The Lawman's Second Chance. Ruth Herne Logan

to pay. It almost made her want to cut him a deal, but if Caroline was correct and Alex was the new lieutenant in charge of investigations for Troop A, then he was doing well enough to make her income look paltry by comparison.

      Therefore, Alex Steele would get no deals at Gardens & Greens, regardless of how compelling his gray eyes were. Or how adorable his kid was. To his credit, he shrugged off the girl’s worry. “We’re fine, Em, but I appreciate your concern for my bottom line. Is this your daughter?” he asked then, changing his attention to include Rosie. “She looks like you.”

      “My niece,” Lisa replied. She nuzzled Rosie’s dimpled neck and laughed when the little girl screeched. “I’m not married.”

      “Ah.”

      Why did I say that, why did I say that, why did I...

      She hadn’t meant her reply the way it sounded, like gifted information. As if she expected him to care whether she was married or not. That ship had sailed because she understood what few women knew: a spouse might claim to be in it for the long haul, but cancer had a way of changing things. In her case it took less than six months for Evan to dump her once she had to fight for her life at the expense of her breasts and hair.

      “Well, she’s beautiful.” The look Alex shifted from Rosie to Lisa suggested he wasn’t referring just to the child.

      A flush started somewhere within Lisa, a hint of pleasure mixed with a dose of embarrassment because she hadn’t been fishing for compliments. Conversely, she didn’t exactly mind being on the receiving end of a delightful flirtation. A flirtation that made her want to smile more than she had in several years.

      “Well, guys, if you don’t have any more questions?” Lisa arched a brow to Emma.

      Emma patted her notebook. “We’re good. Thank you, Lisa.”

      “You’re most welcome. I’ll see you soon.”

      “Yes.”

      Lisa moved down the new brick walkway, a recent project designed to showcase the various applications of brick, stone and grass for garden paths. She felt his eyes watching her, wondering...considering...

      But she refused to turn and see if her suspicions were correct, because as good as it felt to smile and trade quips with a strong-talking, gently spoken man like Alex Steele, she had no idea how to go about explaining what she’d been through. That she wasn’t exactly the average woman next door anymore. If she was, she’d still be married and maybe have a few rug rats of her own running around the garden.

      But she didn’t and wouldn’t most likely, even though the fertility clinic had harvested and frozen a clutch of her eggs before chemotherapy could destroy the tender information stored within them.

      She was closing in on her five-year mark, a big deal in cancer circles. Five years cancer-free meant you might have really, truly won the war, battle by battle.

      Each and every day she prayed that was true, right after telling God “Thy will be done” in the Lord’s Prayer.

      Where lay the truth? Was she all right with God’s will if it meant succumbing to cancer? Or was her earnest prayer for continued good health the more realistic side of her?

      She didn’t know. But she cared. Oh, yes. She cared a great deal.

      Chapter Two

      “Hey, Dad.” Lisa hailed her father as one of the college guys maneuvered a watering hose up and down the aisles, giving the plants a much-needed drink while the sun banked west. “Amazing sales today.”

      “You’re right.” Her father slung an arm around her shoulders and gave her a half hug. “Mostly due to your efforts.”

      “Oh, please.”

      He squeezed again, lighter this time. “You’ve picked up a lot of slack around here this year, between losing your mom and my absent-mindedness.”

      “It’s okay to grieve, Dad.”

      “I know that.” He paused and let his gaze wander the pretty sight of the well-kept nursery. “This was her doing, you know.”

      Lisa had heard this all before, but if Dad wanted to tell the story again, she’d let him.

      “I thought we’d do well with beef cattle. And we did, to a point. But then your mother branched out from gardening to plant production. Those first greenhouses...” He smiled, remembering. “You were just a baby and Adam wasn’t born yet, but your mother and I fashioned them by wrapping metal poles around the silo with the tractor to get a perfect curvature. Then Uncle Dave welded them to the base frame. We added plastic sheeting covers and an old wood stove to maintain temperatures overnight, and a new business was born.”

      “It may have been Mom’s idea, but your hand helps stir every pot on the place, Dad.”

      “Because I’m no fool,” he declared, laughing. “And when you took after your mother, with that knack for growing things and promotional planning, I realized I’d be smart to be the brawn of the operation and let you two be the brains.”

      “I like the sound of that.” She pointed to the back area, where piles of mulch outlined a large, curved loading area. “Which mulches do I need to replenish?”

      “Black, red and natural.”

      She nodded and moved inside. “I’ll email the order over so we have delivery by Monday. And we’re okay on bagged varieties?”

      “For now I’d hold off on the pre-bags.”

      “Gotcha. Hey, I’m going to the nine o’clock service in the morning.”

      He turned, puzzled, because the choir sang at the ten-thirty service and Lisa sang with the choir. “Because?”

      “I’m stopping by the old Ramsey place for a consult after church and I want to get back here early. If today was any indication, tomorrow will be cranking busy and I want to have time to meet people. Talk with them.”

      “Just like your mother.”

      He smiled when he said it, but Lisa understood the ache inside. The upcoming holiday would be their first Mother’s Day without Maggie Fitzgerald. Lisa didn’t want to think about it, and if keeping busy at the garden center kept the loss of her energetic mother off her mind, all the better, but it was hard when every flower she touched, every order she placed, every display she arranged reminded her of where her talent came from.

      Her mother. Gone in her mid-fifties from debilitating heart disease caused by a blood infection. Who would have thought such a thing possible?

      Not Lisa. Not after her mother had championed Lisa through two rounds of chemo, multiple surgeries and weeks of exhausting radiation. Maggie had been a go-getter who raised two kids and looked forward to teaching her grandchildren the ins and outs of the gardening business she loved. She’d lived just long enough to see Rosie take her first steps, a new generation of Fitzgeralds on the run.

      And then she passed away, just after Christmas.

      Lisa shoved the encroaching melancholy aside and forced herself to remember the good times. Her mother was a staunch Christian, and a determined adversary of people who let obstacles mar their paths. Maggie’s motto? Go for it. Get it done.

      Lisa felt the same way, but that didn’t ease the sense of loss. Still, keeping Gardens & Greens booming was the best way to salute her mother’s memory and keep her father’s grief sidelined.

      * * *

      Sunday morning chaos. How could someone who commanded a troop of officers manage to mess things up repeatedly on Sunday mornings?

      And just when Alex thought they might get out the door for the early service at Good Shepherd, the doorbell rang. He looked out the window. His hopes for a quick getaway plummeted.

      Jenny’s mother. Here. In Allegany