Desperately Seeking Dad by Marta Perry Page A

often in his childhood echoed in his mind, but he wasn’t about to share it with Anne. Would anyone, other than Brett and Alex, his closest friends, take his side? He didn’t care to put it to the test.
    â€œI thought we agreed neither of us wanted this to become public knowledge.”
    She glanced at the baby, and her mouth softened. “I don’t relish publicity any more than you do. But I have to find out about Tina.” She looked back up at him, and he could read the fear in her eyes. “If you’re telling me the truth, then I don’t have much time.”
    â€œI know.”
    He felt the clock ticking, too. It must be much worse for Anne, with three to four weeks to get back the DNA test results he knew would prove him innocent. And about the same time until her hearing. No wonder she wanted to launch into an investigation.
    His steps slowed. “We’ll find out. I don’t expect you to trust me on this, but I’m telling you the truth. We’ll find out.”
    She nodded, and he thought he saw a sheen of tears in her eyes. “Yes.” She cleared her throat. “The café…is it near here?”
    â€œRight across the street.” He gestured toward the Bluebird Café. “Let me buy you that cup of coffee.”
    The baby seemed to enjoy bouncing down over the curb and across the street. She pounded on the stroller tray with both tiny fists.
    The Bluebird Café, its façade painted a bright blue to match its name, was one of a series of shops that staggered down either side of Main Street. They were like so many dominoes, looking ready to tumble to the valley floor, but they’d stood where they were for a hundred years or so.
    A bit different from Anne’s usual setting, he knew, a vision of that luxury high-rise flitting through his mind. What did she think of Bedford Creek in comparison? Of him?
    Whoa, back up and erase that. It didn’t matterwhat Anne thought of him. Not as long as, in the end, she accepted the fact that he wasn’t Emilie’s father.
    Anne held open the frosted glass door, its placard advertising Cassie’s chicken-and-dumpling soup. He lifted the stroller up the two steps from the street and pushed it inside, not wasting time looking up for either admiration or approval in those sapphire eyes.
    â€œNot especially crowded,” Anne observed, unzipping Emilie’s snowsuit.
    â€œEmpty, as a matter of fact. It’s too late for lunch and too early for supper.” He gestured. “So you have your choice of seating.”
    She picked a booth halfway back, and by the time they were settled, Cassie had appeared from the kitchen.
    â€œAfternoon, Chief.” She twitched her bluebird-trimmed apron and shot Anne a suspicious glance. “What can I get you?”
    â€œCoffee?” He raised his eyebrows at Anne, and she nodded. “Two coffees.”
    â€œThat’s it?” Cassie made it sound like a personal affront that they didn’t order anything else.
    Again he looked at Anne, and she shook her head. “I had lunch on the way.” She gave Cassie a hundred-watt smile. “Another time I’ll try your chicken-and-dumpling soup.”
    That smile would have had him picking himself up off the floor, Mitch thought. Cassie just jerkedher head in a nod, but her usual grim expression seemed to soften slightly as she plodded back toward the kitchen.
    â€œDoes she give all her customers such a warm welcome?”
    He leaned against the blue padded seat. “I told you she wouldn’t be very forthcoming.”
    â€œA clam is more forthcoming.” She took an animal cracker from her bag and handed it to Emilie. The baby pounded it once on the stroller tray and then stuffed it into her mouth. “Why did she open a restaurant, of all things, if she didn’t want to be around people?”
    He shrugged. “Not that many ways to make a living in Bedford Creek. You