Vicki sniffed and sniffed again. She didn’t know when she’d started crying. But now she couldn’t stop.
“Hey!” Bobby sounded scared. “Stop that. They’re gonna think I did something to you. Knock it off.”
“I—I can’t.”
“What are you even crying for?”
“B-because I don’t have a m-mom.”
He shut up. Even Bobby wasn’t a big enough jerk to tease her about that. Instead, he sat down on the floor on the other side of Butterscotch to pet her, his fingers bumping against Vicki’s arm.
“Do you remember her?” he asked. “You were just a little kid when she died.”
That was funny because he called her a little kid now. She couldn’t answer him, though, because she was crying too hard.
“Aunt Jessica was pretty great,” Bobby said. “I told her once I wanted to be a scientist and thought she might laugh at me, but she gave me a microscope for my birthday.”
Vicki’s dad bought her birthday presents, but he didn’t wrap them. He just stuck them in a bag. Sometimes Aunt Dee used bags, too, but when she did, there were bows on the outside and colored paper tucked in with the gift.
“I need a mother.” She rubbed the snot off her nose. “Santa Claus was supposed to bring me one, but he didn’t.” Spring would be here in a few months—Vicki learned all about seasons back in kindergarten—so maybe she could ask the Easter Bunny for help.
Bobby opened his mouth and took a breath. He looked like he was about to start explaining stuff, like when he’d bored her that one time talking about different kinds of rocks. Then he shook his head. “You don’t need Santa, kid, you need Promises Dot Com.”
“Promises?” Vicki knew about “dot com.” Sometimes her dad let her use his computer to play games; plus her teacher, Mrs. Frost, sent them to different websites to practice phonics or math facts. But she hadn’t been able to work on her dad’s laptop much lately. He was too busy with stuff for the store to share.
“Haven’t you ever seen one of those sappy Promises commercials?” Bobby asked. “People meet each other on the computer, through email and messages, and start dating. Your dad would have to sign up.”
Vicki wasn’t sure he would do that. “If he meeted her on the computer, how would I know if I liked her?”
“Met, doofus. Maybe he’s already met someone,” Bobby said. “I mean, not on the computer, but in real life. He could date someone from church or our school. That way, you’d know immediately if you liked her.”
“But he doesn’t talk to any of those ladies from church or school.”
Bobby’s forehead got all squiggly, the way it did when he was thinking really hard. “Do you know what a Sadie Hawkins Dance is?”
“No.”
“They had one at the middle school. The girls ask the guys to be their dates. Maybe we can get a woman to ask out Uncle Mark.”
“How?” And who? Vicki’s Sunday school teacher, ballet teacher and first-grade teacher were all married.
Bobby stood up, looking at all of the stuff on his mom’s desk. He picked up a little yellow book that had the words Woodside PTA on the front. “If I helped you find a mom, you guys probably wouldn’t be over here so much.”
“You’ll help? Really?”
Nodding, he flipped open the book. “I have a plan.”
Vicki had stopped crying already. Now she smiled and hugged Bobby. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!”
It was a weird day when you could trust your jerky cousin more than you could trust Santa Claus.
Chapter One
“Wakey-wakey, eggs and bakey.” The ridiculous rhyme rolled off Mark Hathaway’s tongue from habit—it had been the way Jess used to cajole their daughter out of bed for preschool.
Although Vicki had more practice getting up early and getting ready for school, she was no more cheerful about it now than she had been at three. Muttering something that was no doubt a variation of “go away,” his first grader scooted farther beneath the pony-print comforter. Not even the curly top of her head was visible.
With a sigh, he flipped back the corner of her blanket. “Up and at ’em, Vicki-bug. You have school, and Daddy has an important meeting this morning. Tomorrow’s Saturday, we’ll both sleep late then, okay?” If today’s breakfast meeting went well maybe he’d finally be able to get a decent night’s sleep.
“Don’t feel good,” she muttered. It was her standard second line of defense, after hiding beneath the covers.
“What hurts?” When she didn’t answer, he placed a hand over her forehead. “You don’t have a fever. Come on, hurry up so you can help me pick out your clothes. How about…your orange bathing suit with some polka-dot socks?”
Some mornings, his attempts at humor were only met with a sleepy glare. Today, he was rewarded with a half giggle.
“I can’t wear a bathing suit to school, Daddy! And plus it’s winter.” She sighed, clutching her stuffed horse close. “Do I have to get out of bed?”
“’Fraid so.”
“Hug first?” she pleaded. Of all her regular procrastination techniques, this was his favorite.
“Absolutely.” He sat at the foot of her bed, leaning back along the wall, and she scooted into his lap, snuggling against him. He kissed her on top of the head, breathing in the apple-scented detangler he’d combed through her unruly hair last night. Even with the spray-conditioner, she still winced when he hit a knot. And he was completely hopeless when it came to fixing her hair for ballet class—he barely managed simple pony-tails and barrettes for school. The coppery curls were untamable. No matter what style he attempted, it ended up lopsided.
With his everyday shortcomings, it was little wonder the poor kid had been dropping hints for the past few months. Mark was not oblivious to the fact that his daughter yearned for a mother figure. Thank God for Dee, Jessica’s older sister. How would he have survived the past two years without his sister-in-law’s help?
If the store closed, would Vicki have to move away from her aunt and uncle? The knot of dread which had recently taken up residence in his chest tightened. She’s already lost too much. No little girl should have to grow up without a mother. How could he possibly take her away from her friends and family in Braeden, North Carolina, the only home she’d ever known?
He tried to shake off the omnipresent worry. Extra stress wouldn’t change the outcome of today’s meeting. Besides, he’d been working quite a few extra hours lately, and Vicki deserved the benefit of his full attention.
“You know I love you, right, Bug?”
“Love you, too.”
“We make a good team, you and me.”
“Teams can be lots of people,” she said. “Like when Coach B splits us up to play kickball at school. Two isn’t very many.”
Her words sliced through him, her delicate suggestion that, much as he loved her, he wasn’t enough.
Mark chose his response carefully. “Two might not sound like very many, but when you think about it, we have plenty of other people who love us. Aunt Dee, Uncle Frank and Bobby, Mrs. Norris, Lucy at the store, Cade…”
Cade Montgomery had become Mark’s best friend since Jess died—because the sometime white-water-rafting guide, sometime carpenter was single. It was so much less awkward to hang out with Cade than all the married couples Mark and Jessica had known. Cade was about as confirmed a bachelor as a man could get, but he was surprisingly