“Is this where you grew up?”
His hands flexed once on the steering wheel. “Yep. I had a lot of fun here as a kid.”
What should pop out of her mouth but “You’re...You seemed to know your way around a car seat.”
“Is that a question?” He was clearly teasing. “I have two nieces. Sara is seven now, Ivy four. My sister brings them out here a couple of times a year, and Dad and I go to Chicago alternate years for Christmas.”
“Oh. That’s nice.”
“Which part?”
“All of it,” she said honestly. Not being able to see her mother and sister created a constant ache in her chest, made worse by Allie’s illness. Neither of them had even seen Jacob. She didn’t think he really understood the concept of grandmothers or aunts. Childbirth would have been so different if Mom and Allie both had been with her, had counted fingers and toes, held Jacob when he was tiny and bundled in a blanket so that only his head emerged.
“You miss your family,” Seth said in a husky voice, even as he parked beside a farmhouse nestled in some big old trees. She’d given away more than she intended.
Finding out how much of a family man he was made her pray anew that he never learned she had it in her power to heal her sister, and hadn’t done it.
A side door to the house opened, spilling light across the lawn. The man coming out was close to Seth’s size with strong shoulders and a confident stride. His hair seemed to be white.
Seth opened his door and went to meet his father. They half hugged, in that guy way. Feeling shy, Robin got out, too.
Seth made quiet introductions before saying, “Let’s get inside. Bed ready for Jacob?”
“Sure is. He doesn’t need a crib?”
“No.” For no good reason, she spoke barely above a whisper, as if there had to be listening ears out there. “At home, I have his mattress on the floor, but he’ll be okay on a regular bed.”
Michael Renner nodded. “What can I carry?”
As before, Seth carried Jacob inside and disappeared deeper into the house. Even a few days ago, she would have felt an anxious need to trot after him. It was too easy to trust this man.
“The bedroom is upstairs,” his father said. “I already have gates out for the top and bottom of the stairs. Had ’em for my nieces, and held on to ’em in case my daughter had another one.”
Robin let one of the duffels slide off her shoulder onto a stool drawn up to a breakfast bar on a big, granite-topped island. The kitchen was gorgeous, with Shaker-style maple cabinets, double ovens and a wrought-iron rack for pans hung over the stove top. The room was warm and welcoming, unlike Richard’s kitchen.
“This is beautiful,” Robin said, looking around. “Perfect.”
His smile looked a lot like one of Seth’s, except Michael’s skin had more crinkles. He was still a good-looking man, and his hair wasn’t white the way it had appeared outside but instead blond. Or, well, probably a mix. Seth had gotten his blue eyes from his father, but maybe his darker hair from his mother.
“I had it redone a few years ago.” His tone was elaborately casual, but Robin suspected he knew to the day when the work had been done. He cleared his throat. “My wife—Seth’s mother—had cancer. She’d dreamed of redoing the kitchen, and I wanted to make sure it happened.” He looked around. “I just wish I’d gotten to it sooner.”
Startled, Robin saw that she’d rested her hand on his forearm, and he was looking down at it. Embarrassed, she snatched back her hand.
He only smiled and said, “Thank you. Let me show you to your bedroom. I’m guessing you didn’t get a lot of sleep earlier.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I tried.”
A low, rough chuckle charmed her.
“This is so nice of you,” she hurried to say. “I mean, taking us in this way. Seth insisted you would before he’d even asked you. I guess you didn’t have a lot of choice.”
“Nonsense.” His kindness was tangible. “Seth wouldn’t have brought you here if you weren’t in some serious trouble. I may be retired from the job, but I’m not incapable.”