All-American Father

The service industry is in our blood, Grams kept saying, passing off the Greenwood family’s legacy of perpetually serving, while others relaxed and took a break from their lives, as a magical gift bestowed upon only the chosen few.

“No, thank you, Bailey. This looks lovely.” Margo smiled, as if the way Bailey had placed the plate of desserts on the table was a slice of heaven on earth.

“I’ll get your drinks.” Bailey backed away, her return smile forced.

She needed this job. To keep the Gables Inn out of the red, she’d take two or three more just like it. Her new employer’s overly exuberant appreciation was a small cross to bear, even if it held a hint of pity for how much Bailey and her grandmother were struggling.

“Drinks ready?” Bailey picked up a tray at the counter Robert was now working behind.

The door chimed behind her. Robert nodded his head in greeting to whoever had come in.

“Selena gets the espresso, straight up.” He loaded Bailey’s tray. “And Margo likes her lattes.”

“Selena?”

“The artist.”

Ah.

The woman wearing the vibrant combination of a deep plum tunic and sage-green skirt, who Bailey could have sworn she’d met somewhere before.

“You came!” She heard Selena exclaim.

Bailey turned. Her experienced hold on the tray of steaming drinks deserted her at the sight of Derrick Cavenaugh holding the beautiful artist’s hand and smiling as he chuckled—genuinely chuckled—at something she was saying.

Crash!

Then everyone was staring at Bailey and the broken pottery littering the floor.

BAILEY GREENWOOD…

Derrick had wrangled her name out of her boss, while he’d failed once again to talk the irritated man into dropping the shoplifting charges.

Little Bailey Greenwood…

The name was vaguely familiar, but besides the heather-green eyes, he had only a distant memory of an overly bright kid who, as a freshman, had kicked his and everyone else’s butts in senior calculus class.

And now she was working the counter at a suburban minimart?

The kid behind the Stop Right register hadn’t blinked before spilling that his coworker wasn’t on her way home at six in the evening.

Bailey’s always scrambling for work. I think she’s hooked up with some coffee place in SOMA, something like two nights a week….

Leslie had shot into her room and locked the door after their silent drive home. The sitter was already paid for, since Derrick had planned to stay at the office late to work on Reynolds-Allied briefs. He’d made sure Savannah was settled, then he’d headed back to town, to track Bailey down. Maybe to talk her into…

Into what?

After he’d treated her like a nobody back in Langston, he had no right to ask for anything.

“Oh, dear.” One of the women sitting with Selena set off to help Bailey clean up.

“I’m sure babes swoon at your feet on a daily basis,” teased Selena, his only friend from high school who’d never been impressed by his impending greatness. The only Western alumni he’d kept up with over the years. “But I bet having one throw food is a new twist.”

“Yeah, well, I wasn’t at my charming best when we met a little while ago.” Derrick winced. “I didn’t expect her to be excited to see me again, but—”

“Wait. You followed Bailey Greenwood here?” Selena glanced at her remaining friend. “I should have known it would take a woman to get him to come.”

“Come where?” He was only half listening.

Bailey had hustled the dripping tray into what looked like the kitchen. He glanced at the clock on the wall. He had a preteen at home on crime watch.

“Derrick, this is my friend Nora Clark,” Selena said. “She’s one of the parents I’ve been telling you about. You know, the group that might be able to help you work things out with Leslie and Savannah.”

Group?

Derrick groaned.

He’d stumbled into the middle of the single-mother gabfest Selena had been pimping for the last few months. Panic didn’t begin to describe the sudden urge to make himself scarce.

Selena was a successful installation artist. She had her own kid to keep track of. Where did she find the time for a sorority-esque coffee klatch?

“If you’ll excuse me.” He left as the woman he’d heard someone call Margo headed back their way.

Pushing through the swinging door Bailey disappeared behind, he found a brightly lit industrial kitchen that looked like it turned out a lot more than the simple desserts offered at other San Francisco coffee houses. The sound of running water led him around a corner.

“Employees only back here, buddy,” the dynamo scouring the tray said without glancing up from the sink. “Health department regulations.”

Bailey looked even more exhausted than she had back at the store. Embarrassed, too, which had clearly upped her determination to avoid him.

“I’m sorry.” He held up his hands. “I had no right to jump down your throat earlier. My only excuse is that it was my first stint picking my child up at a crime scene, and I was too worried about Leslie to thank you for your help. Someone mentioned you might be here tonight. I came to apologize.”

“But I thought you and Selena…” She wiped at the wisps of hair that had curled free of her ponytail, then dove back into scrubbing, even though the last of the coffee had already swirled down the drain. “Never mind. If you’re so worried about your daughter, shouldn’t you be home, sharing your concern with your family, instead of me?”

“Well, I also wanted to…”

He was talking to the top of her head.

“Bailey—” He reached over her shoulder and turned off the tap.

“Hey!” She spun around to push him away with soapy hands. Moisture seeped through his shirt. “Back off.”

She was barely tall enough to reach his chest. The soft, brown hair she wore in a ponytail smelled like cinnamon.

Taking several steps back, he cleared his throat.

“I wanted to ask if you’d consider helping my daughter just a little more,” he forced himself to say. “Leslie’s a good kid who’s confused and trying to deal with everything that’s changed in her life over the last couple of years. She needs time. She needs a chance to start over, but your boss is determined to make an example of her. If you could help change his mind, you’d be making a huge difference in a young girl’s life.”

Bailey’s eyes drained of the promise to slap him if he invaded her personal space again. The spunk she’d been running on seemed to fizzle, along with the soap bubbles oozing down the sides of the sink.