Daddy Daycare. Laura Altom Marie

stare, “I’ve faxed the will to my corporate attorney, and he assures me that no matter your objections, I have the legal right to pack up Libby and take her wherever I please.”

      “No offense to your high-and-mighty corporate attorney, but in case you’ve forgotten, I’m contesting that will,” Beulah fired right back with a saccharine-sweet power smile of her own. “My legal counsel filed a court order barring you from taking my granddaughter outside county lines until a judge has time to hear both sides of our dilemma. Meaning, my granddaughter will remain with me until a formal decision is made.”

      “Look…” Clenching his jaw and trying his damnedest to remain even-keeled when what he really wanted was to blow, Travis stood and walked the five feet to Beulah’s recliner. “I have no wish to make this ugly, but apparently on her deathbed my sister told Kit that she wanted me to raise Libby. I loved my sister very much and want nothing more than to abide by her wishes.”

      “Oh,” Beulah said, also rising to her feet. “And seeing how you loved her so much, is that why you’ve only seen Libby once since she was born? And that was only because Marlene and my son brought the baby to you. Libby doesn’t even know you, yet I’m with her several times a week. Now, logically speaking, who do you think is best suited to care for her? Me, her loving grandmother who’s already raised one child of my own? Or you, Mr. Callahan, a bachelor so selfish and concerned with his own agenda that he didn’t even have time to pencil in the occasional visit to his supposedly beloved sister. And another thing—have you ever in your whole life even changed a diaper? Let alone fixed a bottle or done a load of wash? We’re Libby’s family. With your history, do you even know the meaning of family? Why, I’ll bet—”

      “That’ll be enough,” an older man said, stepping into their not-so-happy group. Extending his hand to Travis, he said, “I’m Frank Redding, by the way. I’d say it’s nice to meet you, but truthfully I’ve had better times meeting cottonmouths.”

      Likewise. Travis clenched his fists along with his jaw.

      Not that he’d ever come face-to-face with one of the supposedly nasty snakes, but he damn sure took offense at being compared to one of the mean little bastards. What bothered him most, though, was how much Beulah’s verbal attack stung. He knew damn well what a family was. And in his heart he also knew it hadn’t been selfishness keeping him away from his sister and IdaBelle Falls all these years but an uncomfortable, far deeper emotion.

      Libby started to cry.

      Both Travis and Beulah lunged for her, but Kit did, too, and seeing how she was closest, she won. “Listen to you, Beulah, going on about how you’re an expert on family and babies, yet raising your voice right here in front of poor little Libby, who’s already been through so much.”

      “Sorry,” Beulah said. “I just…well, when I think about this stranger here, running off to Chicago with the apple of my eye, raising her with no one around but nannies, I can’t stand it.”

      “It’ll be all right,” Gary’s father said, putting his arm around Beulah’s quaking shoulders.

      Libby was still fitfully crying.

      “Here’s what I propose,” Kit said, easing up beside Travis with the baby. He suddenly wanted to hold both girls. Libby represented his only flesh-and-blood link to his sister. And Kit, as Marlene’s best friend, would always hold a special place in his—what? Had he been about to think heart? Because if so, that was screwy; he hardly knew the woman. He was only feeling abnormally close to her because of his sister’s sudden death. Certainly not because of one hot summer he’d gotten over a long time ago. “Why not let Libby choose?”

      “That’s ridiculous,” Beulah said with a put-upon sigh.

      “Is it?” Gary’s father asked, looking intrigued.

      “Whose side are you on?” she asked her husband.

      “Libby’s,” the man said. “Until the judge has his say, I think it’s only fair the little gal has her own.”

      “Fine,” Beulah said. “Hands down, I’ll win. But if this showdown makes y’all feel better, so be it.” She held out her arms to Kit. “Pass her over.” Cradling Libby, Beulah crooned and coddled, but no amount of talk calmed her.

      “My turn,” Travis said a few minutes later.

      “Be my guest,” Beulah said. “But when she gets like this, there’s no comforting her.”

      “I’ll take my chances.” Travis took Libby into his arms, then headed for the rocking chair he’d earlier spied on the glassed in, air-conditioned front porch. Comfortably seated in the chair, tears stinging his eyes, he recalled a late-night phone call he’d had with Marlie when Libby had been two months old. The baby had been going through cranky spells in the middle of the night, and Marlene had said the only way she’d found to calm her was by rocking her, rubbing the small of her back and singing the Oscar Mayer wiener song—a ditty she’d accidentally discovered the baby enjoyed when it’d soothed her while Marlene had been up watching TV.

      Humming the familiar strains, Travis clutched his niece as if his life depended on her. Hell, maybe his life did depend upon her. Ever since hearing of Marlene’s death, he’d been so wrapped up in the logistics of getting to IdaBelle Falls and making sure Libby ended up with him that it hadn’t even sunk in that his funny, opinionated, cute, talented sister was gone.

      With Libby sound asleep against his chest, her slight weight and warmth bringing unfathomable comfort, Travis looked up to find Kit swiping at a few tears of her own.

      “We have a winner,” she softly said.

      Beulah snorted. “No one told me we could use the rocking chair. Oldest baby trick in the book. He clearly cheated. But seeing how I’m a God-fearing woman, I won’t be one to go back on my word. Long as you keep an eye on him, Kit, Travis’s welcome to take my grandbaby to her home. But if he so much as breathes a word about heading back to Chicago…”

      “THANKS FOR YOUR HELP back there,” Travis said from behind the wheel of Levi’s truck. Libby was buckled into her safety seat on the passenger side, leaving Kit in the middle to care for her. Travis had to admit—out of Beulah’s earshot, anyway—he knew just enough to be dangerous when it came to caring for an infant.

      When Marlene and Gary had named Travis as Libby’s godfather, he’d taken the title seriously, but it’d never occurred to him he’d actually wind up one day becoming the girl’s substitute father. In fact, the couple had often teased him that eventually, once he had kids of his own, he’d see there was more to life than business. Laughing, he’d always said, Yeah, yeah, that day’ll never come. Yet look at him now. An instant father halfway wondering if maybe Libby would be better off living with her grandmother.

      “Not a problem,” Kit said. “I was winging it, hoping like the devil you’d remember Marlene’s wiener-song trick.”

      “She never told Beulah?” Coming to a four-way stop on the dirt road, he cast a sideways glance at Kit. Back in the blazing heat, her skin glowed. She’d had her dark hair up all day, but sweat-dampened tendrils escaped. She’d raised her skirt above her knees, baring endless tanned legs that, on countless sweltering nights in Foster’s swimming hole, she’d wrapped around him, giving him teenage hard-ons so intense they’d hurt. Then, one thing had led to another and he was burying himself deep inside her. She’d made everything better. Good. Whole.

      Why had he never told her how much she’d brought to his life?

      With a sharp laugh, Kit said, “To say the two didn’t get along would be the understatement of the century.”

      “Yeah. On a few of her calls, Marlene intimated as much. Said Beulah didn’t approve of her cooking.” Even as Travis had spoken, he couldn’t take his eyes off the elegant column of Kit’s throat. He should’ve told her. Maybe before returning to Chicago he would. Assuming he found the right moment or—

      “Um, Travis?” She glanced at him curiously.