Page 19 of Quintessentially

I peer over my shoulder, wondering what Kandace is thinking. My gaze searches the crowd. I lean this way and that, but I can’t find her or Chloe.

Crack.

My attention goes back to the field as Cory’s hit gets him to first and Mick slides into home.

The team and hometown crowd goes wild.

My excitement wanes when I realize Kandace is gone.

After we shake hands with the Trevor team, Cory pats my shoulder. “Come on to Decoy Ducks.”

I shrug. “I don’t know.”

“Oh, come on. You won’t be in town long, and we just had our second win of the season.”

“Second?”

“I told you, we weren’t swept.”

I nod. “Okay, for one beer. I’m working tomorrow from the hotel.”

My gaze goes back over the bleachers, wondering if I’m just not seeing Kandace.

“Do you have a date?”

I shake my head. “A date?” I haven’t wanted a date in too long. My guess is that it’s too late for a date with the woman who disappeared.

“For the signing,” Cory says, “the executor thing.”

“Oh, that kind of date. No, Jeffrey Murphy and I discussed some things today. I just don’t know what Grandma was thinking. Quintessential Treasures has better sales numbers than I ever imagined. Selling it under the provisions of the will would go against what she worked to accomplish.” As I speak, I again remember Kandace’s business plan, the one she shared years ago.

Cory’s lips form a straight line. “Maybe Ruth wasn’t thinking about herself.”

“Murphy has some bullshit stipulations that Grandma wanted me to do first.” Before we can say more, a familiar brunette is hugging Cory’s neck with a small girl in tow.

“Dax, do you remember Judy?”

I grin. “I do. Nice to see you again, Judy.” I look down at the little girl with wavy dark hair and a beautiful complexion—a mixture of her dad’s dark and mom’s light. “And who is this?”

Judy lays her hand on the little girl’s shoulder. “This is Amber.”

I go down to my haunches. “How old are you, Amber?”

She holds up her one hand, spreading out all her fingers and thumb.

“You can talk to Mr. Richards, Amber.”

“I’m five,” she says in a sweet voice.

“Hi, Miss Amber, five years old. You can call me Dax.”

She nods.

When I stand tall, I turn and see Sheers in the parking lot. He’s talking to someone in an SUV, leaning against the door, and the window is open. By his body language, there is more to the conversation. Maybe he’s just an asshole—not only to me. When he stands back, he turns my way with a scowl. Looking at him, I almost miss who he was talking to.

Almost.

The SUV drives away.

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