Firefighter Daddy (3 page)

“Miss Sunshine’s been teaching us how to hopscotch.”

“That’s nice, but if you don’t hold still until I finish brushing your hair, you’ll be late for school and Ror…um, Ms. Pennington-Borland…” He felt silly calling her Miss Sunshine but using her first name didn’t seem right, either. “Your teacher will suspend your playground privileges.”

Miranda laughed. “She would
never
do that. She’s super nice. When I grow up, I’m going to be a teacher just like her.”

“Good for you.” Mitch worked the last tangle out of his daughter’s blond curls and planted a kiss on the top of her head. “There you go. For now you’ll have to settle for being the prettiest girl in second grade.”

“Do you think Miss Sunshine is pretty?”

Yes, he did. He also knew that if he told Miranda, then Ms. Pennington-Borland would know, too, and he couldn’t see any advantage to that. “I didn’t notice,” he said.

“When you get married again, I think you should marry her.”

Dumbfounded, Mitch met his daughter’s gaze in the mirror. “What makes you think I’ll get married again?”

“So you can be happy. And so I can have a mom who knows how to hopscotch.”

His gut tightened. At least she hadn’t said she wanted another mom who loved to ride the cable cars. “I’m happy.”

“You don’t smile.”

He forced his mouth to do what his daughter claimed it didn’t. “I’m happy, princess. I promise.” Mitch set the hairbrush on his daughter’s dresser. “I’ll bet Grams is downstairs, waiting to walk you to school.”

“When will I be able to walk by myself?”

Gee, let’s see. Never?
She was his reason for getting up every morning, and he intended to do everything in his power to see that nothing terrible ever happened to her. “Is your backpack ready to go?” he asked, deciding to ignore the question. This time it worked.

“Yup. It’s by the front door. Did you sign my permission slip for the art gallery field trip?”

“I did,” he said. “It’s stuck on the door of the fridge.”

“Did you say you’ll be a chaperone?”

“I did.” He wasn’t sure why, exactly, since Miss Sunshine didn’t seem to think much of his parenting skills, and since neither modern art nor a mob of second graders held any appeal. But it was what Laura would have done, and it was time he started being more involved in their daughter’s life.

After Miranda dashed downstairs, he remembered the page with her speech that she had put in her pocket when he’d visited her classroom. Her torn jeans were still folded on the seat of her chair and sure enough, there it was. He unfolded the piece of paper and read it. Most of the words sounded like hers, but the printing wasn’t. He could imagine Miss Rory Sonora Sunshine Pennington whatever—man, how many names did one person need?—sitting on one of those little chairs next to his daughter, smiling her encouragement and patiently copying down the words she wanted to say.

Despite being a father, he didn’t have much experience with children, but he had enough to know that Miranda was often a little too quiet, a bit on the moody side and far too serious for a seven-year-old. Right now she lived with an eccentric grandmother who had never quite managed to leave the sixties behind and a father who had, by all reports, forgotten how to smile. She could use a strong, positive influence in her life. Would he have chosen a high-spirited teacher who was clearly the product of a couple of misguided hippies herself? No. But in spite of his own uncertainty when it came to Miss Sunshine, he had a feeling she might be just what Miranda needed right now.

O
N
S
ATURDAY MORNING
, Rory woke to the sound of her cell phone ringing. She opened one sleepy eye and peered at the clock. Ugh. This was the last morning she’d wake up on the sofa bed in Annie’s tiny living room, and she had a big day ahead of her.

Moving into her new apartment.

A dress fitting.

Dinner and drinks with the girls.

Even so, she hadn’t planned to be up
this
early. Neither had her cat. He hoisted himself off her feet and looked very annoyed as she shifted and grabbed her phone off the coffee table. It was her father.

“Hi, Dad? It’s awfully early. Is everything okay?”

“Sorry, sugar. I always forget about the time difference.”

“No problem. You know I love to hear from you.” The cat arched his back, turned around twice and settled back onto her feet.

“I got an e-mail from your mother. She said you found a place in the old neighborhood, so I’m calling to wish you a happy housewarming.”

“Thanks, Dad.” She was constantly amazed that her parents still communicated. Maybe they should have used e-mail when they were married. Of course, being separated by an entire continent didn’t hurt, either. “It’s a gorgeous old house, half a block off Haight Street and really close to the school. I have the attic apartment, and Betsy—she’s my landlord and a friend of Annie’s, and she even knows Mom—has the rest of the house.”

“Sounds wonderful, Rory. And how’s your new job working out?”

“I love it. My students are awesome, and the school’s great.” The day before classes had started, she’d walked through each classroom, imagining herself there as a kid. “And I’m so happy the girls and I are finally living in the same city again.”

“That’s right. How are they?”

“Jess is the same as ever, Maria’s baby is due in a couple of months, Paige and her husband are separated, and Nicola’s getting married. We’re getting together this afternoon to have our bridesmaids’ dresses fitted. What’s new with you?”

“The latest book is doing well.”

That was an understatement. “How many bestseller lists have you hit with this one?”

“Oh, one or two.” He never mentioned them unless she asked. He was genuinely modest about his success, and it was one of the things she admired most about him.

“The reviews have been fantastic, Dad.”

“You’ve been following them?”

“Of course I have! When’s your book tour?”

“We leave on Monday.”

She wondered if he’d tell her what he meant by
we
or if he’d make her ask. “You’re coming to San Francisco, I hope.”

“I haven’t seen my itinerary yet. My assistant is handling those details.”

And there was her answer. Her father had a thing about assistants. Especially young female assistants. Rory didn’t know if he started dating these women and then hired them, or vice versa. Either way, they never lasted.

“How old is this one?” she asked.

He chuckled at that. “Older than you.”

She didn’t ask by how much. “I’m looking forward to meeting her.” What else could she say?

“What about you?” he asked. “Seeing anyone?”

An image of a tall and seriously good-looking firefighter flashed into Rory’s mind, which was crazy. He was the father of one of her students and most likely married. Which reminded her, in spite of everything that had transpired this week, that she’d forgotten to look at Miranda’s file. “No, Dad, I’m not. I had a busy summer, and then there was the move here and getting settled into a new school. You’ll just have to get used to having a daughter who’s an old maid.”

She laughed and so did he.

“Still sworn off kids and commitment, I see.”

She preferred to think of it as swearing off all the chaos and emotional turmoil that went with the kind of commitment he was talking about. Kids she could handle, but marriage? No way. “May I remind you that I haven’t had the best role models?”

More laughter. She could joke about this with him. With her mother, not so much.

“I look forward to meeting the guy who finally changes your mind.”

Like that was going to happen. “Give it up, Dad. Not going to happen.”

“I’m a patient man, sugar.”

“Enough of your sweet talk. You’ll call as soon as you know when…if…you’ll be in San Francisco?”

“Of course. You can reintroduce me to Haight-Ashbury, and I’ll take you out for dinner.”

She wanted to ask if it could be just the two of them, but that would sound childish. “Hope to see you soon, Dad. Love you.”

“Love you, too, Rory. Have fun today, and say hi to the girls for me.”

“You bet. Bye.”

She set her phone on the coffee table and glanced around the tiny living room. It had been very generous of Annie to let her stay here while she looked for an apartment, but this place was barely big enough for one person, let alone two plus an overweight cat. She wriggled her toes under the big black-and-white ball of fur curled on top of her feet. “Time to get up, sleepyhead. It’s moving day.”

M
ITCH WAS UP EARLY
on Saturday morning. He had always liked weekend mornings, especially when they coincided with his days off. When Laura was alive, the three of them would have a leisurely breakfast and then head out for the day. After the accident it had been all he could do to drag himself out of bed in the morning. Looking back, taking an extended leave of absence had been a bad decision. Not nearly as bad as shift work, though, and having to leave Miranda with a series of irresponsible babysitters who spent most of their time on the phone, or with a nanny who turned out to have a taste for vodka.

Much as he loved his mother, moving back into her place wasn’t an ideal situation, either. He’d always said he would never live in this neighborhood again, but this arrangement meant that when he was at work overnight, Miranda was well cared for and he didn’t need to worry about her. Or at least he worried less.

Starting today, he decided, things would be different. His mother had gone to the park with her tai chi group, so he and Miranda were on their own for breakfast. After he helped the new tenant move in, he and his daughter would spend the afternoon at Fisherman’s Wharf. Miranda would love it, but it also felt like the right thing to do to honor his wife. Strangely enough, that hadn’t seemed necessary until he’d met his daughter’s teacher. Being attracted to another woman was sure as hell
not
the way to honor Laura.

He filled two bowls with cereal and topped them up with milk. No match for Laura’s blueberry waffles, but it was a start.

“Here you go,” he said, sliding a bowl in front of Miranda.

She sat across the table from him, still wearing her favorite pink Sponge Bob pajamas. They were getting too small, he noticed. One of these days he should take her shopping.

Or he could ask his mother to take her.

No, he should do it.

Miranda wiggled her loose tooth between spoonfuls of cereals. “When we go on the cable car today, I want to stand up and ride on the outside.”

Mitch’s spoon paused halfway to his mouth. “I’m pretty sure they don’t let kids your age do that. It’s too dangerous. Besides, somebody’s moving into the apartment this morning and Grams asked me to stick around and give her a hand. We might only have enough time to go the wharf.”

His daughter eyed him over the rim of her cereal bowl. “You don’t want to ride on a cable car, do you?”

No. Yes. No, he didn’t, but damn it, how did a seven-year-old get to be so perceptive? What would Laura have done in a situation like this?

Tell her the truth.

He couldn’t be sure if that was Laura’s voice in his head or Miss Sunshine’s, but honesty was probably the best way to go. If he told her the truth, maybe she’d drop it, at least for now.

“No,” he said. “Not really.”

“Is it because of Mom?”

He hadn’t seen that coming, either. Did he want to be completely honest? “Yes,” he said finally. “It is.”

On their first date, he’d taken Laura for a cable-car ride and she’d loved it. Six months later he’d proposed to her on one, and a year after that, it was where she’d told him they were going to have a baby. Not that he was overly sentimental, but he associated the city’s cable cars with being in love, not with grieving, and he wanted to keep it that way.

“That’s kind of dumb, don’t you think?”

“Excuse me?”

“Mom’s not here anymore, but she’d still want us to be having fun.”

Mitch set his spoon in his bowl. There was no sense putting anything in his mouth, since he’d never be able to swallow it anyway. He was the parent, yet there were times when his daughter seemed way more sensible. “You’re right,” he said, although he still wasn’t saying yes to the cable car. “The wharf and some ice cream will be fun. I’ll bet you even know what flavor you want.”

“Uh-huh. Chocolate-chip cookie dough.”

Mitch shuddered—even the name grossed him out—but he didn’t let on to Miranda. “I knew you’d say that.”

“And you’ll have chocolate,” she said confidently. “You always do.”

She was right. Laura had tried something different every time, but he was a creature of habit. There was nothing wrong with wanting things to stay the same, forever—except for having to deal with the devastation when they didn’t.

He watched Miranda pick up her bowl and drink the last of her milk and soggy cereal. Laura, in spite of her spirit of adventure, would have reminded her to use her manners, and a spoon. Like Miss Sunshine having her students put on their best manners.

He gave his head a shake. It had been well over a year since Laura’s accident, and for the past few months he’d been getting by just fine. Some nights he’d go to bed and realize he hadn’t thought about her all day. On the one hand he felt guilty, but on the other he thought he was finally pulling his life back together. Or at least managing to live it. But since he’d met Rory Pennington-Borland, the guilt was back in spades, and so were all these haunting thoughts about Laura.

He didn’t know who to blame. Laura, for leaving him? Rory, for having those ridiculously sexy feet? Or himself, for being so weak? The answer was a no-brainer. It wasn’t Rory’s fault, and being angry with his dead wife made no sense.

Miranda’s spoon clanged into her empty bowl. “I’m going upstairs to pick out what I’m going to wear this afternoon.”

Mitch stacked their bowls and put them in the sink. “Need some help?”

“Nope,” she said. “I can do it myself.”

He let her go. He was rinsing their dishes and loading them into the dishwasher when the doorbell rang. He glanced at the clock. If this was the new tenant, she was an early bird.