For a moment, she stood and took in how impossibly beautiful this place was.
She had lived in cities for so long, she had started to think that wilderness like this only existed on television. There were no honks and air brakes, no skyscrapers, no crowds. There was only the calls of birds and the distant drone of a boat engine and the steady wash of the tide pushing against the shore. The air smelled of salt and pine and earth and sunshine.
She removed her backpack so she could take off her hoodie and tied the sleeves around her waist. Then she warmed in the morning sun as she hooked her backpack on one shoulder and finished her climb up the drive.
Her feet began to feel as though they were encased in concrete, though, slowing her step. Reality was sinking in. Losing her sister was something she’d compartmentalized while she’d been living in the isolation of a shitty hotel room, but her lateness in getting here—four months after her sister had died—curdled the eggs she’d eaten.
Tiffany wasn’t here.
But her daughter was.
Swallowing the jagged lump from her throat only to have it lodge like broken glass in her chest, Cloe fisted her clammy hand and knocked.
“It’s open.” A woman’s voice carried through the screened window beside the door.
Hesitantly, Cloe turned the knob and poked her head in, keeping her feet on the stoop. “Hello?”
“Hello?” The speaker was drying her hands on a tea towel as she came to the wide archway between the living room and kitchen. She was a little older than Cloe, close to thirty maybe. Her brown hair was bundled into a clip atop her head. She wore a green T-shirt and cutoff jeans. Her feet were bare.
“Sorry. I thought you would be—” She shrugged that off and gave Cloe a confused smile. “G’day. Can I help you?”
“I hope so. I’m, um…” Cloe wished she had found a way to shower and dress in fresh clothes, not that she possessed such a thing. Should she ask for Mrs. Fraser? “Are you the nanny? Emma?”
“Yes. Can I help you?” Wariness edged into her tone. She came to the door and took hold of it, subtly forcing Cloe to retreat on the stoop.
“Hi. I’m Tiffany’s sister, Cloe.” She tried to find a friendly smile, but too many emotions were accosting her, making her mouth feel numb and quivery. “Is Storm here? I was hoping to see her.”
Emma’s shock was unmistakable. Her jaw went slack. Her eyes bugged out. Her hand twitched as though she wanted to slam the door in Cloe’s face.
“She’s down for her nap right now.” Emma’s voice turned thin and high. “Why don’t you come in and sit down. Would you like something to drink?”
“Water would be great.” Her throat had become a desert. “Thank you.”
Cloe toed off her cheap, rubber-soled flats and left her bag by the door, then gratefully followed Emma into a beautiful kitchen with a granite island, modern cupboards, and stainless-steel appliances. A breakfast table sat in a nook that overlooked the sun-dappled water. A pair of French doors stood open to the wide deck, allowing the fresh air to fill the house with the intoxicating smell of summer and beach.
“Wow.” Cloe couldn’t help stepping outside to appreciate the breathtaking view. “This is beautiful.”
“It is.” Emma came out and searched the water as she set the glass on a small table beside a lounger. “I’ll check on the baby. Have a seat.”
“Thanks.” Cloe didn’t get a chance to ask where Mrs. Fraser was. She sank onto the lounger, relaxing because she hadn’t known how she would be received, but Emma was being really nice to her.
Finally, for the first time in way too long, something was going her way.
Have you read the bonus epilogue for Book One, Marrying the Nanny?
Get it here and Dani will notify you when Wanting a Family Man releases:
danicollins.com/marrying-the-nanny-epilogue
More Books by Dani Collins
Blue Spruce Lodge series
Book 1: On the Edge
Book 2: From the Top
Book 3: In Too Deep
Love in Montana series
Book 1: Hometown Hero
Book 2: Blame the Mistletoe
Book 3: The Bachelor’s Baby
