EUGENIA PULLED INTO WHAT Harris called the “staff parking lot”. The space, which was separated from the farmhouse by the three Quonset huts, was actually half gravel, half field and if someone didn’t start getting serious with the weed killer, the field part would soon take over. Harris and another man—a tall, dark-haired hottie who had to be the jogging soldier everyone was talking about—were unloading what looked like PVC piping and boxes of plumbing parts from the back of a forest-green Jeep. Harris frowned over at her and Eugenia smiled brightly through her windshield. It was either that or burst into tears and no way she’d give him the satisfaction. All right, so, maybe he wouldn’t feel satisfied. But she refused to humiliate herself by letting him see how much she missed him.
The rat. Her palm was slick, making it a challenge to put her Volvo in Park.
Once she got out of the car she adjusted her sunglasses, smoothed the front of her navy sheath and stepped carefully toward the Jeep. Harris scowled at her over his shoulder. When his partner lifted one of the boxes from Harris’s arms, it was his turn to receive a scowl. They exchanged a few growls and then Harris turned back to Eugenia, his load lighter and his expression heavier.
“It’s Monday. Why aren’t you at the store?”
“Nice to see you, too.”
“I’m a little busy here, Genie.”
“I can see that.” She turned to the younger man and sweetened her smile. “I’m Eugenia Blue. You must be Parker’s soldier.”
She thrust out a hand, pretending she hadn’t noticed his wince. Not Parker’s soldier, then. Too bad. She’d hoped to indulge in a little matchmaking. He and Parker would look good together. With one or two adjustments, anyway. Probably Parker’s sense of fashion—or lack thereof, bless her heart—had contributed to that wince.
Eugenia could fix that.
She tipped her head. “Welcome to Thistle Hill.”
“Reid MacFarland. Pleasure to meet you, ma’am.”
“Corporal, isn’t it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Such a gentleman. How refreshing.” She waited a beat for Harris to grunt. She wasn’t disappointed. Maybe the moody old thing missed her, after all. She spoke through her smile. “I have a dress shop over on State Street. I’d invite you to stop by but I’m guessing that’s not your thing.”
“You’d be right, ma’am.”
“How long will you be with us, Corporal?”
“Give the man his hand back,” Harris muttered. She let go with a wink. Reid MacFarland looked from her to Harris and back again, and one side of his mouth tipped up.
“I’m heading back to Kentucky in a few weeks.”
“Sorry to hear that.” She gestured at the supplies they’d been unloading. “You two are working awfully hard. What are you up to?”
They exchanged a look. “If Parker asks, we’re repairing the sprinkler system in Hut Three.”
“Repairing? Looks to me like you have enough bits and pieces to replace the whole thing.” The men didn’t respond. Eugenia clapped her hands together. “All righty, then. Enjoy your stay in Thistle Hill, Corporal. I hope I get a chance to see you again. Make sure Parker and Natalie take you out on the lake at least once. Bye, now.” She offered Harris a stiff nod and, mindful that high heels and gravel didn’t mix, tiptoed back to her car.
She was reaching for the passenger door when Harris opened it for her. She hesitated, staring down at his strong, tanned arm, then averted her head, leaned in and retrieved the gift basket from the passenger seat. When she turned around, Harris’s expression had soured. All her fantasies involving that muscled arm dissolved like sugar in water.
“Enough with the gifts, Genie. When will you learn you can’t buy someone’s affection?”
“As soon as you learn not to embarrass yourself by jumping to conclusions,” she said briskly. Meanwhile, inside her chest, her heart curled into a cold ball of misery. So much for her decision to come clean. Just as well. The man wouldn’t know a good deed if it sashayed up and swung him into a two-step.
“The basket is for Parker and Natalie. And I didn’t buy these cookies, I made them.”
“You made them?” He peered doubtfully into the basket. “Are those supposed to be chocolate?”
“They’re singed.” She shrugged. “So sue me.”
He crossed his arms. “Why are you really here?”
“I’m Parker’s friend. That’s reason enough.”
“If you were truly Parker’s friend you wouldn’t have baked her cookies.”
“Ha ha.” God. How witty. She really needed to start watching the Comedy Channel.
“I know that look in your eyes. You here to give Parker money?”
“That’s none of your business.”
“Which means yes. Damn it, Eugenia—”
“Hey, it’s what I do. You know how we rich people are. Splurging is part of my routine. You know, take my vitamins, check my email, spend a few thousand dollars on something I don’t need.”
His expression remained fierce and she drew herself up. “I repeat, none of this is your business. But let me put your mind at ease. I’m not here to give money. I’m here to loan it.”
“’Cause you want to help her? Or ’cause you want to impress me?”
That stung. “I don’t think I could impress you if I stripped naked and juggled five flaming torches while reciting the entire Gettysburg Address. In French.”
Harris scrubbed his palm over his bald head. “You’re addicted, that’s what you are. You’re like your own personal Publisher’s Clearinghouse.”
“What is your problem? It’s my money. I’ll do what I want with it.”
“Wanna bet?”
“What are you talking about? Do I want to bet that it’s my own money? I’m fairly certain I’d win that bet.”
“What I mean is, I’ll bet you that you can’t stop yourself from offering money to someone or buying somethin’ for someone for, say, thirty days.”
“That’s not fair. Pete Lowry’s daughter is having her baby shower. I can’t go without a gift.”
Harris held up a hand. “We won’t count the baby shower gift.”
“Exactly what is this supposed to prove? And why do you care, anyway?”
“You afraid you won’t be able to do it?”
“I’m afraid I’ve had enough of your nonsense. I’ll let you two get back to what you were doing. Don’t work too hard, you hear?” She sidestepped Harris, waved goodbye to the corporal, and gave her hips an extra swing as she followed the path to the farmhouse.
* * *
BOTH MEN WATCHED HER go. When she disappeared around a corner Reid turned to Harris, eyebrows lifted. “That naked juggling thing? That would impress me.”
“No one asked you.”
“Think she might hire herself out?”
“I think you better stop flappin’ your jaw before you get something wedged in there. Like my fist.”
Reid considered, then turned back to the Jeep. “You were pretty rough on her about that loan thing. How do you know Parker wouldn’t be interested?”
“You know as well as I do that girl’s too proud for that. Holds on to her independence like Chance holds on to a steak bone. Two reasons she’s accepting help from you. One, between you and me we didn’t give her a choice. And two, she doesn’t know half of what you’re up to. We both know she’d rather eat dandelions for a week than ask for help.”
“Can you do that?”
“What?”
“Eat dandelions?”
“Hell if I know.”
Reid snatched up a receipt that had fluttered to the ground, and examined it far too closely. “That what you think I’m doing? Trying to buy Parker’s forgiveness?”
“No, son. I think you’re trying to make amends and ease your conscience at the same time.” He propped his arm on a box Reid had maneuvered onto the bumper. “Genie’s not feeling guilty, she’s just a little confused about how you make friends.”
“And keep lovers?”
The top of Harris’s head turned red and at first Reid thought he wouldn’t answer. “Never got that far,” he said gruffly.
“She thanked me, you know.”
“Eugenia?”
“Parker. For fixing the truck.”
“Why wouldn’t she?”
“You know as well as I do she can barely stand the sight of me.” He hefted a box to the ground and straightened, ran his hand over his hair. “That next morning she made a point of coming to see me. To thank me.” Parker Dean had grit. And class. Reid knew she’d rather toss her overalls onto a bonfire than go out of her way to thank him. He hadn’t done what he had to make her grateful, but the fact that she was felt like a big step forward in his quest for absolution.
He gave Harris a look. “She made a big deal of it, as a matter of fact. Seemed she’d heard all the details from someone.” Harris grunted, and Reid poked his tongue into his cheek. “Made me a cake.”
“Mighty nice of her.” Harris froze, then swung around, eyes narrowed. “Carrot cake?”
“What do you think?”
“Any left?”
Reid chuckled. “What do you think?”
“That’s plain rotten.”
Reid kept smiling. Gallahan had just about wept with joy when Reid had offered him half his prize. “Does Eugenia bake?”
Harris grunted. “Not well enough so’s you’d actually want to eat anything she makes.”
“What’d she do that was so bad you can’t forgive her for it?”
“I know what you’re thinkin’, but the situation’s different.”
“How?”
“What she did was worse than—”
“Manslaughter?”
Harris opened his mouth, closed it, reached for his pack of gum. “When you put it that way…” He paused while opening the pack, and jabbed his chin at the sky. “Smell that?”
Reid inhaled automatically. Copper. And the sky looked—
“Gonna rain.”
Reid leaned against the liftgate, shaking his head at Harris’s pathetic attempt to distract him. “What did she do?” The older man mumbled something before shoving a stick of gum in his mouth and Reid leaned in. “Didn’t catch that. She did what?”
“For Pete’s sake, she bought me a truck.”
Reid was sorry he asked. In a sad, perverted kind of way he’d wished Eugenia Blue had actually done something worthy of Harris’s contempt. If Harris refused to forgive Eugenia for buying him a gift, what the hell kind of chance did Reid have with Parker?
He gave himself a mental shake and hissed in an exaggerated breath. “A truck, huh? I’m surprised you didn’t call the cops.”
Harris continued to make bodily threats Reid paid little attention to. He stared in the direction of the farmhouse.
Seemed to him Eugenia Blue was lonely. Who could blame her for trying to change that?
* * *
PARKER WAS BALANCING A stack of plates and bowls still warm from the dishwasher when someone knocked at the back door. She called for her visitor to come in, almost fumbled the dishes when she realized it might be MacFarland, and turned from the cabinet with a belly gone haywire. Her breath left her lungs in a relieved whoosh when she saw who it was. Eugenia, who looked as elegant as ever in a navy sheath and pearls, carried a gift basket topped with a sunshine-yellow bow. Parker accepted it with a wide smile while trying not to wish she’d at least put on her frilly apron to cover her ratty jeans.
Darn it, she didn’t have time to care about her appearance. Though lately she’d taken to wondering how she might fit some primping in. But only because she had a daughter to set an example for.
She pulled Eugenia into a one-armed hug. “What a nice surprise. What’s the occasion?”
“I’m celebrating closing the store early today. Although I shouldn’t. Celebrate, I mean. I closed because I had a sum total of one customer this morning. Maybe since the kids are out of school this week everyone’s on the road. Anyway, I wanted to cheer you up.”
“Cheer me up?”
“You know. That thing with the delivery truck and all.”
“Oh. Well. The important thing is that Harris is all right.”
Eugenia frowned. “Why wouldn’t he be all right?”
Oh, Lord. Parker busied herself peeling the cellophane away from the basket. “Well, I mean, the engine could have caught fire. Or someone could have come along and…robbed him while he was waiting for a tow.”
“Wow. Things really are bad. I’ve never known you to be so negative.”
Parker gave herself a mental kick. “Forget I said that. And I’m positive these cookies will be perfect with a cup of tea.” She lifted the paper plate out of the basket and stared. Were those scorch marks?
Eugenia laughed and waved a hand. “Those aren’t for eating. I suppose they’re not even really for show. While I was wrapping those babies up I was hoping you’d be one of those people who believes it’s the thought that counts.”
“I do believe that. And I happen to have a chocolate cake that will go just as well with our tea. And you—” she patted Eugenia on the shoulder and pointed her to a chair “—get an extra big serving.” Parker sliced the cake and poured the tea and settled herself opposite her guest.
Eugenia picked up her fork. “Nat must not be home. Otherwise she’d already be bargaining for a second piece of cake.”
Parker laughed, struggling to drag her thoughts away from the long list of chores begging for her attention. “You know my daughter well. Actually, Ivy Millbrook invited all of the third-graders on a tour of her dairy farm. I think it was the promise of a picnic that cinched the deal for Nat.” Which had shocked Parker, considering how sensitive Nat was about her black eye. She’d changed her mind at the last minute, of course, as Ivy hovered on the doorstep, the borrowed school bus idling at the bottom of the driveway. When Ivy had assured Nat she’d get special treatment because of her injury—including a private introduction to a newborn calf—Nat had hurried back inside to get her jacket. Relieved, Parker had hugged Ivy—a little too tightly, judging by how quickly she’d backed away once Parker had let go.
She smiled at the memory, lifted her mug and focused on Eugenia. “You wanted to talk with me about something?”
“What I said before, about things being bad? I’d heard you were having a hard time.”
Carefully Parker set her mug back down. “What exactly did you hear?”
“That your greenhouse venture isn’t doing as well as you’d hoped.”
Okay, that conversation she could handle. “It’s true things are a little challenging right now. But every start-up business has growing pains. We just have to be patient.”
“In case you need more than patience, I’m here to offer you a loan. Wait, I take that back.” She grimaced. “Initially I came to offer you a loan, but then I ran into Harris outside and he bet me I couldn’t stop offering people money.”
“He did what?”
“It sounds terrible, doesn’t it? But he might actually have a point.” She hesitated, then shook her head. “Nope, he’s wrong. It’s my money and I can do what I like with it. But I’d still like to win that bet.” She gave Parker a sly smile. “Although I can’t officially offer you a no-strings-attached, no-interest, straight-up loan to put you in the black, if you were to ask for one I’d be more than happy to say yes.”
“That’s very generous. And I appreciate it, Eugenia. I really do. But I can’t take advantage of you like that.”
“It’s not taking advantage if it’s something I want to do.”
It was tempting. Very tempting. Parker had nothing left to sell. No time for a second job. No hope for any income except what she got from the business. From the struggling business. A loan from Eugenia would make paying off her debts so easy. She indulged in a brief fantasy where the mail didn’t include overdue notices, a brand-new dishwasher did the after-dinner chores and she and Nat ate in a restaurant more often than once every few months.
The bubble popped. What if she couldn’t pay the money back? Eugenia might insist she didn’t care, but Parker did. If defaulting didn’t cost her Eugenia’s friendship it would certainly mean the loss of the other woman’s respect. And it would mean dipping into Nat’s college fund.
Then Parker really would hate herself.
She covered Eugenia’s hand with hers. “Thank you. So much. But I can’t take your money.”
“Why not? I promise you I have no ulterior motive, no dastardly master plan. I don’t understand why no one will let me help.”
“What if something happened and I couldn’t pay you back? I’d feel terrible if I had to default on the loan and so would you. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate the thought, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to mix finances and friendship.”
Eugenia sat back. “I realize we don’t know each other that well. It hasn’t even been a year since I moved here and most of our get-togethers included Harris.” She shifted forward again. “You’ve never said much about your family. Harris once told me you moved here right after Tim’s funeral, but he’s never met any of your relatives. Can you count on any of them for help?”
“It’s a long story. The short answer is no. They can’t help.” They wouldn’t even think to offer.
“I see.” Eugenia sighed and stabbed her fork into her cake. “Well, what good is having money if I can’t spend it on my friends?”
Something clicked for Parker. “Did you try to spend it on Harris?”
Eugenia’s fork clattered to the plate. “Now you’re going to tell me the same thing he did. That you can’t buy affection.”
“Actually, I was going to ask why you’d try to buy affection you already have? That’s like demanding to pay full price at a fire sale.”
Her smile was lost on Eugenia. “If you’re trying to tell me Harris is interested, you’re wrong. He has about as much romantic interest in me as he has in his garbage disposal.”
“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything. Let’s talk about something else.”
Eugenia’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry, too. It’s just…it’s nice to be needed, you know?”
Parker nodded, and watched as her guest took a bite of her cake. It was nice to be needed. Or at least, it had been. She hadn’t been needed as anything other than a mother since Tim died.
She had one friend now. Harris. And he didn’t like to ask for help any more than she did. As much as she loved him, she missed having a female friend to laugh with, be herself with, confide in. Once they’d moved to Thistle Hill she’d isolated herself and Nat from her former friends. Not intentionally. There was just so much to do. And precious little time for a visit, let alone a chatty phone call.
People had offered to help. Thistle Hill was a friendly place. But once you started to depend on people, once you started to care…
She traced the raised pattern on her napkin and thought about what Nat had said, about Reid MacFarland being lonely, and suddenly her cake tasted less like chocolate and a whole lot more like regret.
* * *
REID SHUT THE DOOR TO the hut, took five steps and hesitated. Was that snuffling he’d heard? He turned back and held his breath. Oh, yeah. No mistaking the sound of a dog rooting around for trouble.
He’d shut Chance inside the greenhouse.
Shit. How the hell had the dog gotten in without Reid noticing? He yanked open the door and startled the Lab just as he was lifting his leg in the corner. “Whoa! Hold on there, boy.” He hustled over and bent down to grab hold of the collar and caught air instead. Chance dove under the nearest table. Damned dog wanted to play. Reid grabbed for the Lab’s tail and missed. Chance scampered halfway down the concrete path, looked back at Reid and pissed on the nearest table leg.
“All right,” Reid growled. “Game on.”
Ten minutes later he dragged the panting Lab back outside, almost catching them both in the door in his rush to secure the hut. When he let go of Chance the Lab wagged his tail and barked once, as if to say, Well, that was fun, then took off toward the house. Reid followed more slowly. He’d almost blown it, big-time. And here it was only Wednesday. Only his fifth full day on the job.
Parker had discouraged him from coming in on Sunday but of course he’d insisted. He was there to work, not read the paper. But if Chance trashed the greenhouse, no amount of overtime would save Reid’s ass.
He pictured Parker’s face as she heard his confession that he’d let her dog destroy some of her precious plants. She didn’t look happy.
Then he indulged himself and pictured the rest of her. Which made him happy. He sighed, and imagined her expression if she found out he was fantasizing about her. Huh. Just as well he hadn’t already eaten his lunch because the bloodlust on her face was enough to turn a man’s stomach.
Not that they were bonafide fantasies. More like…imaginings. He couldn’t help himself. It was driving him crazy. Day after day after day she wore another pair of those damned overalls. How long before he got a chance to see her in something other than that blasted Farmer Brown getup?
And how many pairs of those things did she own, anyway?
With her baggy, sweat-stained clothes, tight-lipped glares and mulish independence—not to mention the horrific circumstances that had brought them together—he should have no personal interest whatsoever in Parker Dean.
Try telling that to his whacked-out libido.
He rounded the house and settled on the front steps, resting his elbows on the worn plank floor of Parker Dean’s porch. He distracted himself with an exercise he and his squad members often relied on when they needed to center themselves—the mental cleaning of their weapon. He closed his eyes and imagined the breakdown, heard the click and snap as parts came away, felt the polished sheen of metal, smelled the—okay, that wasn’t gun oil he was smelling. It was a calming, flowery scent, one he recognized from the yard behind the house where he grew up. He opened his eyes and turned his head, spotted the familiar purple, cone-shaped blooms on a bush almost as tall as he was.
A bush he could never remember the name of.
“How come you’re not eating lunch at the picnic table?”
Another sneak attack. Jesus. Once his heart settled back down to a normal rhythm he looked over his shoulder. Parker’s daughter stood just outside the front door, a plastic bottle of purple juice in one hand, a paperback in the other. And a pair of flamingo-pink high-tops on her feet.
He hid a smile. She’d get a kick out of that chair at Snoozy’s. Too bad she’d have to wait a dozen years or so to check it out.
He got to his feet. He had errands to run, and Parker had made it clear she didn’t want him chitchatting with her daughter. But as he turned to say goodbye, he caught a lip tremble that could only mean he’d hurt her feelings.
Hell.
He hesitated, and gripped the railing with his left hand. So he wasn’t into making kids cry. So he’d take a few minutes to convince her she hadn’t chased him away, even though she had.
So sue him. “It’s Wednesday. How come you’re not in school?”
“I asked my question first. How come you’re up here?”
“Not hungry,” he said, and gave her a look. The look he’d perfected for wayward squad members. The quit-while-you’re-ahead-and-I-won’t-make-you-cry-out-for-your-mama-look.
Didn’t even faze her. Instead of trembling in her boots or fainting dead away she held out her wrist. “I got this for my birthday.”
She wore a watch with a bright pink band. The oversize face was painted with the black outline of a cat’s head, topped with a hair bow. Pink, of course.
The kid sure did like pink.
“Nice,” he said.
His reaction obviously disappointed her. “Hello Kitty,” she prompted.
She had to be kidding. “No way I’m talking to your watch.” He shouldn’t even be talking to her.
“No, it’s…never mind.” She leaned against the opposite railing and tipped her head. “You must be a good soldier.”
The “suck” part of “sucker punch” was having to pretend the blow didn’t hurt. Reid held back a grimace. Yeah, he was a good soldier. Had been. Past tense. He watched her spin the watch around her wrist.
“Why do you think I’m a good soldier?”
“’Cause you suck at gardening.”
He choked out a laugh. “Yeah, but I’m learning. Now it’s your turn. No school today?”
“Spring break.”
A hurt silence. Because he hadn’t noticed she’d been home from school Monday and Tuesday? He banged the flat of his hand against the railing.
“Look. I have errands to run.” He started to back away.
“Can I come?”
He froze, then gestured at her paperback. “Don’t you have homework?”
She shook her head. “This is my treat book.”
“Your what?”
“My treat book. It’s what I read in between book report books.”
He tipped his head and read the title. Lifted an eyebrow. “Aren’t you a little young for Agatha Christie?”
“Aren’t you a little old?”
“For what?”
“For anything.”
He blinked. “You’re a real charmer, kid.” A glance at the house behind her had him shaking his head. “I doubt your mom would appreciate you coming with me. You’d be bored anyway. I’m only going—”
“If you don’t want me to come along, just say so. ‘No’ takes a lot less breath.”
The sass in her words was absent from her river-green eyes. Reid rubbed his fingers over his chin. The hell with it. Let Parker be the one to say no. That’s what moms were for.
Besides, maybe Nat would put in a good word for him. Reid needed all the help he could get.
“Tell you what, kid. If your mom says it’s okay, I’d be happy to have you ride shotgun.”
“Really?”
He checked a watch he wasn’t wearing. “You have three minutes.”
She moved almost as fast as the day she first caught sight of him.
Five minutes later they were on their way to the lumberyard. He didn’t have to strain for a conversation opener. “Ever read Dorothy Gilman?”
She had a hank of hair curled around one finger when she shook her head. “What’s she write?”
“She wrote the Mrs. Pollifax series, about a feisty old lady who works for the CIA. Kind of like a modern Miss Marple.”
“Cool. You like mysteries, too?”
“Yeah, I do. But I prefer authors like Ed McBain, Patricia Cornwell, Robert Ludlum. I like my books to have some grit.”
“Blood and guts, you mean.” That superior tone again. Then she threw a right hook. “My dad liked to read.”
“Yeah?” He managed the word despite the feeling that someone had grabbed him by the throat.
“Classics, mostly,” she continued, as if he’d asked. “He really liked Hemingway.”
The wistfulness in her voice was creating chaos in his gut. He cleared his throat. “I’m sorry about your dad.” She’d never know how sorry. His fingers tightened on the wheel.
She gave him a look, like she was evaluating him for something. “Sorry enough to buy me an ice cream?”
“Oh, you’re good.”
“Well, are you?”
Sorry enough to get you a lifetime supply, kid. He started to say, “We’ll see,” but remembered how much he’d hated those words when he was a kid. “We’ll see how big a help you are,” he said instead. She nodded, and he hustled for a subject other than her father. “Got any hobbies other than reading?”
She shrugged. “I like to ride my bike. And Mom’s teaching me how to bake. How about you?”
“Your mom has never offered to teach me how to bake.” He wrenched his mind away from the image of Parker Dean in a frilly apron. And not much else.
Nat snorted. “You know what I meant.”
“I like to play pool,” he said. “Run. Lift weights.”
“You like sports?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Any good at softball?”
“Some. When I’m not deployed I pitch for an Army team. Why? You like to play?”
“I’m not very good at it.” She dipped her head. “We’re going to be playing in gym.”
Uh-oh. He knew what was coming. Hell, he wouldn’t mind giving the kid a few pointers. But Parker had told him in no uncertain terms to give her little girl a wide berth.
So why agree to let Nat run errands with him?
His stomach muscles tightened, and he looked over at his passenger. “Tell me the truth. Your mother really give you permission to come with me?”
She blinked at him, chin tucked, eyes wide, face turned to give him the maximum effect of that shiner, and he knew.
Damn it to hell. Didn’t matter what else he achieved that day. When he and Nat got back to the house, Parker would be pissed with a capital P.
Any points he’d earned with Parker Dean had just turned into, as his fellow squad members would say, a big bag of dicks.
* * *
PARKER STOMPED UP TO the picnic table, hoping that the one infinitesimal portion of her brain that wasn’t quivering with fury would remember later to ask MacFarland to cut the grass. Which just made her madder. When the heck had she started to depend on that interfering interloper?
Harris didn’t even look up from his clipboard when she stopped in front of him, her hands on her hips, her breathing as ragged as the cuffs on her overalls.
“Where is he?”
“Wanna be more specific?”
“Don’t play games with me, Harris Briggs.” She shook a piece of paper under his nose. “What is this?”
“Looks like a receipt.”
“For forty rolls of polyvinyl. I don’t buy polyvinyl. I buy polyethylene.”
“Which is why we already need more plastic.”
If he weren’t a sick old man, she’d kick the bench right out from under him. “On top of this I got a call from Pete Lowry. He wanted to let us know that the engine for the delivery truck should be in tomorrow, and was MacFarland still willing to pay extra to make sure he had it installed by the weekend.”
“Sounds like a man with a deadline.”
“More like a man with a death wish. How am I supposed to pay for all this? I told him I wasn’t going to touch the money we got for…from the Army.”
“I believe he has it covered.”
“He knows about the extra delivery, but there’s no way that’ll—” She stared at Harris. “What do you mean, he has it covered?”
“I mean he’s paying for it.”
“That’s ridiculous.” She gestured with the paper. “We’re talking thousands of dollars.”
Harris went back to his clipboard, and Parker sank down onto the nearest bench. “This isn’t right. This isn’t what I agreed to.”
Harris chuckled, and Parker turned on him with renewed fury. “You think it’s funny? That he’s running up debts I can’t possibly repay?”
“Now you know how he feels.”
Suddenly it was as if someone had yanked a plug and all of her energy had drained out of her. There was no comparing a man’s life to money, but there was also no sense in arguing. MacFarland was determined to fix something that could never be fixed. Did he even care that he might break himself in the process?
Slowly she got to her feet and stuffed the receipt into her pocket. “Where is he now?”
“Out buying lumber.”
Just like that, she snapped back into fighting form. Enough was enough. “That’s it. That is it. Who on God’s green earth does he think he is, coming in here and taking over and making decisions without even pretending to care what I think?” She marched away, came to an abrupt halt, marched back.
“Why are you here, by the way? I thought you had errands to run. And where’s Nat?” The look on his face gave it away and she gave a closemouthed scream of fury.
“Now, don’t go puttin’ your blooms in a blender. She said you’d given her permission.”
“To go with you.”
Harris shrugged. “He offered to run my errands for me.”
“Harris Briggs, one of these days I’m going to lace your carrot cake with rat poison and bury you in the compost heap.”
He patted his pockets, no doubt looking for a pack of gum. “And my middle name is Marion.”
“Am I the only one who sees what he’s trying to do here?”
“Make life easier for you?”
“First you, and now my daughter. I’m living with a bunch of…of pod people.”
“Come on in.” Harris grinned and mimed the backstroke. “The water’s fine.”
* * *
AN HOUR LATER, PARKER was at the far end of Hut Three checking on seedlings, singing Carrie Underwood under her breath and fantasizing about Louisville Sluggers, when Nat exploded through the greenhouse door.
“Mom! Guess what, Mom?”
Parker straightened. And couldn’t help smiling when she saw clear evidence of what her daughter had been up to.
“Hot-fudge sundae,” she said. The child seemed to have a knack for finagling ice-cream treats.
Nat scrubbed a hand over her mouth. “Something better.”
Parker clutched at her chest melodramatically. “Better than ice cream?”
She looked up then, saw MacFarland approaching and felt her smile fade. She couldn’t read his expression, and that kicked off a twister in her stomach.
“We saw Joe Gallahan at the lumberyard. He was buying some stuff for the motel. Anyway, Reid and Joe were talking, and they didn’t know I could hear, and Reid said I’d asked him about softball, and Joe said me and Reid could practice with his team. Anytime we wanted. Isn’t that great? Maybe they could teach me to play good enough so the kids at school won’t laugh.”
“‘Well enough,’” Parker corrected automatically. A stark coldness began to creep into her heart at the worship on Nat’s face when she talked about MacFarland.
“Mom? You’re gonna let me play, aren’t you? When Joe asks if I can join the team you’ll say yes, right?”
She tore her gaze away from Corporal Inscrutable. “Nat, I’d like to get some more details from the corporal. Why don’t you go on in the house and wash your face and hands.”
Nat hesitated, then nodded. “Should I set the table?” she asked, and it was all Parker could do to keep from howling.
“Sure, sweetie. That would be nice.” After she’d gone—a little too energetically for someone who usually shunned soap and water and never set the table without being asked at least half a dozen times—Parker turned back to MacFarland, her hands clenched into fists, her arms stick-straight at her sides.
“I don’t even know where to begin.”