Nanny in Hiding. Patricia Kay

      Even so, it was tough raising the girls on his own. He never knew if he was doing the right thing or not. Most of the time, he just muddled through each day and prayed for the best.

      Thank God for Lorna, he thought as he and the girls walked across the park-like land that separated his home from the family mansion and gave at least an illusion of privacy. His favorite sister had no children of her own and, especially since her divorce and Michelle’s death, had lavished her motherly instincts and attention on his daughters. They, in turn, adored their aunt Lorna.

      The lights of the big house, as Bryce and his siblings had always referred to the main residence within the family compound, were ablaze as he and the children approached.

      “Daddy? Is Cameron going to be here tonight?”

      “Yes, Susan, everyone’s going to be here.”

      “Cool.”

      Cameron was the daughter of Bryce’s sister Chloe and her husband Greg, who lived in Austin. Although Cameron was fourteen, six years older than Stella and seven years older than Susan, they both worshiped her. At the moment, she was their only Hathaway cousin, and the way things were going, Bryce was sorely afraid that situation wouldn’t change anytime soon. He knew Lorna had wanted children when she was married but had had some medical problems. Now, of course, she was no longer married. And Chloe didn’t seem inclined to have another, either. Claudia was their only hope.

      By now they’d reached the wide, shallow steps leading to the massive oak double front door, which was flanked by flickering gas lamps. Although this was the house where Bryce had grown up, he never entered without either knocking or ringing the doorbell, a courtesy he expected to be returned when any member of his family visited him.

      The door was promptly opened by Lucy, one of the maids. “Good evenin’, Mr. Bryce.” She gave him a big smile, then looked down at the girls. “And Miss Susan and Miss Stella. My, don’t you two girls look pretty?”

      “Good evening, Lucy.” Bryce nudged the girls, who politely said their hellos and thank-yous.

      “Everyone is in the drawing room,” Lucy announced.

      Bryce mentally rolled his eyes. Calling the living room the drawing room was something his mother had initiated a few years back, after a trip to England. The affectation had always bothered him. The Hathaways made no pretense of being upper class. Like the Morgans, his grandmother’s family, the Hathaways had come from hardy pioneer stock—people who had worked hard for a living, doing mostly physical work.

      Why his mother felt the need to pretend otherwise was a mystery to him. But it hadn’t seemed worth making an issue of, just as so many things were not worth causing more strife in the family than was already there. Bryce believed in picking his battles carefully. That way, his energy was channeled into areas that were important and not just irritations.

      The girls raced ahead of him into the large rectangular room that took up the entire right front section of the house. An equally large dining room was across the hall, occupying the left front of the house.

      As he entered the elegantly furnished room, he realized most of his family had already arrived. Lorna stood talking to a petite, dark-haired woman Bryce didn’t know, and there was Chloe, her husband Greg and their daughter Cameron, who had all driven down from Austin, and of course Claudia, who still lived at home, along with Bryce’s parents, Jonathan and Kathleen.

      Before stopping to talk to anyone else, he headed straight for the far end of the room where his grandmother sat ensconced in a navy velvet Queen Anne chair. At ninety, Stella Morgan Hathaway was still a handsome woman with regal bearing. Her snowy, waist-length hair had been twisted and piled on top of her head, secured with diamond and ruby combs. Matching diamond and ruby earrings and bracelet glittered in her ears and on her right wrist. She wore a long, garnet satin evening dress and, to guard against the chill of the air-conditioning, a white cashmere shawl was draped around her shoulders.

      As Bryce and the girls approached, she lifted her chin. Although she smiled, her blue eyes were cool as they met his.

      Still mad at me, he thought. His answering smile was warm and loving, for he did love his imperious, stubborn grandmother. He’d always loved her. When he was a boy, she was the one he confided in, the one who counseled him and comforted him and encouraged him. His mother had been too preoccupied with the social activities she used as a substitute for a happy marriage, and his father had been too mired in his own insecurities and discontent to spend much time or effort on his son.

      The girls hugged and kissed their great-grandmother, added their presents to the pile near her feet, then skipped off to join their cousin.

      Bryce bent down and kissed his grandmother’s soft cheek. The scent of roses, a hallmark of her favorite perfume, clung to her skin. “Happy birthday, Grandmother.”

      “It would be a lot happier if you would talk some sense into Claudia.”

      “Gran, we’ve been all through this.”

      Her lips tightened. “That doesn’t mean I’m satisfied with your decision.”

      “I know, and I’m sorry about that.” Bryce almost added more, then decided not to. As he’d pointed out, everything had already been said. More than once. He wasn’t going to change his mind, and his grandmother would not change hers. “We’ll just have to agree to disagree.”

      “I suppose you approve of that application she made to that school in Houston.”

      “Yes, I do.” Claudia had applied to teach business classes at a community college there.

      “Hmmph. Houston. Nothing but dirt and crime and traffic.”

      “Gran, that’s not true. I’ve been to Houston lots of times, and I really like the city. There’s lots of energy there. And lots of young people. If a job comes through for Claudia, I think it’ll be good for her to move there.”

      He could see how his grandmother was struggling not to lose her temper. This issue was one of the few times Bryce had ever crossed her, one of the few times anyone had ever crossed her, and he knew his opposition was hard for her to swallow.

      Saying, “You’ve ruined my birthday,” she put her chin in the air and refused to utter another word.

      Giving her a second kiss on the cheek, he murmured, “I’m sorry you feel that way, Gran. Try to remember that disagreeing with you doesn’t mean I don’t love you.” Turning away, he finally directed his attention to the other guests in the room.

      “Bryce,” Lorna said. She had walked up behind him with the stranger he’d noticed earlier in tow. “I’d like you to meet an old friend. Amy, this is my brother, Bryce. Bryce, this is Amy—” Lorna broke off and gave her friend a quizzical smile. “I never asked you what your married name is. Or if you had gone back to using Summers again?”

      “Not with Calista,” the woman said. “Our last name is Gordon.”

      “Oh, of course. I took my maiden name back because there weren’t any children involved.”

      Bryce took this exchange to mean the woman was divorced.

      Turning her attention back to him, Lorna said, “Amy and I met at Florida State that year I was there. In fact, we were roommates. She and her little girl are staying with me for a few days.” She inclined her head. “That’s Calista over there, with Cameron and the girls.”

      Bryce caught a glimpse of a cute, dark-haired girl in a pink-checked dress.

      “It’s nice to meet you, Amy,” he said, wondering when they had arrived. Lorna hadn’t mentioned expecting company at work today.

      “Thank you.” Amy smiled and put her hand out.

      Bryce shook it. She had a firm grip for such a small woman. She also had a direct gaze and huge brown eyes that dominated her face. “I hope you won’t be bored here. There’s not much to do in Morgan Creek.”