Suddenly, Annie's Father. Sherryl Woods

didn’t ask why. He was afraid he knew, and it didn’t have a thing to do with his relationship with Annie. An image of Val flitted through his mind. That woman could write the book on persistence.

      Harlan clearly wasn’t through doling out advice. “You know, Son, a little spirit in a girl’s a good thing, especially in this day and age. A woman needs to know how to stand up for herself. How else is she supposed to learn that without testing her wings as a kid?”

      He grinned. “Besides, most always what goes around, comes around. Being reminded of that gets you through the bad times. Jenny certainly got her comeuppance in due time. She’s a teacher now and a stepmom to a little hellion herself. She’s getting all that trouble back in spades. Knows how to handle it, though, because she’s been there herself.”

      “Maybe I should send Annie over to you to raise,” Slade said, only partly in jest. “You sound far better equipped to cope with her than I am.”

      “Oh, I suspect you’ll get the hang of it soon enough. In the meantime, you’ve got a pretty little stand-in,” he said, his expression sly. “Val seems to be taking quite an interest in Annie. In you, too, from what I’ve observed.”

      Slade had no intention in discussing his love life— or lack thereof—with Harlan Adams. In addition to meddling for the sheer pleasure of it, the man was the sneakiest matchmaker in Texas. Prided himself on it, in fact.

      “Val’s been very kind to Annie,” Slade agreed, and left it at that. “So have you. Thank you again for agreeing to this party. It’ll go a long way toward making her feel more at home here.”

      “That’s what a ranch like this is meant for,” Harlan said. “What’s the fun in living to a ripe old age, if you can’t surround yourself with family and lots of young people? I’m looking forward to seeing ’em all splashing around in that big old pool out back. Plus it gives me a chance to hear Laurie sing. Nobody has a voice like Harlan Patrick’s wife. Millions of folks pay to hear her concerts, but I can usually coax her into singing a song or two just for family. Gives me pleasure.”

      “I’m sure it does.”

      “I heard she wrote a song for Annie.”

      Slade was taken aback by that. “Are you sure about that?”

      “First day they met, the way I hear it. Annie gave her the inspiration.”

      “Imagine that,” Slade murmured. Annie must have been over the moon, but she hadn’t said a word.

      Or maybe—as happened all too often—he just hadn’t been listening.

      As Harlan Adams headed back up to the main house, Slade stared after him, then sighed. He had a feeling this was one time when the old man had been just as clever about passing along advice as he usually was about digging out secrets or meddling in affairs of the heart. He’d probably be keeping a close eye out to see just how well Slade followed it.

      * * *

      Val was in her element pulling the party together. Nothing gave her a sense of accomplishment like making lists and checking off every little chore. She’d helped Laurie with enough entertaining that it was second nature to her. This party would be smaller and less formal than something Laurie would have thrown in Nashville, but the details were essentially the same.

      She enlisted Annie’s help, thoroughly enjoying the child’s wry sense of humor, which came out at the most unexpected moments, shattering that tough, sullen facade she wore the rest of the time. Then there were the rare moments of vulnerability that tore at Val’s heart.

      “What if the kids don’t like me?” Annie asked for the millionth time a few days before the barbecue.

      “They’ll like you,” Val reassured her. “Dani’s twins are about your age, but most of the others are younger. You’ll be like a big sister to them. They’ll look up to you. Look how well you get along with Amy Lynn. She toddles around after you like a puppy.”

      “What does she know?” Annie scoffed. “She’s just a baby.”