Twelfth Night Proposal. Karen Smith Rose
though, in the light of day, she just chalked it all up to her imagination.
Heather stood up in her crib when she saw Verity, grinning from ear to ear. She stuffed a pink elephant—her toy of choice this week—under one arm.
“Good morning, honey,” Verity said, scooping the little girl up into her arms. “I’m hoping that big bed your daddy ordered soon arrives. I’m afraid you’re going to crawl out of this one.”
“I cwawl out,” Heather parroted, swinging Nosy by his trunk.
“Let’s brush your teeth. Then you can decide what you want for breakfast.”
“Waffles wif bluebewies,” she said as if she’d been thinking about it all night.
Laughing, Verity shook her head. “You’ve had those every day this week.”
“Waffles wif bluebewies,” Heather repeated.
“Okay. I’m sure you’ll get tired of them eventually.”
Cooking was a pastime Verity enjoyed. She and Sean and her father had always shared the chore. After she’d gotten her own apartment in college, she’d found experimenting could be fun. Now she was glad she had. Heather could be a picky eater, and coming up with fun and playful ways to serve food was always a challenge.
Fifteen minutes later, teeth brushed, dressed in pink overalls and a matching shirt, Heather ran ahead of Verity to the kitchen. The bandage on her forehead was still in place and she wasn’t paying any attention to it.
Verity hadn’t seen any sign of Leo, but he might be working in his office in the pool house. She’d just started a pot of coffee brewing when a deep male voice made her jump. “Good morning.”
Her hand over her heart, she swiveled toward the back door that led to the patio, pool and pool house. “Mr. Montgomery. I was going to call you when breakfast was ready.”
He was carrying a folded sheet of paper in his hand. “It’s Leo, remember?”
Oh, she remembered.
Without waiting for her response, he went on, “I thought I’d spend some time with Heather while you make breakfast. I realized yesterday I need to give her more attention.”
Verity remembered how Heather had clung to her when Leo had arrived home to take her to the doctor. “I imagine it’s difficult being a single parent.”
“Funny,” Leo said almost to himself, “I don’t think of myself as single. But, yes, it is tough. After Heather’s mother died, I guess I took refuge in work because Jolene was around to help me with Heather…or the nanny of the day. But yesterday when you called and said that Heather was hurt, I realized how very little I have to do with her day-to-day care.”
“You’re running a business.”
“Yes, I am. Montgomery Boats will be her future, if she wants it. But in the meantime, I want to make sure I’m in her life.”
Suddenly Heather ran to Verity with her coloring book. “Look what me did.” She held up a page she had colored. Staying within the lines wasn’t a concept she understood yet, but she knew her colors, and she’d used a lot of them on the page.
When Verity glanced at Leo, she saw the expression on his face and she realized he wished Heather had come to him.
“What a wonderful picture!” Verity exclaimed. “Show your daddy.”
Looking puzzled for a moment, Heather tentatively held up the page to him. Verity could see Leo’s uncertainty in exactly what to say or do. Then he crouched down, put his arm around his daughter, and offered, “That’s a great blue dog. I bet he lives in the same place as pink elephants.”
“Like Nosy,” Heather decided.
“Just like Nosy.”
“Heather insists she wants blueberry waffles for breakfast. Is that all right with you? I could scramble some eggs, too.”
“It’s been a long time since I had more than coffee for breakfast. Why don’t I make the eggs?”
“Are you sure you want to help?”
He pulled one of the chairs over to the counter. “Sure. Heather can help, too. Heather, do you want to learn to crack an egg?”
“I wanna cwack lots of eggs,” Heather said so fast, Verity could hardly catch it.
As Leo took the carton from the refrigerator, he replied, “I think we’ll start with one.”
Verity couldn’t help but watch Leo as he made an effort to give Heather the attention he’d mentioned. He even let her stir the eggs with a fork. After a while, though, she tired of the process and told him, “I’m gonna color now.” Leo lifted her down, and she went over to her miniature table and chairs to do just that.
When he frowned, Verity assured him, “Her attention span for most things is about ten minutes, unless it’s something she’s really into. Coloring is one of those things. Playing with blocks is another.”
“Maybe she will grow up to want to design boats and build ships.”
“Or houses or bridges or skyscrapers,” Verity offered.
“I got it. I have to keep an open mind.”
They smiled at each other and Verity felt all quivery inside. Leo’s smile faded as he gazed at her, and the magnetic pull between them almost seemed to tug her toward him.
Then she remembered what he’d said earlier. I don’t think of myself as single. That obviously meant he still thought of himself as married.
The timer beeped, signaling the first waffle was finished. Verity focused all of her attention into lifting the top of the iron, carefully removing the waffle and ladling in the next one.
The silence in the kitchen grew awkward until she finally asked, “When did you begin designing boats?”
“When I was ten.”
She glanced at him. “What inspired you to do that?”
“My father. He didn’t design boats, but he built them from someone else’s plans. I spent every spare moment I could with him at the boatyard. I loved going out on the water with him, too. He had a real respect for the sea and taught me how to read it.”
“Read it?” That idea fascinated her.
“Anyone can learn to pilot a boat. Instruments these days make the experience almost a no-brainer. But there are still times when the color of the sky, the direction of the clouds, the scent of the water can tell a pilot the story as well as instruments can.”
After Leo took a frying pan from the cupboard, he poured the eggs into it. The scent of the sweet waffles with blueberries, the aroma of coffee brewing, the eggs cooking in the skillet filled the kitchen along with the sound of Heather humming as she colored. The scene was so domestic it took Verity aback for a second. It was almost like a dream she’d had a week ago—a dream in which she’d had a home and a place to belong. But she really didn’t belong here with Leo.
Did she?
Whatever she was feeling toward Leo Montgomery was probably all one-sided, and she’d better put the brakes on it. As his nanny, she was convenient right now. When he no longer needed her, he wouldn’t hesitate to say goodbye, just as Matthew had.
Snatching a topic, any topic, she asked Leo, “How about your mother? Did she like boats and the water, too?”
Leo cast her a sideways glance. “Not on your life. Mom’s a high-heels, I-don’t-want-to-get-my-hair-wet kind of person. She’s never wanted anything to do with the boatyard or the business.”
“Your sister told me she lives in Avon Lake, but she’s away now.”
“Lives in Avon Lake,” Leo repeated. “Officially, I guess.