Silver Linings. Mary Brady

Silver Linings - Mary Brady


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Maybe both.”

      “You can’t study and sleep at the same time,” Brianna said in a very sober tone as she put her backpack on the desk in the corner of the kitchen and then washed her hands at the sink.

      “Apple and chicken breast or green salad and a hamburger?”

      “Apple. I want to eat while I do my daddy list.” She hummed as she dug a pad of paper out of her pack. “I need to decide if I need a daddy at all.”

      How much of Brianna’s life was she going to miss while she was at school? It had never seemed to be the right time to leave her daughter. When Brianna was a baby, leaving her for weekdays, even with loving grandparents, had been out of the question—even if her mother’s arthritis had been up to it.

      She washed an apple and cut it into chunks.

      “Mama?”

      She looked down to see Brianna, who had appeared suddenly at her side, staring up at her.

      Delainey smiled. “Here’s your apple. Do you want peanut butter?”

      Her daughter’s eyes widened into the look Delainey knew meant she was troubled. “Mama, is there something wrong with us?”

      CHAPTER THREE

      “WRONG WITH US?” Delainey’s chest squeezed. Here it was. The real question her daughter wanted to ask. She put a hand on the girl’s shoulder and hunkered down so they were eye to eye.

      “Yeah, because I don’t have a daddy and you don’t have a husband.”

      Brianna’s large and dark eyes held a kind of desolation that twisted Delainey’s heart. She sat down on the floor and pulled Brianna into her lap. With her arms around her child, she sighed and knew she was going to have to find a way to explain something Brianna often asked about.

      “Did someone say something to you?”

      “Janis said my daddy left town because he didn’t want to be part of our family. She’s wrong, isn’t she?”

      “Your daddy left before you were born, before he even knew about you.”

      “But he could have come back. Did he stay away because he didn’t want to be my daddy?”

      “My wonderful, beautiful girl, if he didn’t want to be a daddy, it would not be because of you.”

      “If he came back and met me, would he love me?”

      “If he didn’t love you, it wouldn’t be because you weren’t good enough or cute or funny enough. It certainly wouldn’t be because you weren’t smart enough.” She tugged a lock of her daughter’s abundant dark brown curls.

      “What would it be?”

      “It would be because of what he believes about himself.”

      “Like maybe he believes he wouldn’t be a good daddy,” Brianna said, her words coming out slowly, thoughtfully.

      “Like that. I like to think he’s out there in the world learning enough about himself to love himself. And if we ever find him, he’ll love you, too.”

      “Do you love yourself, Mama?”

      “I do, my little bean.”

      Brianna giggled. “I’m not a bean.”

      “You’re my fantastic daughter and I’m your fantastic mother. That makes us the Fantastic Family. When Janis says things like that, it’s because she’s feeling bad or scared about something.”

      “Really?”

      “Really. Next time, tell her to have a good day and walk away. Or you can ask her if she’s all right. You might be surprised by what she says.”

      Brianna turned and snuggled close. “I’d like to have a daddy because sometimes I just get scared.”

      Delainey leaned her chin on the top of her daughter’s head. Me too, my sweet little girl. Me too.

      * * *

      THE NEXT MORNING, Hunter let himself into the office before anyone else got there. He wanted to get started on Shamus’s files.

      The day had started with a glorious sunrise. He had run through the village from Shamus and Connie’s house, where he was staying for a few days, and down along the docks and south to the rocky shoreline of Little Cove Park.

      When the town was quiet and the streets sat deserted except for one curious brown dog nosing around and one runner from Chicago, Bailey’s Cove seemed to have barely changed since he left, except several stores stood vacant. Quirky, old and new meshed together to form one of those old-fashioned communities where people might stop for a short visit and move on. Too bad. With its position on the coast, the town could draw many tourists if it had more to offer.

      He hung his trench coat in the closet.

      Sleep hadn’t been easy last night. He kept thinking of Delainey and wondering if he had made another colossal mistake coming here. He had needed to leave Chicago, but come to Bailey’s Cove?

      For the past three months he had been unengaged in law. He’d grown tired of jogging Chicago’s lakefront. The gym personnel called him by name when he went in to work out. He’d rebuffed so many invitations to be entertained it had become embarrassing from many angles.

      When Shamus had called, it had seemed like some sort of divine intervention, but now he felt trapped by the machinations of life that ambled relentlessly on, chewing people up and spitting them out.

      Shamus, for instance. Hunter was sure there was something about Shamus’s calling him now that had nothing to do with the desire to suddenly retire. That Shamus had called a Morrison wasn’t the puzzle. Morrison and Morrison had been founded by Harold and Hadley Morrison, his ancestral grandfather and uncle. That no one had ever changed the name spoke to the casual attitude he had already noticed at the law firm. Shamus had guaranteed this would be different than city corporate law, and Hunter knew before coming here Shamus wasn’t wrong.

      For better or worse, he was here until Shamus didn’t need him anymore, because there was one thing he’d refused to give up in the big city and that was what his father had called the Morrison integrity. He had told Shamus he’d help out, and that he would do.

      In the file room between Shamus’s office and Harriet’s, he helped himself to a few of Shamus’s files labeled Active.

      The first case he opened had a big N/C for no charge scrawled across the top. He almost chuckled at the thought of seeing N/C written on one of the files in the records room at his old firm.

      On the rest of the page Delainey’s neat penmanship filled in the blank lines.

      Yesterday he had learned that Delainey Talbot was single or single again—the details were fuzzy. The “someone else” who had made her so cold after he left must be out of her life. That was too bad.

      It was all too bad.

      Too bad his goal had always been to leave Bailey’s Cove. Too bad and entirely his fault, he had thought it best to let Delainey go look for someone else.

      Maybe he could have talked her into moving to Chicago, but would she have thrived there or just survived?

      At Morrison and Morrison he had the right to read her personnel file, but he decided not to go there. All he had to do was to listen to the chatter and he was sure he could learn all he cared to know about any of the staff, including Delainey. Shamus trusted every one of them within their limitations and that worked for him.

      The second client file he pulled out concerned one neighbor trimming the tree of another so it wouldn’t overhang the neighbor’s garage. The suing neighbor had already planned on moving out but was suing for pain and suffering because of the trim job on the tree. This one had one hour billed to it and a note in Delainey’s hand to “Call Mrs. Harrison’s


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