Bonnie K. Winn - Family Ties

One of fun and frolic. Just as she had when he’d met her. All motion and energy, but no substance. A flibbertigibbet, his late grandmother would have called her. “It’s not up to me to judge your decisions.”

Her eyes clouded. “No. But that doesn’t stop you, does it?”

He held up one hand. “How about a truce for today? We can enjoy the big city—have lunch at a five-star restaurant without worrying that we’ll be wearing half of it courtesy of the triplets.”

She relented. “I suppose you’re right. I usually do a little shopping while I’m in the city, too.”

Flynn grimaced.

Cindy’s laughter filled the closed space of the car. “Typical male reaction. I thought we could at least pick up something for the girls.”

It was his turn to relent. “I suppose so.”

Reaching downtown Houston, Flynn concentrated on the traffic-filled streets. “Gets worse every day.”

“I don’t know. I find all the people invigorating.”

Despite the distraction of tall buildings and hordes of pedestrians, he turned to stare at her. “Yet you moved to Rosewood?”

“Mmm,” she murmured.

And she didn’t reveal much more as they parked, then attended the meeting. It was only afterward that she brightened again, suggesting they go to the Galleria for their shopping excursion.

FAO Schwarz was a child’s fantasy. And Cindy seemed much like a child herself as she oohed and ahhed over the treasures the store contained. She agonized over the selection of three unique stuffed toys.

“Don’t you want them to match?” Flynn asked.

She shook her head. “I’ve never taken to the notion that twins and triplets should be treated as a unit. It’s fun to dress them identically at times, but they have to know they’re individuals, with different tastes, dreams.” Cindy reached for a stuffed bunny, still unable to decide.

“Aren’t you going to get one for yourself?” he couldn’t resist asking, seeing how absorbed she was in the task.

An unexpected tinge of color warmed her cheeks. “I do have a weakness for them, but I’ll resist this once.”

Funny, he thought she would indulge her least whim. Maybe she was having an off day.

But the thought had barely faded when she started looking at more toys.

“Actually, I don’t want to spoil the girls,” he told her. “It’s great that you want to be generous, but I think we’ve gotten enough things for them.”

She picked up the stuffed bunny she’d discarded a few moments earlier. “These aren’t for the girls.”

Once a playgirl, always a playgirl. Flynn was amazed that a woman of Cindy’s age would want the bunny. But then her indulgences weren’t his concern. Still, he felt a flash of remembered disappointment. One that was reminiscent of their first meeting. He’d seen the promise in her eyes, and had felt the disappointment of learning she was as scattered as Julia was collected.

With their purchases tucked safely in the trunk, Cindy talked him into an exotic restaurant that boasted only the unusual. She had promised to forgo granola and vegetarian fare, but he wasn’t sure this was much better.

“So, what do you think?” she asked, excitement deepening the green of her eyes.

“Let me put it this way. I don’t recall ever finding myself torn between ostrich and buffalo as my only possible entrée choices.”

Her face, bright and mischievous, only sparkled more. “Great, isn’t it? I mean any place can offer steak or fish.”

Flynn had a sudden longing for just that banality. “So they could.” He turned the menu over, glancing at the back. “I don’t suppose they have pasta.”

She rolled her eyes. “We had pasta for dinner last night.”

“True. And what are the chances of finding spinach-and-wheat pasta twice in a row?”

Some of the pleasure in her expression dimmed. “Oh.”

He swallowed a sigh. “Most pasta doesn’t have that much flavor.”

But her former sparkle had disappeared. “That’s diplomatic.”

“It really was good,” he insisted. “I’m not used to a pine nut sauce, but the noodle part was good.”

Unexpectedly she laughed. “We really should have gone to a steak place, shouldn’t we? It’s not too late. We haven’t ordered yet.”

“No. This is fine. How many chances will I have to try exotic meats?”

“If you stay at my house long enough, you might be surprised.”

His actual surprise was the grin he found pushing his lips upward. “So, what do you recommend? Which delicacy won’t we be trying?”

She took pity on him. “Both the buffalo and ostrich taste like beef, just a touch milder. And they’re lower in fat, cholesterol and calories.”

“It must work,” he admitted.

Puzzled, she tilted her head. “What do you mean?”

“You’re still turning heads, and none of the calories are sticking.”

When she didn’t immediately reply, he glanced up from the menu. But instead of a warm blush or sly demur, she had paled. “Something wrong?”

Cindy shook her head a bit too quickly and forcefully. “No. Just hungry. I didn’t have any breakfast.”

Flynn wasn’t sure why, but he was certain that wasn’t the truth. Still, he didn’t argue the point; instead he listened as Cindy asked the waiter for a bowl of soup. He played along deliberately, sensing whatever was bothering her would only be exacerbated by anything else he could say.

It was unusual for Cindy. She normally steamed ahead with unrestricted fervor, energy and an undue need for control. But she never seemed weak.

And it affected him with unexpected emotion. Cindy had never struck him as needing protection.

As he watched, she pushed at the roll on her plate, but never picked it up. So it wasn’t hunger. He wondered what it could be, what had so thoroughly shaken her. But throughout the meal she didn’t meet his eyes.

And that made him want to know all the more.

A few days later Cindy tucked the new toys into place in the Rainbow classroom. She had chosen each one with a particular child in mind, and she could just picture their faces when they came to the next session.

“Hey, you,” Katherine greeted her, strolling into the room. “I thought I saw the light on in here.”

“Just getting things ready for tomorrow.”

Katherine glanced around the empty room. “And where are your three new appendages?”

Cindy smiled, but her heart wasn’t in the effort. “Flynn has them. I think he believes I’d like to take them over.”

Katherine’s smile was wise, knowing. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Absolutely. But not away from him. And Flynn has this all-or-nothing mentality.”

“I don’t suppose you’ve considered the possibility that he thinks you might need a break from their constant care?”

Cindy furrowed her brow as she sank into one of the kid-size chairs. “No.”

“It’s not a competition,” Katherine reminded her gently.

“I don’t look at it that way!”

“Not even a little bit?”

Deflated, Cindy stared at her friend, the only one who knew her secrets and still didn’t judge her. “I suppose I do feel I have a lot to prove.”

“Do you remember when I was agonizing about Michael? Trying to change myself into the woman I thought he wanted?”

Cindy nodded.

“And do you remember what you told me? That if he didn’t love me for myself, he wasn’t the right one for me?”

“All too well,” Cindy admitted. “I guess that’s the crux of it. I don’t really want to change for him, yet I suppose I hoped he’d see me in a new light, realize my value.”

“If he doesn’t, then he’s blind.”

Cindy’s smile struggled to form, but failed. “Don’t you see? He always has been as far as I’ve been concerned. After he took one look at Julia, I was as appealing as an Easter egg you find in the middle of the summer.”