Her Secret Sons. Tina Leonard

There were a lot of connected hearts in this town, and Pepper intended to honor them.

      She locked the door and headed over to Holt’s salon.

      “Hey,” he said, looking up from a magazine. “You’re right on time.”

      “This time,” she said, sliding into the chair. “I love the clinic. The boys love the house. Thank you for helping me find them.”

      Holt grinned, running a hand through Pepper’s tangled, auburn mop. “Let’s find something gorgeous here, okay? How long has it been since you’ve had a complete style?”

      Pepper looked at herself in the mirror, smiling at the mess Holt was examining with somewhat concealed disdain. “Long enough. I’ve been busy.”

      “Yes. Now that you’re back in town, you can slow down a bit. Your hair is telling on you.” He began combing out her locks, and Pepper sighed with pleasure. “If our hair is our nod to the day, I hear you may be needing a real brave new look.”

      She looked at him in the mirror. “Are we going to share our little gossip?”

      He smiled. “Perhaps. There was a council meeting the other night after you introduced your boys.”

      “Oh? I’m not surprised.”

      “All I’m saying is be on the lookout.” Holt flashed his scissors. “I can’t say more than that, but I do feel that a friendly heads-up is in order.”

      “Could you clarify?”

      He sighed. “Not really. You’re a Tulipian. You know how it works around here. Still, you’ve been gone long enough that you might have forgotten, so I’m just reminding you.”

      “Should I be worried? Is it about the boys?”

      “No.” Holt gave her a reassuring grin. “Not in the sense you’re thinking. Everyone here is glad you brought them home. But you know that, around here, love is equated with trying to be helpful.”

      “Well, as long as it’s well-meaning….” She wondered what to make of Holt’s secretive expression.

      “It always is, my dear.” He smiled. “It always is.”

      She wasn’t sure that made her feel a whole lot better.

      ON A CLEAR SUNDAY EVENING, at an hour when most people should be snuggled up in their beds or in front of their televisions, Luke McGarrett returned to Tulips. He was looking for zero fanfare and no welcoming committee.

      Of course, he wouldn’t get one, anyway.

      The taxi driver sped away, glad to get back to Dallas. Luke watched as the last vestige of up-to-date civilization left him. Feeling very much the pawn, he glanced around, deciding not much had changed. He hadn’t expected it to.

      The Tulips Saloon was new. It had a pretty door, with lots of stained glass flowers worked into it. Quite inviting for a man who had come a long way and who’d dreaded every step. There was an Open sign in the window, and Luke felt as if he could use some fortification before he went to see his father, so he swung the door wide.

      Four gray heads turned to stare at him, and one by one, their jaws dropped.

      Not exactly an enthusiastic greeting, Luke thought. “Hi,” he said, “I’m Luke McGarrett.”

      “We know who you are.” Helen Granger—he remembered her giving him a talking-to in church when he was a boy—stood to greet him. Pansy Trifle—he remembered her telling on him to his dad about how he didn’t eat his lunch in the cafeteria, preferring to play outside with the boys instead—stood, as well. “You got home quick.”

      He nodded. “Howdy, Mr. Parsons. Mr. Carmine.”

      Hiram and Bug stood in turn. They shook his hand solemnly.

      “A couple of fellows happened to swing by the yacht I was on to let me know I was needed here.” Luke recalled how the grapevine worked in this small town. “You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you?”

      They shook their heads. Luke sighed to himself, realizing that starting out on the defensive was going to make him no friends. Whatever was brewing in Tulips would be revealed to him eventually. “So, I guess some coffee might be on the menu? I could use some before I go home.”

      Pansy went to get him a mug. Helen, Bug and Hiram just stared at him, making him more apprehensive. “It’s only me,” he said. “I probably haven’t changed all that much.”

      They looked down at their own coffee mugs. Luke was struck by their closemouthed behavior. When Hiram had owned the pawn shop, he’d been active in the community, and one wouldn’t have called him quiet. Bug…well, Bug was Bug, and he could be given to long bouts of quiet—he liked to take off to think, and drink, solo—until Mrs. Carmine had him brought home from the fields.

      “Long time no see,” Pansy finally said bravely, and then he understood that maybe their feelings were a little hurt.

      “I guess so,” he said with a nod. “I deserve you pointing that out.”

      “Maybe a Christmas card or two wouldn’t have killed you,” Helen complained. “Your dad didn’t often seem to know much about you.”

      “Enough for someone to figure out how to find me,” he said. “Who sent the goons after me?”

      “We had nothing to do with that,” Pansy said. “We don’t send goons, anyway.”

      But they all looked away, and Luke knew he wasn’t getting the straightest answer. “So, do any of you want to tell me what’s on your minds?”

      “No,” Hiram said, “we just sit at this table most of our days and drink tea. Sometimes we go to Pansy’s house and sit and sometimes we sit at Helen’s. But our lives are pretty much about tea and cookies these days.”

      Somehow, Luke doubted that. “Thanks for the coffee, then.” He stood. “It was good to see you again. I’d best go see Dad.”

      They stared at him.

      “I suppose you’d tell me if he wasn’t all right,” Luke said slowly, beginning to worry.

      “He’s fine,” Bug said. “Mostly lonely, which, I’ll be the first to admit, he tends to bring upon himself. Still, he misses you.”

      “All right.” Luke tipped his hat. “I’ll head that way.”

      They watched him leave, and at the door, he turned to look back, again catching them staring at him.

      They definitely had something on their minds they weren’t sharing with him. He sighed. “How about a hint?”

      “No,” Helen said, “we daren’t.”

      “All right, then.” He appreciated the honesty. “I’ll find out on my own.”

      He left, and started heading to his father’s.

      “Oh,” Helen said, sticking her head out the door. “Would you mind dropping this batch of cookies off at the new clinic? It’s a grand-opening gift, you might say.”

      “New clinic?”

      “Yes. Off Cotton Blossom street, four blocks away. You remember. Short walk.”

      He looked down into her eyes, searching for clues, but she gave nothing away except the cookies, which she pressed into his hand. “Thank you,” Helen said primly.

      “No problem.”

      In fact, it gave him a reason not to hurry home. One more delay before seeing his father wasn’t necessarily a bad thing.

      PEPPER LOOKED AROUND her clinic, feeling proud of it, proud of her new home and of her boys. Holt had made her hair pretty and she had a new dress Liberty had sewed for her. Tomorrow was the big day. The grand opening. The day she started giving back