The gentleness in Annie’s voice made her throat tighten unexpectedly. She looked away, focusing on the snow falling outside the window.
“I’m not judging him,” she said, though part of her knew that wasn’t entirely true. “I just... I don’t understand why my father would let a stranger into our home without telling me.”
“Maybe he didn’t know how to tell you. You two haven’t exactly been on speaking terms.”
She couldn’t argue with that. Their phone calls over the years had been brief and infrequent, more obligation than connection.
“And Beckett’s not a stranger to your dad anymore,” Annie continued. “They’ve been living together for six months. Stan’s been doing better with him around. More social. He even came to the Harvest Festival in October.”
The image of her stoic, withdrawn father at a town festival was almost impossible to reconcile with the man she knew. The man who had retreated into silence and rigid routine after her mother died and who seemed more comfortable with her academic achievements than with Tessa herself.
“I don’t know who my father is anymore,” she admitted quietly.
Annie reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Maybe that’s not such a bad thing. People change. Sometimes for the better.”
Before she could respond, the door opened, and a gust of cold air swept into the cafe. She turned to see Beckett standing in the doorway, snowflakes clinging to his jacket and hair. His eyes found hers immediately, and something in his expression shifted—surprise, then what might have been concern.
“Sorry to interrupt,” he said, his voice low. “Your father was worried when he woke up and you weren’t there.”
Guilt poked at her, quickly followed by annoyance. “I left a note.”
“He found it. But he wanted to make sure you were okay.”
Considering her father hadn’t checked on her when she was a young girl, it seemed strange he’d choose now to worry about her. She was a grown woman, for Pete’s sake. “You could have just called me.”
“I tried. I heard your phone ringing in your room.”
Now that surprised her. She never went anywhere without her phone. She felt her pockets. Nope, no phone. “Oh, sorry.” Then she frowned. “Wait, you left him alone? After a stroke?” The nurse in her immediately took over, concern and professional judgment flooding her system.
He didn’t flinch at her sharp tone. He simply stood there, shoulders relaxed, his gaze steady. “He’s not in any immediate danger,” he said calmly. “I never leave him for long. Only when he’s settled in the front room with everything he needs within reach.”
“But what if something happens?” she pressed, aware of Annie watching their exchange.
“I make sure his phone is charged and within reach. The neighbors check in, and I’m never gone more than thirty minutes. It’s important to him to still feel some independence.” His voice remained even, not defensive but matter-of-fact.
She crossed her arms. “Independence isn’t worth the risk.”
“With all due respect, your father disagrees. And his doctor says limited periods alone are fine at this stage.” He glanced out the window at the softly falling snow. “Besides, someone needs to buy groceries and run errands. He’s not up to that right now.”
His words made practical sense, but it still bothered her. How could this man. who’d known her father for only six months, presume to know what was best for him?
“I’m here now. I can handle the errands.”
Something flickered across his face. Not annoyance, but something closer to understanding. “That would be helpful. You could pick up his prescription at the drugstore. It’s ready.”
“I’ll head there now.” She rose from her chair.
“Then I’ll head back home.” He nodded at Annie and headed out the door.
Home. He called her father’s cabin home.
Annie rose and collected the dishes. “Don’t be a stranger while you’re here, okay? We still have a lot of catching up to do.”
She nodded, suddenly overwhelmed by the genuine warmth in Annie’s voice. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at her with such open affection, without the expectation of competence and control that defined her life in Denver.
“Thanks for the coffee and the conversation.”
She paused as she stepped outside and saw Beckett standing just outside the doorway. He was chatting with Miss Judy, the cook from Nora’s lodge.
