Page 162 of Cold Case, Warm Hearts

“Right at the first guess. Must be the Andrews nose, eh?” He rubbed the bump on his nose.

“Quit fishing for a compliment,” the woman next to him said.

About thirty, she had flaming red hair and the translucent skin of a true redhead. She offered a friendly smile that Becca responded to. “Shayna Baxter,” the woman said, holding out her hand.

Tate’s wife. Becca took her hand and smiled then looked around for her cousin and finally saw him in the corner.

He hadn’t changed much since they were children. Freckles still sprinkled his nose, and his good-natured face looked at the world through dreamy eyes. Pouring himself a drink from the crystal decanter on the buffet, he turned and glanced at Becca.The curiosity in his glance didn’t change, and she hoped he didn’t recognize her.

“Welcome to our happy home,” he said with a smile. “I’m Tate Baxter, and you’ve already met my wife. Just to orient you to the relationships, Max is my brother-in-law. His wife Laura was my sister.”

“So we’re all just one big happy family,” Shayna said with a grimace that belied her words.

“I see you’ve met everyone,” Max said from behind her.

Becca whirled to see him standing in the doorway. His dark, wavy hair looked wet like he’d just stepped from the shower. Dressed in khaki slacks and a red polo, he looked good. She averted her eyes and reminded herself how deceiving his good looks really were.

“There’s my favorite niece,” Tate said, smiling at Molly.

“I’m your only niece,” Molly said, coming into the room to take his hand.

“But you’d still be my favorite if I had ten nieces,” her uncle said.

Becca smiled. Tate had always had an engaging way about him, even when they were children. He’d always been a favorite of their grandmother’s.

“I want Becca to sit by me,” Molly said.

Tate put his hand over his heart. “Spurned by the love of my life for another.”

Molly giggled. “You can sit on my other side, Uncle Tate.”

“A scrap thrown to the dogs,” Tate groused. “I know where your true affection lies.”

Molly looked uncertainly up at him. “I love you, Uncle Tate. You know I do. I just wanted to get to know Becca.”

He grinned. “I was just kidding with you, Molly. I know I’m your favorite uncle.”

“I love Uncle Nick too.”

He put the back of his hand on his forehead. “Another arrow to the heart.”

“Quit fooling around,” Shayna said. “I’m famished.”

Tate’s bright countenance fell, and he took his place beside his wife without another word. Molly sat on his other side and patted the chair beside her.

Becca wondered at the tension between them. Maybe Tate wasn’t as easy to live with as she imagined. She moved to take the seat the little girl indicated. Max followed her, and she stifled a frown. She wanted to talk to Molly and Tate without his intimidating presence.

Max seemed to sense nothing amiss as he settled into his chair and reached for the basket of hot yeast rolls. He took one then passed the basket to her.

Becca took out a roll then passed the basket on. She set the roll on her saucer and folded her hands in her lap. She wanted to pray for her meal, but everyone was looking at her, waiting for her to speak.

Heat rushed up her neck. She’d always prayed before meals, even in restaurants. For the first time, she was tempted to just butter her roll and dig into her salad. She’d never realized peer pressure could be so great. Would God care if she prayed silently?

Though she knew God heard all prayer, audible or not, she realized the problem was her own attitude. Did she cave to pressure or stand up for God? She looked at her plate and took a deep breath.

“Do you mind if we pray before we eat?” she said.

Shayna’s eyebrows went almost up to her fringe of bangs. A tinkle of laughter left her mouth. “I thought with Gram gone, we didn’t have to deal with that nonsense. Looks like we have another little old lady with us in the guise of a young woman.”

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