This was a place where she could let her eyes roam and her mind wander, let the responsibilities sitting on her twenty-three-year-old shoulders melt away for an hour or two.
High above the city, she could dream silly dreams, imagine herself falling in love with the perfect man - a man who would be the father Lindsey so desperately wanted, who would love her as deeply as Millie did. The three of them would be a family, and live in a stately old Victorian house in the Queen Anne neighborhood that draped across the tallest of Seattle's seven hills. And Lindsey would have a tree house with a bird's-eye view of the ferries scurrying in and out of Elliott Bay and the ocean-going freighters resting at anchor farther out in Puget Sound.
Adventure, possibilities, new worlds. They were only wishes right now, but maybe someday ...
"Mimi, I can see the whole world!"
Millie smiled down at her five-year-old sister. Lind-sey's blond hair was a riot of curls, much like her own, and the absolute love she felt every time she looked at the sweet, energetic, happy child made her realize that she was pretty darn lucky. Lindsey had called her Mimi ever since she'd learned to talk and couldn't quite get her tongue wrapped around the L's. The name sounded enough like Mommy that most people assumed Lindsey was her child. She rarely corrected the assumption anymore.
Because Millie was the only mother Lindsey remembered.
"You say that every time we come here, sweetie."
"So do you. Can we go to the kids' museum next? And we could take off our shoes and play in the fountain."
Millie passed a hand over Lindsey's soft curls. "It's only March, kiddo. It's still way too cold to stick our feet in the water. And we'll have to save the museum for another time."
"Aw, Mimi."
With her hand on Lindsey's shoulder, Millie urged her forward. "I have to work this afternoon. You know that."
"Hy knows how to make lattes."
"Yeah, but nobody makes a double-chocolate skinny foam like I do." She shook her head and grinned.
"There'd be a mutiny. And after work there's the bridal shower for Hannah, remember?"
Lindsey nodded, but deliberately looked away from the closed doors of the gold-and-glass elevator that would shoot them five hundred and twenty feet down to ground level in a matter of seconds. Millie understood Lindsey's reluctance to end their special time together. It was rare for Millie to have a free morning. Any other day she'd be working at Forrester Square Day Care preparing fresh lunches and snacks for the children before she started her shift at Caffeine Hy's.
"How come the mountains have snow on them?"
"Because they're very tall and it's cold up there."
"Can you teach me to ski, Mimi?"
"Yes." Unexpected tears burned the backs of her eyes as she punched the button to call the elevator. "Next year. I promise."
Every once in a while, the ache of missing her parents sneaked up on her. She remembered how stunned - and then excited Cleve and Selma Gallagher had been when they'd found out they were expecting Lindsey, a late-in-life baby. Millie, too, had been thrilled.
Her parents had been wonderful people, and they'd made sure Millie's childhood was full of new experiences, that she always knew she was loved, and looked after, and safe. A senseless automobile accident had cheated Lindsey out of knowing Mom and Pop and feeling that security.
But Millie was determined that Lindsey would have the same advantages that she'd had - the childhood memories that stuck with you forever, the friends, parties, dance lessons, field trips and vacations.
Although she worked three jobs to make ends meet, Millie counted her blessings. They had a roof over their heads and enough money in the bank to take care of their needs. Her dream of someday opening a catering business seemed unattainable just now, but she wasn't a person to ever give up hope.
"Hi!" Lindsey chirped. "What's your name?"
Caught daydreaming again, Millie glanced down to see who Lindsey was talking to. It was sometimes frightening how friendly her little sister was.
A boy, taller than Lindsey, but looking pretty close in age, stood with his hands in the pockets of his nicely creased slacks. His shirt was buttoned to the neck, his kid-size bomber jacket was pure leather, and his dark hair was neat and trimmed. Mighty dressed up for a little guy.
"Sam," the child said, his dark brown eyes darting behind him, then at one of the game stations on the Space Needle's O deck. "Did you play any of the games?" He spoke as properly as he was dressed.
Lindsey rolled her eyes. "Of course. We come here all the time. You want to play? I'll show you. We could do the one about the candy bars."
"Lindsey," Millie interrupted. "We really have to go." She glanced around, wondering where this child's parents were. "You're not lost, are you, Sam?"
"No." Clearly indignant, he puffed out his chest, and Millie struggled not to smile. Still, she didn't like to see a small child alone.
"Silly question," she agreed for the sake of his pride, yet alert for a frantic mother who'd lost track of her kid.
"I'm sure your mom and dad are here with you."
"My mother died when I was five. I am six now."
"Oh, Sam." Millie dropped to one knee in front of the little boy. She was a nurturer - couldn't help it and didn't want to change. "That's very sad. I lost my mom, too."
He frowned. "Why do you not find her?"
She smiled. His speech was so grown-up. "Not lost as in playing. She died, too. Are you here with your father, then?"
"Yes. He is talking business on his telephone." Sam gestured with his head, his dark, silky hair shifting, then falling right back into place. "He does that a lot. He is a very important man. But I saw this cool tower when we flew into Seattle, and Father promised we could come."
Millie smiled. Little Sam was loosening up a bit. "Yeah, the Space Needle's pretty cool," she echoed.
Lindsey slipped her arm around Sam. For a moment he seemed startled, as though he wasn't used to affectionate displays.
"Don't be sad about your mom," Lindsey said. "We could go get some candy bars. They got 'em over there at the coffee place. We could stack 'em up and pretend -" She glanced at Millie. "How many candy bars tall are we, Mimi?"
(Continues...)
Excerpted from Too Good To Refuse by Mindy Neff Copyright © 2004 by Harlequin Enterprises, Ltd.. Excerpted by permission.
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