Since a visit with her wasn’t on his agenda for tonight, he ought to hustle inside and shut the door.

But his feet refused to budge.

And sure enough, as she approached his unit, she slowed.

Best to ignore her if he didn’t want to engage.

Instead, he lifted a hand in greeting.

Well, crud.

What was wrong with him tonight?

The car inched along . . . then swung into a spot at the end of his walkway. A few seconds later Christi got out—but she stayed by the door.

“Hi.” Her tone was tentative.

“Evening. What brings you to our neck of the woods?”

“My boss lives down there. You know—Beth Adams. I’ve been bringing her dinner from the Myrtle and picking up her mail since she had her knee replaced.”

Christi had been coming here on a mission of mercy every night?

One more chink fell out of the wall he’d created around his heart.

“I didn’t know about her knee replacement.”

“I don’t think she wanted it announced in the Herald, but she told the people who needed to know.”

Did that include Steve?

None of his business.

Another yawn snuck up on him, and he clapped a hand over his mouth. “Sorry.”

“I expect you’ve had your hands full adjusting to the new normal.”

Had compassion softened her features as she spoke—or was his imagination putting in overtime in the fading light?

“That would be a fair—”

A muffled cry came through the open window, and he eased back. Motioned toward the door. “Sorry. I have to go in.”

Frowning, she took a step toward him. “What’s wrong?”

“Hannah’s been having bad dreams. Too much upheaval thrust upon her all at once, I guess.” He reached for the door handle. “But I didn’t see any point in waiting to take her. Her aunt was a virtual stranger too—and she had to begin traveling again for her job. That meant Hannah would have been left in the care of total strangers for days on end. I didn’t think it was in her best interest to let her adjust to that routine and then upend her world again by bringing her out here.”

Thankfully the family court judge had agreed with that rationale and had fast-tracked the paperwork terminating Erica’s guardianship and giving him custody—and authority to take Hannah to Oregon—while he waited for the final order naming him father to wend its way through the court.

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

He hesitated.

So far nothing he’d tried had comforted his daughter during her bad dreams. It was possible Christi would have more luck. The two of them had clicked the night of the sweater disaster.

“Any assistance would be appreciated.” He held the door for her, and she edged past him—but waited to let him take the lead down the hall.