Pamela, ensconced in the big recliner on the other side of the coffee table, curled one leg under herself. She wrapped her hands around her own mug and smiled wryly. “Very un-Harte-like.”
“Very.”
“One could almost call it outrageous. For a Harte, at any rate.”
A searing vision of her black bra lying on the staircase at Dreamscape flashed before Hannah’s eyes. If Pamela only knew, she thought, just how outrageous she had been in the past twenty-four hours.
“I’m glad you find it so amusing,” Hannah muttered into her tea. “I’d like to remind you that half of Dreamscape belongs to me. I had a right to scream some when I realized what he was doing.”
“Of course you did.”
“You’re not taking this seriously, are you?”
Pamela raised one brow in a very knowing fashion. “I’m waiting for the other shoe to drop, as it were.”
Both shoes had dropped last night before she even got upstairs, Hannah recalled. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You’re involved in a sticky situation with a Madison,” Pamela said. “So far, all you’ve done is yell at him in front of witnesses. That may be a big scene for a Harte, but I doubt if it even ruffled Rafe Madison’s hair. The question here is, What happens next?”
Hannah swallowed more tea and submerged herself deeper into the pool of gloom. “He’s proposed a partnership in an inn and restaurant.”
“A partnership?” Pamela’s eyes widened behind the lenses of her glasses. “You and Rafe Madison? Oh, my.”
“It’s impossible, of course.”
“Of course.”
“It would never work.”
“Never in a million years. I can’t even begin to imagine what your family would say about the notion of you and Rafe opening an inn together.”
“I prefer not to think about it.”
Pamela looked as though she was attempting to suppress a smile.
“What?” Hannah demanded.
“I’ll say one thing about you and Rafe Madison,” Pamela murmured. “You two don’t get together often, but when you do, it’s never dull.”
The sound of a vehicle in the drive saved Hannah from having to come up with a response to that observation. Two small whirlwinds, both dressed in jeans, T-shirts, and miniature running shoes, blew into the front room. They flew toward the door. A massive beast that went by the wholly inappropriate name of Kitty followed in their wake.
Kitty was the reason Winston had remained at the cottage that afternoon. Kitty did not care for Winston. Hannah was fairly certain that the feeling was reciprocated. On the one occasion when Winston and Kitty had been introduced, she had caught Winston eyeing Kitty with a peculiar gleam in his eye. It was the same gleam that he got when he chased seagulls on the beach. For her part, Kitty had hissed and growled and generally made it clear that she was not a dog lover.
“Daddy’s home, Daddy’s home,” the whirlwind named Rose chanted happily as she stretched both hands overhead and tried to seize the doorknob.
Mark, Rose’s older brother, grabbed the knob before she could get a grip on it. “I get to show him my new maze before you make him look at your stupid drawing.”
“My drawing isn’t stupid.” Rose looked at Pamela for confirmation of her artistic ability. “It isn’t stupid, is it, Mom?”
“It’s beautiful,” Pamela assured her. “We’re going to hang it on the refrigerator with the others just as soon as you finish it.”
Rose whirled back to her brother. “Told you so, you big dummy. You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Pamela gave Hannah an amused glance. “I think she takes after me. Not at all reticent about standing up for herself.”
Hannah grinned. “It’s so thrilling to see the genes pass down to another generation.”
“Ever think about producing your own little bundle of Hannah genes?”
Hannah watched the two children battle over who got to open the door for Brad. A pang of deep longing twisted through her. She gazed at Mark and imagined a little boy with Rafe’s eyes. For the first time she wondered if her growing restlessness this past year had something to do with her ticking biological clock.
“Funny you should ask,” she said softly. “Of course, there’s one small problem. I need more than just Hannah genes to create the final product.”
The front door opened, and Brad walked into the hall. He was a fair-haired man with earnestly intelligent eyes framed by wire-rimmed glasses. There was a deceptively quiet, deeply thoughtful way about him that belied a quick, razor-sharp brain. He was fashionably rumpled in what passed for academic chic. His button-down shirt and khaki trousers were both wrinkled. The loud, awkwardly knotted tie, scuffed leather shoes, and bulging book bag accented the young, professorial look.
He barely had time to wave a hand toward Hannah before the two whirlwinds and Kitty descended on him.
“Daddy, wait until you see the maze I built.”
“Daddy, Daddy, I want to show you my picture.”
Brad crouched to greet his children and the family cat. There was genuine pleasure on his face.
Hannah watched the intimate little family ritual of greeting daddy and was horrified when she detected a hint of dampness on her own lashes. She blinked hurriedly and looked away. What was wrong with her today? At this rate she would soon be an emotional basket case. She had to get a grip on herself. Pamela was watching her with gathering concern.
“Are you okay?” Pamela pitched her voice below the hubbub taking place in the front hall. “Something wrong?”
“No, of course not. I’m fine.” Hannah took a long, reviving swallow of tea. “I’ve been a little tense since the scene with Rafe this morning, that’s all. I’ve got to do something about the problem of Dreamscape, Pam. The situation is a mess. It has to be resolved.”
It was Brad who responded. He wandered into the living room, Rose and Mark bobbing around his legs. “From what I heard this afternoon, Rafe Madison has his own plans for Dreamscape. What’s going on? Are you going to sell him your half of the house?”
“He isn’t offering to buy it,” Hannah said dryly. “He’s proposing a partnership.”
Brad considered that. “Maybe he can’t afford to buy out your half.”
“From what I can tell, money is not a problem for Rafe,” Hannah said.
