Lisa Jordan - Lakeside Family

She opened the door, stepped inside then moved out of the way so he could enter. A small candlestick lamp on the semicircle foyer table by the front door lit the entryway. Shadows stretched across the wood floor that led into the living room. Josie dropped her purse on the table, shrugged off her coat and hung it in an open closet. She didn’t offer to take Nick’s. He wouldn’t be staying long.

She stepped into the bathroom around the corner from the front door and washed her hands. Returning to the hall, she nodded toward the bathroom. “Please wash your hands. We have to be really careful about germs.”

Without saying a word, Nick moved past her and did as she asked. She marched into the large living room without checking to see if he followed.

She passed by the taupe leather couch with its aqua-and-chocolate pillows and crocheted afghan and crossed to the matching recliner to kiss her grandfather’s cheek. He rested with his eyes closed and a suspense novel open on his chest. The soft glow of the tall candlestick lamp behind his chair bathed his face, filling in the lines and wrinkles of life’s experiences. “Nonno, I’m home.”

Her grandfather started, adjusting his glasses on his nose. “Cara, mi avete spaventato. You startled me.” His eyes shifted over her shoulder.

“So sorry. I have a guest.” She waved her hand toward Nick.

“A guest, you say.” Her grandfather lowered his footrest and eased himself out of the chair. He straightened his brown knitted vest over his blue plaid shirt.

Josie placed a hand on her grandfather’s shoulder. “Nonno, meet Nick Brennan.”

“Nick, this is my nonno, I mean my grandfather, Vincenzo Peretti.”

“A pleasure, sir.” Nick extended a hand.

“Nick.” Nonno’s voice trailed off and his lips thinned as his eyes narrowed. “Are you...?” He shot a look at Josie.

She nodded, biting the inside of her lip. “Yes, he’s Hannah’s father.”

Nonno pulled his shoulders back, stepped toward Nick and pointed a finger at him. “You have some nerve. What kind of man puts an innocent girl in a family way and then disappears?”

Josie placed a hand on his chest. “Nonno, not now.”

Nick held up a hand. “Sir, you have every right to be angry. I’m sure I would be, too, in your place. In my defense, I didn’t know.”

“Didn’t know? Didn’t know? Why, that’s preposterous. I remember—”

“Nonno, we’ll talk later.” She linked her arm through his and pressed a kiss to his temple.

Nonno glared at Nick. Josie had to give him credit for not backing down. Her grandfather was the first to break eye contact. Muttering in Italian, he returned to his recliner and picked up his book, pretending to read.

Josie removed the novel from his hands, turned it right side up and smiled. “Ti amo.”

“Ti amo, cara.”

She swallowed a lump in her throat. “Where’s Hannah?”

“She’s asleep. I checked on her about half an hour ago.”

“Grazie.”

Josie motioned for Nick to follow her and headed up the stairs separating the living room from the dining room. Putting her finger to her lips, Josie pushed her daughter’s bedroom door open and tiptoed to Hannah’s bed where she lay curled in a ball, one arm clutching Duck, her stuffed purple alligator that had seen better days.

Josie looked over her shoulder to where Nick stood rooted to the threshold. His eyes didn’t waver from the bed. His brows furrowed and then a look she couldn’t interpret crossed over his face.

“What’s wrong?” Josie’s heart fluttered. He was probably

in shock about Hannah’s baldness.

“She’s beautiful.”

Chapter Three

After Nick left, Josie managed to fall asleep for about three hours before her alarm should have gone off. Except she had forgotten to set her alarm.

Josie arrived at Cuppa Josie’s late and found the back door frozen shut again. She and Hannah traipsed around to the front door.

The wind whipped the beige-and-blue-striped canopy over the smoky glass door with the steaming cup etched in white.

Josie balanced a box of tulips in order to jiggle the key in the ancient front door lock, making a mental note to salt the sidewalk.

Hannah’s narrow shoulders hunched against the blustery weather. “Hurry up, Mom. It’s so cold.”

“Really? And here I was taking my time so I could work on my tan.” Josie closed her eyes, flung out her free arm and raised her face to the sky.

“Ha. Ha. Very funny.” The biting air rouged Hannah’s cheeks and the tip of her upturned nose, adding a blush of color to her skin.

“Hold these, please.” Josie handed the box of tulips to Hannah, tugged her daughter’s hat down over her forehead and then rewrapped the purple-and-white-striped scarf around her neck.

“Need a hand?”

She turned to see Nick shutting the door to a shiny black Ford Ranger and stepping onto the sidewalk.

What was he doing here? They weren’t supposed to meet until later. She hadn’t talked to Hannah yet.

She gave him a tight smile and moved Hannah in front of her. “Thanks, but I got it.”

Come on, Lord, cut a girl a break here.

The hairs on the back of her neck bristled. Was he still there? Watching them? She snuck a peek over her shoulder.

Blowing into cupped hands, he stood about four feet behind them, eyes focused on them.

Did he have to watch her every move?

The key turned. Josie’s exhaled breath puffed against the glass as she opened the door.

Josie guided Hannah inside and pushed the door closed, but Nick shot forward and grabbed the handle. “Is it too early to come in?”

Josie darted a look between Hannah and him. Hannah gave her a curious look.

“If it makes you uncomfortable, I can wait in my truck.” He thrust a thumb over his shoulder toward the street. He took a step back.

She paused. “No, don’t do that. Come in. I’ll have the coffee going in a few minutes.” She flicked on the interior light and flipped the CLOSED sign to OPEN.

She handed him the Shelby Lake Gazette and gestured toward the high-backed stools hugging the counter. “Grab a chair. Coffee will be ready shortly.”

With no time for introductions, she and Hannah wove their way around the square tables, shed their coats in her office and then washed their hands. Hannah traded her winter hat for a pink checked newsboy cap and tugged it sideways on her head. She pulled her iPod and a book from her backpack. Grabbing a banana out of the hanging basket near the sink, she perched on a stool next to the stainless-steel counter where Josie rolled out her piecrusts.

Within minutes of starting the coffee, the mingling scents of the different blends breathed life into Josie and flowed through her as necessarily as her own blood. Even though she couldn’t drink coffee, she craved the smell.

The front door jangled.

Oh, no. Not yet. She wasn’t ready for customers—the coffee hadn’t finished brewing. The pastry case wore empty shelves. The candles hadn’t been lit. The fireplace lay cold.

Why, oh, why hadn’t she set her cell phone to go off, too?

Agnes pushed through the swinging kitchen door. “Sugar Pie, so sorry I’m late. I had no electricity and had to go to Mama’s to dry my hair.” She hung up her coat and fluffed snowflakes off her curls. “Back door stuck again? I nearly slid on my tush coming around to the front.”

Josie pointed to Agnes’s feet. “Wear something a little more sensible than those stiletto boots.”

Agnes struck a model pose. “But they make my legs look long and lean. Never know when Mr. Right is going to come along.”

“Didn’t you get your fill of marriage after your ex left you for that perky pop star wannabe?” Josie twisted her hair and clipped it in a messy updo, pulling down a few loose curls to frame her face.