She stared at Sarah and then at him, her new bronze highlights catching the overhead light. He told himself to pull it together. Now that Sarah had passed out on Erin’s table, there was no pressing need to get out of the store.
“I suppose everything is all right. Until the next crisis that comes with having a teenager.” He tucked Sarah’s phone in his pocket for safekeeping. “Sorry I didn’t get to introduce the two of you before she conked out. That’s my daughter, Sarah.”
Erin watched him with a wariness that he hadn’t seen in her before. She carried an armful of clothes on hangers.
“You’re married?” She spoke the words carefully, annunciating each syllable with an awkwardness that felt uncomfortable.
Or was that just his imagination? Sometimes he felt like the whole world must know he was a widower, as if that grief had been permanently etched into his features at all times. He knew he should probably get out of Erin’s store and take Sarah with him, but finding out what his daughter had done had thrown him for a major loop. He was exhausted, and it wasn’t even noon yet. Besides, Sarah looked like she could sleep for three days straight, her right arm pillowing her head and her braid draped over her chin.
Poor kid.
“Iwasmarried. My wife died two years ago.” Because of him. Even then, he’d been on the road too much. Was the answer to quit his job? To make sure Sarah was safe and stayed out of trouble for the rest of her senior year?
Too bad he couldn’t come close to affording it. He needed to work to bring his finances back in line to pay for Sarah’s college tuition.
Erin’s expression shifted in predictable ways. Empathy, sympathy, a trace of pity.
He’d become adept at picking out all three in people’s faces. More so once they’d heardhowshe’d died.
Something he would not be sharing today as he was still recovering from the shock of seeing Sarah. He brushed a hand across his forehead, the skin cold and damp.
“I’m so sorry.” Erin laid the garments on a credenza. “That must be hard for both of you.”
Her eyes went to Sarah, for which he was grateful.
“I thought she was doing better.” He watched his daughter’s shoulders rise and fall ever so slightly with each breath. “It’s tough to tell what behaviors are normal teendrama and what things are in reaction to her mom’s death—the things I should be watching out for.”
“So she drove herself all the way up here?” Erin filled a coffeepot at a utility sink against one wall. “From Miami?”
He noticed she hadn’t apologized for butting in regarding his parenting. Then again, maybe she wasn’t sorry.
“She was in Gainesville on a school trip.” Was Sarah really serious about wanting experience in television? He’d dismissed it in the past when she’d asked to join him, assuming she was merely trying to take a few days off from school. “That put her several hours closer. But still…she had to have been driving for nine hours.”
“No wonder she’s exhausted. Thank goodness she made it here safely. Want some coffee? I don’t know if you’re going to move her anytime soon.” Erin spooned coffee grounds into the machine, the storefront quiet for the moment except for Sarah’s light snores coming between measured breaths. “I’m surprised she knew to look for you here.”
“I gave her a rough itinerary before I left.” Thank God she was safe. He wanted to just stare at his daughter and rejoice in that fact. “And I did mention stopping by here to the woman who runs the bed-and-breakfast.” His voice was gravelly with exhaustion after these past few days. And please, no need to make any coffee for me. I’ll get out of your hair as soon as I recover from the heart attack of seeing Sarah.”
“You’re staying at Heartache B and B?” Erin asked, flipping the switch that turned the coffee pot to brew. “Just so you know, telling Tansy Whittaker spreads news faster than Twitter in this town.”
The dry note in her voice made him smile in spite of the crap kind of day he was having.
“Today, that turned out to be a good thing.” He didn’t need Sarah getting any more upset. Her tears and worry were painful for him.
“Amen to that.” Erin nodded slowly, her blue eyes resting on Sarah again. “Is she your only child?”
“Yeah.” The sound of the coffee percolating filled the silence as it stretched, strangely comfortable, between them. He wished he hadn’t snapped at Erin, even if he hadn’t appreciated her advice. “I adopted Sarah when I met her mom. Actually, maybe Sarah adopted me first. She’s got a powerhouse personality. She’s all in when she likes someone.”
“My father was like that—very magnetic. He was the mayor of Heartache for almost fifteen years before he died.” Erin’s gaze shifted to his. “I always admired that charismatic side of him.”
“You were the mayor’s daughter while you were growing up?” Sarah’s phone buzzed with incoming messages so he reached into his pocket to turn it off.
“Just during my teenage years.” Erin’s expression closed. She definitely wasn’t one to talk about herself. “So what are you going to do with her now that she’s here? Will you have to return home sooner than planned?”
“No.” He knew that much from discussions with her counselor in the past. It didn’t help the situation to adjust his life to suit her, even though families healing from grief sometimes did just that in an effort to insure their kids never experienced any other obstacles. “I’m fortunate to have maintained my job despite long absences after Liv’s death. I can’t shortchange the show now.”
It was true enough, and it spared him from having todiscuss the show’s loss of ratings and the need to bolster it to keep it afloat.
“At the risk of having you accuse me of overstepping, was your daughter having problems at school? Is that why she drove all this way to see you?” Erin reached into an overhead cabinet and pulled out two mismatched mugs and a sugar container.
