight. I do have peach pecan deliciousness, though.” Steffie kept her eyes on the contents of the freezer, as if seeing the flavors for the first time. Anything to keep from looking at Wade, or to let him think that she was even
thinking
of looking at him.

“The peach sounds great. Thanks. One scoop in a cone, please.”

Stef prepared the cone and handed it over.

“Miss B, what would you like tonight?” Stef smiled at Berry.

“No lemon, you say?” Berry looked up and down the glass counter. “Oh, dear. I’d had my heart set on that lemon curd confection.”

“I’ll have some tomorrow, promise,” Stef assured her. “But I think you’d like the plum tart.” She put down the scoop and reached for a tasting spoon, loaded it with the plum ice cream, and offered it to Berry.

“Oh, my, that is tasty.” Berry smiled broadly. “You never steer me wrong, Steffie. I’ll have a scoop of that in a sugar cone.”

“Coming right up.” Steffie made the cone and passed it over.

That left one person in the party still waiting to be served.
Must not react
, she cautioned.
Must not let him know how rattled I am to see him. Must not act like it matters to me that that kid just called him Daddy
.

She took a deep breath and met Wade’s eyes as he stepped up to the counter. “Wade?”

“How are you, Stef?”

“I’m good. Yourself?”

“Good.” He nodded.

“Good. So, then, we’re both good. Now what can I get for you?” she asked with all the nonchalance she could muster.
Just another customer
, she told herself.
He’s just another customer
.

“I guess I’ll have the same as you gave the boys. The chocolate stuff.”

“Bowl? Cone?” she asked.

“Cone’s good.”

She kept her eyes averted from his until she completed his order and handed it to him. She lifted the cone over the counter and looked directly into his eyes without saying a word.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” She looked away for a moment, then looked back.

He appeared about to say something else, but she didn’t give him the chance. What was there to say, she reasoned, after the little guy said “Daddy”?

“Claire is at the cash register. She’ll ring you up.” She smiled her best smile then turned her attention to the man waiting in line behind Wade. “What can I get for you?”

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Wade hesitate, then move on to the cash register. She concentrated on her customer, then on the next one, and the next, until Wade and his family made their way to the door. She didn’t look up until she heard the bell ring, then stole a peek just in time to see his tanned arm pulling the door closed behind him.

She took a deep breath, ignored the stab to her heart, and fixed a smile. “I can help the next person in line …”

“He has a
what
?”

Vanessa Keaton sat back on the sofa cushion, a puzzled expression on her face. If she’d been perturbed by Steffie’s late-night ringing of her doorbell,
she gave no sign. After all, she and Stef were best friends, and as such, certain privileges were automatically granted.

Besides, Stef had brought ice cream, several cartons containing the little bits left over at the end of the day.

“A little boy. He looks like he’s about two, maybe younger. Tough for me to tell. I’m not around kids very often.” She dipped a spoon into the carton of pineapple macadamia fudge ripple. “Except, of course, the kids who come into the shop. But I never ask them how old they are.”

“He has a son? Are you sure it’s his?”

“Austin—that’s the little boy’s name—called Wade ‘Daddy.’ And when Wade picked him up, he said, ‘Daddy’s here,’ or something like that. Anyway, it was pretty damned clear that
he’s
the daddy.”

“Who’s the mommy?” Vanessa peered into the carton, found it empty, and tossed it into the plastic trash bag she’d brought into the room for just that purpose.

“That would be the big question.” Steffie shook her head. “I have no idea. But do I feel like the biggest idiot on the planet.”

“Why should you? You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Oh, no. Just sort of crawled all over him at your brother’s wedding a few months ago.”

“I seem to recall he was doing an equal amount of crawling,” Vanessa pointed out. “So if anyone should feel like a jerk, it should be him.”

Steffie snorted. “Guys don’t generally regret crawling.”

“Seriously. Let’s look at the facts.” Vanessa repositioned
herself on the sofa, her legs tucked under her. “Would you hand me the apple pecan if you’re finished with it?”

Steffie passed the carton.

“He knew that he was …” Vanessa scooped up a spoonful of ice cream. “What is he? Is he married?” She licked the spoon. “You don’t suppose he’s been married all this time, do you?”

Steffie shook her head. “Wade can be a jerk, but I’ve never known him to be, you know, sneaky. Dishonest. Immoral.” She paused. “I’ve never known him to be that kind of a jerk. The kind of jerk who’d romance one woman while being married to another.” She took the carton back from Vanessa. “Then again … there is Austin.”

“Maybe he and the baby’s mother were married at some point but are divorced now. Or maybe they never married. Maybe the baby was an accident. Maybe she—whoever
she
is—got pregnant by accident and decided to keep the baby. Then Wade, being a jerk though not an
immoral one
, would want to do the right thing if he was the father. He’d want to, you know, be a real father, don’t you think? He’d want to be part of the child’s life, right?”

“I honestly don’t know what to think. Except that he’s known all along that he had this child and was obviously in a hitherto unknown-to-me relationship of some sort with someone else and yet spent hours priming me for a long night of bliss, which he then denied me of by leaving to catch a plane back to Texas.” Steffie began to steam all over again. “Back to Austin and his mommy.”

“What is Grant saying?”

“What?” Steffie frowned, her spoon stopped midway between her mouth and the carton.

“Grant? Your brother?” Vanessa’s foot poked at Steffie’s. “The guy who is hot and heavy with Wade’s sister?”

Steffie reached into her pocket, took out her cell phone, and speed-dialed a number. “If he knew about this all along and he didn’t tell me, I will kill him. What’s the word for it? Fratricide?”

Steffie tapped impatient fingers on the phone.

“He’s not picking up. Coward. I’ll bet he knows that Wade is here with this baby and that I’m going to find out about it and that I’m going to be pissed off.” She listened for a moment, then left a message for her brother. “All right, smart-ass. Want to tell
now
me why you didn’t bother to tell me
before
that Wade has a son?” She ended the call.

“What’s the baby look like?” Vanessa placed another empty carton into the bag. “Is he cute?”

“He is beyond cute,” Stef admitted. “Dark curly hair, big dark eyes.”

“Really? Huh, that’s interesting,” Vanessa noted. “The MacGregors are all so fair.”