Читать книгу: «A Promise For The Twins»

Chapter One

Nick Garroway had three items on his to-do list for this warm and breezy July morning, and the sooner he dealt with the complicated first two, the sooner he’d get to the third—the prize.

One: check on a woman named Brooke Timber. Make sure she was all right/see if she needed anything. He had no idea if Brooke was still pregnant or had given birth. He’d soon find out.

Two: visit his father whether the man liked it or not, despite the fact that Nick’s brother would probably punch him in the face if he stepped foot in the family home.

Three: buy a ranch far, far away from Wedlock Creek. He envisioned a couple thousand acres, a white farmhouse with a weathered barn, a few dogs from the local humane society running around, a horse, a hundred head of cattle to start, maybe some sheep. Definitely chickens.

Nick parked his Jeep in the public lot by the Wedlock Creek town square and got out, stretching his legs. It had been a long drive from Texas, and he’d started well before the crack of dawn. With his aviator sunglasses on and his brown Stetson pulled down low, he headed toward Main Street. He wondered if Dee’s Diner was still around. He hoped so. He could use a big plate of scrambled eggs, bacon, and Dee’s really good hash browns with peppers and onions. And lots of coffee. An entire urn wouldn’t be enough to deal with the second item on his list.

He glanced up the street, which was bustling already at just before 8:00 a.m. with folks heading to work, into the coffee shop, the bakery, a line of little kids in Wedlock Creek Day Camp T-shirts turning into the gated entrance to the park just a few feet away, and lots of dog walkers.

He was glad to see Dee’s Diner still there, at the end of Main Street, with a swanky new sign depicting a cowgirl roping a plate of pancakes atop the door. Small towns were all about mom-and-pop businesses, and Dee’s must be doing well. He headed in, taking off the shades and hat and hoping no one would recognize him and make small talk. Nick wasn’t in the mood.

And who’d recognize him anyway? He hadn’t been back in Wedlock Creek in almost five years, since his brother had let him know he hadn’t been welcome that Thanksgiving and should spend the holiday from now on in Afghanistan “since he preferred military life and combat over his family.” His father hadn’t said otherwise, so Nick had stopped bothering to come home on leave or between tours.

His brother’s scowling face came to mind. Good God. The thought of dealing with Brandon Garroway today almost made him lose his appetite. But Nick was starting a new life, and the only way to actually get going on a new one was to square away the old one. Nick needed to square away things with his dad.

He pulled open the door to Dee’s Diner and took in the delicious aromas of pancakes, French toast and bacon. And coffee. His appetite was saved.

Nick was greeted a warm hello, led to a small booth by a waitress with a coffeepot in her hand and, within five minutes, his order was before him, along with today’s Wedlock Creek Gazette.

The home fries were as good as he remembered. As he ate, he flipped through the newspaper, full of town happenings and local sports, ads and classifieds. He already had three solid leads on ranches a few hours or so from Wedlock Creek, but figured he’d check out any listings the Gazette might have. He scanned them—all too close to town. He did want to live in Wyoming—his roots were here—but a few hours’ distance between him and the Garroways sounded about right.

Nick forked a bite of eggs and bacon and was about to close the paper when a name in a boxed ad taking half the page caught his eye.

Nanny Wanted

Experienced, caring, tenderhearted nanny sought for relatively easy three-month-old twins.

Monday–Friday, 9–1. Hours negotiable.

If interested, call/text Brooke Timber:

(307) 555-1022

So, she’d had the twins. Nick didn’t know anything about Brooke Timber other than that she was very pretty—he’d seen a photo—had long brown hair, enormous pale brown eyes and a dimple in her left cheek, and that someone he owed a big favor to, the ultimate favor, had “done her wrong” and wanted to rectify that. Between having two reasons to come home to Wedlock Creek—making good on a promise to a fallen soldier and dealing with his dad—here he was.

He finished his mug of coffee and was grateful when the waitress appeared with a fresh pot and refilled. He tore out the ad so he’d have Brooke Timber’s telephone number. He’d already googled her address and had that memorized. She lived over on Oak Lane, which was within walking distance from here, a couple houses off Main Street.

He stared at the words relatively easy in the ad. That had to be a good sign that Brooke was okay, that she was fine and he could cross her off his to-do list after a quick visit to her home. A couple of guys in his unit had been fathers, and one talked a lot about his very colicky baby but had always said he’d give anything to be with the screamer rather than thousands of miles away.

Once upon a time, Nick would have said he didn’t know anything about that. Or babies at all. But now the stirring of a memory socked him in the gut, a little face with big dark eyes and shiny black wisps of curls, fifteen pounds at most in his arms, and he closed his eyes against it, downing half the mug of coffee to keep the face at bay.

Take care of business, he told himself. Check on Brooke Timber, talk to your dad and then you’ll be home free to buy a ranch. The land and hard work will make you forget anything you need to.

The waitress glanced at him with her coffeepot lifted, and he nodded and smiled. Oh yeah, bring on the third cup. He’d need it.

* * *

Waiting in a long line at Java Jane’s coffee shop, single-mother Brooke Timber hoped her three-month-old twins wouldn’t get too fidgety and start screeching before she could order a large iced coffee. She glanced at the huge sign on the wall, the menu handwritten in colored chalk. Small, plain iced coffee: $1.95. What she really wanted was a large iced mocha with whipped cream, but that was $5.45. And forget the cherry Danish in the display case. She could bake something at home for free—if she could find the fifteen minutes to stand still at her counter with flour and eggs.

Money was tight. Time was tight. Brooke’s nerve endings were tight.

“Ga ba!” Mikey gurgled from his stroller, waving his little chew toy, which he promptly threw on the floor with a big smile.

Brooke scooped up the sticky orange toy and shoved it in her stroller bag. Yes, fine, things weren’t easy. She’d known that would be the case. A single mother with baby twins, no family, trying to run a business—Brooke was a wedding planner—with four competitors in town? Her bank accounts, both personal and business, were dwindling. She could not, it turned out, “do it all”—at once.

“Ba ba!” Morgan gurgled at his brother and threw his own chew toy on the ground.

Brooke’s heart melted at Morgan’s thrilled, gummy grin and snatched up the toy; those happy faces of her boys never failed to ground her. Yes, she was stretched to the limit. But look at what she had. These two little dumplings: heathy, adorable babies. Before they were born, Brooke didn’t have a relative left in the world. Now she had two precious children. Life was good. A challenge, but good.

“Didja hear the news?” the barista was saying to the woman in front of her. Brooke was next in line and could not wait to be sipping her iced coffee, back out in the gorgeous sunshine. She planned to take Mikey and Morgan to the park, spread out a blanket, and she and the twins could watch their favorite nature show: two squirrels chasing each other up and down a particular tree with huge green leaves. Then she’d take them home for their nap and develop a plan to bring in more business. Of course, she’d lost out on potential clients, even when she’d had a part-time nanny—single motherhood made things that much harder on a new parent—so she had no idea how she thought she’d bring in new business with no childcare. The good news was that her industry—weddings—was big business in Wedlock Creek.

Despite being a small Wyoming town, Wedlock Creek was famous for its century-old wedding chapel, which came with a beautiful legend: couples who married there would be blessed with multiples. Some scoffed at the legend but there were multiples—twins, triplets, quadruplets and even two sets of quintuplets—all over town, so there had to be something to the legend, or just something in the water.

Weddings, particularly at the chapel for those who wanted many babies at once, were the name of the game here. There were five wedding planners in town, including two newbies who didn’t scare Brooke the way the two other established ones did. But none of her competition was trying to keep their beloved late grandmother’s twenty-seven-year-old business, Dream Weddings, going. Brooke was. And she couldn’t let her grandmother down. No husband, no nanny and very busy little twins aside.

“The Satler sisters are engaged!” the barista exclaimed, handing the woman in front of Brooke her change. “Isn’t that incredible?”

Brooke’s ears perked right up. The Satler triplets had gotten engaged?

When the woman moved to the pick-up area, Brooke rushed herself and the stroller to the counter.

“Did you just say the Satler triplets got engaged last night?” Brooke asked the barista. “All three of them?”

“Yup, it’s true!” the barista said. “And I hear they want a triple ceremony and a lavish reception.”

Brooke’s eyes widened, her mind whirling. A triple wedding. She would estimate the guest list at five hundred. Maybe 550.

“Isn’t that wonderful?” the barista cooed. “All three engaged on the same night, at the same time, in different locations. The boyfriends planned the whole thing. So sweet and romantic!”

“So romantic!” Brooke agreed, turning the stroller around and heading for the door. Forget the iced coffee that she could also make for free at home. She had a triple wedding to secure! She rushed the two blocks back to her house, with her mind hard at work.

“Ba ga ba!” Mikey gurgled as Brooke pushed the stroller up the walkway to her front door.

She paused and bit her lip. The boys would miss the squirrels. They loved watching those furry critters chase each other. “I promise to take you to see Lenny and Squiggy later,” she told them, opening the front door and wheeling the stroller through.

The names she’d given the squirrels were a necessary reminder of her grandmother, who used to laugh her head off while binge-watching episodes of her favorite old show, Laverne & Shirley. Lenny and Squiggy were two goofballs, just like the squirrels. And for her grandmother’s legacy, Brooke would focus right now on Dream Weddings.

She took the twins from their stroller, and with one in each arm, headed into the Dream Weddings office, off the hallway. Her grandmother had turned a first-floor bedroom into an office and installed a door to the outside, with a porch, a hand-painted white wooden sign hanging from ornate iron scrolls, and lush satin white drapery in the bay window that was reminiscent of a gorgeous wedding gown.

With the twins in their baby swings beside the desk, she sat and turned on her laptop and created a Dream Weddings possibilities file for her prospective triplet clients. She talked through her ideas to Mikey and Morgan, two sets of big blue-green-hazel eyes hanging on her every word. Mikey got fussy, but a brisk walk around the office, with a back rub and extra-animated talk of pretty flowers and the best bands in the county, calmed him right down.

Forty minutes later, she finished her proposal, forcing herself to wait until the acceptable-to-call hour of 9:00 a.m., and then she phoned Suzannah Satler, the one triplet she knew from the knitting class she’d taken right before the twins were born. Brooke offered congratulations and her services as owner of Dream Weddings, “a full-service wedding planning company, right here in Wedlock Creek.” Because of that knitting class and how open and chatty Suzannah had been, Brooke knew quite a bit about the Satler triplets—that they loved country music, the color hot pink and all things glam. Brooke was able to excite Suzannah over the phone in one carefully crafted sentence.

The Satler sisters were due at Dream Weddings at 10:00 a.m. to discuss. Yes, yes, yes!

“I’m back!” she trilled to Morgan and Mikey, waving her hands in the air like a lunatic. Or just like a very excited wedding planner who had to sign the Satler sisters.

She plucked the twins from their swings, put them in their baby seats and carried them upstairs. She changed their diapers, then settled them against her on the glider chair for a made-up story about their favorite squirrels. Their little eyes drooping, Brooke carefully transferred each back into his baby seat, praying they wouldn’t wake up.

Yes, success! With an eye on the time, she brought the carriers into her bedroom, set them on the floor and opened her closet door. Thank heavens she’d showered this morning. At 4:50 a.m., she’d taken a fast, hot shower, with the baby monitor on the sink, since the twins woke at five o’clock and, if she wanted to shower in peace, she had to do it very, very early. She looked through her closet, nodding at her elegant white pantsuit. Very Satler sisters. She took off her T-shirt and shorts and put on the pretty outfit, adding a watercolor-patterned silk scarf and three-inch peep-toe red fabric heels, which were also very Satler sisters. A quick application of pressed powder, mascara, and lipstick, ponytail off and hair fluffed, a dab of Chanel No. 19, and voilà—the harried single mother turned into the sign-with-me businesswoman. She stared at herself in the mirror, almost amazed at the transformation.

Carrying a baby seat in each hand, she headed back downstairs, on heels she wasn’t used to anymore, and went into her office. She gently placed the baby seats under the big ornate desk; its backing completely obscured them from view of the sofa, where her clients would sit.

Also under the desk was a complete stash of baby paraphernalia: diapers, bottles, pacifiers, chew toys, burp cloths and an extra set of pajamas. A single mother without childcare for the time being had to be at the ready.

Brooke had timed the appointment for the twins’ usual midmorning naptime, and if things went her way, she would have forty-five minutes to an hour and a half of blessed silence to conduct business with the Satler sisters. Her former nanny, a wonderful, patient saint of a woman, had had to take four to five weeks off to help her daughter, the new mother of twin babies herself. That was two weeks ago. Brooke had had interview after interview with prospective nannies, but for one reason or another, none was right for the job.

One applicant had reeked of marijuana. Another said she couldn’t stand the sound of crying, but “that’s what binkies were for, right?” A very loud talker insisted that Morgan and Mikey should be separated in the home to ensure independence from each other starting at the most tender of ages. And then there was the one great prospect, who burst into tears during the interview because she was having fertility issues and ran out the door.

I can do this, Brooke chanted to herself in her head. The lack of childcare had presented problems during the past couple of weeks, but Brooke had managed to bring in one client—a small New Year’s Eve wedding, at the stroke of midnight. She’d signed that bride earlier this week, with the twins napping under her desk, and her new client none the wiser. Three other prospective clients had slipped through her fingers because of the lack of childcare, but her babies came first. They always would.

For you guys and for Gram, she thought, I’m going to secure the Satler sisters’ business. A triple wedding, particularly Satler style, would mean being back in the black instead of the scary red she was in now. It would mean saving her grandmother’s business. The Kardashian-esque Satlers were very popular in town, and signing them would have new brides beating down her door.

She heard a car pull up into the driveway and three doors slam, then the chatter of voices as the Satler sisters approached the Dream Weddings entrance. Brooke got up to open the door and welcome them. Last thing she needed was for the doorbell to wake the twins.

“Congratulations!” Brooke said, giving each triplet a quick hug.

“We’re so excited!” Samantha Satler said as the women sat down on the sofa. “Of course we want the ceremony at the Wedlock Creek Chapel, and Suze said you mentioned the Wellington Hotel’s grand ballroom—that is exactly where we want to have the reception!”

Ha! She knew it. The tall, slender, blonde Satlers, who each wore a different-colored pastel leather cowboy hat, super-skinny jeans, and high-heeled hot-pink perforated cowboy boots, liked bling. Their engagement rings, matching big square diamonds, twinkled on their fingers.

Brooke launched into her plans, giving each sister a handout bullet-pointing their Dream Weddings possibilities for their triple wedding. From the knitting class, she knew the triplets worshipped Carrie Underwood and never missed an area concert, so she’d listed ten fabulous country bands with Carrie-esque female vocalists. A mix of local small businesses and companies in the nearby big town of Brewer, for everything from flowers—the sisters loved white roses—to catering—all three were gluten free, which was another tidbit she’d learned from Beginning Knitting—and Brooke’s most trusted printing shops, for exquisite shades of barely-pink invitations and the most delicate velum.

“It’s like you’re in our heads!” Samantha Sattler trilled. “This is amazing!”

Suzannah Sattler flipped through the handout. “I agree! Okay, so can we talk about the Wellington Hotel’s grand ballroom and what we envision for tables and—”

“WAAH! WAAH-WAAH!”

Oh foo. Brooke bit her lip and felt her cheeks flame. She forced a smile. “Excuse me. Just one moment,” she said to the sisters, and then she bent under the desk to give Mikey’s seat a gentle rock. “There, there,” she whispered to Mikey, who was screeching bloody murder. Morgan, miraculously, was still fast asleep.

“Omigod,” Shelley said. “Do you have a baby under your desk?”

Brooke’s cheeks now burned. She quickly told them about her nanny—or lack thereof—situation. She caught the triplets sliding each other uncomfortable glances.

And then it happened.

The worst possible thing, at the worst possible moment.

The unmistakable smell of...baby poop filled the air.

“Ugh, gross!” Samantha said, pinching her nose closed.

Suzannah’s face crinkled in disgust and she waved the air in front of her. “Oh God, I think I’m making it worse.”

“We’re having lunch with our soon-to-be mothers-in-law in an hour and now we’ll smell like baby dung!” Shelley muttered.

Brooke stood and pulled out the baby seat, unlatched Mikey and held him in her arms. He screamed, making little fists. “I’ll just change him and we can get right back to discussing your dream wedding,” Brooke said, trying to keep the pleading out of her voice. She grabbed a diaper and the pack of wipes from her stash under the desk and hoisted Mikey up. “I’ll be right back—”

She was about to flee into the restroom when a man she’d never seen before—tall, dark and crazy hot—opened the door to Dream Weddings and walked inside. He was holding her ad from the Gazette. Dear Lord, was he here to apply for the job as her nanny? This guy? He reminded her physically of every actor who’d ever played Superman. Down to the piercing blue eyes.

The Satler triplets, who’d been about to run out, stopped and stared at him. Newly engaged or not, a gorgeous specimen of man was a gorgeous specimen of man.

But then Mikey let out a high-pitched shriek that could shatter a window. Shelley slammed her hands over her ears. A wail came from under the desk. Now Morgan was crying too.

First an explosive poop diaper. Then an applicant—an incredibly sexy one—for the nanny job, walking right into one of the most important meetings of her career. Now two babies screaming bloody murder.

She could kiss the lavish triplet wedding at the Wellington adieu.

The stranger looked at Brooke, then at the baby in her arms and glanced toward the desk, where more wailing could be heard, if not seen. Suddenly, Morgan stopped crying, though she was sure it would be short-lived. He eyed the frowning triplets edging toward the door. “Looks like you have your hands full,” he said to Brooke, setting the nanny-wanted ad on the credenza. “Allow me. I’m pretty good with babies.”

He stepped toward her, arms extended as if to take her child, and Brooke stepped back, shielding Mikey from him.

“Listen, bucko, I don’t know you,” she said.

God, he really did have the most gorgeous blue eyes with long dark lashes. The slightest of five-o’clock shadows graced his strong jawline.

Shelley Satler was staring at him. “Hey, aren’t you Nick Garroway?” she asked him. “You were a year ahead of us in high school. You played football and baseball, if I remember correctly.”

“You do,” he said with a smile. “And of course I remember you three. The lovely and smart Satler triplets. Copresidents of your class. One of you—maybe all of you, at various points—used to babysit my younger brother. It’s very nice to see you again.”

The triplets beamed and swooned and chatted with this Nick Garroway about old times.

So, he wasn’t an axe murderer. Or baby-napper. The Satlers were four years older than Brooke, so Nick was out of high school by the time Brooke would have been a freshman. She would have had a serious crush on him if she’d known him back then.

He stepped closer again. “May I?” he said, reaching for Mikey. “If you direct me to a changing area, I’ll take care of this ASAP and you can continue your meeting.”

Uh, I guess? How weird was this? She handed him the diaper, the wipes, and her precious baby son, and pointed toward the restroom, where she had a changing station set up. “Where I can see your every move,” she whispered to him, and he nodded as he took Mikey inside, keeping the door half open. The Satlers couldn’t see into the bathroom from where they stood—thank heavens—but they could all hear him humming a lullaby. Brahms’s.

“Well, Brooke, looks like you found your new nanny,” Shelley said with a grin. “And just in time.”

“You mean her new manny,” Samantha corrected, with a wiggle of her eyebrows. “Male plus nanny equals manny.”

“A hot manny,” Suzannah put in. She grinned at Brooke, tipping her lemon-yellow leather cowboy hat at her. “Brooke, you seriously impress! Listen, why don’t you write up a comprehensive plan for our wedding, with all the new info we discussed here today, and we’ll go over it, but we’re 99 percent going to hire you and Dream Weddings for our big day.”

Thank you, universe.

And thank you, Hot Manny.

The man himself emerged from the restroom, with Mikey smiling and grabbing Nick’s chiseled jawline. “Now this little dude smells like snips and snails and puppy dog tails and everything else good that little boys are made of.”

Brooke stared at him, speechless. Where on earth had he come from? Was he even from earth?

Each Satler sister winked at Brooke, made a little fuss over Mikey, said goodbye to Nick with one last admiring glance at him and then left.

“The job is yours,” Brooke said to him as she pointed at the ad. “Can you start immediately? I guess you already have.”

The Hot Manny tilted his head and stared at her. “Oh, I’m not here about the job.”