Daisy climbed from the spa bath and patted her skin dry with a warm, fluffy white towel. For a man who used to enjoy living in trenches, and crawling through God knew what on his stomach, Solomon certainly embraced luxury. The tour so far had only included a double bedroom, decorated in warm creams and browns, that she could call her own while she stayed, and this salubrious bathroom. There were two doors into the room, one from the corridor and the other from Solomon's bedroom. He'd warned her to stay out of his room. Would he believe her if she said she got confused? She tugged on the navy blue bathrobe he'd given her and wrapped it around herself, fastening the belt with a big bow. The sleeves dangled past her hands, and the bottom of the robe hit the ground. The fabric had the faint warm musky scent that was uniquely Solomon.
She opened the door and glanced down the hall. No sign of Solomon. As much as she wanted to have a snoop, she also wanted to put some clothes on. No way did she plan to flash her body at Solomon. Even if he had no sense of propriety, she didn't intend to sink to his level. She picked up her pile of dirty clothes and headed out the door that opened into the corridor. Her toes sank into the deep pile of the charcoal gray carpet as she made her way back to the room he'd given her.
Solomon had delivered her suitcase and left it in the middle of the bed. She undid the zip and opened it up. After a quick rummage through what she'd packed she came to the conclusion she should have taken a little more care. Apparently angry Daisy had no sense of fashion or style. Nothing matched, and even worse, she'd forgotten underwear. The bra she could recycle until she got a chance to duck home and grab some more clothes, but she had no intention of doing that with her panties. Men might claim to be able to wear the same pair four days running by turning them inside out and wearing them back to front, but real women wore clean underwear at all times, ready for any situation that may arise. Not that any situation requiring her to be encased in fine silk and lace was likely to come up with her and Paul at loggerheads and in different houses. A few minutes later she was dressed in red track pants, a yellow T-shirt, and a purple sweater. Her feet were bare because four-inch heels really would do nothing to improve the hideous look she was going for.
Her hair was damp so she pulled it back into a ponytail and glanced at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Yep, revolting. She wiggled and tugged at the back of her sweatpants. They must have shrunk in the wash because they were no longer the comfortable lounging about wear they used to be. In fact they were tight in all the wrong places. Now she looked closer she realized they used to be Sherman's before he grew out of them. No wonder they didn't fit. However, they would have to do. They were the only pants she'd packed, and she wasn't going to walk around in a skirt, sans underwear.
Daisy exited her room and wandered the corridor with every intention of making her way downstairs. The house was bigger than it looked from the outside. From the number of doors she passed she guessed it had four bedrooms as well as the bathroom. One of the doors stood ajar, and she nudged it with her foot. It swung open to reveal a room decorated in pale pink. A mural straight from a fairytale covered one wall. The room was furnished with a white bed, matching desk, book shelf, chest of drawers, and full-length mirror. A doll's house was on top of the drawers, and a pink toy box was pushed up against one wall.
Daisy stepped inside the room and smiled. Solomon had a lot of explaining to do, although she had a fair idea who the set up was for. The man of mystery really wasn't who she thought he was. Did Paul know? A book lay face down on the bedside cabinet. Daisy picked it up. The Cat in the Hat. Dr. Seuss. She used to read the same book to Sherman when he was little. She sat on the edge of the bed and flicked through the pages.
*
Solomon turned the heat off under the pan. The house was filled with the delicious spicy aroma of Paul's beef curry. He used to make it when they were in the army. Solomon was transported back to poker night at Johnno Johnson's house. His wife went to her sister's once a month, and Johnno used to open his home up to his army buddies. Paul used to be head chef, Solomon brought the booze, and Johnno invariably lost his shirt. That was where Paul had first told him about Daisy.
He'd just got back in on the late afternoon train from Manchester. For the first time ever Paul had been the one to lose. Every hand. Every game. Paul was completely away with the fairies. When he'd shown Solomon her photo he could see why. Daisy had many failings, but she'd been a pretty girl and had grown into a beautiful woman. Her looks were far from what some would call classical, but the light red hair, upturned nose, and green eyes that could flash with anger, along with an overly generous mouth, made her strangely hypnotic and uniquely Daisy.
Solomon sighed. Paul was a lucky man, or he had been until this mess blew up. Solomon might have no idea about relationships, but he did know Paul would be hurting. There was still no sign of Daisy. She must have slipped in the bath and drowned. He wandered through to the living room. All evidence of his personal life was gone. The most damning photos were now stored in a drawer in his office, and the door to his inner sanctuary was firmly secured. There was nothing for Daisy to find. When she discovered the locked door it would drive her nuts. He grinned.
Solomon took the stairs and stood on the landing, hands on hips. The door to the bathroom stood open, as did the door to the third bedroom. Apparently being miserable didn't prevent Daisy sticking her nose in where it didn't belong. He marched down the corridor and came to a halt in the doorway,
"Daisy?"
She looked up at him and smiled through her tears. "I used to read this to Sherman when he was little. It was his favorite."
Solomon crossed the room and sat next to her. "My ma used to read it to me. No childhood would be complete without Dr. Seuss. I remember her sitting on my bed, her eyes full of fun."
"Do you look like her? Your mam?"
Solomon shook his head. "Not so much."
"Then you must look like your dad?"
"Ma always thought so."
"But you don't?"
"We never met."
"Oh, Solomon. Sorry. That's terrible."
"You can't miss what you never had, Princess."
"Does Molly look like you?"
"Molly?"
"Lisa said it was your turn to have her this weekend. You can't possibly be trying to pretend she doesn't exist."
He gave in with a sigh and tugged his wallet from his back pocket. Once he had it open he pulled out a photograph and handed it to Daisy.
She peered at the color picture and then at him, before holding it up so she could see him and the picture at the same time.
"She's got brown eyes?"
"That she has."
"You and Lisa have blue eyes?"
"That we do." Solomon was no scientist, but the fact the child had dark brown eyes and olive skin when both of her apparent parents were blue-eyed and pale wasn't lost on him. His name was on Molly's birth certificate. He might not be her biological father, but she was his in all the ways that mattered. Every child needed a parent to rely on, and Solomon had gladly taken on that role. The tiny scrap of innocence had stolen his heart the moment he laid eyes on her, and nothing would ever change that.
"She's pretty, but I can't see any resemblance. How old is she?"
"Three. Now are you ready to eat?"
Daisy nodded and handed the picture back. "I would love to meet her. I'm sure Paul would too." She sniffed, and Solomon passed her a tissue from the box next to the bed. "Assuming he ever wants to see either of us again."
"Of course he will. I bet you he'll be over before the night's done."
"Bullshit."
"Want to put your money where your mouth is?"
Daisy chewed her bottom lip, tears clung to her eyelashes. "No. My heart wouldn't be in it."
Solomon wrapped an arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. "Come on, Princess, let's go and eat. I might even regale you with tales from Paul's younger days that you can use against him when he finally comes to his senses."
Daisy smiled. "You two used to be inseparable, didn't you?"
"That we did."
"Anyone would think you were brothers. Why do you get along so well together?"
"You mean how could Paul put up with an arsehole like me? I used to ask myself the same question all the time. Now come on."
He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. As they made their way along the hallway toward the stairs Solomon's phone started to ring. He tugged it from his jeans pocket and glanced at the caller ID.
"It's Dan Maloney."
"Is he calling about Paul? Did something happen to him?" Daisy's fingers bit into his flesh as she gripped his upper arm.