LITMIR.BIZ

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iding out in Trinity Harbor for a few weeks began to seem more and more sensible as Jenna drove back to Baltimore. Not only would it give her time to land the development contract, but it would lessen the odds that her father would find out about that missing horse and the money she’d squandered on the carousel. Hopefully she’d recover the stolen horse in the meantime, as well.

      And a nice long vacation with Darcy could only be a good thing, too. They needed to spend some quality time together. Maybe Jenna could actually manage to reestablish the fact that she was the mother and Darcy was the kid. Her daughter seemed to be a little mixed up on that point.

      The more Jenna considered her plan, the more she warmed to it. By the time she turned into the tree-lined drive at her father’s house, she was convinced it was the second-smartest idea she’d ever had. The brightest was going after that development contract in the first place. It was exactly the kind of dramatic gesture that could change the rest of her life. If she made a success of this, her father would have to acknowledge her. He would have to give her more to do than answering phones and typing letters.

      After just two days in Trinity Harbor, walking into her father’s house reminded her of just how pretentious her lifestyle had been up to now. There was too much of everything. Too many ornate antiques cluttered the rooms. Heavy draperies shrouded the windows. Vases filled with fresh flowers filled all the rooms with an overpowering sweet scent. Her father—or more precisely, his decorators—had access to more money than taste.

      Jenna shuddered at the oppressive atmosphere and headed for the one room that was bright and airy, the kitchen that her mother had designed and her father rarely entered.

      The housekeeper looked up from the salad she was fixing and smiled. “Welcome home,” Mrs. Jamison said. “Did you have a good trip?”

      How to describe it? Jenna thought. “It was interesting,” she said finally. “And I loved the little town. In fact, I’m going to schedule a vacation for the next few weeks and take Darcy down there until school starts. How is she, by the way? Did she give you any trouble?”

      “None at all,” Mrs. Jamison insisted, though her tone and the twinkle in her eyes suggested otherwise. Mrs. Jamison doted on Darcy, which meant the girl got away with quite a lot when Jenna or Darcy’s grandfather weren’t around to forbid it.

      “Okay, tell the truth,” Jenna said with a sense of foreboding. “What did she do?”

      “You’ll see soon enough,” Mrs. Jamison said mysteriously, that hint of amusement still threading through her voice.

      “Please tell me she did not dye her hair purple,” Jenna pleaded.

      “No, you made yourself quite clear about that,” the housekeeper assured her. “But perhaps you should have been a little more inclusive.”

      A dull throb began behind Jenna’s eyes. “Meaning?”

      Mrs. Jamison gestured toward the doorway. Jenna turned slowly and found Darcy peeping around the corner. Her hair was shamrock green and had been cut by blunt-edged scissors and gelled so that it poked up in all directions.

      “You said I couldn’t dye it purple, ” Darcy said, her chin tilted defiantly.

      “So I did,” Jenna agreed, wondering if this was the payback she was due for her own childhood rebellions. Of course, until Nick, hers had been minor in comparison to this. Keeping her tone level, she beckoned to her daughter. “Come in and let me see.”

      Despite her defiance, the nine-year-old looked as if she might be harboring some very deep regrets about her impulsive behavior. “I think it looks great!” Darcy said, as if daring her mother to deny it.

      “Well, there’s certainly no question that you’ll stand out in a crowd. Was that what you were hoping?” she inquired, knowing perfectly well that Darcy much preferred to blend in. Usually these little displays were designed solely to drive her mother up the wall. Darcy knew her mother would insist they be corrected by the time she went out in public.

      “Yes,” Darcy said stubbornly.

      “Good.” Jenna made a quick decision, one she hoped might impart a stronger lesson than the usual punishment she doled out, apparently rather ineffectively since the misbehavior kept recurring. “Run on upstairs and pack your clothes.”

      Darcy’s eyes widened. Her lower lip quivered. “You’re sending me away?”

      “No, I’m taking you away,” Jenna corrected, her expression as cheerful as if nothing at all were amiss. “We’re going on vacation first thing tomorrow.”

      Her daughter blinked at that. “You’re letting me go like this?”

      “It is the unique look you wanted, isn’t it?” Jenna asked innocently.

      “But…”

      “But what?”

      “You usually take me straight over to Rene’s and make her fix it.”

      Jenna smiled. “Not this time. Besides, you’ve already cut your hair pretty short. I’m not sure what a hairdresser could do to correct it.”

      A horrified expression crossed Darcy’s face. “You’re making me keep it like this?”

      “Yep,” Jenna said as Mrs. Jamison turned away to hide a smile.

      Tears pooled in Darcy’s eyes and spilled down her cheeks. “I hate you,” she shouted, and ran from the kitchen.

      Jenna sighed.

      “You’re doing the right thing,” Mrs. Jamison reassured her. “It’s a good lesson in living with the consequences of her actions.”

      “I know, but you haven’t been to Trinity Harbor,” Jenna said, voicing her one regret about the plan. “Darcy is going to stand out like a sore thumb.”

      “Then she won’t be so quick to do something impulsive like this again,” the housekeeper said.

      Jenna looked at the woman who’d raised her brothers and done her best to be a mother to Jenna on her rare visits home. “Why does she do things like this? She’s only nine. What on earth will she be doing when she hits her teens?”

      “Maybe she’ll have it all out of her system by then,” Mrs. Jamison suggested soothingly.

      “Or maybe she’ll be in a juvenile detention facility,” Jenna said wearily.

      “You weren’t, were you?”

      “I never did anything like this,” Jenna insisted.

      “Didn’t you? Maybe you never touched your hair, but then it was your pride and joy because it was red like your mama’s. I do seem to recall that you came close to giving your daddy a heart attack when you came home from school sporting a snake tattoo one year, and that was some years before tattoos were all the rage among respectable people.”

      “It was temporary,” Jenna reminded her.

      “Your father didn’t know that.” The housekeeper grinned and patted Jenna’s hand. “Darcy’s hair is temporary, too. It will grow and the color will wash out eventually.”

      “I was really hoping she’d have a good time in Trinity Harbor. How can she if everyone keeps their kids away from her because she looks like a pint-sized member of a grunge band?”

      “Is this really about Darcy being accepted, or about you?” Mrs. Jamison asked with her usual insight.

      Jenna heaved a resigned sigh. The wise woman had nailed it on the head again. “A little of both,” she admitted.

      After all, what kind of an impression would Darcy make on uptight Bobby Spencer? He was likely to take one look at Jenna’s child and conclude that a woman who had no better control over her daughter couldn’t possibly be entrusted with a million-dollar development plan.

      “What kind of people make judgments based on appearances?”

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