Live a little.

Hadley’s words from earlier in the week struck him as appropriate on this Friday morning.

David stood in the kitchen doorway and simply stared. The table boasted blue fabric place mats with sunflowers as big as a plate. A bouquet of flowers he recognized from the garden sat in the center. Orange juice filled glasses on the table. The rich, enticing aroma of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the scent of spicy sausage.

This, he realized, was living. He tried to figure out what was special about today. Nothing that he could recall. As far as he knew, this was just another Friday morning. “What’s up?”

The question had Hadley and Brynn, dressed in matching white aprons, whirling.

Brynn grinned. “Perfect timing.”

Hadley gestured to the table. “Have a seat.”

David hesitated, noting the sparkle in Hadley’s eyes and Brynn’s broad smile. “I didn’t expect this today.”

“Sometimes”—Hadley moved to the coffeepot and poured him a cup, setting it beside the juice glass—“the best things in life are the unexpected.”

He took a few steps to the table, reluctant to sit down while they buzzed around the kitchen. “Is there something I can do to help?”

“Nope.” Brynn slanted a glance at Hadley. “We’ve got this covered.”

David pulled out the chair and lifted the mug of steaming coffee. He didn’t drink, but watched them over the rim.

Hadley put on oven mitts. “Because the pan is large, I’ll lift it out of the oven. Do you have the trivet ready?”

“I’ll get it.” Brynn hurriedly pulled out a drawer to the right of the sink. Once she’d positioned the trivet on the counter, she turned to him. “Hadley and I made a breakfast casserole. She’s teaching me how to cook.”

“Your daughter is an excellent pupil.” Hadley lifted the glass dish from the oven and set it on the trivet in a well-practiced move. “She shows real talent.”

Brynn fairly glowed under the praise. “It was fun.”

Taking off the mitts, Hadley laid a hand on Brynn’s shoulder. “Now, we get to eat your creation. Do you want to serve?”

“Yes.” Brynn grabbed plates already on the counter and moved to the dish. “I can do that.”

“Remember, it’s hot, so don’t touch the sides with your fingers.”

Brynn nodded, her face set in serious lines. “I’ll be careful.”

Whitney never allowed Brynn near the oven. But then, neither had he, David realized. He’d usually been in such a hurry to toss something together for them to eat, he hadn’t given a thought to having Brynn help. Or to teaching her anything.

Now, here was Hadley, only days into her temporary assignment, already making a difference.

While Brynn dished out the casserole, Hadley filled a mug for herself and got a glass of milk for Brynn. She turned to David. “There are hash browns in the casserole. I didn’t make toast, but if you’d like some, I—"

“I don’t need any, but thanks for offering.” He met her gaze and gestured with his head toward where Brynn concentrated on putting a neat square of casserole on the second plate. “Thanks for this.”

David willed her to see he wasn’t talking about the offer of a couple slices of bread.

She inclined her head, and he saw she understood. “Actually, Brynn did most of the work. I just supervised.”

With measured steps, Brynn set the plate before him, then put one in Hadley’s place at the table before returning to the counter for her own.

He glanced down. The casserole smelled heavenly and looked just as good, with hash browns peeking out the sides and pieces of eggs and sausage covered in cheese. “This looks amazing.”

“My grandmother taught me how to make it.” Hadley shifted her gaze to Brynn. “Hopefully, you’ll remember me when you make it for your family one day.”

Brynn nodded solemnly. “I will.”

Appearing surprisingly moved by the promise, Hadley blinked rapidly. She cleared her throat and picked up her fork. “Let’s see how it tastes.”

They ate, drank and talked over the casserole, which David swore was the best he’d ever had. The shadows that had been in Brynn’s eyes for so long they’d seemed a permanent part of her had disappeared.

David got a step-by-step replay of how to make a casserole. Hadley smiled indulgently while Brynn took the lead.

What she had done this morning, taking time to give his daughter this new experience, was even more impressive considering she’d been up before dawn baking.

“What made you two decide to cook this morning?” David stabbed the last bite of casserole on his plate.

Hadley and Brynn exchanged glances.

“We want you to pitch really good today,” Brynn told him, her eyes large and serious.

Hadley smiled, took a sip of coffee. “We thought you might do better after a hearty breakfast.”

David had nearly forgotten the vintage baseball game. As the starting pitcher for Good Hope, his performance would have a lot to do with getting a win against Egg Harbor. Though the game was supposed to be just for fun, every player on his team had a competitive streak. “This was so thoughtful.”

Brynn flushed with pleasure. “Hadley and me, we’ll be cheering for you. Really loud. Isn’t that right?”

His daughter turned to Hadley, who’d risen to gather the dishes.

“Absolutely right.” Hadley tousled Brynn’s hair as she passed, though her gaze shifted to David. “We’re your superfans.”

* * *

“Hadley. Brynn.” Ami waved her arms wildly. “Over here.”

When she’d had to park on the grass because the ballfield’s parking lot was full, Hadley expected she and Brynn would have to climb to the top of the bleachers to find a seat.

She hadn’t considered her friends might save them a seat.

All four of the Bloom sisters moved down on the metal bleachers, squeezing out just enough space for her and Brynn on the end.

“Thank you.” Hadley settled into her seat. “I didn’t expect you to—”

“We’re friends.” Ami gave her arm a squeeze as Sarah Rose climbed into Hadley’s lap. “Of course we saved you a spot.”

Brynn waved wildly. “Hi, Gram.”

Only then did Hadley notice that Steve and Lynn were seated on the other side of Fin.

Lynn returned the greeting. Though she acknowledged Hadley, there was an assessing look in her eyes that had Hadley shifting uneasily in her seat.

Hadley reminded herself she was just here as Brynn’s nanny. Hadn’t Camille taken Brynn to dozens of these events over the years? But she didn’t feel like a nanny, surrounded as she was by friends and with a toddler in her lap.

Brynn kept Sarah Rose’s interest by playing a game of “spider.” Each time the toddler would brush away Brynn’s creeping fingers, both girls would dissolve in laughter.

Ami shook her head, her smile indulgent. “Kids.”

The sun shone bright in the blue sky, and the smell of popcorn and peanuts filled the air. After their big breakfast, Hadley and Brynn had enjoyed a snack of hummus and crackers before coming to the ballfield.

She would have made something more substantial prior to the noon game, but David had promised Brynn hot dogs after the game.

“There he is.” Brynn’s excited voice broke through her thoughts, accompanied by a roar from the crowd.

Hadley handed Sarah Rose back to Ami and rose as the players returned to the field for introductions.

“On the mound for Good Hope…David Chapin.”

Hadley brought two fingers to her lips and whistled, then clapped and yelled. Next to her, Brynn jumped up and down and cheered.

In Hadley’s mind, there was little to no chance David could hear her and Brynn, but when his gaze searched the stands and stopped, she gave him a wave. His lips lifted in a slow, easy smile, and she went warm all over.

At the direction of the announcer, everyone resumed their seats. A few rows down, Gladys rose to her feet, a ball in her hand.

Hadley shifted her attention to Ami. “What’s going on?”

Ami shook her head. “No idea.”

Prim leaned forward. “Gladys is throwing out the first pitch.”

“They’ve never done that before,” Marigold called out from Prim’s other side.

“It was a tradition started in the early 1890s by Governor William McKinley of Ohio,” Prim, a rabid baseball fan since childhood, announced. “Back then, the dignitary tossed the ball to the starting pitcher from the stands. Though the teams will still be playing by 1860s rules, Max said the committee thought this would be a nice touch.”

Hadley watched David move in, his gaze focused on the older woman, his hands bare. Though it still looked strange, Hadley had learned at the first vintage game she’d attended that gloves weren’t worn by players in the 1860s.

Gladys drew herself up to her full height and didn’t rush. An actress through and through, the woman clearly knew how to play a crowd. The assembled throng inhaled when she pretended to fumble the ball.

But from her position three rows up and to the woman’s right, Hadley saw Gladys’s lips curve. At precisely the right moment, she lifted her arm, and the ball flew in a perfect arc.

The crowd roared as David caught the ball, then he gestured to Gladys, who took a bow.

“I didn’t know she could throw like that,” Brynn told Hadley, clearly impressed.

“Gladys is good at everything she does.” Hadley remembered what Ruby had said about the woman’s “fortune-telling” talent, and a shiver traveled up her spine.

She stared curiously when Brynn pulled out her flip phone. “Who are you calling?”

“I’m texting Mom. I’m telling her we’re watching Dad pitch.” Brynn’s fingers moved slowly. Though texting on such a phone was difficult, it was possible. And this was the child’s only option since David refused to consider a smartphone for the nine-year-old.

“Does she text you back?” The second the question left Hadley’s mouth, she wished she could pull it back. Brynn’s relationship with her mother fell under MYOB.

Brynn pushed Send, then sat back, her eyes looking old for a child. “Sometimes, she’ll write me back, but she’s pretty busy.”

“I imagine she is.” Hadley slung an arm around the girl. “Look. Your dad is ready to throw out the first pitch.”

Hadley found the game much more enjoyable when you had someone to root for. Even when he was off the field, Hadley couldn’t keep her eyes off of David. She knew this infatuation wasn’t wise.

Not something to worry about, she told herself. She was simply enjoying the moment. It would be over all too soon, and she would be alone with only memories to sustain her.

For now, she would enjoy this sunny, summer day and let herself fall just a little in love with the handsome pitcher.

* * *

Though David’s mother and Steve had to leave, the Bloom sisters and their families stayed to enjoy a picnic at the park near the stadium. The twins were in their element in the bounce house, while Brynn played with a friend on the playground.

David slanted a glance at Hadley, who was animatedly speaking with Ami. For once, Hadley didn’t have Sarah Rose in her arms. Instead, the toddler and her cousin Adelyn were being pushed on the baby swings by Fin and Prim.

Today, David had played the best ball of his life. He hadn’t been hot, he’d been on fire. Good Hope shut out Egg Harbor, a fact that gave everyone on the team a great deal of satisfaction after having lost the Fourth of July game to their rivals.

With every pitch he’d thrown, David had been conscious of Hadley and Brynn in the stands cheering him on. His girls. Cheering for him.

“Hey, David, I have something to ask you.”

David smiled. Marigold’s directness was only one of the things he admired about the youngest Bloom sister. He took a sip of cola, shifted on the bench to face her. “Ask away.”

“Well, you know Cade and I have been trying to have a baby.”

With that comment, Marigold captured everyone’s attention at the table, including that of Hadley, who stiffened beside him.

David glanced her way, then realized Marigold expected a response. “I think I may have heard something about that.”

“Just for the record, we’re having a lot of fun trying.” The sheriff slung an arm around his wife’s shoulders, then brushed a kiss across her cheek.

“True.” Marigold’s wide mouth curved up in a feline-like smile before her expression turned serious. “The doctor we saw in Milwaukee is going to give me some medication to help me ovulate. That may take care of the problem.”

David shifted uncomfortably. TMI, he thought. He really didn’t need—or want—to know any of this. “Ah, that’s good.”

“Yes, well, we have also been looking at other options for starting a family.”

Wishing the hair stylist would simply get to the point, David took a gulp of cola and nodded.

“Cade and I were talking, and we realized we’ve never asked you about your experience with adoption.” Marigold’s voice remained calm, but her hands fluttered. “I don’t even know if you did an agency adoption or a private one. If you prefer not to discuss it, just tell me to mind my own business.”

David offered Marigold a reassuring smile. “It’s not a secret, and I’m happy to answer any questions. Keep in mind, the adoption was over nine years ago and took place in Illinois. State laws on adoption can vary.”

“Did you go through an agency?” Marigold prompted.

“We went through an attorney. It was a private adoption.”

“Why did you choose that avenue?”

David nearly smiled again. It was as if the hair stylist had a set of questions in her head and was ticking them off one by one. “We thought it would be faster.”

“Was it?”

“It was, although an agency may have been just as quick.” Already anticipating her next question, he added, “From the time we filled out the paperwork, it was about six months until the attorney called and we learned our baby girl was due any day.”

“Wow. Not much notice.” Marigold blinked, clearly startled. “Was adoption a last-second decision on the birth mother’s part?”

“I would expect it’s usually a difficult decision.” David couldn’t even imagine the angst, the second-guessing. “The attorney only said the birth mother was determined her child go to a good home. The fact that Whitney planned to be a stay-at-home mom and I was close to my family weighed heavily in our favor.”

For a second, no one at the table spoke. David wondered if their thoughts were going down the same road as his. Whitney had hardly ended up being a stellar mother. But he could have done better by his child, too, and he would do better going forward.

“What made you decide on adoption?” Marigold asked.

How to explain this, David wondered, without saying too much? “There’s a serious genetic condition that runs in Whitney’s family. She didn’t want to take the chance of the child inheriting that condition.”

“Is Whitney at risk of developing the condition?” This time, it wasn’t Marigold who asked the question, but Hadley.

David shifted in his seat. “It’s possible.”

He started to turn back to Marigold when Hadley spoke again, her voice strung as tight as a piano wire. “I assume this condition, if inherited, is serious enough to cause major health issues. It seems odd that a birth mother would have chosen to place her child with a family in which the mother could become seriously ill.”

David hadn’t known until after they’d gotten Brynn that Whitney had lied on the application. She hadn’t mentioned the genetic condition. And since she’d kept her family history from even her primary-care doctor, her health record was clean.

He shrugged. “I guess we were lucky.”

Hadley’s eyes were dark, her expression solemn. “I guess you were.” A sudden chill filled the air.

“Actually, when I learned that Whitney had kept the truth from me, I was conflicted.” David blew out a breath. “I was horrified she’d deceive the birth mother to get a child, but I loved Brynn so much, and the adoption had already been finalized. What would have been the point in revealing the truth then?”

“No point.” Marigold filled the silence when Hadley said nothing.

“I convinced myself that Whitney did it only because she wanted Brynn as much as I did, but later I realized she often lied just for the heck of it.”

When it was time to gather the children and head home, David considered taking Hadley’s hand as they walked with the others to the playground. The back-off signal she was transmitting had him keeping his hands to himself.

She slowed her steps so they would be out of earshot of the group. “Brynn was texting her mother during the game. I didn’t say anything because I didn’t know if that was okay with you or not.”

David wasn’t sure what had erected the wall between them, but at least she was talking. “Brynn texts her mother all the time. She likes Whitney to know what’s going on, sees it as a way for them to stay close.”

“She says her mother rarely texts back.”

“I spoke with Whitney about that.” He pressed his lips together. “So far, no change.”

Hadley only nodded.

He took her arm, stopping her. “Did I do or say something to offend you?”

Surprise flickered in her blue eyes. “Why do you ask?”

He simply cocked his head. For a second, David thought she might deny it or play dumb, but continue to freeze him out. That had been Whitney’s MO.

Hadley paused, exhaled a breath. Her fingers raked through her hair. “Hearing the care Brynn’s birth mother went through to find her a good home, only to have Whitney…well, it makes me angry.”

“I understand. Brynn’s birth mother entrusted a precious gift to us, and we failed her.” His gaze shifted to the playground where Brynn pushed Sarah Rose in the swing. “Sometimes, even with the best intentions, situations don’t turn out as planned.”

“You’re right.” She blew out a breath and appeared to steady. “All we can do is move forward and learn from our mistakes.”

“Brynn in my life isn’t a mistake.” David took Hadley’s hand and met her gaze. “I believe she was meant to be my daughter.”

After a long moment, Hadley nodded. “I believe that, too. Let’s go home.”