The Mummy Proposal

She shot him a look over her shoulder, as at ease in his home as he wanted her to be. “And here I didn’t imagine you could cook,” she drawled.

“I don’t. But I found out most of the women I’ve dated do, so it makes everyone happy if the fridge is well-stocked.”

Brooke’s smile faded. “Right,” she murmured.

The word had a wealth of undercurrents. “Meaning?” Nate prodded.

Her lips curved upward even as the light faded from her eyes. She said in a low, cordial tone, “You have a reputation for making the women in your life very happy, while they are in your orbit.”

Nate certainly tried. What point was there in spending time with someone unless it was a pleasurable experience? That didn’t mean, however, that he pretended something was going to work long term when it clearly wouldn’t.

“I don’t fall in love easily.” Although not for lack of trying. He wanted to be married and have a family.

She studied him as if trying to decide whether or not he was the womanizer some made him out to be, then brought out a bowl of fresh fruit, a loaf of artisan bread and a block of sharp cheddar. “Have you ever been in love?”

Nate handed over the serving board and bread slicer. “Once, with Landry’s mother.”

Brooke set to work preparing a snack, with the skill of a mom who spent a lot of time in the kitchen. “What happened to break you up? Or shouldn’t I ask?”

Normally, Nate followed the gentleman’s rule and did not talk about his previous relationships with women. For some reason, this was different. He wanted Brooke to understand. “I was working really long hours, getting my company off the ground,” he admitted, moving restlessly about the sleek, utilitarian kitchen. “Seraphina was pretty involved in planning our wedding, and she had an old friend living in her building. Miles Lawrence was trying to make it as a stand-up comedian, and she went to as many of his appearances as she could. I didn’t worry about the amount of time they spent together. As it turns out, I should have,” Nate reflected ruefully. “She broke off our engagement to run away with him.”

“And had a child,” Brooke interjected, perceptive as ever.

Reluctantly, Nate met her eyes. “Some eight months later.”

Her hand froze in midmotion. She stared at him, already doing the math. “Is it possible that Landry is yours?”

Nate had been wondering the same thing. All he could go on was what he knew for sure. “The birth certificate lists Miles Lawrence as Landry’s father.”

She went back to slicing up fruit and arranging it on a serving platter. “What about this Miles? Where is he?”

Nate lounged against the counter and watched the competent motions of her dainty hands. “Jessalyn told me yesterday that he left Seraphina before the baby was born. Miles wanted to focus on building an act that revolved around being a single guy, one always in love with a woman he could never hope to get.”

Brooke looked horrified. “Don’t tell me the man insisted he had to be chasing skirts to get material….”

Nate folded his arms across his chest, sharing her disdain. “Apparently so. Anyway, Seraphina was still in love with him and hoped he would come around and change his mind about marrying her and building a family together, if she gave him a little time. That’s what Jessalyn told me. But they never had a chance to find out. He died in a plane crash when Landry was just two months old.”

Brooke offered a commiserating glance. “So Landry never knew him.”

Nate shook his head. “According to Jessalyn, all he has are a few old photographs and stories from his mom.”

Brooke’s smooth brow furrowed. “So what are you going to do?”

What could he do? “Raise him as mine.”

“Without finding out?” Once again, Brooke looked shocked.

She was beginning to sound like his attorney. “There’s no point in it. I’ve already agreed to adopt Landry and bring him up as my son.” What counted, Nate knew, was the commitment made, and kept. Love would follow, over time. At least he hoped that would be the case. Thus far, Landry didn’t seem to have his heart open to anything except rebellion.

The tromp of youthful footsteps sounded on the back stairs. Seconds later, Landry and Cole came barreling into the kitchen. Cole nodded at Nate, then turned back to his mom. “Where have you been?” he demanded.

“We thought maybe you got lost,” Landry added, ignoring Nate altogether and looking at Brooke with concern.

Abruptly, the teenager swung around toward Nate, suspicious as ever. “How come you’re up?” he demanded.

Nate straightened. He had to find a way to get Landry to respect him. The first step was telling it like it was, in situations like this. “I heard something and thought you might be taking off again,” he informed him matter-of-factly.

An inscrutable light came into Landry’s eyes. It was followed swiftly by a smirk. “And so what? You were going to stop me?”

Nate nodded with the quiet authority he knew Landry needed. “That’s my job now.”

When Landry sullenly turned away, Nate knew he’d gotten his point across.

“It’s going to take time for Landry to adjust,” Brooke told Nate, after the boys had taken their snacks and headed upstairs.

How long? Nate wondered, aware that Landry was already giving Brooke a much easier time.

But then again, Nate realized, Brooke wasn’t the adult legally aiding Landry’s great-grandmother in keeping Landry here against his wishes ….

Brooke patted his arm before heading back upstairs, too. “In the meantime you’ve got to be patient and follow the plan you’ve set out and give him plenty of positive things to do.”

NATE KNEW BROOKE WAS right. So first thing the following morning, he took Landry to the academic camp where Cole was enrolled in the summer program. He and Landry talked to the director, took the tour. As they headed back to her office, the teen shrugged and muttered, “I guess it’ll be okay. Can I be in the same group as Cole?” The director nodded.

Nate filled out the paperwork, wrote a sizable check and said goodbye to Landry. Then he headed for downtown Fort Worth, and the weekly meeting with his four business partners at One Trinity River Place.

Knowing the four guys would have invaluable advice to offer, since they were all experienced parents, Nate filled the group in on everything that had happened the last few days, starting with Jessalyn’s phone call and the letter from her late granddaughter, Seraphina.

“Time helps,” Travis Carson said, with the expertise of a widower who had shepherded his own two daughters through the demise of their mother.

“In the meantime … I have to agree with your lawyer,” Grady McCabe told Nate seriously. “You are jumping the gun a bit, deciding to adopt Landry before the two of you have had a chance to develop any real rapport. The promise may not ring true to him.”

Nate respected Grady’s inherent ability to look at the big picture. Not just in the skyscrapers and other mixed-use development projects they built, but in their personal lives, too.

Dan Kingsland added matter-of-factly, “I know you’ve already hired Brooke Mitchell….”

Nodding, Nate was glad he’d had the foresight to bring her on board. She was the one ray of sunshine in his chaotic life right now.

“But redecorating your house just highlights the fact you’re going to have to make a lot of changes to take Landry in,” Dan continued. “I can’t say how he would respond to that, since I’ve never met him, but I know my three kids would interpret it to mean they’re a burden.”

Jack Gaines added, “The faster change occurs, the harder it is to accept.”

Nate knew Jack and his daughter had just weathered a lot of upheaval due to a hasty wedding in their family. But that had worked out okay in the end, too. “I have faith Brooke Mitchell will be able to pull this off,” he told his friends.

“The home makeover, sure,” Grady said. “Everyone knows Brooke can work miracles in that regard. That’s why her services are in such high demand.”

“But she’s not going to be there two weeks from now when the task is finished,” Dan cautioned.

“At that point,” Travis interjected, “you have got to be prepared to parent solo. And the rest of us know from experience that is one of the hardest things to do.”

But it could be done, Nate thought, as the meeting concluded and he headed home to confer with Brooke over the lunch hour. All he needed were a few more tips and parental insights from her to get Landry moving in the right direction. After that happened, Nate was confident that the tension in his household would fade.

When he drove in the front gates, he expected to see the cleaning van on its way out, not furniture dotting the lawn. Nor a Cadillac next to Brooke’s van, with a faculty parking sticker for a local university prominently displayed. Curious, Nate walked across the lawn, hearing the voices as he rounded the house.

“You gave me no choice,” the bearded, white-haired man said. “You’ve been ducking my calls.”

“I had hoped,” Brooke said archly, “that would be enough for you to get the message.”

The elderly man countered, “You and Cole have to be at the publication party for Seamus’s book.”

Wary of intruding, but not about to leave Brooke to fend for herself if help was needed, Nate reluctantly stayed where he was and continued listening in.

“If you and Cole don’t show up, people will start asking questions.”

“And we wouldn’t want that, would we?” Brooke’s voice rang with contempt. “We wouldn’t want anything to reflect poorly on the university!”

“We were protecting you and Cole.”

“While turning a blind eye? If you had wanted to help, you should have let me know what was going on, long before that night.”

“Brooke …” The gentleman held out a hand in entreaty.

She glared. “You have to leave.”

He pushed a book and what looked to be some sort of engraved invitation into her hands. “Not before you agree to attend the party.”

Her expression distraught, Brooke backed away.

Enough was enough. Nate walked briskly around the landscaped swimming pool toward the caretaker’s cottage. He extended a hand toward the bearded man. “Nate Hutchinson. And you’re …?”

“Professor Phineas Rylander, from the university where Brooke’s husband taught. I was just inviting her to a pre-publication party that the English department is giving for her late husband, Seamus. It’s his last work and we are very happy to be able to promote his collection of poetry. Naturally, we want Brooke and her son to attend.”

Brooke pressed her fingertips to her temple. “I don’t think it’s going to be possible.”

Professor Rylander refused to give up. “I beg you to reconsider.”

Nate clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Thanks for stopping by.”

“I—” the man began.

“I’ll walk you to your Cadillac.”

Reluctantly, the professor assented. Nate escorted him out, waited until he drove away, then returned to Brooke. She was sitting on one of the half-dozen pieces of mismatched furniture that had been moved to the lawn outside the cottage. She had the book and the invitation in her hands, and was staring down at the photo on the jacket cover.

Nate followed the direction of her gaze.

Seamus Mitchell had been handsome and distinguished. Yet Brooke was regarding the photo with utter loathing and contempt. Not exactly the reaction Nate would have expected. “Are you okay?”

She rose with quiet dignity. “No, I’m not,” she said frankly. “And you know why?” Bitterness underscored her every syllable. “Because I know what it feels like to be betrayed by a loved one, too!”

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