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“Then here’s an offer you can’t refuse,” he said. “The day after tomorrow is Saturday, the day of the weekly brunch at the bed and breakfast. Francine’s cooking is sheer artistry—all you can eat, eggs and pancakes that literally float off the plate. I was planning to take Clara. We’d love to have you along as our guest.”
Tracy had heard of the Saturday brunch at the B and B, as it was called. It was a popular gathering place for the whole town. Maybe that was why she’d never gone. She was a judge. How many people—those who’d been in her court—would see her and feel uncomfortable? Or was she just making an excuse because she didn’t want to go alone?
“So how about it?” Rush asked. “Just brunch in a friendly place, with Clara along. No strings.”
“That won’t stop the gossip when people see us together,” Tracy said. “Doesn’t that bother you?”
Leaving the sandwich unfinished, he shoved his chair back from the table. “Tracy, I don’t give a damn about the gossip,” he said. “All I want is to do something nice for you. If that’s too much of an imposition, I’ll forget it.”
She’d pushed him too far, and for no good reason, Tracy realized. He wasn’t even asking her for a date, just breakfast with him and his daughter. The least she could do was apologize and say yes.
“No, it’s all right,” she said. “It’s a very nice invitation and I’ll accept it. It’s just that being a judge in a small town . . .”
“This is the twenty-first century. You’re not going to get a scarlet A on your chest if you have breakfast with a respectable man and his daughter. And you don’t need to keep punishing yourself because you lost a husband you still love. I just want to be your friend, that’s all, Tracy.”
She glanced down at her hands for a moment, knowing the next move was up to her.
“Thank you for that trip to the woodshed,” she said. “I could use a friend. Now please finish your lunch.”
He moved his chair closer to the table once more. “Thanks. This is too good to go to waste. For what it’s worth, the same goes for you.”
“No comment.” She lowered her gaze a moment to hide the hated blush. “What time should I be ready on Saturday?”
“The place gets crowded around nine o’clock. How about eight-thirty? That should give me time to finish the chores and have Clara ready.”
“Good luck getting her into her new clothes. She’s still in her princess gown.”
“She’ll be fine.”
“She’s a darling little girl,” Tracy said. “I can tell she still loves you. According to her, Andre doesn’t give her much attention.”
“That doesn’t surprise me. I don’t know Andre very well, but he strikes me as something of a narcissist. Everything’s about him. Now shut me up before I get carried away.”
“What about her mother?”
“The two of them just went off on a cruise and left Clara with the hired help—over Christmas. Something about working on their marriage. I think that says it all. I tried to get visitation rights, but the two-bit lawyer who was all I could afford told me it was a lost cause. That’s why I want to make the most of this surprise visit. I can’t count on seeing her again until she’s eighteen. As things stand, all I can do while she’s here is give her a few happy memories.”
When Rush had finished his lunch, Tracy carried his plate to the sink. She’d promised herself that she wouldn’t get involved in Rush’s problems. But his situation was more than unfair. It was tragic. Maybe there was nothing she could do. But at least she could research Arizona child custody laws in case there was some loophole Rush’s second-rate lawyer had missed.
She wouldn’t tell Rush what she was doing—not unless she found a real breakthrough. Otherwise, getting his hopes up would only be cruel.
Rush had risen from his place at the table. “You’ve put in a long morning helping me out. I should probably get Clara and give you a break. How long has she been asleep?”
“Maybe forty-five minutes. Is that enough time for a good nap?”
“It used to be. Show me where she is. I’ll wake her.”
“She’s on my bed. You know the way.”
“Yes, I do, thanks to your cat.” He strode down the hall. When Tracy caught up with him, he was standing in the open bedroom door, as if hesitant to step inside. As Tracy looked past his shoulder she saw Clara asleep on the bed in her princess dress, partly covered by the quilt. Her eyes were closed, her lashes like dark velvet against her porcelain cheeks, her mouth a small pink rosebud.
“Now there’s a sleeping beauty,” he said softly. “I’m just grateful she’s not old enough for Prince Charming.”
“She’s beautiful,” Tracy said. “For now, her daddy can be her Prince Charming.”
Or you could be mine if things were very different. Tracy willed the thought from her mind.
At the sound of voices, the little girl opened her eyes. “Hi, Daddy,” she said.
