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“Charlie, this is my brother-in-law, Harrison Chapman.” Harris, who had been watching Tina intently, seemed to shake himself, and he offered Charlie a fleeting smile before focusing on Clara. His face was alight with tenderness.
“God, she’s gorgeous,” he said, sounding almost awed. “The pictures didn’t do her justice. She’s bigger than I was expecting.”
His hands left his pockets, and he reached for Clara, who was asleep in her foldaway bassinet. He paused before touching her and looked at Libby uncertainly.
“Can I . . . is it okay if I hold her?”
“Of course it is, Harris,” Libby said, lifting her sleeping baby herself and carefully handing her over into her uncle’s strong, capable arms. He hugged her close and began to rock her. Libby felt a pang of regret that she had denied him this for so long. Harris hadn’t repudiated his niece—he shouldn’t have been punished for Greyson’s mistakes. Neither should his parents. Or her parents, for that matter.
She watched as Harris whispered soft little nothing phrases into Clara’s ears. He nuzzled and kissed and cuddled the baby, clearly in love with his niece, and Libby couldn’t keep the smile from her face. She instinctively glanced at Tina, wanting to share the sweet moment with her. But she was shocked to see anguish and something close to hatred burning in her friend’s usually gentle sea-green eyes as she stared fixedly at Harris. Her eyes were shining with unshed tears as she surged to her feet, rocking her desk chair with the violent motion.
“I have to get back to work,” she said, her voice trembling, and Libby shook her head, alarmed by Tina’s reaction.
“We’ll be out of your hair in . . .”
“I’ll see you later, Libby,” Tina interrupted. She fled from the room, leaving a shocked silence in her wake.
Harris murmured a vehement curse word beneath his breath. Clara was starting to fuss, and Libby, still stunned by Tina’s reaction, absently took her baby from him.
“Uh. I should get back to work,” she murmured, and Harris gave Clara another kiss on her cheek.
“Right,” he said, his voice filled with patently false cheer as his eyes drifted back to the door through which Tina had just exited. “And I’m starving, so I’d better get back to my table. I’ll be in town for a while, Bug. I promise I won’t interfere, but I need a vacation, and this is as good a place as any to hang out for a short while. Besides, I want to spend more time with my niece.”
He gave Libby a quick hug and left abruptly. Libby’s eyes dropped to where Charlie was very pointedly reading her e-book, obviously trying to mind her own business.
Tina’s baffling behavior was becoming a real concern. She had tried to talk to her friend about Harris, about her strange behavior around Clara, and now she was starting to think Tina wasn’t being honest about exactly how much buying and relaunching MJ’s had cost her. While she gently rocked back and forth, humming softly to the contented baby, she tilted her head back and hated how much she resented whatever it was that Tina was going through. She felt selfish and hateful, but she really didn’t want to have to deal with Tina’s dramas in addition to her own stresses right now.
“Your mummy is a terrible best friend, sweetie,” she whispered against Clara’s soft hair, keeping her voice low so that Charlie wouldn’t hear her. She would try to talk with Tina after the lunch service. Try one more time to discuss whatever was bothering her. Libby owed it to their friendship to try and figure out whatever the hell was going on with the other woman.
She gave her baby one more cuddle before handing her to Charlie and heading back to the kitchen.
Greyson was jerked out of a sound sleep by the sound of an engine idling and then stopping outside. He blinked blearily at his phone and was shocked to see that it was close to twelve fifteen in the afternoon. He had been asleep for nearly three hours. It was unusual for him to sleep during the day, and he felt groggy and out of sorts.
He yawned, stretched, and crawled out of bed like an old, arthritic man. He stood waiting in the living room, but when he heard no tread on the porch stairs, he frowned, wondering if he’d imagined the sound of the engine. He strode to the front door—wincing because he’d forgotten to put his shoes back on—and swung it open. He stepped onto the porch, surprising Harris, who was standing beside his 4×4 staring at Martine’s front door. The other man’s head turned toward Greyson, and his eyes widened.
“Greyson.” His name emerged cautiously from Harris’s lips as he slowly climbed the patio steps. Approaching Greyson as one would a wild animal. “You okay?”
