“He’s an old softie. That tough cop image isn’t all he’s about. Anyone who really knows your father knows he’s true blue all the way, with friends, family, and even strangers. He’s a straight shooter. He does have a humorous side. He doesn’t show it as much as I do.” Her mother stood and wrapped the pale green towel around herself.

  “That’s an understatement.” Samantha lifted herself out of the small tub, reaching for her towel. “Dad’s a winner. I think this grandpa role will be one of his finest, don’t you?”

  “I do. He’ll be as much a father to Caroline as he was to you. Children need two parents in their life.”

  “I agree, but I also know there are circumstances that often keep one parent out of the picture, and I’ll leave it at that. Now, what kind of facial should we have?”

  Samantha knew where this conversation was headed, and she wouldn’t go there.

  She couldn’t.

  Chapter 7

  The sleek white limousine returned at half past six. Inside, Samantha melted into the soft leather. Her first Mother’s Day had been awesome. Beyond relaxing; she’d never been so well pampered.

  “I take it the elite package is true to its name?” her mom asked from the seat next to her.

  Smiling, Sam felt almost drunk, blissfully content, but her thoughts were as clear as Florida’s blue skies. “I don’t recall ever being this relaxed.” Well, maybe there were a few instances, but she wouldn’t allow her thoughts to travel down that road.

  “Maybe this is a new tradition. Me and you. Spa day. And Caroline, when she’s old enough. Poor Stella. Poor Evelyn. No granddaughter to take to the spa.”

  “Mother! That’s awful. They might end up with ten granddaughters each for all you know. Don’t act so smug.” Adding that she might have ten sons would’ve opened her up for more questioning, so she kept quiet.

  “I know, I don’t mean it that way. I love those girls like sisters. We all like a good one-up. Keeps us on our toes.”

  “Nothing wrong as long as no one’s feelings are hurt,” Sam responded, her head lolling to one side. All she could think about was her bed, crawling beneath the cool sheets, the ceiling fan making that same whirring sound she’d grown used to as a child. “Don’t ever change that fan out in my room. Promise?”

  “What?” her mother practically shouted. “Are you all right?”

  Shaking her head, she sat up. “Of course. Why would you even ask that? We’ve been together all day.”

  “You were talking about the ceiling fan in your room.”

  “Oh. I’m just so relaxed.” Which was true. All she could think about was sleeping through the night. Is this what her mom wished for during the three years she’d been unable to sleep? If so, she was now her true hero. “How long before we’re at the house? I think I’ll just close my eyes.”

  “Go on, dear. Rest up, you’ve got time for a quick snooze.”

  She managed to whisper, “Thanks,” before drifting off.

  Thirty minutes later, Sam felt her mother gently shaking her awake. She sat upright, raking her hand through her hair. “I’m ready.” She saw she was still in the limousine. “Guess I took a nap. That was the best massage I’ve ever had in my life. My muscles must’ve been hard as a rock because I feel soft and mushy as mud right now.” She leaned against the seat, a slight smile on her face. “Let’s do this again. Soon.”

  The limo driver pulled into the driveway, then got out and opened the door for them. Her mother whispered something to him, then he nodded and climbed back in the long white luxury vehicle.

  Inside the house, her father greeted them with a finger to his lips. “She’s napping. Finally.”

  “I take it your first day as a full-fledged grandpa went well?”

  “It was quite the day. You’ve got a dirty but contented little gal sound asleep. She found mom’s gardening supplies in the garage and had a run-in with the potting soil. Cleaned her up as best as I could, but she’s gonna need a scrub down.”

  “She was in the garage?” Sam asked.

  “Yes, in her walker. I turned my back for two seconds, and she’d pushed herself over to the storage cabinets and opened the door.”

  “And found a bag of potting soil? I hope there wasn’t anything poisonous in there?” she asked, instantly nervous.

  “No, dear, just the potting soil,” her mother answered. “I keep all the chemicals locked away. Remember, your cousins and their little ones visit now and then. Can’t be too safe when they’re here, you know?”

  That was putting it mildly.

  “Speaking of kids, you have an admirer. It’s in the kitchen,” her dad said. “I’m going to take a quick shower now that you two are here.”

  Samantha needed to check on Caroline first. Had her dad said you have an admirer? “Mom, can you run up and check on the baby? I need a minute.”

  “Of course,” Helena said, and hurried upstairs.

  Sam went to the kitchen and saw an enormous vase of roses on the counter. Her hands began to shake. Who would be sending her flowers? No one knew she was here . . . or did they? With trembling hands, she removed the small white card placed at the bottom of the bouquet. Taking a deep breath, she took the card from the envelope.

  Love, Gio.

  She stared at the plain white card. Love, Gio.

  Was this someone’s idea of a joke? Who would be so cruel? Who knew she was here?

  She searched through the bouquet for something—she didn’t know what—anything that would prove this was nothing more than a weird prank. “Dad,” she shouted, not caring if Caroline woke up. She wouldn’t put her down for the night without a bath anyway. “Mom!”

  Her parents, along with her sleepy and dirty daughter, stood in the kitchen. “Dad, who sent these?” She nodded toward the flowers.

  “I’m not that nosy. I didn’t read the card,” he told her. A bit of shaving cream was clinging to his face, the spicy scent of his aftershave reminding her of him.

  “Do you remember the name of the florist that delivered these? That’s what I meant.” She wanted to jump up and down, and another part of her wanted to fall to the floor in a heap of despair. Not yet, she thought, not yet.

  Her father rubbed his cheeks. “No, they were on the front porch when I came in from the garage. I can find out who delivered them if it’s important to you.”

  It was, but she didn’t want to let him know exactly how important. She needed to calm down. No one knew she was here, other than Maria. She hadn’t told her exact plans to those she worked with. All they knew was that she was suffering from major burnout on the job, had a new baby to care for, and had quit her job as a reporter. That much was true.

  “You’re upset,” her mother said, stating the obvious. “What can we do?”

  She needed to think. “Uh, let’s bathe Caroline. Here in the sink if that’s okay. I didn’t have a bathtub in Italy. Just a small shower. She’s used to sinks. I’ll just run upstairs to get her things.” Before either could ask why the flowers caused such a drastic change, she raced upstairs to her room. She closed and locked the door. Spying her tote on the bed, she dumped the contents into a pile in the center of the bed. After searching for the card with the number she was to use in a life-or-death emergency, she sat on the bed and stared at the number, which she’d memorized just in case she lost the card. Calm down. Take deep breaths. She closed her eyes, forcing herself to focus. Flowers weren’t life and death. She needed to take that bouquet apart to look for any possible clues but couldn’t do so in front of her parents.

  She heard Caroline’s cries from downstairs. Bath supplies. That’s what she’d come for, and a few minutes of privacy. One thing at a time. She found the bottle of baby wash, grabbed a bath toy she’d picked up in Target, a diaper and a set of pajamas from her luggage. Her mom and dad probably thought she was losing her mind or suffering from postpartum depression. Her behavior was anything but normal.

  Before they came looking for her, she crammed the contents of her tote back inside but stuck the card in the pocket of the yellow shorts she still wore.

  Hurrying downstairs, she took another deep breath before returning to the kitchen. “Here we go,” she said in an overly cheerful tone.

  “Mom, could you get me a washcloth and towel? I forgot baby washcloths when we were at the store.” She’d never had baby washcloths, only the thin muslins she’d purchased in Italy. Her lies were pathetic. “Actually, I’ve never used a real washcloth on this little girl,” she said as she washed out the new farm sink her parents had added when they’d updated the kitchen. It’s huge, she thought. “Mom, get an extra towel. I have a feeling this is going to get very messy.”

  Love, Gio.

  She couldn’t erase those words, no matter how hard she tried. Focus, Samantha!

  “Would you like me to take over?” her mother asked. “I think you need to take some time for yourself. I was going to say you needed to relax, but we had enough of that today.”

  “You didn’t say—how was the spa?” her dad asked as he took Caro’s bath supplies from her.

  “We took a bath in a teacup,” her mother piped in. “Other than that, we plan to make this a habit. It was eyeopening. That champagne you ordered was a bit much, but we managed to sober up.” She shook her head, “Charles, let’s focus on getting this baby into the sink.”

  “Mom, Dad, I’ve got this, really. I appreciate the help though.”

  She filled the sink with warm water and moved a bottle of dish detergent and a scrubbing sponge out of her daughter’s reach. Holding her arms out for her baby, she realized she hadn’t undressed her.

  “Let me,” her mother said, taking Caro’s onesie off with one hand, the other encircling her daughter. Then she whipped the disposable diaper off in less than ten seconds. “Now, little miss, let Grammy get to work.” With expert movements, her mother placed Caroline in the sink.

  Gurgles and hands splashing in the water assured Samantha that Mom had this.

  “Hand me the baby wash.”

  Sam did as told.

  “And that squeaky thing.”

  Squirting a small amount of the golden baby wash into the sink, her mother sloshed one hand in the water while holding Caro’s arm. “Bubbles! See the bubbles?”

  The baby’s eyes grew in size, and she began splashing her little hands in the water. When it splashed her face, she took in a couple of quick breaths, then giggled out loud. Sam relaxed a bit, seeing how much fun her daughter was having while Grammy bathed her. Caroline spent the next fifteen minutes splashing about while her grandmother gently washed her and her dark curly hair. When Helena took her from the sink, she adjusted the taps and rinsed her with clean, warm water.

  Wrapping Caroline in the giant bath towel Charles held out, they took her into the front room and placed her on the sofa, diapering and dressing her in the pink-and-white pajamas. The two of them looked like pros; then she remembered they’d been through this with her. Once the baby was dressed, her dad went to the kitchen and returned with a fresh bottle.

  He took Caroline to the rocking chair, placed her in his arms, and began feeding and rocking her, singing a lullaby Sam had never heard.

  Caroline’s eyes drooped, her little mouth lost its suction on her bottle, and her father gently placed her against his chest, continuing to rock her. “Why don’t you tell us why those flowers upset you?”

  “Can you really find out who delivered them? It’s important,” she said.

  “I can. Let’s get this little gal to bed first, then I’ll make a few phone calls.” Samantha followed him upstairs to her room and watched as he gently placed Caroline in her temporary bed. Before heading back downstairs, she turned on the night-light and left the door open so she could hear her if the baby woke up.

  Downstairs, her mother had cleaned up and made a pot of coffee. Seeing the roses again sent Sam’s mind racing. She should’ve taken them to her room.

  “Coffee? I have a key lime pie if either of you want dessert,” her mother said. “Or leftover cake,” she added.

  Samantha was too keyed up for sugar or caffeine. “I’m okay,” she said.

  “Charles?”

  “I’ll have a cup of that coffee. Never had a chance to make a pot this morning after you girls left. The little lady kept me on my toes all day, but I did manage to heat up a can of chicken noodle soup for lunch. Caro loved it.”

  Sam just shook her head. “Good to know when I’m out of baby food.”

  Seated around the table, her dad took the house phone, a notepad, and a pencil. Before he spoke, he took a sip of coffee. This reminded her so much of her dad’s days as a police officer. Organized and patient, all that she wasn’t.

  “Can I see the card?” he asked.

  “No.”

  He nodded his head. “Okay. I take it the message is private.”

  “It’s just strange,” she said.

  “It would help if you could tell me, but if you can’t, I can call Roger.”

  “Roger from across the street? How can he help?” Samantha asked.

  “He’s the nosiest man in the neighborhood,” her mother reminded her.

  How could she have forgotten? He’d spotted her on more than one occasion slipping in through the garage when she’d missed curfew. Always called her parents, too.

  “Then let’s see what he knows,” she said, becoming impatient with the entire situation. She felt anger toward whoever had sent the flowers. Knowing they couldn’t be legitimate hurt more than she wanted to admit. But she’d keep those thoughts to herself.

  Her dad dialed Roger’s number, and Roger picked up immediately. “Rog, how’s it going? Good, good. Listen, I was wondering if you were home today, say around two, two thirty? Yes, I was in the garage, and there was a floral delivery. I wondered if you happened to see the name of the florist.”

  Samantha listened to her dad’s end of the conversation.

  “Okay, pal, I owe you one. Thanks.” Charles ended the call.

  “Did he see who it was?” she asked, not caring that she sounded overanxious.

  “He did, but said it wasn’t a florist. A black car. Said he couldn’t tell if it was a man or woman, but he did see a black car. That’s all. Does this help?”

  A jumble of thoughts slammed through her head. “Did he happen to see what make the car was?”

  “Sam, are you being stalked? If so, we need to file a report. This isn’t something to mess with. People can do crazy stuff,” her dad said, and she heard in his voice how seriously he was taking this.

  Was she being stalked? It was possible, but if that were the case, why leave a note? Didn’t stalkers like to remain anonymous?

  “I’m sure I’m not being stalked, but is anyone ever sure? I don’t have a clue who would want to stalk me, or why. Remember, I’ve been out of the country for three years. If I had a stalker, I would think . . . I don’t know what to think, honestly. Let’s just say the card has information on it that only I would know.”

  “A name?” he probed. “A clue?”

  “Dad, I’ve told you I can’t talk about certain things, and this is one of them. At least I think it is. I need to make a phone call.” She didn’t dare tell him she’d need a secure phone. “Are you and mom okay keeping an eye on Caroline while I take a drive? I need to think. I do my best thinking when I’m driving.”

  “I don’t believe this is a good idea, Sam. We don’t know what you’re thinking. And not knowing is alarming. Can’t you just walk around the block or something? There’s a convenience store a few blocks over, maybe go grab a soda or something?” her mother suggested. “At least we’ll know where you are.”

  “That’s a good idea. I’ll have my cell phone, so call if you have to, but whatever you do, just check on Caro.”

  “Samantha, if that child is in danger of any kind, I want to know. Now. Not after the fact.”

  “She isn’t, I’m sure of it. This is what I can’t talk about, but she’s okay. Just keep an eye on her. She might wake up and want another bottle or something. I’ll be back as soon as I get this sorted out. I need to get some cash. Be right back.”

  She needed to see Caro. She took three twenties out of her wallet, gave her daughter a light kiss on the cheek, then headed downstairs, where her parents waited in the front room, each as white as the walls.

  “Mom, Dad, listen. I’m fine, and Caroline isn’t in any danger. I need to handle this now. I won’t be long, and I’ve got my cell phone.” Before she slipped and said something she shouldn’t, she hurried out the front door, heading for the convenience store. She jogged as fast as she could without attracting the attention of drivers in the cars that passed. She was thankful that joggers were accepted as normal, even at night in this muggy heat. When she spotted the lights of the store, she stopped, got her breath, and entered the store. She smiled at the cashier, a young guy, in his early twenties with tattoos covering all visible parts of his body.

  “Help ya?” he called out in a deep Southern accent. “I can direct ya to whatever ya need.”

  “Uh, sure. I need some”—she felt like an idiot, but what the heck—“feminine things.” That was the only way she was going to get out of here fast. “And a cell phone. You have those little disposable ones? Mine broke last night, and I haven’t had a chance to get a new one.” If someone were to question this guy, he’d have enough detailed information to identify her, which shouldn’t be a problem, but she knew better than to reveal too much. She really had no reason to hide her whereabouts.

  “Aisle two on the lady stuff, and I got the phones here at the register.”

  “Thanks,” she said as she located a box of tampons and placed them on the counter. She’d added a chocolate bar, and a Coke, too.

  “You want to take a look at what we got to offer? There are four different models.”

  “I’ll just take the least expensive. As I said, I’m going to get mine repaired or replaced, whatever.” She shot him her best smile.

  “Then you’ll want a Tracfone. They’re just over twenty bucks, plus tax. You get a full hour of free talk time, then ya gotta buy a card with extra minutes if ya want to talk longer. I’d go with one of the better ones, but hey, it’s a free country, so ya get whatever you want.”