Husband for a Weekend

Tate chuckled. “Either she said ‘Good morning to you, too,’ or ‘What the heck are you doing in my mom’s bedroom before dawn?’”

“I think she said she’s ready for her breakfast.” Avoiding Tate’s eyes, Kim carried Daryn past him toward the door. “Shall we go down and see who’s brewing that coffee?”

* * *

Bob looked up from a cup of coffee and the morning newspaper with a smile when Kim carried Daryn into the room, followed by Tate. “Good morning. Help yourself to coffee, I just made it. Or I can brew tea for you, if you’d prefer.”

“Coffee’s good for me.” Tate moved immediately toward the big pot already surrounded by cups waiting to be filled.

Bob set his paper aside and pushed away from the table. “There’s fresh-squeezed orange juice in the fridge. I thought I’d make waffles for breakfast. The batter’s already prepared, so all I have to do is pour it onto the waffle maker. We have sliced strawberries, maple syrup or honey for toppings. Or we have eggs and bacon, if anyone would prefer that. We won’t wait for the others. Who knows when Stuart will be down. He’s not much of a breakfast eater.”

“Waffles sound delicious.” Balancing Daryn on her left hip, Kim opened the fridge to pull out a carton of milk. “Where’s Mom?”

“She’ll be down soon. I told her to take her time getting ready this morning, that I’d handle breakfast.”

Her mother was definitely being spoiled by this one

, Kim mused, reaching for the jar of baby cereal she’d left on the counter last night. Maybe this marriage would actually last? She still wouldn’t have been willing to bet real money on it, but after three years, the union was still looking surprisingly stable—mostly because Bob seemed to have the tolerance of a saint.

“Here, let me hold the baby for you while you prepare her breakfast,” saintly Bob volunteered, reaching out to them. “I’m sure you’re used to having only one hand free, but perhaps I can make it a bit easier for you.”

Daryn dove happily into Bob’s arms, patting his face and babbling when he grinned at her.

“Aren’t you a little angel?” he crooned, clearly besotted. “Kim, do you mind if she calls me Grandpa? I’d be proud to claim her as a grandchild.”

“Well, she isn’t calling anyone anything yet,” she replied lightly, rather touched by his request. Though she doubted that Daryn would be around Bob all that much in the future, even if the marriage to her mother should last, it was still kind of him to treat them like family. “But I have no objection to her getting to know you as her Grandpa.”

She had regretted that Daryn would have little extended family in her life, considering the estrangement between Kim and her mother and brothers, and the fact that Daryn’s biological father and his family weren’t interested in getting to know her. Their loss, she always reminded herself. If Bob wanted to help fill some of that vacancy, she should be pleased, even though she couldn’t help worrying that Daryn—and maybe she—would only be disappointed by him eventually.

“Do you want a cup of coffee, Kim?” Tate asked, looking at her with the carafe in hand. What might have been a slight grimace of apology twisted his mouth; maybe he’d become aware that he should have been the one offering to help with Daryn.

She smiled lightly at him to assure him she didn’t mind. “Yes, please.”

Carrying Daryn’s breakfast to the table, she sat and reached for her daughter. “Thank you, Bob.”

Bob brushed a light kiss across Daryn’s thin, tousled brown hair before depositing her in Kim’s lap. “My pleasure. I’ve always looked forward to being a grandpa, though my own kids are still a few years away from providing any grandchildren for me.”

Kim had briefly met Bob’s daughter and son three years earlier, at the reception to celebrate Bob and Betsy’s nuptials. She remembered them vaguely as two polite but reserved teenagers, both only high-school-age then. From what little she’d heard of them since through her mother, she had the impression that Bob traveled to Texas fairly often to see them, though her mother didn’t usually accompany him.

Just what, exactly, did Bob get from this marriage? And how much longer would it be until he grew tired of being the one apparently doing all the giving?

Spooning baby cereal into Daryn’s eagerly opened mouth, she watched surreptitiously while Bob and Tate worked congenially together to prepare waffles and bacon for the family. They seemed to get along well, despite the nearly two-decade age difference. Watching her stepfather-for-now and husband-for-the-weekend chuckling together gave her an oddly wistful feeling—one she ruthlessly suppressed as she focused on feeding her daughter.

Impeccably dressed, coiffed and made-up, her mother waltzed into the kitchen a short time later. Kim, Tate and Bob were chatting and eating their strawberry-topped waffles while Daryn, still sitting in Kim’s lap, pounded happily on the table top with a wooden spoon Bob had given her to play with.

“Good morning, my darlings,” Betsy trilled, blowing kisses to all of them.

Even as she shook her head in response to her mother’s theatrics, Kim noted that Bob’s blue eyes lit up with the beaming smile he directed toward his wife. Whatever Kim might see as lacking in the relationship, it was hard to deny that Bob seemed genuinely in love with her mother, and outwardly, at least, content.

“Good morning, dear,” he said, leaping to his feet. “Have a seat, I’ll get you some coffee and waffles.”

“Thank you, sweetie, but I’ll just have coffee this morning,” she answered him affectionately. “Have to watch the calories with that big family luncheon ahead, you know. How were your waffles, Kim?”

Glancing down at her almost-empty plate, Kim made an effort not to react defensively. “They were delicious.”

“Do you mind if I hold little Daryn for a bit? You can have some more breakfast, if you like—though don’t forget there will be lots of food at Grandma Dyess’s house later today.”

“I’m fine, thanks.”