much for that.”
As Freddie Jo walked away, those words bounced around inside Luke’s head. She needs you.
Damn it. Why did she have to say that? She made it sound as if he were some kind of savior. He wasn’t. Not even close. If this place survived, fine. If not, that was fine, too, because he had no ties there at all.
Shannon was paying him to do a job. That was it. He intended to do that job to the best of his ability, but that was where his responsibility began—and ended. He didn’t want to depend on anyone, and he didn’t want anyone depending on him.
Chapter 6
At two minutes till seven, Shannon sat with Russell in his Lexus, which was parked at the curb in front of her parents’ house. He had the visor pulled down and was looking at himself in the mirror. He fluffed his sandy-brown hair with his fingers, then turned his head left and right. What he was checking for, she didn’t know, because nothing about Russell was ever out of place. He was impeccably dressed as always, wearing a sport coat that was probably cashmere and slacks with creases sharp enough to cut steel.
He’d been raised in a wealthy family—his father a heart surgeon and his mother a high-powered real estate agent—so Shannon knew he was comfortable with money. Why he’d chosen to open a dental practice in Rainbow Valley, she still didn’t know. His explanation of I was passing through once, liked it, and stayed, didn’t make sense to her. Small town life didn’t seem quite right for him, and he didn’t appear to be much of an animal lover. So what was left to like?
He flipped the visor back up again and reached into the backseat to grab the bottle of wine he’d brought. “I hope this pairs well with what your mother is cooking.”
“It’ll be fine.”
“This is the first time I’ve been to your parents’ house. I want to make a good impression.”
He took a deep, calming breath, as if there was actually something to worry about. The moment Shannon told her mother she was dating the new dentist in town, she’d been beside herself with delight.
“You don’t have to be uptight about this,” Shannon said. “It’s just dinner.”
“Dinner with your mother. Don’t take this wrong, Shannon. But she’s a little…discerning.”
“Don’t you mean ‘demanding’?” And demoralizing. And depressing. And—
“She was in the office a week ago for a cleaning. Velma had to go over her teeth twice before she thought they were clean enough. Plus, I’ve heard things.”
Shannon didn’t have to ask to know what “things” he was talking about. One Christmas her mother had insisted that Mary in the nativity scene in the town square be repainted so her smile would look more realistic. She said Mary wouldn’t have looked quite so happy after the rigors of childbirth, even if it did result in the baby Jesus.
They got out of the car and started up the walk. “Beautiful house,” Russell said.
Shannon agreed. She had always loved her parents’ house, from the stately wraparound front porch to the second-story stained glass windows to the turn-of-the-century millwork that accented the peak of every roof.
“It’s the original homestead of the Danforth estate,” Shannon said. “My parents bought it thirty years ago when Mildred Danforth moved to an assisted living facility in Austin. The homeless animals she was taking care of at the time were the first residents of the shelter. Actually, she once owned all the land that eventually became Rainbow Valley.”
“I heard she died fairly recently.”
“That’s right. Just before I moved back here.”
They went to the door and Shannon rang the bell. Several seconds later her mother opened the door. She wore a pair of gray slacks and a silk blouse, accompanied by just enough jewelry to make a statement without being ostentatious. Her hair was swept into a perfect chignon highlighted by a silver comb, evidence that she’d spent a few hours that day at Tasha’s Hair Boutique.
Astrid was tucked under her arm looking newly coiffed herself, wearing her usual pink bow and sweet doggy smile. She was an engaging little Pomeranian Loucinda treated like a third child, a perfectly behaved third child who did as she was told, barked only when spoken to, and was quite content to spend most of her days just lounging around looking beautiful. Neither of Loucinda’s daughters, for their own reasons, had ever been the lap dog she’d so desperately wanted.
“Dr. Morgensen,” Loucinda said, reaching out