The Mummy Proposal. Cathy Thacker Gillen

used to things, before we actually petition the court to begin the process to make it permanent.”

      Although Brooke had said nothing during this whole exchange, Nate noticed that she seemed to agree with Mai on that. Probably because she was a mother herself and understood how unhappy Landry was right now ….

      No one there seemed to have confidence that Nate could make the teen any happier. When it came right down to it, he wasn’t certain, either. His own familial background left a lot to be desired, in that regard.

      Jessalyn studied Mai with faded blue eyes. “You’re worried what will happen if Landry decides he doesn’t want to live here with Nate, aren’t you?”

      As direct as always, the lawyer nodded, her expression grim.

      “Why don’t I check on Landry?” Brooke interjected helpfully.

      Appreciating her discretion and sensitivity, Nate shot her a grateful glance. “Good idea.”

      She slipped out. The mood in the room was somber as Jessalyn and Nate read and signed the legal documents Mai had drawn up. Finally, it was done. Everyone had a copy of the Power of Appointment to take with them.

      “Obviously,” Nate told Jessalyn, “you are welcome to call or come by at any time to see Landry. And I’ll make certain he visits you at the retirement village, too.”

      “Thank you,” Jessalyn said, her eyes moist. “And thank you for coming to our aid. Especially under the circumstances.” Her words were rife with meaning only Nate understood.

      Reminded of the situation that had prompted him to cut ties with Seraphina and her grandmother, Nate bent and clasped the elderly woman’s frail shoulders in a brief hug. “I wish you’d come to me sooner,” he murmured in her ear.

      Jessalyn looked at him. “You know why I didn’t,” she retorted, just as quietly.

      Nate did. He exhaled deeply. Before he could reply, Brooke appeared in the doorway.

      “A small problem,” she said with a rueful twist of her lips. “I can’t find Landry anywhere.”

      MAI STAYED WITH a visibly upset Jessalyn Walker. Brooke and Nate split up. She covered the east half of the house, while he covered the west. Both were diligent in their search. Neither found a trace of the wayward teen.

      Mute with worry, they headed out to the lagoon-style swimming pool, complete with elaborate greenery. He wasn’t there. Ditto the sport court. The detached six-car garage. The only thing left was the caretaker’s cottage.

      “Naturally,” Nate murmured, as they approached the porch of the ranch-style domicile and spied Landry settled in front of the television inside. “He’s in the last place we looked.”

      “And also,” Brooke noted thoughtfully, “the most eclectic.”

      Unlike the house, Brooke observed, which had been decorated with style and cutting-edge decor in mind, the cottage was a ramshackle collection of mismatched furniture and odds and ends. It was, in short, a designer’s nightmare—and a disgruntled teen’s hideout.

      Surprised and a little disappointed to suddenly find herself in the same situation she had endured in her youth, she pivoted toward Nate. He stepped nearer at the same time. Without warning, she was suddenly so close to him she couldn’t avoid the brisk masculine fragrance of his cologne, or the effect it had on her senses. Turning to her cool professionalism, she stepped back slightly. “This is where you wanted me and my son to stay?”

      Nate’s brow furrowed. Obviously, he saw no problem with the arrangement, but was astute enough to realize she was momentarily disconcerted. Not just at the obvious discrepancy between this and the main house, but what the decision obviously said about his estimation of her. This was no cozy abode, or the sort of lodging suitable for a respected colleague. Rather, it was a place for a servant one didn’t care much about. Worse, there was a thick layer of dust on every surface, which would play havoc with her son’s asthma.

      “It doesn’t look like it’s been cleaned in forever,” Brooke stated grimly. And Nate had wanted her and her son to stay there that night!

      “I apologize for that,” Nate murmured, clapping a hand on the back of his neck. “I was unaware.”

      Typical man. Brooke sighed in displeasure. This job hadn’t even started yet and it was already a mess in practically every respect. She had half a mind to forgo the lucrative contract and walk out.

      “I suggested it because it was separate from the house, and therefore private. I hadn’t really thought about the condition of the place or the decor. I haven’t used it in the two months I’ve lived here. Nor has anyone else, since I don’t employ any live-in help.” Nate took another look through the window. “But I see why you’re less than tempted to accept. I guess for someone like you, who pays attention to the aesthetics, these accommodations could be …”

      “Insulting?”

      “It’s not what I meant when I issued the invitation.” He ran a hand through his thick black hair and looked seriously chagrined.

      Brooke let him off the hook with a raised eyebrow.

      Clearly not one to let a mistake of any kind go, Nate persisted with narrowed eyes, “Obviously, we’ll get this place scrubbed from top to bottom, and fixed up, too. And we’ll take care of that before we even start on the main house, if you do agree to move in here with your son.”

      Brooke had not come this far in her career to get the reputation of a diva. And if the story got out that Nate had been forced to redo her quarters before starting on his own, her competitors would have a field day. She stopped him with a glance. “It’s not a problem. I’ve lived in worse. Foster care, remember?”

      “Oh.”

      “I can make anyplace a home.” In fact, she told herself sternly, she welcomed the challenge.

      At the moment there were far more pressing problems to deal with.

      Brooke cast another look at the fourteen-year-old slumped on the hideously out-of-date orange-green-and-brown-plaid sofa.

      “Let’s go inside and talk to Landry,” she murmured, touching Nate’s arm.

      The boy was the picture of defiance as the two adults entered the cottage.

      “You can’t run off like that,” Nate chided, switching off the television.

      Landry leaped up, hands balled at his sides. “Who are you to tell me what to do?” he demanded. “And don’t go saying you’re going to be my dad, because you’re not!”

      Nate explained about the legal papers that had been signed.

      Landry fell silent. “So I’ll live here,” he grudgingly agreed at last. “It doesn’t change the fact that you’re just some guy doing a favor for my great-grandma.” He stormed out of the cottage and back toward the house, leaving Brooke and Nate no choice but to follow.

      In Landry’s place, Brooke knew she would have been wary, too. Seeking a reason that would alleviate the orphaned child’s distrust, she inquired matter-of-factly, “Why haven’t you been part of Landry’s life until now?”

      For a moment, Nate didn’t answer. Finally, he explained, “I didn’t know he existed until twenty-four hours ago, when Jessalyn Walker called me. She told me Seraphina had died of cancer a year and a half ago, and that Landry had been living with her ever since. Jessalyn said at first it was all right. He was clearly grieving the loss, as was she, but they were a team. Then, in the last month or so, as her health began to fail and she had to sell her home and arrange to move into the assisted-living facility, he became really angry about the hand fate had dealt him.”

      Understandably so, Brooke mused.

      “He did his best to care for her, apparently, and convince her she didn’t need nurses looking after her, when she had him,” Nate related. “But