From Here To Paternity. Christine Rimmer

wished he could take his own damn advice.

      The stuff Clovis had told him ate at him. He knew people were talking, putting two and two together, deciding that there was only one reason Charlene would take her sister’s new baby and go knocking on Brand’s door.

      If they weren’t already saying that Brand had to be the baby’s dad, they soon would be. Before you knew it, they’d be comparing him to his own bad dad, who’d managed to impregnate any number of gullible women in his long and disturbing life as a bona fide sociopath. Oh, yeah. They’d all be babbling on about how the apple never fell far from the tree and like father, like son….

      Worst of all, he couldn’t stop thinking about Charlene.

      Couldn’t stop worrying about her, wondering how she was holding up, what with not knowing where Sissy was and having to keep a brave face on things while she ran her business and took care of a new baby on her own.

      His mother called at six-thirty that night from the B&B she’d been running since before Brand was born. She would have served her guests afternoon tea by then. Dinner was for herself—and maybe her boyfriend, Alyosha Panopopoulis, a widower she’d been dating for over a year. Bowie and Buck both lived out of town now, but sometimes she’d invite Brett to bring Angie and the baby over. And sometimes she’d call Brand.

      Chastity said, “I’ve got that chicken broccoli casserole you like in the oven.”

      “The one with the almonds and water chestnuts?”

      “That’s it.”

      “I’ll be there. Ten minutes.”

      “I’ll set you a place.”

      The best thing about Brand’s mom was how she never butted into her son’s business—well, almost never. Now and then one of them would really tee her off. Then she’d let them know in no uncertain terms what they’d done wrong and what they’d better do about it. But such times were rare.

      Usually, a man could sit at her kitchen table in the back of the B&B and enjoy her cooking and her calm, easygoing ways, and never be asked to come up with an answer to an uncomfortable question.

      And so it was that night. Chastity had a whiskey and soda waiting for him. He sat at the table and sipped it as she cut up a green salad and took homemade bread from the oven to cool.

      They talked of ordinary stuff: how his practice was picking up, now he’d pretty much taken over from Clovis who’d only been in the office part-time for the past five or six years. Brand was attracting clients from all over the county, as well as several from down in Nevada City and Grass Valley.

      Chastity said she was thinking of redoing a couple of the guest rooms upstairs. “I talked to Glory today,” she added.

      Glory Dellazola and Bowie, Brand’s youngest brother, had been in love—and probably still were. Glory had gotten pregnant. Bowie had wanted to marry her. But Bowie was big trouble and she wouldn’t have him. In the end Glory had taken their baby and moved to New York to work for Brand’s oldest brother, Buck, and his wife, B.J. Glory was nanny for Buck’s son, Joseph James.

      No one knew where Bowie was. He’d left town without telling anyone where he was going.

      “So how’s Glory doing?” Brand sipped his drink.

      “Just fine,” said Chastity. “She’s taking those online classes the way she planned, getting herself a degree.”

      “That’s good.”

      Chastity put the casserole on the table, along with the bread and the salad. And then she took her chair, smoothed her napkin on her lap and said a short grace, the way she always liked to do.

      Brand bent his head, too.

      His mother said, “Amen.”

      Brand glanced up and met her eyes across the table. And suddenly it seemed the best thing, just to say what was on his mind.

      “Ma?”

      “Hmm?”

      “I want another chance with Charlene.”

      “Well, of course you do,” said Chastity. She picked up the serving spoon. “Pass me your plate.”

      Chapter Four

      “I think I need another drink,” Brand said.

      Chastity spooned up the steaming casserole. “Help yourself.”

      So he carried his glass to the refrigerator and got some more ice. She’d left the Crown Royal on the counter. He splashed in two fingers and then added club soda.

      Thus fortified, he took his seat again. “Smells great.” He sipped the drink.

      “Dig in.”

      They ate in silence for a while. She didn’t push him. It wasn’t her way.

      She was slicing more bread off the loaf when she sensed he was watching her. She set down the bread knife. “Okay. Out with it.”

      “No matter what people are saying, I’m not the father of Sissy’s baby.”

      She made a snorting sound. “Well, of course you’re not.”

      He sipped his drink again. “You’re sounding pretty damn sure about every little thing this evening.”

      “I know what’s what, thank you very much. I know my own son.”

      He tipped his glass to her in a salute. “Meaning?”

      “Meaning, how can you be the father of that baby when you never laid a hand on that poor, confused Sissy Cooper? You could never do a thing like that. Not only because you wouldn’t take advantage of a mixed-up kid, but also because you are and always have been in love with her sister.”

      “I didn’t say I was in love with Charlene.”

      “See now, that’s what comes of bein’ overly careful. You can’t even admit what’s in your own heart.”

      “And I’m not necessarily talking about marriage.”

      “Do you see me putting words in your mouth?”

      “I’ve never thought I’d make a good husband.”

      “No kidding.”

      He grumbled, “And who knows if she’ll ever even give me any kind of break. She never has until now. Plus, it’s not only folks in town whispering that I’m the baby’s father. Sissy claims I am.”

      Chastity clucked her tongue. “That girl. Always stirring the pot. And where is Sissy, anyway?”

      He glanced toward the door to the hallway, just to make sure it was shut. “Nothing I say leaves this room.”

      “This is family business. I will not say a word to anyone.”

      “Charlene has no idea where Sissy is.”

      “But the two of them must have talked, when Sissy arrived with the baby….”

      “No.”

      “But…”

      “Charlene woke up yesterday morning and found the baby on her couch. There was a note from Sissy saying how she needs a break from being a mother—and by the way, I’m the dad. Charlene came flying over to my place and demanded that I take responsibility.”

      “And you told her you aren’t the dad.”

      “I told her.”

      “Did she believe you?”

      “I don’t think she knows what to believe.”

      “It’ll be no easy task, gettin’ back in her good graces.”

      “Gee, Ma. Tell me something I don’t