for the boys at Lives, and only if they want me to,” she said, slightly embarrassed by his intense scrutiny. “A friend of mine in Vancouver taught me the basics. She’s a hairdresser and runs a homeless shelter. She gives haircuts to anyone who wants one. I don’t have my license, but since a hairdresser only comes to Churchill every three or four months, I help out if someone asks. Laurel asked.”
“I see.” Were those piercing blue eyes more intense?
“Can I help you?” she asked when the silence stretched out too long.
“You’re busy.” Jack was acting very odd, as if he had something on his mind but was afraid to say it.
“Just going for groceries,” Alicia explained. “Oh, this is Eli Long. He works for me. Eli, this is Mr. Campbell, from the lodge. Laurel’s brother and Giselle’s father,” she added.
“Hi.” Eli waved to Jack, then, as if he too sensed Jack’s tension, got to work.
“Do you need something?” Alicia asked again.
“Maybe,” Jack muttered. He shuffled his amazing shoes then looked at her. “Yes, please,” he said in a firm voice. “I need your help.”
“Sure.” Alicia nodded. “With what?”
“With whom,” he corrected. His gaze slid to Eli. “Giselle. I, er, did something—”
“Why don’t we walk while you tell me?” she said, realizing that he didn’t want to speak in front of Eli. She stepped outside and pulled the door closed behind them. As Jack walked beside her down the street, her pulse began to thrum at his closeness. “Well?”
“How about I treat you to coffee?”
“If you add a doughnut, I’ll agree,” she teased.
But Jack didn’t smile. He simply nodded and began walking toward Common Grounds, a coffee shop down the street from Alicia’s store. Sensing he needed a few moments to collect his thoughts, she caught up, saying nothing until they were seated with their coffee and doughnuts in front of them.
Jack’s silence unsettled her. She needed to get him talking. A quick glance at the clock told her she’d need to hurry him a bit. Today was early closing at the Northern Store because of inventory taking. Grocery shopping and a decent dinner might have to wait till tomorrow.
Finally, without looking up at her, Jack spoke.
“Giselle’s run away.”
Chapter Four
Jack felt like a fool.
He’d been a father for eleven years, yet the small, dark-haired beauty who had called him dad until recently still had the ability to tie him in knots. He saw Alicia struggling not to smile and glared at her.
“It’s not funny.”
“It kind of is,” she said. “This is Churchill, Jack. There’s no place to run. Unless she got on the train before it left?” Her smile faded as she studied him with concern.
“No, the train left before our big blowup,” he told her.
“Then she’s around town somewhere.”
“She’s on her way to Laurel’s, and she says she’s not coming back.” He raked a hand through his hair, feeling helpless and a bit foolish. “I can’t have her living out there, Alicia. There are six boys there. I don’t care how sweet my sister says they are. My daughter is not staying at Lives with them. Anyway, even if I’d allow it, there’s no room.” He groaned. “This is a nightmare.”
“Hardly.” Alicia leaned back in her chair and studied him. “What was the argument about?”
“Her room.” He couldn’t look at her, wouldn’t let her see how much Giselle’s rejection of his surprise hurt.
“Her bedroom?” Alicia’s dark eyebrows lifted. “What’s wrong with it?”
“According to her, everything.” Jack shrugged helplessly. “I had it professionally decorated as a surprise. I wanted to make it feel like home.” He gave in to defeat. “Giselle hates it. She says I’m treating her like an infant, acts like I deliberately tried to offend her. I was trying to show how much I love her, how much I want her to be happy here.”
Alicia studied him with that dark impenetrable stare for so long that frustration nipped at him. He should never have listened to Laurel’s suggestion that he ask for Alicia’s help. He accepted that his sister couldn’t rush to his rescue. Besides, he wanted her there to meet Giselle when she arrived. But he suspected this was the first of Laurel’s attempts at matchmaking.
“Never mind,” he said, pushing his chair back and rising. “I shouldn’t have bothered you. I’ll figure out something.” Like what? his brain demanded. You can’t even figure out what the issue is with Giselle. Ignoring the inner voice, he turned to leave.
“I think you have the right idea.” Alicia rose, asked the server for two take-out cups and a paper bag for their doughnuts.
“What are you doing?” Females. Jack had never felt more at a loss.
“Going with you to the scene of the crime. Maybe if I see the room, I can understand Giselle’s anger. At the moment I’m at a total loss.” Alicia held the cups and the bag. “Shall we?” she asked.
“I guess.” Jack took the cups from her and followed her out of the café.
When they reached his hotel he led her inside, wondering why he held his breath as she studied the lobby where workmen were putting together the finishing touches. Was her approval so important?
“It’s lovely, Jack. Rustic but not overdone. Very comfortable. Homey. Your guests will enjoy this.” She smiled at him as she slid her fingertips over the rough stone of the fireplace.
“I used the same interior designer for Giselle’s room,” he complained.
“Maybe girls’ bedrooms aren’t her forte,” Alicia murmured. “But hotel lobbies certainly are. Which way?”
“Follow me.” Jack led the way to their private quarters, set their take-out cups down on a hall table, then opened the door to Giselle’s room. When Alicia didn’t immediately comment, he turned to study her.
His heart sank as Alicia’s mouth formed a perfect O.
“What?” Jack shifted uncomfortably. All he could see was sweetness and love for his baby girl. What was so terrible about that?
“Oh, dear.” Alicia set down the bag with the doughnuts, grabbed one of the cups and sank into a puffy pink chair inside the bedroom door. After another moment of looking around she took a long drink and sighed. “Oh, my.”
“Will you stop saying that and tell me what I did wrong?” Jack bellowed. “Sorry,” he said when he realized the harshness of his tone. “I didn’t mean to bark at you, but what’s wrong with this?”
“Where to start?” Alicia leaned back in the chair. “It’s so...pink.”
“Giselle’s a girl,” he said in his own defense. “And she likes pink.”
“So do I. At least I used to.” Alicia took another drink.
“Say what you need to,” he growled, knowing he wouldn’t like it.
“It’s—it’s like a pink fuzzy nest, for a baby chick or a bunny,” she sputtered, then leaned back, as if she was afraid he’d explode.
And Jack felt like it. All the time he’d wasted, all the work, all the money—none of which mattered a whit if his daughter hated being here.
He’d failed her. The lump in his throat grew.
“These stuffed toys.” Alicia