Stepping out of his hybrid SUV, Tim expelled a resigned breath. Suzanne Duggan, retired grade-school teacher and A-plus grandmother, was a wonderful woman. But there was no denying she could be a trifle opinionated.
Thankfully, it wasn’t Suzanne, but his father who sauntered around the side of the house just as the screen door slammed shut and the girls disappeared from sight. His father waved a greeting, his gloved hand gripping a wicked-looking pair of garden shears.
Though in his mid-sixties, Steve Duggan could pass for a man ten years younger. The recently retired engineer was tall, topping Tim’s six-foot frame by a good three inches. His sandy hair still held the red all three of his children had inherited, although in recent years more and more silver strands had been added to the mix.
Tim met his father’s warm hazel eyes and realized, not for the first time, how fortunate he’d been to grow up in a home with two loving, supportive parents. From the moment his daughters had been born, he’d been determined to give them that same experience. Except now, with Caro gone, he had to be both father and mother.
They need a mother.
Tim ignored the voice inside his head and the accompanying fear that gripped him, fear that he was somehow shortchanging the girls by choosing to remain single. But his situation was different than most widowers. His practice was challenging. At the end of the day, there was no time left for the demands of a wife. He’d already failed one woman. He wouldn’t make that mistake again.
At ease with his decision, Tim gestured with his head toward the shears. “Looks like Mom is keeping you busy.”
His father smiled ruefully. “The woman’s honey-do projects will keep my free time occupied into the next millennium.”
The two men laughed, both aware that was no exaggeration.
As his father fell into step beside him, Tim sensed his curious gaze. Steve paused at the bottom of the porch steps.
“I was surprised when Suz mentioned you’d be dropping off the girls at four. That seems a bit early for a date.”
It seemed early to Tim, too. But Cassidy had paid six hundred dollars. Six hours or so of his time didn’t seem much to ask.
“Cass has a full evening planned,” he told his dad. “Beginning with grabbing some pizza, then checking out Brew Fest.”
When Tim had stopped by Cassidy’s salon earlier in the week to find out what she had in mind for their “date,” she’d asked if he had plans for Old West Days, a popular yearly event held the last Saturday of May. Other than taking the girls to watch the parade in the morning, Tim had been available.
“I’m surprised the woman could take time off today,” his mother said in lieu of a greeting as she stepped out onto the porch. Suzanne was a slim, attractive woman with a sleek bob of light brown hair and bright blue eyes. “If you’re a beautician, Saturday is a big day.”
“It’s her salon. I imagine she sets her own schedule.” Tim deliberately kept his tone mild, refusing to get drawn into a pointless discussion. He glanced around. “Where’d the twins disappear to?”
Suzanne’s tense expression softened at the mention of her “girls.” Esther and Ellyn were his parents’ only grandchildren. But something told Tim it wouldn’t be long before his sister and her husband added to that number.
“The moment they hit the front door they made a beeline straight for Miss Priss and the kittens.”
Tim smiled. “And how is Prissy?”
His parents had reluctantly taken in the calico last year when Silas, an elderly neighbor, had moved to a nursing home. The older gentleman had been panicked at the thought of his best friend going to an animal shelter. He’d assured his neighbors that Miss Priss had not only had all her shots but she’d also been spayed.
Six weeks ago, the supposedly neutered cat had given birth to four kittens.
“Prissy is a sweet girl,” Suzanne said with a fond smile. “And an excellent mother.”
From his mother, that was indeed high praise.
“Darn cat is spoiled rotten,” his dad groused. “Do you know she won’t drink from a bowl? Miss Particular will only drink running water from the spigot in the tub.”
His father’s tone said clearly what he thought of that practice.
“Hush, Steve. From what I’ve read about cats, it’s a primal thing.”
Before a parental argument ensued over an animal neither of them had really wanted, Tim changed the subject. “Have you found homes for the babies?”
“For three of them. So far, no takers for the runt,” his mother said with a sigh.
Runt was a mischievous male with a black head, a white body and a raccoon-striped tail. An odd combination to be sure.
Steve fixed his gaze on his son. “Your girls adore the runt.”
At his father’s raised eyebrow and the pointed look that accompanied the comment, Tim lifted his hands, palms out. “One day I’ll get them a pet. Now is not the right time.”
Tim expected his father to come back with some pithy comment. Instead his expression turned thoughtful. “I’ve found the best things are often those that are unexpected.”
If his father’s cryptic remark was intended to make Tim reconsider his decision to punt on kitten number four, the play failed. “I’m not changing my mind.”
He slanted a glance at his mother and found her staring.
She gestured toward his jeans and white polo, frowning slightly. “What made you decide to dress so casually for your date?”
Though Suzanne had made it completely clear she thought the whole bachelor-auction-date thing had been a mistake, obviously in her mind that didn’t negate the fact that her son had an image to uphold in the community.
“It’s Old West Days.” Tim glanced down. “And this isn’t really a date.”
He didn’t know why he’d added the last part. Actually, this was as close as he’d come to a date in the four years since Caro had passed away. While he may have escorted Jayne Connors—a media specialist at the local high school—to various functions over the years, that was because he and Jayne had an understanding. They’d agreed to fill in as each others’ plus-one when needed.
“You’re absolutely right. It’s not a date.” His mother’s lips tipped in approval. “In fact, that’s exactly what I told Paula when she called in a panic.”
Tim knew Paula was Paula Connors, Suzanne’s BFF and Jayne’s mother. The women talked every day. When they weren’t on the phone, they were texting each other. The two friends belonged to the same clubs, volunteered at the hospital and served together on too many-community committees to count.
He’d have thought the women had more important things to discuss than his personal life, which was nonexistent. “Why does Paula care if it’s a date or not?”
“Oh, Tim.” His mother clucked her tongue. “She cares because of Jayne. You know she and I still hope the two of you will get together.”
Tim stifled a groan. He’d walked right into that one. It had been about a year after Caro died that he’d revived his childhood friendship with Jayne. From the start he’d been clear he hadn’t been looking for anything more than friendship. Thankfully, Jayne felt the same way. The only ones who couldn’t seem to get the message were their respective mothers.
“Jayne and I