Page 20 of Marrying the Nanny

“Where are these boats?” Trystan asked.

“You’re the boat guy.” Reid nudged his elbow against Logan’s arm and heard his foot splash into a puddle. “Find ’em.”

Logan swore. “I was going to see if I could find the marina’s missing profit margin, but sure, I’ll make a call about our misplaced luxury tour vessels.”

“Bermuda triangle,” Trystan suggested. “There’s a joke there, too. Can’t find it.”

“Too classy?” Logan mocked.

“Cancel the order and get the money back,” Reid said. “But speaking of you and the marina and things that are lost…”

Logan didn’t take the hint.

If he hadn’t been drinking, Reid never would have pursued it. He kept his business his own and let others do the same, but Sophie had had a crush on Logan all through their childhood.

“I could tell Sophie was peeved with you at Glenda’s wedding, but that was four years ago,” Reid prodded. “I didn’t think she could hold a grudge that long.”

“Have you met Sophie?” Trystan asked with a hoot. “She got our grade nine life skills teacher fired two years after the fact because he kept letting the boys go first with the tools in shop.”

“Did you act like a tool, Logan?” Reid figured he must have.

“It’s not up for discussion.” Logan sounded like he meant it.

“We have more pressing topics, I suppose,” Reid mused as they entered the carport and wiped their feet. “Like the service and—”

The cries of the baby carried down the stairs with the scent of garlic and tomato sauce. He was starving and needed something to soak up all this booze, but…

He and his brothers bounced a look at each other. Grimaced.

Logan handed him the bottle. Reid took one more bracing swig, then kicked off his wet shoes and went upstairs to face whatever they had to face.

*

They had lost their father, Emma kept reminding herself. The house was in disarray, and going by what she had overheard—and heard directly from Sophie—the rest of the resort was no better.

Over the next few days, phones never stopped ringing. The Fraser brothers were putting out fires at their real jobs while digging through Wilf’s files, swearing over whatever they found, closing doors for long discussions, emerging to thank whoever dropped by with a casserole and condolences before they poured themselves a fresh coffee or put on a jacket and disappeared again.

They came and went, eating and sleeping at different times, warming soup or a helping of whatever Emma had made. They left their dirty dishes in the sink and barely glanced at their sister.

Emma reported none of that when Harpreet called. She didn’t mention that they’d all come home legless that first night, or how slowly they’d moved the next day, grumbling and scowling even when Storm made happy noises.

“They’ve been pulling together the celebration of life. It’s tomorrow,” Emma told Harpreet. “Once that’s done, I’m sure they’ll be more attentive to Storm.” It was a lie. She had no such hope. “Everything else is going well.”

That part was closer to the truth. The expensive formula and teething ring seemed to be helping. Storm had tried rice cereal this afternoon and gobbled it up like she’d never tasted solid food before—a turn of phrase that was comedy gold, but no one was around to appreciate it. Emma might have repeated it to Sophie, but she’d seen her at the general store yesterday and Sophie was on her last nerve with whatever Logan was doing at the marina.

Emma felt more alone than she had when she’d first arrived, despite living with three other adults. She wished she could take Storm somewhere quiet where they could live out their best lives.

Of course, that would be called kidnapping, and she needed a job to support them, but seriously, the status quo was hardly any better.

With an exasperated sigh, she finished putting a stew in the slow cooker and took a much-needed break, plucking Storm off her blanket and sitting down to let her bounce happily on her lap. Storm was so strong and heavy, Emma’s arms ached immediately, but her time with Storm might be finite. She concentrated on appreciating this tiny sliver of happiness so she didn’t dwell on how uncertain things were.

On what those men might do with this baby she loved to pieces.

It had been nearly a week, and she knew little more about them and their plans than when she’d met them in Victoria.

Trystan seemed the most tolerant of the uncertainty. Emma suspected it came from having low standards with regard to physical comfort. He wasn’t sleeping in the rain or chewing bark so he didn’t feel a need to complain.

Logan didn’t hold back on any of his opinions. He was funny with them, but he came across as expecting the entire world to bend to his will. Which made it a surprise to her that he was probably the tidiest of all of them, maybe because he lived on a boat?

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