Isle of Hope by Julie Lessman

Author:Julie Lessman [Lessman, Julie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Julie Lessman
Published: 2014-12-31T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-Four

Lacey breathed in deeply, the warm bag of snickerdoodles taking her back to when Mom and she spent days on end baking Christmas cookies for Daddy. “Snickerdoodles are one of your father’s favorites,” Mom would always say with a secret smile, her teasing tone indicative of just how hard they’d tried to sneak into Daddy’s good graces.

Easing the Honda down Bluff Drive, a smile tickled her lips as she passed Jack’s house. It broke into a full-fledge grin at the memory of Tess’s suggestion of monster cookies or chocolate chip pie as a means of weakening her father’s defenses. Yes, monster cookies were good, she supposed, and chocolate chip pie, too. But when she was younger, warm snickerdoodles had always earned her a kiss and a smile when she’d met Daddy at the door with a fresh batch, and she was hoping tonight they might work their magic too.

Please, God?

Even so, her stomach churned as much as the batter in the bowl when she’d baked them after dinner, earning her kisses and smiles from Spence and Nicki, if not from her father. Glancing at the dark windows of the house, she put the car in “Park” and turned it off, her hope sputtering as much as the engine when it rumbled and shimmied to a stop.

“The front of the house is always dark,” Tess had warned her, “so if he doesn’t answer, just keep ‘bonging’ him to death with that silly doorbell. That usually does the trick for me.”

Lacey’s mouth took a swerve. But not for his daughter, I’ll bet.

At least, this time.

Expelling a weary sigh, she made her way to the front door with her bribe in hand, the scent of cinnamon buoying her mood as she pressed the bell with a rush of confidence. Beau’s barking commenced on the other side of the door as she waited.

And waited …

And pressed the bell again.

And again.

On the fourth try she huffed out a sigh, lips gumming into a flat line. “Okay, Daddy, have it your way,” she muttered. She marched to the fence on the side of the house, shaking her head at the sight of a ridiculously large padlock that made it look like Fort Knox. Her smile crooked to the left. “Nice try, Dr. Doom, but keep in mind I inherited my stubborn streak from you …”

Bending over the padlocked gate, she carefully tossed the cookies over and scaled the fence, her spaghetti-strap, baby-doll top billowing up when she hopped to the other side. Without missing a beat, she scooped the bag up and strode to the sliding doors, halting dead in her tracks. Her jaw dropped at the sight of a wall of plantation shutters spanning the length of the family room, closed tighter than a bloomin’ bunker. “Gosh, Daddy, you make hermits look social,” she mumbled, wondering how the man managed to have any friends at all. Back ramrod straight, she pounded on the glass for a good thirty seconds to no avail while Beau went crazy.

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