A Man for Mom Read online

  A Man for Mom

  Gina Ferris Wilkins

  Contents

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Epilogue

  A Note from the Author

  Prologue

  “You’re a very fortunate woman, Frannie. You have a wonderful family.”

  Frances Carson looked up from the huge bouquet of mixed flowers that had just been delivered to her front door, and smiled at Lila Twining, her best friend since elementary school. They’d known each other nearly seventy years, their friendship having survived childhood spats, wartime marriages, births of children and grandchildren, and family tragedies, including the deaths of both their husbands. They still lived within a few blocks of each other in a quiet neighborhood in Malvern, the small Arkansas town where they’d been raised. They had coffee together several mornings each week—like this bright Wednesday in early September.

  Frances set the floral arrangement, a joint gift from her son’s offspring, Rachel, Cody and Celia, next to a bouquet of roses that had been delivered only an hour earlier. Two cards were already displayed on the antique sideboard, one from her daughter, one from her son and his wife. “Yes, I am fortunate. Both my children and all four of my grandchildren remembered that today would have been my sixtieth wedding anniversary.”

  With a faint smile, Frances touched a fingertip to one velvety rose petal. “I wonder which of his cousins called Adam and ordered him to send flowers?” she mused aloud, naming her eldest grandson, the only child of her daughter, Arlene, and the late Dr. Jason Stone. She answered her own question before Lila had a chance to speak. “Rachel, probably. She’s the one who is always so serious about her responsibilities, particularly to her family.”

  “Maybe Adam remembered to send the roses all by himself,” Lila commented, though even she didn’t seem to take the suggestion very seriously.

  Frances laughed. “Now, come on, Lila,” she said. “We both know my Adam too well to believe that.”

  Lila smiled in return. “Rachel probably called him,” she conceded.

  “It doesn’t matter. It was still sweet of him to send the roses. He didn’t have to.”

  “Whatever his shortcomings, Adam adores you and you know it, Frances Carson. And so do Rachel, Cody and Celia. You’re a very fortunate woman,” Lila repeated.

  “Yes,” Frances agreed again. “I’ve had a great deal of love in my life. From my parents, then Henry and our two children, and now from my grandchildren and two darling great-grandchildren. If only...” Her voice trailed off wistfully.

  “If only?” Lila prodded curiously.

  “If only I could know that my grandchildren will find that same satisfaction for themselves. It isn’t right that all of them should be grown and single, Lila. Growing older without the companionship of a lifelong mate—none of them knowing the happiness Henry and I found together as the years passed.”

  “They’re still young, Frannie. They have time to find their mates.”

  “Not so young anymore,” Frances argued. “Adam’s thirty-eight, Rachel thirty-one, Cody almost thirty. Celia will be twenty-four soon. I was married and had my first child by then.”

  “You really shouldn’t group Rachel with the others,” Lila suggested gently. “She would still be happily married if poor Ray hadn’t died so young.”

  “I know,” Frances agreed sadly. “It broke my heart for her, of course. But it’s been three years, Lila, and she hasn’t even dated anyone since. She’s too young to put away all her dreams and live only for her work and her children.”

  “She has changed since Ray’s death,” Lila agreed, her faded blue eyes sorrowful. “She’s so serious all the time now.”

  “Yes.” Frances sighed deeply. After a moment of comfortable silence between the friends, she spoke again. “I have little money and not much in the way of valuable possessions to leave my grandchildren, Lila. But there is one legacy I would leave them if I could. I would give each of them the treasures that I found with my Henry. Love. Fulfillment. Adventure. Compassion. Loyalty. And laughter. Especially laughter.”

  Lila sighed, too. “I’d like my grandchildren to have those things, too. They’re all married, of course, and I can only hope...but there’s little we can do about their lives, Frances.”

  Frances looked thoughtfully at the two floral arrangements sitting on her mother’s old buffet table. “I wonder...”

  Chapter One

  Seth Fletcher held his breath as he placed the card carefully on the top of the structure looming on the desk in front of him. His house of cards was five stories high, with two-story wings branching off to each side. He wondered idly how to give the illusion of turrets once he reached the top. Maybe if he carefully stood a few cards on end...

  The absolute silence in the one-man law office was broken when a woman suddenly cleared her throat from the doorway. Seth’s hand jerked and playing cards cascaded across his desk, a few fluttering to the floor. His impressive structure was now no more than a pile of cardboard. He sighed and looked toward the source of the architectural disaster.

  What he saw made him forget the cards. His eyebrows rose in interest.

  The woman was tall, slender, dark haired. Her face was a perfect oval, her skin fair and clear, eyes large and dark. Her mouth was soft, lightly painted. She wasn’t smiling, but he knew her smile would be beautiful. He looked forward to it.

  He didn’t like her clothes, though. She wore a plain gray suit—tailored jacket, straight, knee-length skirt, high-necked white blouse. Her gleaming dark hair had been tucked into a prim little roll that emphasized her fine bone structure but made him long to pull out the hairpins and hide them somewhere. He wondered if it was long, if it curled, if it felt as soft as it looked.

  “What can I do for you?” he asked, fantasizing about all sorts of interesting answers.

  “You’re Seth Fletcher?” She seemed to almost hope he’d deny it.

  He bit the inside of his lip against a smile. Maybe she didn’t think an attorney should be building card houses in the middle of a weekday afternoon. He knew some people who’d agree with her. But Seth no longer made it a practice to try to live up to other people’s expectations.

  “I’m Seth Fletcher,” he assured her. He shoved a lock of sandy brown hair off his forehead and belatedly realized that it was past time for a trim.

  “Oh.” She glanced from his casual blue sweater and jeans to the cards strewn in front of him on the massive oak desk, looking as though she wasn’t sure whether to sit down or take to her heels.

  He decided to make it a bit easier for her. He cleaned his desk top by the simple process of sweeping a hand across it, letting the cards tumble to the floor at his feet and out of her sight. And then he gestured toward one of the two small leather chairs positioned in front of his desk. “Have a seat. Tell me what I can do for you, Ms....?”

  “Evans,” she supplied. “Rachel Evans. My brother recommended you to me.”

  He couldn’t think of anyone named “Evans” at the moment, so he asked, “And who is your brother?”

  “Cody Carson. Carson is my maiden name,” she added.

  Maiden name. Damn, she’s married. He masked his reaction as he nodded and said, “Oh, sure, Cody. He’s a great guy.”

  “Yes.” She folded her hands in her lap. She sat so st
raight, so still, that she could have been a statue.

  Seth had a bit of trouble picturing this woman as Cody’s sister. Cody Carson was notorious for his love of a joke—especially the elaborate practical jokes he arranged—a self-admitted overgrown kid in a man’s body. Seth couldn’t remember ever seeing him without his lazy grin, and knew Cody wouldn’t be caught dead in a severe gray suit. This woman didn’t even look like Cody. Though her skin was fair, her dark hair and serious dark eyes were in direct contrast to Cody’s unruly blond mop and laughing blue eyes.

  “So you’re Cody’s sister,” he said, as though repeating it would make it more creditable.

  “Yes,” she said again. “Mr. Fletcher—”

  “Please. Call me Seth. Cody and I have been friends for a long time. Now, what can I do for you?”

  She frowned lightly, as though wondering what his relationship with her brother had to do with them, then continued. “I’m afraid I don’t have an appointment. Cody just recommended you to me this afternoon, and since I had to pass your office on my way home from his place, I decided to stop by and make an appointment with your secretary.”

  “But you found an empty desk in the reception area,” Seth finished for her. “My secretary is out for the afternoon—a doctor’s appointment. She’s going to have a baby in a couple of months.”

  “I see. I’m sorry I, um, interrupted you. I’ll call your secretary in the morning to set up an appointment.”

  Seth raised an eyebrow, fighting a grin that he knew would annoy her. “Now why would you do that when you’re already here? As you can see, I’m not exactly swamped with work this afternoon. Why don’t we pretend you have an official appointment, and you can tell me what you need right now.”

  He reached for a pen and drew a pad of paper in front of him, prepared to take notes.

  She gave him a suspicious look, as though trying to decide whether he was laughing at her. When he looked back at her without smiling—though it took some effort on his part—she relaxed. “All right. If you’re sure this isn’t an inconvenient time for you....”

  Pen poised, he waited for her to tell him why her brother had recommended legal counsel.

  The all-business approach seemed to put her more at ease. The slight frown between her eyebrows eased and she leaned forward in her chair. “The attorney I’ve always used for my business affairs retired last month and now someone is threatening to sue me. I don’t know if he’ll actually take it that far, but if he does, I’ll need representation.”

  “Of course. Why is he threatening you?”

  “It’s ridiculous,” she said, her tone annoyed. “I own and operate Evans Industries, a commercial waste trucking company. It’s a small company, only three trucks and four full-time employees other than myself. Frank Holder was employed as a driver for two years until I had to fire him six months ago. Now he’s claiming that the firing was personal, that I harassed him and deliberately sabotaged his performance sheets for personal reasons. He’s even insinuated that I—” She had to stop to take a deep breath, obviously fighting a wave of temper.

  “What is he implying?” Seth asked patiently, watching her rein her emotions back under tight control.

  She made a face. “He’s suggested that he and I were involved in a non-business relationship and when he broke it off, I retaliated by firing him. That’s a lie, of course. Anyone I know can testify that there was absolutely nothing of any personal nature between myself and that—that man.”

  Seth wondered again about her marital status. Was there a husband involved? Commercial-waste disposal seemed an odd business for a woman to own and operate alone. And then he had to wince at his own sexism, knowing instinctively that Rachel Evans wouldn’t appreciate his opinion. He knew full well that gender had little, if anything, to do with career choice. His own sister was an engineer, a field once almost exclusively occupied by men. He could almost hear Linda laying into him over his errant thought, had she been privy to it.

  “Why did you fire Holder?” he asked simply.

  “Inadequate job performance. Frequent absences, excessive mistakes, rudeness to customers, improper care of his truck and other equipment. He was also frequently insolent to me as his employer—he resented working for a woman and made little effort to hide that resentment. I could have dealt with that, if he’d performed his work adequately. But he didn’t, so I fired him, after several warnings.”

  “You have paperwork to back all this up?”

  “I certainly do,” she replied with a gleam in her dark eyes. “Reams of it. I also have witnesses lined up to support my position, and letters of complaints against him from my customers. I kept dated, detailed records of calls of complaints about him. I even have a warning letter from my insurance company saying that if he had one more accident, they would no longer provide coverage for him.”

  Seth grinned. “Sounds as though you have everything covered. I’m not sure you even need my services.”

  She shook her head, without returning his smile. “I want this handled professionally. I’m very serious about my reputation and the reputation of my company. I want it made clear that I will not back away from a confrontation because of Holder’s blustering threats.”

  Seth’s grin vanished. “Threats?” he repeated. “Personal threats?”

  “Very vague ones,” she admitted. “Not enough to prosecute on, I’m sure. But he knew that I understood them.”

  Seth’s fingers tightened around his pen. “You send me copies of everything you have, and I’ll take care of this,” he promised. “It’ll never get to court, I can almost promise you that.”

  What might have been relief passed through her dark eyes, so swiftly masked that Seth almost missed it. She obviously didn’t want him to know quite how worried she’d been—one of those I-can-handle-everything-myself types, apparently. Having grown up in a family of super-confident overachievers, Seth knew the type all too well.

  Rachel glanced at her watch. “I’d better be going. Thank you for making time for me. I’ll send the copies first thing in the morning. As for your fee—”

  Seth broke in with a wave of his hand. “Forget it,” he said, oddly embarrassed about talking money with her. “I don’t think this will take long to settle—guys like Holder usually back down as soon as they get their bluff called with a nasty letter from an attorney. Just consider my services a favor to a good friend’s sister.”

  Rachel’s chin rose regally. “No,” she said coolly. “This is not a favor for a friend’s sister. I came to you only because Cody assured me that you are a very competent attorney, Mr. Fletcher. I fully intend to pay you for your services—at your standard rate, of course. I expect to be billed accordingly.”

  Some men, Seth reflected, might be annoyed by her less-than-gracious refusal of his generous offer. He, of course, was above that. “Fine,” he said, a bit more curtly than he’d intended. “I’ll bill you.”

  “Fine. But—uh—thank you for the offer,” she added belatedly.

  He only shrugged, his pride still smarting from the rebuff, despite his efforts to remain objective. “I’ll see you out,” he said, standing when she did.

  She started to speak—probably to refuse that offer, as well—then wisely kept quiet.

  Seth was startled to find two small children sitting quietly in his waiting room, curled up in the comfortable, oversize chairs arranged against one wall. A dark-haired little girl of about seven was reading a brightly illustrated book while a boy who was probably a couple of years younger was totally absorbed in watching the fish swimming around in a tubular aquarium set up in one corner of the reception area.

  “These are my children, Paige and Aaron,” Rachel explained. The children looked up in response to their mother’s voice. Paige closed her book, Aaron turned away from the fish tank, and they both climbed out of their chairs and moved to stand beside Rachel.

  Seth found himself being studied intently by two pairs of eyes—Paige’s as large and da
rk as her mother’s, the boy’s a lighter hazel. He’d always liked kids, and they always liked him. He gave them an easy grin. “Hi. How’s it going?”

  Neither child returned the smile. Aaron reached up and took his mother’s hand, crowding a bit closer to her side. Paige glanced from Rachel to Seth and back again.

  “This is Mr. Fletcher,” Rachel explained by way of introduction. “He’s a friend of Uncle Cody’s.”

  “It’s very nice to meet you, Mr. Fletcher,” Paige recited in a clear, oddly mature voice.

  Aaron murmured something from behind his mother. It might have been “Nice to meet you,” though Seth couldn’t be absolutely sure. He couldn’t help smiling at the formality of their manners. His own mother had been a real stickler over that sort of thing.

  Rachel smiled faintly at Seth, a polite, businesslike smile that could have been as easily directed at his computer. “Thank you again for seeing me,” she said.

  “Of course. I’ll call you after I look over the paperwork,” he promised.

  She nodded and ushered her children from the office. Seth stood at the window that looked out over the small parking area in front of his office building and watched the family climb into a practical compact car, in which they all fastened their seat belts before Rachel drove away. What a serious trio they were, he thought with a rueful shake of his head. They reminded him of his own family—a daunting resemblance, as far as he was concerned.

  Still shaking his head, he let the curtain fall back into place and turned away from the window.

  * * *

  Rachel was headed wearily toward her bed when the telephone rang that evening. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand as she lifted the receiver of the bedroom extension. It was just after ten o’clock. She knew who was calling without even asking. “Hello, Celia.”

  Her younger sister giggled at the other end of the line. “Someday you’re going to be wrong.”

  “But I wasn’t tonight,” Rachel said with a slight smile in her voice. “Besides, no one else ever calls me after nine.”