Page 5 of Callahan's Haven

“Patsy, hun,” her dad had said, taking his wife’s frail hand. “They’ve got other trees over there with more—”

“Life?” her mom had interrupted with a sad smile. “I know it doesn’t look like much.” She’d brushed the fingers of her other hand over one of the branches. “But see this leaf turning red here?” She’d looked up at him with sorrowful hazel eyes. “There’sstilllife in it.”

So, of course, they’d brought it home and planted it, finishing right at four o’clock. They’d spent the rest of their evening laughing and telling stories after eating a light meal and then reluctantly going to bed at the end of their perfect day.

One week, four days, ten hours, and eighteen minutes after planting the tree, Patsy Sheppard was gone.

Haven’s eyes misted looking down at the coral red leaves she could see from a distance. Even though it was nippy outside, she turned the air conditioning on full blast to let it blow in her face. She scrubbed away the tears threatening to fall, and then took deep, calming breaths. It wouldn’t do for her dad to see she’d been crying. He’d know why. The anniversary of her mom’s death was a few weeks away, but she was determined to be strong. It had been almost five years after all, and life went on.

She frowned down at the yellow Maserati parked in front of the garage on the left side of the house.

It had for her dad. Devon Franks was here. Great.

There was just something too polished about Devon—too perfect. She certainly wasn’t anything like Haven’s mom. Patsy Sheppard had been vibrant and adventurous—always willing to play in the rain and run through the mud with you. Haven laughed to herself imagining Devon doing anything like that. She wouldn’t. She’d be too worried about keeping her deep auburn hair from frizzing and her designer clothes clean and dry.

“Oh, well,” Haven said on a sigh and put her car in gear, “might as well start putting on my happy face now.” She drove down the hill and parked alittletoo close to the driver’s side of Devon’s car. “I hope she doesn’t ding my door.” Haven grinned at how pissed Devon was going to be while getting out of her car. She grabbed her overnight bag out of the back seat and took a deep breath to ready herself before shutting the door.

“Mmm…” The aromatic scents coming from the slightly open kitchen window drew her to the side entrance of the house. “Hey, Mrs. Pruitt,” she said, walking in and letting the door bang shut behind her, chuckling when their housekeeper/cook did a little startled jump and whirled toward her.

“Haven!” Mrs. Pruitt clutched her spatula to her chest and let out a short laugh. “You scared me.” Martha Pruitt had been with them for years. She and her husband, Carl, who kept up the property, had a little place of their own behind the main house. Haven couldn’t imagine their lives without the older couple.

“What smells so good?” Haven set her bag down and crossed the rust-colored tile floors to look past the older woman’s shoulder at what she had cooking on the professional gas cooktop. “Oh! I see capers,” Haven said, reaching out a hand.

Mrs. Pruitt gave it a half-hearted whack with her spatula before putting the utensil down and pulling Haven in for a hug and quick peck on the cheek. The older woman leaned away and threw a wary glance at the open archway leading to the dining room. “We weren’t expecting you until late tomorrow afternoon.”

“I know, but my Management of Law Enforcement professor called out for tomorrow and cancelled class, so I decided to come home early and make it a long weekend.” She smiled to alleviate the other woman’s obvious discomfort. “I saw Devon’s car. It’s fine.”

Mrs. Pruitt frowned at the stove. “But I’ve only got enough veal piccata started to feed two. Maybe—”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Haven told her, putting a staying hand on her arm when she started toward the refrigerator. “I’m assuming you’ve got some delicious goodies in the freezer.” The older woman nodded and blushed at the compliment to her cooking. “I’ll find something.” She snuck a couple of capers from the open jar and popped them in her mouth, enjoying the briny taste while letting her own gaze wander toward the archway. She leaned against the counter, crossed her arms, and grimaced at Mrs. Pruitt. “So, bag or no bag?”

Haven wasn’t a kid anymore, and she hadn’t reached the ripe old age of twenty-one—virgin or not—without understanding the need for sex and companionship. She recognized her father was a vital, handsome man with his premature silvery hair and tall, commanding presence, not to mention his pale blue eyes that were such a contrast to his naturally tanned skin. It wasn’t surprising women were drawn to him. It also didn’t hurt that for a forty-five-year-old man, he was as muscular and fit as any of the jocks at her school.

Add in his wealth and he was quite a catch.

So, while her father having sex wasn’t anything she liked to think about—at all—it was something she had accepted.

She frowned at the archway again. And Duncan Sheppard was definitely having sex with the thirty-something-year-old woman he’d been seeing for the last nine months. Devon wasn’t the first woman her father had seen since starting to date a couple of years after her mother’s passing, but she had lasted the longest. And Haven wasn’t quite sure how she felt about that.

Sure, her father was a grown man and could do what he wanted. He certainly didn’t need her permission. She just wished he would at leastmentionto her the seriousness of their relationship—if it was serious—so she could get used to the idea.

Unfortunately, her dad had a tendency to ignore the fact Haven was an adult, even going so far as never making overnight plans with Devon when Haven was at home. Come to think of it, that probably explained the irritated looks she’d caught the other woman giving her at times when they’d all been together during Haven’s two-and-a-half-month-long summer break.

Devon had been over frequently—with no bag.

“Bag,” Mrs. Pruitt said with a slight laugh. “She isnotgoing to be happy.”

“You’re probably right.” She grinned. “Maybe I could stay at your house tonight.”

“Why would you do that?” Her father’s deep voice came at her from the archway, and she turned to see him walking through it with a frown on his face. She smiled and started to take a step toward him but faltered when Devon followed him in.

“You’ve got company.” She turned her attention to the woman sidling up against her dad and wrapping a proprietary hand around his arm. “Hi, Devon. I didn’t mean to spoil your evening.”

“Nonsense,” the other woman said with a smile—one that didn’t quite reach her brown eyes. “It’s been weeks since I’ve seen you. So, of course you’re welcome to stay.”

Haven raised a brow. She was welcome to stay?

“Oh, that didn’t come out right at all,” Devon said, patting Haven’s dad’s arm and then walking over to Haven and taking her up in a loose hug. “You know what I meant.”

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