identity of a family ghost?"
He leaned back in his chair, tapping the pen on his chin. "You're not kidding around."
"I certainly wouldn't kid around to the tune of fifty dollars an hour, plus expenses. I bet you could write
a very interesting book on the Harper family ghost, if I were to sign a release and cooperate."
"I just bet I could," he replied.
"And it seems to me that you might consider finding out what I'm after as a kind of research. Maybe
I should charge you."
His grin flashed again. "I have to finish this book before I actively take on another project. Despite evidence to the contrary, I finish what I start."
"Then you ought to start washing your dishes."
"Told you not to look. First, let me say that in my opinion the odds of you having an actual ghost in residence are about, oh, one in twenty million."
"I'd be happy to put a dollar down at those odds, if you're willing to risk the twenty million."
"Second, if I take this on, I'd require access to all family papers—personal family papers, and your written consent for me to dig into public records regarding your family."
"Of course."
"I'd be willing to waive my fee for, let's say, the first twenty hours. Until we see what we've got."
"Forty hours."
"Thirty."
"Done."
"And I'd want to see your house."
"Perhaps you'd like to come to dinner. Is there any day next week that would suit you?"
"I don't know. Hold on." He swiveled to his computer, danced his ringers over keys. "Tuesday?"
"Seven o'clock, then. We're not formal, but you will need shoes." She picked up the plant, then rose. "Thank you for your time," she said, extended a hand.
"Are you really going to take that thing?"
"I certainly am. And I have no intention of giving it back and letting you take it to death's door again.
Do you need directions to Harper House?"
"I'll find it. Seems to me I drove by it once." He walked her to the door. "You know, sensible women don't usually believe in ghosts. Practical women don't generally agree to pay someone to trace the
history of said ghost. And you strike me as a sensible, practical woman."
"Sensible men don't usually live in pigsties and conduct business meetings barefoot. We'll both have to take our chances. You ought to put some ice on that bruise. It looks painful."
"It is. Vicious little..." He broke off. "Got clipped going up for a rebound. Basketball."
"So I see. I'll expect you Tuesday, then, at seven."
"I'll be there. Good-bye, Ms. Harper."
"Dr. Carnegie."
He kept the door open long enough to satisfy his curiosity. He was right, he noted. The rear view was
just as elegant and sexy as the front side, and both went with that steel-spined southern belle voice.
A class act, top to toe, he decided as he shut the door.
Ghosts. He shook his head and chuckled as he wound his way through the mess back to his office. Wasn't that a kick in the ass.
TWENTY
Logan studied the tiny form bunking in a patch of dappled sunlight. He'd seen babies before, even had
his share of personal contact with them. To him, newborns bore a strange resemblance to fish.
Something about the eyes, he thought. And this one had all that black hair going for her, so she looked like a human sea creature. Sort of exotic and otherworldly.
If Gavin had been around, and Hayley out of hearing distance, he'd have suggested that this particular baby looked something like the offspring of Aquaman and Wonder Woman.
The kid would've gotten it.
Babies always intimidated him. Something about the way they looked right back at you, as if they knew
a hell of a lot more than you did and were going to tolerate you until they got big enough to handle things on their own.
But he figured he had to come up with something better than an encounter between superheros, as the mother was standing beside him, anticipating.
"She looks as if she might've dropped down from Venus, where the grass is sapphire blue and the sky a bowl of gold dust." True enough, Logan decided, and a bit more poetic than the Aquaman theory.
"Aw, listen to you. Go ahead." Hayley gave him a little elbow nudge. "You can pick her up."
"Maybe I'll wait on that until she's more substantial."
With a chuckle, Hayley slipped Lily out of her carrier. "Big guy like you shouldn't be afraid of a tiny baby. Here. Now, make sure you support her head."
"Got long legs for such a little thing." And they kicked a bit in transfer. "She's picture pretty. Got a lot
of you in her."
"I can hardly believe she's mine." Hayley fussed with Lily's cotton hat, then made herself stop touching. "Can I open the present now?"
"Sure. She all right in the sun like this?"
"We're baking the baby," Hayley told him as she tugged at the shiny pink ribbon on the box Logan had
set on the patio table.
"Sorry?"
"She's got a touch of jaundice. The sun's good for her. Stella said Luke had it too, and they took him
out in the sunshine for a little while a few times a day." She went to work on the wrapping paper.
"Seems like she and Roz know everything there is to know about babies. I can ask the silliest question and one of them knows the answer. We're blessed, Lily and I."
Three women, one baby. Logan imagined Lily barely got out a burp before one of them was rushing to pick her up.
"Logan, do you think things happen because they're meant to, or because you make them happen?"
"I guess I think you make them happen because they're meant to."
"I've been thinking. There's a lot of thinking time when you're up two or three times in the middle of the night. I just wanted—needed—to get gone when I left Little Rock, and I headed here because I hoped Roz might give me a job. I could just as well have headed to Alabama. I've got closer kin there—blood kin—than Roz. But I came here, and I think I was meant to. I think Lily was supposed to be born here, and have Roz and Stella in her life."
"We'd all be missing out on something if you'd pointed your car in another direction."
"This feels like family. I've missed that since my daddy died. I want Lily to have family. I think—I know—we'd have been all right on our own. But I don't want things to just be all right for her. All right doesn't cut it anymore."
"Kids change everything."
Her smile bloomed. "They do. I'm not the same person I was a year ago, or even a week ago. I'm a mother." She pulled off the rest of the wrapping and let out a sound Logan thought of as distinctly
female.
"Oh, what a sweet baby-doll! And it's so soft." She took it out of the box to cradle it much as Logan
was cradling Lily.
"Bigger than she is."
"Not for long. Oh, she's so pink and pretty, and look at her little hat!"
"You pull the hat, and it makes music."
"Really?" Delighted, Hayley pulled the peaked pink hat, and "The Cradle Song" tinkled out. "It's perfect." She popped up to give Logan a kiss. "Lily's going to love her. Thank you, Logan."
"I figured a girl can't have too many dolls."
He glanced over as the patio door slammed open. Parker scrambled out a foot ahead of two shouting, racing boys.
They'd been this small once, he realized with a jolt. Small enough to curl in the crook of an arm, as helpless as, well, a fish out of water.
They ran to Logan as Parker sped in circles of delirious freedom.
"We saw your truck," Gavin announced. "Are we going to go work with you?"
"I knocked off for the day." Both faces fell, comically, and the buzz of pleasure it gave him had him adjusting his weekend plans. "But I've got to build me an arbor tomorrow, out in my yard. I could
use a couple of Saturday slaves."
"We can be slaves." Luke tugged on Logan's pant leg. "I know what an arbor is, too. It's a thing stuff grows on."
"There you go, then, I've got a couple of expert slaves. We'll see what your mama says."
"She won't mind. She has to work 'cause Hayley's on turnkey."
"Maternity," Hayley explained.
"Got that."
"Can I see her?" Luke gave another tug.
"Sure." Logan crouched down with the baby in his arms. "She sure is tiny, isn't she?"
"She doesn't do anything yet." Gavin frowned thoughtfully as he tapped a gentle finger on Lily's cheek. "She cries and sleeps."
Luke leaned close to Logan's ear. "Hayley feeds her," he said in a conspirator's whisper, "with milk out
of her booby"
With an admirably straight face, Logan nodded. "I think I heard about that somewhere. It's a little hard
to believe."
"It's true. That's why they have them. Girls. Guys don't get boobies because they can't make milk, no matter how much they drink."
"Huh. That explains that."
"Fat Mr. Kelso's got boobies," Gavin said and sent his brother into a spasm of hilarity.
Stella stepped to the door and saw Logan holding the baby with her boys flanking him. All three of them had grins from ear-to-ear. The sun was shimmering down through the scarlet leaves of a red maple, falling in a shifting pattern of light and shadow on the stone. Lilies had burst into bloom in a carnival of color and exotic shapes. She could smell them, and the early roses, freshly cut grass, and verbena.
She heard birdsong and the giggling whispers of her boys, the delicate music of the wind chime hung
from one of the maple's branches.
Her first clear thought as she froze there, as if she'd walked into an invisible frame of a picture was, Uh-oh.
Maybe she'd said it out loud, as Logan's head turned toward her. When their eyes met, his foolish grin transformed into a smile, easy and warm.
He looked too big crouched there, she thought. Too big, too rough with that tiny child in his arms, too male centered between her precious boys.
And so... dazzling somehow. Tanned and fit and strong.
He belonged in a forest, beating a path over rocky ground. Not here, in this elegant scene with flowers scenting the air and a baby dozing in the crook of his arm.
He straightened and walked toward her. "Your turn."
"Oh." She reached for Lily. "There you are, beautiful baby girl. There you are." She laid her lips on
Lily's brow, and breathed in. "How's she doing today?" she asked Hayley.
"Good as gold. Look here, Stella. Look what Logan bought her."
Yeah, a female thing, Logan mused as Stella made nearly the identical sound Hayley had over the doll. "Isn't that the most precious thing?"
"And watch this." Hayley pulled the hat so the tune played out.
"Mom. Mom." Luke deserted Logan to tug on his mother.
"Just a minute, baby."
They fussed over the doll and Lily while Luke rolled his eyes and danced in place.
"I think Lily and I should go take a nap." Hayley tucked the baby in her carrier, then lifted it and the doll. "Thanks again, Logan. It was awfully sweet of you."
"Glad you like it. You take care now."
"Dolls are lame," Gavin stated, but he was polite enough to wait until Hayley was inside.
"Really?" Stella reached over to flick the bill of his baseball cap over his eyes. "And what are those little people you've got all over your shelves and your desk?"
"Those aren't dolls." Gavin looked as horrified as an eight-year-old boy could manage. "Those are
action figures. Come on, Mom."
"My mistake."
"We want to be Saturday slaves and build an arbor." Luke pulled on her hand and to get her attention. "Okay?"
"Saturday slaves?"
"I'm building an arbor tomorrow," Logan explained. "Could use some help, and I got these two volunteers. I hear they work for cheese sandwiches and Popsicles."
"Oh. Actually, I was planning to take them to work with me tomorrow."
"An arbor, Mom." Luke gazed up pleadingly, as if he'd been given the chance to build the space shuttle and then ride it to Pluto. "I never, ever built one before."
"Well..."
"Why don't we split it up?" Logan suggested. "You take them on in with you in the morning, and I'll swing by and get them around noon."
She felt her stomach knot. It sounded normal. Like parenting. Like family. Dimly, she heard her boys begging and pleading over the buzzing in her ears.
"That'll be fine," she managed. "If you're sure they won't be in your way."
He cocked his head at the strained and formal tone. "They get in it, I just kick them out again. Like now. Why don't you boys go find that dog and see what he's up to, so I can talk to your mama a minute?"
