Bachelor Father (10 page)

Molly couldn't resist. She repeated the
admonishment he’d given her and Jake when he’d walked her to her
car after the Family Work Day. “We look both ways before we
cross.”

“Do we, now?” Brett dropped her hand and
raised his to shade his eyes, making an exaggerated display of
checking the street for traffic. “All clear.” 

She laughed and started to step off the curb,
the delicious smells from the various vendors’ carts drawing her
across the street. Little gymnasts practiced acrobatics in her
stomach, spurred on by hunger and the apprehension of not knowing
Brett’s answer to her proposal.

Before she could finish the step, Brett took
her hand again. “We always hold hands when we cross streets,” he
said.

Anxious to get rid of the flutter inside,
Molly tugged at his hand. “Come on, then. I’m starved.”

Brett stopped at the first food cart and
asked, “How's a chili dog sound?”

“Great.” She usually went for turkey on whole
wheat, but with her stomach flip-flopping in anticipation of
Brett's decision, today did seem like more of a chili dog day.
Maybe the chili peppers would counteract the jitters.

“Two chili dogs,” he told the vendor. “Do you
want something to drink?” he called over his shoulder to
Molly.

Breathing in the spicy aroma of the chili
cooking, Molly decided, “Iced tea would be good.”

“An iced tea and a coffee.” Brett finished the
order.

When the order was ready, Molly gingerly
accepted the chilidog from Brett with one hand and her drink with
the other.

“Why don't we sit on the bench over there to
eat?” he suggested.

Molly glanced over to the shaded bench he’d
pointed at with his cup of coffee and shivered. “No, let’s sit on
the base of the monument, in the sun.”

“Fine with me.”

Walking carefully to avoid having chili sauce
spill on her, Molly made her way through the crowd. She sat on the
base of the monument and, after placing her iced tea beside her on
the concrete, looked up for Brett. A small army of pre-school
children separated him from her. Grinning at Molly over the little
parade, he shrugged his shoulders.

The tots marching along hand-in-hand made
Brett appear even taller than his six foot two. Molly smiled back,
catching the time on the church steeple behind him. Twelve thirty.
She didn’t have long for lunch. Wishing they would move faster so
Brett could get himself over here and tell her his decision, she
took a bite of her chilidog and watched the children.

The sound of their feet tramping through the
fallen leaves complemented the rustling wind. A gust showered a
colorful rain of leaves on the children. One little girl, her hair
done in intricate cornrows fastened with red ribbons, picked up a
bright yellow leaf and showed it to one of the adults with the
group. Captivated by the delight on the child’s face, Molly didn’t
notice that her cup of tea had blown off the monument base until
she felt the cold wetness run down her leg and spread across her
foot.

Great. Brett had all the napkins. She looked
over the children’s heads, but he was no longer there. Trying to
judge whether she could safely put her chilidog down so she could
take care of the tea, she felt a leaf blow across her foot. Then,
the “leaf” moved up her leg. She glanced down to be greeted by
Brett kneeling on the sidewalk, his brown eyes smiling up at her as
he efficiently wiped the tea from her stockinged leg.

“You look like you have some experience at
handling spills,” Molly teased.

“A bit,” he answered dryly, continuing to rub
her leg.

His warm hands contrasted with the cool wind.
She snuggled into her jacket while he ran his hand over the spot
again with another napkin. Molly was tempted to ask him to warm her
other leg, too.

“Maybe you’d better grab your sandwich,” he
said. Her chilidog rocked precariously on her lap in the gusting
wind. “Unless you want a demonstration of my skills at mopping up
chili sauce, that is.”

Despite a fleeting thought that it wouldn’t be
an altogether bad idea to have Brett continue his ministrations,
Molly picked up her lunch. She assumed Brett would join her sitting
on the monument base, but he didn’t. Instead, he balled up the wet
napkins, stuffed them under his foot so they wouldn’t blow away and
began digging for something in the front pocket of his
khakis.

Interesting. Just as Molly was about to ask
him why he didn’t stand up and get whatever it was he was after,
Brett pulled a small velvet-covered box from his pocket. Opening it
with a flourish, he looked up at Molly. She laughed, expecting to
see an ostentatious gag ring from the jewelry case of a discount
variety store or, even, from a gumball machine—a frivolous piece to
match the clownish glint in Brett’s eyes and the temporary nature
of their relationship.

The exquisite emerald cut diamond nestled in
the black velvet of the box made her breath catch. Before Molly
could find her voice, Brett had taken the chilidog from her hands
and was slipping the diamond on her left ring finger.

Taking advantage of Molly’s stunned silence,
Brett asked dramatically, “Molly Hennessey, would you do me the
honor of becoming my wife? For the time being, at least.” He
grinned, unable to keep completely serious.

“Brett,” she blurted. “You shouldn’t have. The
ring, it’s . . .”

“My mother’s.”

Brett watched her intently as if gauging her
reaction, the glimmer of mischief gone from his eyes, replaced by a
different sheen.

The intensity of his expression
tugged at her heart. For a moment, she pretended his proposal was
real.
No!
Shaking
the thought from her mind, she started to pull the ring from her
finger. “I can’t wear your mother’s ring.”

He stopped her, holding her hand in his,
stroking gently with his thumb. “Why not? Mom would have liked you.
You care for the kids at Thayer House the same as she cared for her
students. She would have approved of what you’re doing for me—and
Jake,” he added.

Molly luxuriated in the stroking of his thumb
and his warm words. His mother must have been a teacher. A twinge
of panic assailed her. Aside from what she’d read in his case file
and learned at their meetings, Molly knew so little about Brett. He
did like kids, dogs, and his mother, and wasn’t emasculated by
letting his feelings for those dear to him show. That placed him
far above a lot of men she’d met.

“Besides,” Brett said, “the pre-nuptial
agreement Tina drew up specifically says you have to give the ring
back to me if the marriage is ended for any reason.”

Brett’s words slapped her back to reality. She
grabbed her hand from Brett, leaving the ring on her finger. “I’ve
got to run or I’ll be late for my home study.” She looked pointedly
at the tower clock. “Give me a call later. We’ve got to set a date.
The sooner the better.” Molly tossed the remainder of her lunch in
the trash barrel as she headed back to Thayer House.

“Hey,” Brett called to her when she’d reached
the street. “I take it that’s a yes.”

She turned back. “What?”

“Yes, you
will
marry me?” he shouted across
the park.

Molly would have sworn the whole park went
silent, even the wind. With everyone’s eyes seemingly on her, a hot
blush crept slowly up her entire body. Brett probably thought he
was being funny. It would serve him right if she kept walking. She
lifted her foot to step down the curb.

“Will you marry me?” Brett called
again.

Molly swung around. She noticed numerous
people from Thayer House, including her boss, the director of
adoptions, in the growing crowd. This little scene sure wouldn't do
much toward bolstering her reputation as a professional member of
the Thayer staff. A dark thought gripped her. What if Thayer House
didn't name her as Jake's foster parent? The marriage charade would
all be for nothing.

Shaking off her self-doubt, she stepped back
to the sidewalk and, cupping her hand around her mouth, shouted a
resounding, “Yes,” to Brett and the 100 other people waiting for
her answer. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

Over the applause of the crowd, she heard a
“Great!” and something that sounded like “church.” She stopped
short. Nah, he couldn’t be thinking of a church wedding. She’d
figured on a quick ceremony at City Hall, maybe on her lunch break
or after work one afternoon. A church wedding seemed so, so, real.
She shivered at the thought that in a small place like New Chatham,
maybe you could get a church on short notice.

Pausing at the Thayer House door, she looked
up the street for Brett, only to catch him turning the corner to
Hacket Boulevard. She didn’t have time to go after him now, but
she’d set him straight tomorrow, remind him that their deal was
strictly business.

Brett whistled as he strode toward his
Wrangler. He’d sure gotten to Molly with his public proposal. Did
her good. She needed to lighten up, have some fun with the
situation. He couldn’t get over her expression when he’d added that
comment about Pastor Larry saying the church was free any Saturday
this month. It was priceless.

Molly took a deep breath. Might as
well get it over with. She dialed the number, pacing the length of
the phone cord as she counted the rings. One, two, three. She and
Brett had agreed on next Saturday for the wedding. And, as she’d
soon learned from Brett, it
was
possible to get a church on such short notice.
Four, five, six.

She fingered her Celtic cross. Seven, eight,
nine. The thought of being married in a church still made her
uncomfortable. While she wasn’t a particularly religious person,
saying vows she and Brett didn’t mean to keep in church had a ring
of deceit about it. But Molly hadn’t had much of a choice. When
she’d called City Hall, she’d found a five-week waiting list for
weddings. Korean Child Welfare wanted Jake placed in foster care
long before that.

“Donahue residence.” At the sound of the
housekeeper’s welcoming voice, a warm calm flowed through
Molly.

“Helen, it’s Molly.”

“Molly, sugar. How are you? We haven’t heard
from you in months, not since your little brouhaha with Scott about
the Judge not releasing the money you needed to buy your
condo.”

Molly swallowed her guilt. She hadn’t called
or written home since she’d met with her stepbrother about the
trust fund last summer. “That’s a moot point, now.”

“Pardon?”

“Nothing, just thinking out loud. Is mother
home?”

“No,” Helen Potter said, the disappointment
for Molly quite evident in her voice. “They left this morning for
Washington. You know how the Judge likes to be in the thick of the
electioneering.”

Yes, Molly knew well, as she knew how much her
mother liked to be right along beside him playing the perfect
hostess to his perfect host. She wondered if her parents would be
home for Thanksgiving or if her half brother and sister would be
spending the holiday vacation at boarding school or pawned off on
friends as Molly had often spent her holidays.

“I guess I should have called yesterday,”
Molly said. “I wanted to tell Mother that I’m getting married a
week from Saturday. If they’re on the campaign trail, I doubt
they’ll want to change their plans and come up here for the
ceremony.”

“Sugar. You’re getting married? I’m so happy
for you. I’m certain your mother and the Judge will want to come.
Now, when my Alicia got married this summer, they sent her and Brad
the loveliest silver setting.”

Molly shook her head. Helen, the eternal
optimist. Her mother hadn’t come to either her high school or
college graduation. What made Helen so sure they’d travel 500 miles
to her wedding, especially on only a week’s notice?

“You give me all the details, Molly, and I’ll
tell your mother when she calls this evening. You know how she
likes to check in when she’s away to collect her messages and make
sure everything is running smoothly at home.”

Yeah, Molly certainly knew how devoted her
mother was to her lovely home and busy social schedule. She gave
Helen the time and place of the ceremony.

Helen repeated the information to make sure
she had it right, then said, “You have to tell me a little about
your fiancé, the arrangements, and your dress. I just know you’re
going to be beautiful bride.”

Helen seemed so genuinely happy for her, that
Molly didn’t have the heart to tell her the real circumstances.
She’d find out soon enough anyway.

“Well, his name is Brett Cahill. He has his
own surveying business and he has. . .”

“What does he look like?” Helen interrupted.
“Is he a hunk?”

Molly laughed at the prim, motherly Mrs.
Potter wanting to know if Brett was a hunk. “Yes, you could say
that.”

“Tall, dark, and handsome, I’ll
bet.”

Tall, dark, and
handsome
,” Molly repeated thoughtfully to
herself. She’d concede to the tall and dark. But handsome? His
looks ran more to the rugged than to the refined, classic good
looks Helen was most likely picturing—the type of men Molly had
dated in college.