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“I don’t know why he picked this town, but Curt’s not only the author of the book you love, he’s President Sherbrooke’s nephew. When I went to his house after work, Trent Sherbrooke was there. The two of them are first cousins, Mom.”
The screen slider leading to the backyard screeched across the runner. “The president has a nephew?” Reese asked, stepping inside and catching the tail end of their conversation.
Even in the first grade, they talked about government and how the United States had a president, so Reese had a general idea of whom they referred to even if she didn’t fully understand the role he played in the country.
“More than one. He has nieces, too.” Taylor wasn’t positive, but she thought he had two grandchildren now as well.
“Auntie Taylor, the president is too old to have nieces and nephews.”
She had a good idea how Reese reached her conclusion. “When I’m the President’s age you’ll still be my niece, won’t you?”
Reese nodded.
“Then a person can have a nephew or niece no matter how old they are.”
Reese considered the statement. “His nephew must be old like you.”
To someone a few weeks shy of seven, thirty-four must seem ancient. “Yes, the president’s nieces and nephews are around my age.”
Happy with the answer, Reese said, “Mimi, are we eating soon? I’m super hungry.”
Mom shot her a pointed look. “As soon as Curt is here, we’ll eat. Why don’t you go wash up so you’re ready?”
Yep, Mom still didn’t believe her. Oh, well. She’d learn the truth soon enough. She couldn’t wait to see Mom’s expression when she did.
“Do you think he’ll give me another lacrosse lesson tonight?” Reese asked.
If Reese asked him, Curt would say yes. He’d never refused any of her previous requests. “Maybe. For now, go wash up like Mimi told you.”
She skipped out of the kitchen. “Auntie Taylor, Curt’s here.” The little girl’s voice traveled back into the kitchen. “Can I open the door?”
“Are you positive it’s him?” Taylor asked, her mind instantly going to their unwelcome guest Saturday afternoon.
“I think so. He looks a little different, but it’s his car.”
I think so and yes, I’m positive were not the same thing. And a lot of cars looked alike. “Don’t do anything. I’ll be right there.” Their visitor was probably Curt, but she’d rather verify it before Reese opened the door.
Through the front window, Taylor saw the SUV parked behind her car before she reached the door. Yep, it was his vehicle. At least one of them. Considering what she’d learned earlier, she wouldn’t be surprised to learn the guy had a garage full of fancy cars like his cousin’s somewhere.
“Go ahead open the door,” she said.
The girl had the door open before Taylor finished talking.
“Curt, can we play lacrosse again?” Reese asked, rather than give the man a proper hello or allow him inside.
“I don’t have my lacrosse stick with me, but if Taylor says it’s okay we can play some soccer.” He looked from Reese to her.
Reese looked her way, too. “Auntie Taylor, is it okay?”
She didn’t see any reason they couldn’t. “I’ll even join you if you want. First go wash up for dinner.”
The answer produced a huge grin and Reese raced upstairs, leaving them alone at the front door.
He’d changed his clothes since she left him. It wasn’t the only thing he’d changed, though. His well-trimmed beard was gone, as were the glasses he usually wore. At some point since she left him, he’d visited a barber, too.
“You cut your hair.” She took in the new him, or maybe this was the old him before he moved to town. Seeing him without the beard, shorter hair, and glasses, she wondered how she’d ever managed to mistake him for anyone other than billionaire Curt Sherbrooke.
Curt ran his free hand over his head. In his other hand he held two bakery boxes. “Couldn’t take it anymore. I visited the barbershop over on Bridge Street right after you left. I never let my hair get so long.”
