Bonnie K. Winn - Family Ties

She nodded, not willing to delve into her unreconciled loss. “Kind of early in the morning for reminiscing, isn’t it?”

“I wasn’t actually. Just saw that picture and it brought back a lot of memories.”

He looked at it again. “You and Julia were on different wavelengths.”

Cindy swallowed the pain of that comment. “She was always more like Mother, refined, graceful, elegant.”

“And you were like your father?”

“I guess so. He was the adventurer—the one who wildcatted after the days of oil wildcatting were past. He liked to pursue the impossible.”

Flynn’s gaze shifted between Cindy and the picture. “I’m not like my mother, either.”

Never having heard much about his family, she wondered about them. “What was she like?”

His face closed. Tossing down the picture, he shrugged. “Just a mother.” Then he glanced at the newly cleared desk. “What are you doing in here?”

“Making a temporary office for you.”

His eyes swept over the newly arranged room. “You didn’t have to do this—”

“You’re beginning to sound like a broken record,” she interrupted. “You need a place to work in until you get the office space you want.”

“I’m hoping to get that set up soon.”

“Fine. I’ll need the room back after a while anyway. It’s one I use sometimes for one of my volunteer functions. And in the future it may be the permanent spot for the class.”

He frowned. “Then why go to so much trouble?”

This time she didn’t shift her gaze, instead meeting his. “It’s who I am.”

He studied her, clearly baffled.

But then that was the point. She’d always baffled and alienated him. And moving to Rosewood wasn’t going to change his impression. Only reinforce it.

Two days later, Flynn pushed aside the sage-green sheers that covered the tall conservatory windows. Tapestry drapes that puddled beyond the woodwork onto the floor were tied back with thick, silky tassels. It seemed Cindy left no detail unattended. Two pairs of aged leather wing chairs were grouped beside a small fireplace. And a Georgian library table served as a desk, covered by neat stacks of his work papers.

Like the rest of the house, this room was cozy. He was no decorator, but the furnishings she chose reminded him of older homes he’d visited in England and France. Even the landscapes and botanical prints looked as though they could be European in origin.

It was restful, snug and casual, yet he itched with discomfort. He glanced down at the candy bowl filled with sunflower and pumpkin seeds. The house and the temporary office suited him no better than the birdseed she called food.

From the window he could see the swish of a weeping willow in the gentle breeze. And across the street, an elderly gentleman handled his roses with the care usually reserved for rare orchids.

A knock, so quiet it barely penetrated the thick mahogany door, reached him. He turned. “Come in.”

Cindy, looking somewhat like a wary redheaded comet, poked her head in. “Do you need anything?”

Flynn shook his head. “I don’t know what it would be.”

“Enough paper? A snack? Maybe some coffee?”

Although he appreciated her concern, he’d never been comfortable accepting help. “Cindy, I’m not accustomed to having someone make all my decisions for me.”

She blanched for a moment. “I didn’t realize an offer of coffee constituted interfering.”

Flynn drew one hand back across his hair. “That’s not what I’m talking about.”

Her green eyes still looked stormy. “Then what?”

He gestured around the room, overwhelmed and embarrassed by her generosity. “This. Everything. I didn’t ask for an office, but you produced one anyway. Even after I told you I didn’t want it.”

Cindy’s fingers curled around the edge of the door. “You don’t have to use it,” she replied evenly. “After all, you’ve rented another office. If you don’t mind moving in there while they’re renovating, I certainly don’t.”

The pull and tug vibrated between them.

Suddenly half a dozen small footsteps thudded across the floor. “Cinny! Daddy!”

As the triplets approached, Cindy turned, ending the immediate need for resolution. She knelt as the girls reached her. “Why don’t we go swing in the backyard? Let Daddy work.”

“You’ve been taking care of the girls all day. Why don’t I take them outside?”

“I want Cinny!” Beth retorted.

Cindy glanced between Flynn and his daughters. “If your daddy helps you swing, I could set the table in the backyard and we could have supper there.”

“Supper?” Mandy asked.

“Veggie burgers,” Cindy replied. “They’re yummy.”

Flynn didn’t agree, but also didn’t want to snap her olive branch in half.

“Yummy,” Alice repeated.

He glanced at his daughters, more content in the last week than the last year. For that he could eat veggie burgers and granola. He could also somehow find a compromise with Cindy.

“And I’m about done with work for today,” he added, finding a second note of accord.

“Wanna make yummies,” Alice was requesting.

Cindy ran gentle fingers through her blond curls. “I can always use a good helper.”

“Good helper me,” Alice agreed.

“So you are.”

“Wanna swing with Daddy,” Beth stated more assertively.

“Me, too,” Mandy spoke up.

Flynn walked toward them, stretching his hands out toward the girls.

Beth and Mandy readily placed their small hands within his. Seeing the unsettled look that remained on Cindy’s face, Flynn relented. “Veggie burgers, huh? I don’t suppose we could have French fries with those?”

Unexpectedly her lips twitched. “To cancel out the healthy effect of the meal’s veggie portion?”

“Something like that,” he agreed. “I’m more a meat-and-potatoes kind of guy.”

Her smile widened. “Is that why you pick all the sprouts out of the salad?”

He winced. “I thought I was a touch more subtle.”

“Not especially.”

Surprise melted away the last of his reserve. “No kind demur?”

“No. That would have been someone else. Not me.”

Julia, he knew. Cindy wouldn’t say it in front of the girls, but it was true. Julia had always smoothed over any potential bump that could have put a ripple in any conversation. It had been the tone of their entire relationship.

Flynn walked outside with his daughters, losing himself for the moment beneath the cover of towering oaks and ivy-covered lattice work. The yard smelled of honeysuckle vines that poked fragrant blooms through the cracks of the weathered fence.

The swing set that sat on the longish grass was old, not new and shiny. But it was so sturdy, it could hold eight children; now it only needed to support his two small daughters.

Glancing back toward the house, Flynn wondered what it was about his sister-in-law that commanded such affection from his children. Alice had always clung the closest to him, never wanting to be separated. Beth might toddle off on her own, Mandy sometimes only a few feet behind. But not Alice. She was Daddy’s girl.

Only, now she seemed to be Cindy’s girl.

Inside, Cindy allowed Alice to pat and roll the burgers into shape. They were beginning to resemble small boulders.

“A Flintstones supper, Alice? Good job.” After washing the child’s hands, Cindy led her to the ancient French doors that opened to the backyard. “Why don’t you go swing for a while with Beth and Mandy?”

Happy to be with both Cindy and her father, Alice scampered contentedly away. Watching her, Cindy couldn’t help but wonder if all memories of Julia were fading from their young minds. For a moment she felt a stab of longing for her deceased sister, one more poignant than she’d felt since her untimely death. Even now, Cindy railed against the unfairness.