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to expect. I would hope that any child of mine would be as accomplished as you are and as intelligent. And might I add, as beautiful,” he said softly, making her cheeks warm at his compliment. “That’s what any father would dream of. But I . . .” He hesitated. “I wondered if your mother would encourage such things, or if she would—”
    â€œFocus more on catching a rich husband and popping out babies?” Dawn said, finishing the sentence for him. She took a bite of her scone.
    He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “I don’t wish to insult your mother, Dawn. That isn’t why I’m here.”
    Too late, she thought flippantly as she chewed. Though the truth was, her father wasn’t far from the mark on this one. Yolanda Gibbons considered lessons on how to ensnare a wealthy man as important as any algebra class Dawn had taken. She expected the same level of excellence in both endeavors.
    â€œHow is your mother, by the way?” he asked.
    She appreciated his attempt to be polite. “She’s fine . . . very busy, actually. She’s getting married in a few months.”
    Her father gaped. “Married? Again? ”
    Dawn nodded.
    â€œWhen I met her, she had already been married twice.”
    â€œOh, she’s had a few more since then. This will be her fifth . . . no . . .” Dawn paused, closed her eyes and counted off the long list of her mother’s ex-husbands. “I think this is her sixth husband.”
    â€œ Sixth husband?”
    â€œDon’t look so shocked,” Dawn quipped as she sipped her orange-scented herbal tea. “It happens. I’ve been married twice myself.”
    â€œTwice?” She could see him struggling to control his features, struggling not to judge her. “Well, perhaps number three will be Mr. Right.”
    Dawn shook her head and chuckled, setting down her teacup. “I highly doubt that.”
    â€œWhy?”
    â€œBecause I don’t believe there is such a thing as Mr. Right, and frankly I don’t have time to find out. I certainly don’t have time for a third husband.”
    When it looked like her father was about to mount an argument in reply, she held up her hand. “Anyway, enough about me and my love life. Tell me something about yourself, Herb. I’d like to know more about the man who made me.”
    â€œWhat would you like to know?”
    â€œWhere did you grow up, for one? What were my grandparents like? What were you like as a teenager? Are you married? Do I have brothers and sisters?”
    He smiled. “Well, I’ve been married for thirty-one years to a lovely woman. Her name is Raquel. We have a daughter named Constance.”
    Constance and Raquel . . . Dawn didn’t like the sound of those names. They sounded better fit for the villains in soap operas than extended family that she might meet in the future.
    â€œWhat are they like?”
    â€œOh, Raquel is wonderful, just wonderful! When I met her at a country club thirty-two years ago, I knew she was the woman for me. She used to be a television correspondent before she retired. She’s very poised, yet very direct. Constance didn’t fall far from the tree. She’s a beautiful, delightful girl.” He laughed. “I’m afraid I spoil my Connie mercilessly. I have since she was little. But I love to give to the ones that I love, and she’s my only child, so . . .”
    Dawn flinched. Her father paused at her reaction, suddenly realizing what he had said. He looked horrified.
    â€œI’m so sorry, Dawn!” He reached across the small bistro table and placed his wrinkled, dry hand on top of one of hers. “Sweetheart, I didn’t mean that. I know I have two daughters. I really meant—”
    â€œThat’s all right, Herb.” She shook her head and pulled her hand away. “I get it.”
    She got that she had been pushed to the back of his mind for the