Daddy Daycare. Laura Marie Altom

in an otherwise depressing hellhole.

      Travis sent Marlene thousands every month. Why hadn’t she used the money to hire contractors to do the work in a timely manner? Why had she insisted she and Gary do the work themselves? Didn’t make sense.

      “You okay?” Kit asked him, Libby in her arms as she descended the staircase that split the entry hall into equal halves.

      “Sort of,” Travis said with a sigh. “The way Marlene described this place, you’d have thought it was Gone With the Wind’s Tara, but…” He kicked a piece of drywall at his feet.

      “They were happy here,” she said, glancing up at the stained-glass skylight lending the space an otherworldly bluish glow.

      “If she’d wanted an old house, the mansion we grew up in would’ve been sufficient. Hell, aside from the servants who maintain the place for corporate retreats, it’s sat empty for years.”

      “Ever stop to think,” Kit said from the bottom of the stairs, “that it wasn’t so much an old house she wanted but her own house? One that she and Gary worked on together.”

      “Whatever,” Travis said, taking the baby, kissing the top of her sweet-smelling head. “I still don’t get it.”

      “You wouldn’t.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?” Travis asked, chasing Kit down the long, dark hall leading to the kitchen.

      Yellow light from the open fridge silhouetted her before spilling into the gloom. “Think about it,” she said. “Everything Marlene wanted had been handed to her by your grandparents or servants or you. But she wanted more than material things. She wanted not just to love her family and job but to create something with her own hands. To be able to sit back at the end of a long, exhausting day and think, with a satisfied smile, I did that. I made it, I painted it, I mowed it—whatever. She had to know her life mattered. That she hadn’t spent her days like some pampered lap dog but as a contributing member of society.” She grabbed a few items from the fridge, then slammed it shut.

      “So what you’re essentially saying is that Marlene felt she was in danger of wasting her life? Like me?” Travis switched on a harsh overhead light.

      Kit rolled her eyes, slapping a sealed package of bologna, then mustard, on the worn white laminate counter before taking a bread loaf from the freezer. “Libby’s formula is in the third cabinet on the left. Mind opening a can while I make us a couple sandwiches? And for the record, no—Marlene never once said or even implied you were wasting your life. She just had no interest in big business. She wanted to be more hands-on.”

      “Whatever,” Travis said, too tired to even conceive of the luxury of having a choice. What if he’d up and told his grandfather he’d had no interest in running Rose Industries? What would’ve happened to their thousands of worldwide employees? All of their families and their families? Thinking of how many lives would have been affected by such a decision made Travis sick. He kept at it day after day because he’d had no other choice. It was as if his life had been preordained to be this way. And who knew? Maybe he’d get a kick out of occasionally plastering or painting a wall, but the sad fact of the matter was that he didn’t have time for anything but work. When Libby would fit into his schedule he wasn’t sure. He was taking this fatherhood gig minute by minute. “Where are Libby’s bottles?”

      “Here,” Kit said, picking up the plastic kind that used disposable liners from a basket on the counter. “It’s tricky getting the liners in the first couple times, so pay attention.”

      “Don’t,” he said, his voice dangerously low.

      “What?”

      “Treat me like I’m ignorant. I have spent time with Marlene and Libby.”

      “Sorry,” Kit said. “It wasn’t my intention. I just wanted to share a few helpful pointers. You forget—while your business is wheeling and dealing, mine involves a little managing and a lot of hugs.”

      The doorbell rang.

      They both looked to the entry hall, but it was Kit who ultimately bustled off to answer the door.

      Travis had been on the verge of telling Little Miss Know-It-All to take her advice elsewhere, but then she’d added that bit about hugs and stolen his fire. He could use a hug from Kit right about now. Even back when they’d been teens she’d always known the perfect thing to say.

      “Long time no see…” Levi strode across the room, tan leather work boots clomping on the kitchen’s ripped and stained navy linoleum floor. “How’s it going?”

      “Great,” Travis lied, finishing up Libby’s bottle by popping the nipple into the cap, then screwing on the lid before dropping the whole thing into a bowl of hot water.

      “How was the rest of your day?” Levi asked Kit, pulling her in for a proprietary hug and kiss.

      Travis looked away. The last thing he needed was a front-row seat to Kit and her fiancé’s afternooner—especially when he fought a keen craving for one of Kit’s hugs for himself.

      “Mmm…” Kit said with a giggle. “It’s looking up now.”

      Blech.

      As Marlene had taught him, Travis took the bottle from the water, then squirted some onto his forearm to check the temp. Just right.

      While the lovebirds kept up their cooing, Travis took Libby from her high chair, then headed for the living room rocker.

      “Sorry you had to see that,” he said to the munchkin in his arms once he’d settled into the comfortable wood chair.

      Libby’s big brown eyes widened as she suckled, her tiny fingers tightly gripping the bottle.

      “I know,” he teased, tickling the underside of her chin. “If you weren’t so hungry, seeing them kissing would be enough to ruin your appetite, huh?”

      She giggled, and a stream of formula trickled out of the corner of her mouth and down her cheek. Travis mucked it up with his tie.

      “Looks like you’ve got Libby thoroughly charmed.” Kit wandered into the room, taking a seat on a lumpy floral sofa opposite the rocker. The left sofa arm looked as if a bite had been taken out of it. White stuffing escaped the hole.

      Travis shrugged. “Where’s your sidekick?”

      “Levi? He’s out back feeding the dogs. They usually stay in the house, but when she’s left alone, Cocoa gets cranky—hence the hole in the sofa.” She grinned, pointing to the chewed spot Travis had already noticed. “All three dogs have been in the shed since…” Her smile faded. “Anyway, now that you’ll be staying here, I imagine the pampered mutts will be glad to get back inside—although I can’t say it’s much cooler in here than it is in the shed. We should open some windows.”

      “No need,” Travis said. “I was thinking of packing up Libs here and getting a motel room.”

      “Why?”

      “Why?” He laughed. “Look at this place. “It’s hardly the Taj Mahal. And if I don’t get some relief from this heat, I’m liable to—”

      “Figuring you wouldn’t be used to our weather,” Levi said, perching on the sofa arm beside Kit, “I brought a couple window units from the store. Marlene and Gary already put one in Libby’s room and the master, but once we get others in the living room and kitchen, it should be more doable.”

      “Thanks,” Travis said, “but a motel will be fine. I’ll take the dogs to the pound on my way to a realestate office to put this old place on the market.”

      “You’re joking, right?” Kit held her hand to her throat. “Your sister and Gary loved this house and their dogs. And with the barn housing the daycare on the same mortgage, a large portion of the down payment was mine. Seeing how much Marlene wanted to fix up this place, I let her take the house.”

      Travis