A Mom For His Daughter
A Dad’s Second ChanceWidowed single dad Marc Delacroix doesn’t have time for surprises—especially one like Fiona Bryce. Finding out that she’s the biological aunt of his adopted daughter, Stella, is a big shock. While Fiona’s commitment to the little girl appears to be genuine, Marc wonders if he can truly trust her—or his own heart, which he vowed never to risk again. Fiona’s eager to connect with the sweet young niece she never knew she had, but Marc seems determined to keep her at arm’s length. Could Marc and Fiona’s shared love of Stella be the bond that transforms their fragile connection into a real family?
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A Dad’s Second Chance
Widowed single dad Marc Delacroix doesn’t have time for surprises—especially one like Fiona Bryce. Finding out that she’s the biological aunt of his adopted daughter, Stella, is a big shock. While Fiona’s commitment to the little girl appears to be genuine, Marc wonders if he can truly trust her—or his own heart, which he vowed never to risk again. Fiona’s eager to connect with the sweet young niece she never knew she had, but Marc seems determined to keep her at arm’s length. Could Marc and Fiona’s shared love of Stella be the bond that transforms their fragile connection into a real family?
“Where’s Feena?”
Stella’s eyes popped open and her gaze shot to the now-empty front seat.
“She’s untying the toboggan.”
“My saucer,” the little girl said as he unfastened her from her seat.
“It’s in the back.” He lifted Stella out and walked her to the other side of the SUV, stopping to get her sled out.
“All set,” Fiona said.
He leaned the saucer against the SUV and lifted down the toboggan. “Who wants a ride?”
“Me, me.” Stella hopped up and down before climbing on.
“I’d better grab your saucer,” he said.
“Feena carry my saucer,” Stella said.
Fiona’s face brightened so that it outshone the bright afternoon sun on the sparkling snow. “I can do that.”
“Teamwork. I like that,” Marc said, passing the saucer to Fiona.
“Teamwork,” Stella echoed.
Marc walked with Fiona and Stella toward the low rectangular building where they were all meeting in the snack area. They could be a team—a team of friends. Yeah. He and Fiona could be friends.
JEAN C. GORDON’s writing is a natural extension of her love of reading. From that day in first grade when she realized t-h-e was the word the, she’s been reading everything she can put her hands on. Jean and her college-sweetheart husband share a 175-year-old farmhouse in Upstate New York with their daughter and her family. Their son lives nearby. Contact Jean at Facebook.com/jeancgordon.author or PO Box 113, Selkirk, NY 12158.
And we know that all things work together
for good to them that love God, to them who are the called according to His purpose.
—Romans 8:28
To my Love Inspired editor, Shana Asaro, for pushing me to make this story a better book.
Contents
Everything Marc Delacroix had always thought he wanted rode on decisions he and his business partners would make in the next few hours. And he couldn’t care less.
Oh, he’d gone through the motions yesterday of meeting with Fiona Bryce, the Cornell farm-to-table consultant. He owed his partners that much. They’d been picking up the slack for him even before Cate’s death. The lump that formed in his throat when he thought about his wife didn’t choke off his windpipe anymore, which he guessed was progress. This Lake George restaurant launch his partners had sent him north for felt a lot like a get-yourself-together-or-sell-out proposition. He curled his lip. Maybe he should sell out.
His cell phone jolted him from his thoughts. He glanced at the caller ID. Mom. Just what he didn’t need when he was rushing to get his daughter, Stella, dressed and to her first morning at preschool in Schroon Lake. But he couldn’t ignore her. She was his mother.
“Hey, Mom. What’s up? I only have a minute if I’m going to get Stella to school on time.”
“But she’s not quite three yet. So little for preschool,” his mother protested.
While he listened to his mother’s opinion on Stella and preschool for the third time, his thoughts drifted back to yesterday. Although he only had a vague idea of what Fiona’s program could do, he’d forwarded her presentation with his positive recommendation to his partners. He’d been unexpectedly mesmerized by the woman—her features, her movements—and had paid more attention to her than to what she’d said.
“Marc?”
“Yes, I’m here, Mom. I was thinking about my meeting at the research farm yesterday.”
“I’m glad you’re taking an interest in your work again,” she said.
More like an interest in my potential business consultant. But it was something. Better than the apathy that had paralyzed him for the past months.
“You know I don’t mind watching Stella,” his mother said. “I’m free today if you want to get some work in. I usually don’t schedule any bookkeeping on Wednesdays to have a day free for errands and other things.”
That was the drawback and blessing of having moved Stella from New York City to his hometown of Paradox Lake in the Adirondack Mountains. Lots of people always ready to help. Mom with her offers to take care of Stella. His twin sister pressing him to socialize, meet new people—Fiona, her coworker at the Cornell Research Farm in Willsboro, popped into his mind again—and encouraging him to get started on La Table Frais, his restaurant project.
