in this building, this place.
Did it all really belong to Lanny’s widow now? Just because of some quirk of timing that had her married to his older brother for a few short hours before his death?
If a person really decided to press the matter, he could argue that you couldn’t even call it married.
But it seemed mean-spirited to challenge her claim. After all, she’d come out here in good faith, pursuing her own dreams, and none of what had happened had been her fault.
It might be better for all concerned if he offered to buy out her claim on the farm. That way she could either purchase herself a place in town or head on back to where she came from with a nice little nest egg in hand.
As for the guardianship of Annabeth, Callie would come around on that once he talked to her again. Sure, he didn’t know exactly how he was going to handle raising the youngsters on his own, but he’d find a way. After all, there was no arguing that it was his responsibility to take care of Simon and Emma, so it just made sense for him to take Annabeth as well.
How much extra work could one little girl be?
The crux of the matter kept coming down to the fact that he and the kids were blood kin. Even a woman as stubborn as Lanny’s widow was proving herself to be couldn’t deny that they belonged together.
Yes, that was the best way to go.
And hang it all, he still believed someone like her just didn’t fit in here in Sweetgum, especially not all on her own. She’d be as out of place as a canary in a hen house.
Not that the woman lacked spirit. It had taken a lot of gumption for her to make it this far. And she certainly didn’t let the thought of what others might think of that birthmark stand in her way. Yes, all in all, quite a spirited woman.
Too bad she was so all-fired muleheaded.
Jack pushed away from the porch rail and jammed his hands in his pockets.
He’d never met a woman like her. True, it had been a while since he’d spent much time in what his mother used to call “polite company,” but he figured things hadn’t changed all that much. Callie was…well…hang it all, he hadn’t quite figured out what she was, besides being a thorn in his side. And just plain wrong about her rights in regard to Annabeth.
On the other hand, could he really say the kids would be better off with him than with her?
Rather than pursue that thought, he decided to turn in for the night.
Callie gently eased her armload of dirty breakfast dishes down on the counter next to the sink. She started rolling up her sleeves, then paused at the sound of a knock on the back door.
Mrs. Mayweather, who’d just placed a large kettle on the stove, glanced over her shoulder. “Callista, would you see who that is, please?”
Callie had a pretty good idea who was on the other side of the door, and she was certain Mrs. Mayweather did as well, but she dutifully wiped her hands on her borrowed apron. “Of course.”
As expected, she opened the door to find Jack standing there. He had a pail in one hand and a basket in the other.
“Ah, Jackson, there you are.” Mrs. Mayweather waved him in from behind Callie. “We saved you a bit of breakfast.”
“Thanks. It sure does smell good.” He lifted his offerings. “I brought some eggs and fresh milk for your larder.”
Studying his easy smile and friendly manner, Callie decided the man could be something of a charmer when he set his mind to it.
Mrs. Mayweather obviously agreed. She beamed approvingly as she held out her hands. “Wonderful. I’ll take those and put them away. You go on to the sink and wash up.”
She nodded to Callie as she passed. “Would you hand him a plate, please?”
Callie nodded and stepped past Jack, reaching into the cupboard. “Mrs. Mayweather brewed a pot of coffee. Would you like a cup?”
“Yes, thank you.”
There was a formality about their interactions today, a sort of stiff truce. But at least it was a truce.
She watched him heap a pile of eggs and two biscuits onto his plate, then he took a seat at the long kitchen table. Simon was still picking at his own breakfast but the girls had finished theirs.
Annabeth immediately moved to Jack’s side. “Did you see Cinnamon and Taffy and Pepper last night?” she asked before he’d even settled in.
“Cinnamon, Taffy and Pepper.” Jack drawled the words as he smeared jam on his biscuit. “Some of my favorite flavors. But I’m afraid I didn’t look in the pantry.”
Annabeth giggled. “They don’t live in the pantry, silly.”
“They don’t?”
Callie smiled at the teasing tone in Jack’s voice. Perhaps she’d been wrong about his ability to relate to the children. Maybe she should just step back and let him—
The memory of his declaration that he wasn’t “the praying kind” interrupted her move toward retreat and stiffened her resolve. It just plain didn’t matter how charming he could be, these children needed her in their lives, too.
But for now, she’d give him his share of time to create a connection with his nieces and nephew.
“They’re animals, not food,” Annabeth explained with exaggerated patience. She began to tick them off on her fingers. “Cinnamon is my pony and Taffy is the big yellow cat who lives in the barn and Pepper is our dog.”
“Oh!” Jack did a good job of sounding surprised. “Well, in that case, yes, I saw all three of them.”
The child twirled a curl with one pudgy finger. “Do you think they miss me?”
“I’m certain they do.”
Emma set her elbows on the table next to Simon. “I have a dog, too.”
Jack turned his attention to his other niece. “Do you?”
She nodded her head. “He’s a beagle and his name is Cookie.”
“Now, would he by any chance be that fine looking animal I saw outside next to Mrs. Mayweather’s carriage house?”
Emma beamed at the compliment. “Uh-huh. And I had a bird, too. Mr. Peepers. But he…” Her lower lip began to tremble.
Callie caught the panicked look on Jack’s face and quickly stepped in. “Emma, would you please bring me the empty platter from the stove?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Jack gave her a small nod and she felt a warm glow at this ever-so-slight sign of gratitude. Maybe he was finally beginning to see how she could help with the children. Perhaps they could work this whole matter out amicably after all.
A few moments later he carried his dishes to the sink. Then, without so much as a glance her way, he turned back to the children. “I plan to head back out to the farm to take care of some chores. Why don’t you all come with me? Annabeth, you can visit with your animals. And Emma and Simon, you can take Cookie along and let him run as far and as long as he wants to.”
Callie stiffened, the glow quickly evaporating. Was he actually planning to take the children and not her?
Annabeth clapped her hands in excitement. “Oh, yes! Do you think Mrs. Mayweather will let me bring some of her sugar cubes for Cinnamon?”
“We’ll ask her,” Jack answered. “But I’m sure it’ll be all right.”
“And Aunt Callie can come, too, can’t she?”
Bless Annabeth’s innocent little heart.
Jack cut her a quick glance, that stiff formality firmly