The Misdelivered Secret Between Arthur and the Girl Next Door

next day, Kayla brought her father.

Tom Morris filled my doorway with worry.

He had the same kind eyes he used at the diner, but the smile was gone.

His mustache drooped.

His baseball cap twisted in both hands.

“Mr. Whitaker,” he said, “I don’t know how to thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet.”

Linda came too.

Small woman.

Strong hands.

The kind of woman who could continue reading …