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Faith seized the moment to admire Fitz’s casual but classy attire. He wore dove-gray slacks and a short-sleeved knit polo the exact same color as her dress. As the treads beneath her feet creaked, he turned his head and caught her eye.
“Don’t you look nice.” His compliment sounded almost reluctant, like he wished he hadn’t noticed.
Happiness flooded her all the same. “Thank you.” She almost commented on their matching attire, then decided it was better not to. Fitz wasn’t here because of her. He was here to celebrate Grace’s return, maybe explain how he’d managed to pull it off, and that was it.
Fitz had turned his attention to Grayson, who was sitting on the couch, looking sullen. Freeing himself from Olivia’s grasp, he went to offer Grayson a hand. “Good to see you again.”
Faith held her breath. To her relief, her son stood, albeit grudgingly, and shook the agent’s extended hand.
“Would you like a quick tour of the house?” Faith interjected. She’d cleaned the place from top to bottom, just in case Fitz said yes.
“Uh, sure.” His reply held just enough hesitation to check her expectations. He wasn’t nearly as interested in her as she was in him. “Let’s start upstairs. Then we can eat when we come back down.”
* * *
Grace watched her sister and Olivia lead their guest up the stairs. While setting the table and checking on the food, she’d noticed Faith had gone all out with this celebration. Granted, it was nice to have something happy to celebrate—Faith’s words to justify the affair—but Grace had taken one look at the glow on her sister’s face and realized her fascination for the special agent was more than a fleeting thing.
Grayson threw himself back onto the couch, causing Grace to look back at him. He’d let her know he’d been invited to his friend’s house, but his mother had kept him from leaving.
“I’ll talk to her,” she promised him now. “Maybe she’ll let you go after we eat.” After all, Cameron lived right next door—if one could call it that when the nearest house was half a mile away. “Come on, hop up and help me pour the lemonade.”
Years of herding first graders made it second nature for Grace to direct her nephew’s pent-up frustration.
Ten minutes later, Fitz had seen every room and every quirky feature of the immense farmhouse. Grace could only imagine what he was thinking. Faith might have cleaned every inch, but the bathrooms and kitchen needed updating. She was lucky their parents had installed central heating and air about ten years ago, or there would still be A/C units in the windows.
“Everyone take a seat, and I’ll bring in the food,” Faith instructed.
Ignoring her sister, Grace followed her into the kitchen.
Her sister rounded on her. “Go sit down. You’re the guest!”
“And you’re pregnant.”
Faith firmed her lips. With a shake of her head, she opened the higher of the double ovens to take out the plates keeping warm there. Grace carried the green beans and chicken parmesan into the dining room, and Faith followed with salad and garlic bread.
Once the food was on the table, Faith suggested they hold hands and say a prayer. Grace went along, but not before glimpsing Fitz and Faith’s locked hands. A pang of bitterness shot through her. Would both she and her twin end up as spinsters?
“Father, we thank You with our whole hearts for Your loving kindness, for Fitz’s incredible connections, and for Grace’s safe return. How great is Your goodness, Lord. Bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies, that we may live according to Your will. Amen.”
“Amen,” Grace murmured automatically, then helped herself to as much chicken parmesan as she could eat and passed it on.
Fitz made a point of mentioning how delicious the food was. Grace could barely taste it. With every bite, she wondered if Mateo was eating enough. Surely Amanda and Peter were feeding him. The only thing he lacked was a mother.
Dragging herself back to the present, she studied Fitz, who occupied the other end of the table as a second honored guest. Grace figured him to be several years older than she and Faith, possibly forty already but in excellent shape. His mannerisms were elegant, a little restrained. He asked Faith clarifying questions about the horses she’d said would arrive one week hence. He inquired about the details of Faith’s new business, but, at the same time, he seemed to hold himself aloof.
Grace could see why her sister was smitten. Even so, Faith needed to check her expectations if she had any. No man in his right mind would want to take on someone else’s children, let alone a widow with no spare time.
Just then, Faith gestured to her silent son to sit up straighter. She glanced back at Fitz. “Grayson would like to know how you got Navy SEALs to rescue Grace.”
The agent focused on the boy who hadn’t yet spoken a word.
“Well,” he held Grayson’s sullen gaze, “a friend of mine is the commander of SEAL Team Six. When I told him about Grace’s situation, he said he happened to have men working in Colombia already, so he arranged for them to pop across the border and recover her.” His green eyes swung toward Grace as if wary of her reaction.
Memories of a hard, painted face and silver eyes raked through Grace’s mind. She lowered her fork to her plate, her appetite gone.
“What were they doing in Colombia?”
Grayson had finally spoken. Faith looked relieved.
