Harrison flopped onto the couch, grabbing his own book and making up a story with the pictures there.
Satisfied that she had at least two minutes of quiet time, she walked back into the kitchen. The discarded letter was right where she’d dropped it. Stevie picked it up and read through it again. A private investigator? Who had the kind of money needed to hire a private investigator? But this “Frankie” person wanted to talk with Stevie, to explain something and ask for help?
As she pulled the chicken out of the fridge, Stevie thought about Janus. She remembered everything about him. She remembered his soft touch, the way his mouth could drive her wild with desire and…and those stunning silver eyes that she looked at every time she looked at her children. They looked so much like their father that it was spooky
This was one of those issues that she’d love to have someone to ask for advice. In the past, Stevie would have called her mother. The pain of her mother’s passing was still there. Still raw and painfully a part of her.
Fortunately, she didn’t have time to think about that. She focused instead on prepping the chicken and vegetables. It was going to be stir fry for dinner tonight, she thought. Quick and easy to make and easy to clean up as well.
Two hours later, Stevie kissed Halley and Harrison on the forehead, then rubbed Herbie’s ears. He was draped across Harrison’s bed tonight and Stevie wondered what she was going to do with the dog when the kids got older and needed more leg room.
That was a problem for another day, she thought as she pulled the door closed and went down the stairs to make the kids’ lunches for tomorrow. If she were lucky, Stevie might have five minutes to read before she fell asleep tonight. Or maybe she needed to use those five blissful moments to sew up the tear in the stuffed bunny.
Her phone buzzed with a message and Stevie considered ignoring it. But in the past, she’d learned that ignoring issues didn’t make them go away. They only postponed the inevitable.
While passing by the kitchen table, she glanced down at the phone while grabbing peanut butter and jelly from the cabinet. The message was from that private investigator. As she read the message, Stevie groaned. “You’re here?”
Glancing at the clock, she realized that it was only eight thirty. This probably wasn’t late for most people. But those people didn’t have two rambunctious four year olds that liked to get up at the crack of dawn. Nor did they have a happy go luck horse-dog that needed to be walked before they left for school. Giving Herbie enough exercise meant heading to the park before school. And because she was a single mother, the twins had to come to the park for that exercising.
“Better just get this over with,” she muttered. Her fingers flew over the buttons, then she pressed send.
A moment later, there was a soft knock on the front door. Stevie was grateful she didn’t ring the doorbell. That would have woken up the kids. As it was, the soft knock alerted Herbie and the dog bounded down the stairs, his tail bouncing off the walls.
Normally, Stevie would tell Herbie to go back to bed. But she decided she preferred the big dog’s presence. Granted, Herbie would probably just slobber all over this Frankie person. But, hopefully his size would be intimidating.
Pulling open the door, Stevie once again stared into the shockingly green eyes of a woman that looked like she should be in a movie.
The woman’s hands lifted, palms out. “Ms. Hunt, I want to assure you that I have only the best of intentions.”
Stevie didn’t like the sound of that. “Okay.” Suspending judgment for the moment, Stevie waved the woman into the kitchen. “I need to make lunches for tomorrow. Come on in.”
Stevie led the way, keeping hold of Herbie as they moved through the messy family room and into the kitchen.
“Looks like you have this process down to a science,” Frankie commented, looking at the peanut butter, jelly, bread and fruit laid out with almost military precision.
“Oh, if only,” Stevie laughed. “So, I read your letter, but I’m not sure I understand it.”
Frankie leaned against the counter. “Well, I was hired by a man named Edward Meyers. He’s a very wealthy man who, unfortunately, has terminal cancer. I don’t know how long he has to live. He believes that he has three living sons and hired me to find them, reconnect with them.”
Stevie watched the gorgeous woman’s features and knew that she was leaving something out. “Okay. That makes sense. What does that have to do with me?”
“You submitted DNA to this company,” Frankie explained, pushing a piece of paper across the counter. “Edward Meyers submitted his DNA as well. Both of you checked the box indicating that you wanted to know if there were any familial matches from other samples. In this case, the DNA you submitted was a match to Edward Meyers.”
Stevie stopped spreading peanut butter and looked up with a confused frown. “Well…I don’t know this Edward person.”
Frankie nodded in understanding. “He would be your kids’ grandfather. I’m hoping that you might be able to tell me who the father is.”
The knife clattered to the floor. For a moment, they stood there, staring at the knife on the floor. Finally, Stevie bent down and picked it up, put it in the dishwasher and grabbed a clean one. But she didn’t continue with her lunch preparations. Her hands trembled too badly.
“I don’t…”
“I know,” Frankie replied softly. “If this is not what you want, then I won’t pressure you. This is completely your choice, Ms. Hunt.”
Stevie pushed her hair behind her
