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Jessica’s heart galloped. He was suggesting all she wanted. A job, a place to stay, another chance. “I have no qualifications for the job.”
“You like kids.”
“I love them, Sheriff.”
“Sam,” he corrected. “And my girls like you. Look, I’m a widower, so like I said, we need a live-in.”
She wanted to search his eyes for grief, but he looked away to check on his daughters. When he looked back, she saw curiosity in his eyes. “You’re not married or—”
“I’m not,” she cut in before he could finish. Inwardly she tensed. What else would he ask? “But I have worked with children from disadvantaged homes,” she said, hoping a little information would keep him from asking questions she didn’t want to answer. “It wasn’t a job. Volunteer work,” she added.
His eyes sharpened, filled with questions, but he steered the conversation down a different path. “Herb said good things about you.”
“How could he?” She couldn’t help but laugh as she thought of how often she’d goofed. “I nearly broke all of his dishes.”
“He said that, but he also said you were honest, never touched others’ tips.”
Honest. Tension clenched her stomach. “Did he say anything else?” Like her name was really Walker.
“Don’t frown. He said nothing bad. He told me you were a good employee. Willing to help. Friendly to everyone.”
She blushed. “That was nice of him.”
“Those are good reasons to hire someone.”
This couldn’t be so easy. She glanced toward the girls who were standing by the bench. Would he really hire her based on a few things someone said about her?
“It’s been difficult finding a nanny who works well with us,” he said suddenly.
Now that made no sense to her. She spoke her thoughts. “Why? Your daughters are adorable.”
“I think so. I’m glad you do. I’d prefer to hire someone who sees all of my daughters’ fine qualities, and not their faults.” The laughter in his voice died with his next words. “But I should explain. We lost the first nanny because Annie was missing her mommy and wanted no substitute of any kind. The next nanny failed to pass Casey’s test.”
“Her test?”
“Casey’s her own person. Some people don’t understand that. One nanny called my youngest weird. The one who worked for me before Arlene was annoyed that I came home so late. No explanation mattered. She didn’t want to hear one. I’m a sheriff. Sometimes I can’t leave. She didn’t understand. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No.” She wanted to hug him for solving her problems. “But I have to be fair. If I get the job, it would only be temporary. I can’t stay for long.” She expected questions now, and worried he would consider that a good reason not to hire her. “I want the job,” she added on a rush. “I need the job.” Slowly he grinned and Jessica saw then why he really had a reputation for curling toes. A rush of warmth swept through her.
“And we need you.”
How could everything be so wrong one minute and so right the next? she wondered.
He braced a shoulder against the opened folding door. “Want to know anything about me, about us?”
Cory and several other servers had informed her about one of Thunder Lake’s most eligible males. He was honest and hardworking, and would do anything for his daughters. He was also considered a real catch by most single women in town. They’d claimed he was fair and compassionate. He was well-liked, well-respected, but could be tough when necessary.
And he was brave, Cory had assured her, then had gone on to tell a story about how he’d single-handedly brought in an escaped convict who’d been hiding in an abandoned farmhouse outside of town. “I already know all about you.” She felt a blush sweep over her face. When had she become such a motormouth?
He made no comment about what she’d said, but a smile twitched up the corners of his lips. “Give me an hour to delegate a few jobs to my deputy, then I’ll meet you at my house, show you your room and you can settle in.” He withdrew a pad of paper from his front shirt pocket, yanked a sheet of paper from it. Using the frame of the phone booth for a writing surface, he scribbled down the address.
Peripherally Jessica saw the girls inching closer.
So had he. He paused in writing. “She said yes.”
“She said yes!” Annie repeated.
Displaying typical four-year-old exuberance, Casey jumped up and down. “Yippee!”
“As you can see, they’re happy.” He handed her the paper with the address. “On their behalf, thank you.”
Jessica felt as if she should be saying that. She stepped out of the booth, dropped the coins for the phone call back in her shoulder bag and watched him slip his hand around Casey’s.
Over her shoulder, Casey looked back and waved.
Annie gave a look back, too, and sent Jessica one of her hundred-watt smiles.
In that second, she knew that she didn’t want to lose this job. She almost felt guilty about getting paid for it. She read the address first, then pocketed the paper.
All seemed perfect, but she’d need different clothes, wouldn’t she? She’d never fool him if she wore designer T-shirts and jeans. She crossed the street to browse through a thrift shop. Lucky for her it was open this one evening of the week. Using part of the thirty-three dollars and seventy-five cents that she’d collected in lunch and dinner tips, she purchased several T-shirts and another pair of jeans.
She stuffed the new items into her suitcase, then started walking toward his house. She’d been so thrilled to get a job that nothing else had mattered. She hadn’t asked what he would expect her to do. She’d assumed she would watch the girls. Would he want her to do more? Housekeeping? Oh, how difficult could it be to run a vacuum cleaner? Sounds good, she mused. Keep convincing yourself you can handle this. All she’d have to do is learn which buttons to push on the dishwasher and washing machine, how hard could that be?
Three blocks away from the town’s business district, she turned down a street of huge pines and silver oaks. Unlike the ranch-style homes near the edge of the town, the sheriff and his daughters lived in a house reminiscent of a 19th-century farmhouse with two French-pane windows upstairs, and four on the first floor. It was painted brownish-red with a white door and white trim around the windows. A cobblestone walkway led to the three front steps and the front door. Several huge pines shaded the house from the late afternoon sun.
Jessica leaned against the white wood railing to wait. It wasn’t long. Within minutes, a vehicle zipped around the corner and pulled onto the driveway.
“Jesse, Jesse,” Casey yelled when she opened the vehicle’s door. Wearing a baseball cap, khaki pants, a blue-and-white striped top, and sneakers, she bounded toward the house. Jessica smiled at the wallet-sized, red shoulder bag hanging from Casey’s shoulder. She’d definitely set her own style.
“We hurried home,” Annie informed her, coming in second in the race with Casey. “We’d have been here sooner, but Daddy had to give Humphrey a ride home. He’s Mrs. Olsen’s dog.”
Sam strolled up, shaking his head. “If you let her, she’ll tell you about every person in town.”
“Daddy says I like to talk.” All innocence, Annie grinned up at him. “Don’t you, Daddy?”
His knuckles stroked her cheek lovingly. “I hope you haven’t been waiting here too long.”
“Hardly at all,” Jessica assured him.
“Good.” Sam stepped up to the door. “Let’s go in.”
The front door opened to a short foyer and the staircase to the second floor. To her right was the living room with a comfy-looking sofa in a deep blue color and several chairs in a blue-and-maroon pattern.
“It needs a little picking up.” He skirted the coffee table to snatch up the newspaper that was strewn across the sofa cushions, then gestured to his right. “The kitchen is this way.”
Jessica nodded and traced his steps through a formal dining room with a highly polished cherrywood table and chairs and a breakfront. A collection of china cups, a crystal decanter and wineglasses occupied the shelves. A few steps behind him, she entered the kitchen to see him plugging in the coffee brewer.
Done in oak, the kitchen was a large, sunny room, the result of French doors that led to the backyard. A round oak table and cane chairs rested on a multi-colored braided rug.
“I’ll show you your room,” Annie volunteered.
“I will,” Casey insisted.
Sam ran interference. “You both can.”
Together they went upstairs. Feeling a touch uneasy in her new surroundings, Jessica hoped that once she could call someplace home, even temporarily, she’d begin to relax.
Casey’s chattering about her favorite cartoon movie, the one about ants, helped. Noticing her small hand’s possessive hold on the purse, Jessica assumed it was a treasured item. “I like your purse.”
“She carries it everywhere,” Annie said from behind them.
A little huffily, Casey raised her chin. “I like it.”
Jessica sensed the start of an argument. “Will you show me your rooms first?” she asked to sidetrack them from their dispute.
At the landing, Annie pointed to her left. “My room is that way.” Eagerly she steered her toward a feminine room done in purple and white with a white canopy bed and a collection of dolls at center stage on shelves lining one wall.
Casey’s room contained the usual four-year-old toys, but it was done in mostly green, and a giant picture of a black-and-yellow butterfly adorned one wall. A baseball mitt and cap were tossed in a corner of oversized pillows, and propped nearby was an oversized stuffed animal, a green ant.
“Do you like mine?” Casey asked.
She chose an answer that would prevent hurt feelings. “I like both of them.” A hand on their backs, she urged them into the hallway. Noticing Sam waiting by a door halfway down the hall, she hurried there.
He opened the door for her, and flicked on a wall switch. “Everything was redecorated by Trudy after Christina, my wife, died.”
Jessica stepped in. Had he sought change to forget what had been?
“If you knew Trudy, you’d be amazed how well it looks. Everything is so normal-looking.”
“I met Trudy,” she said, taking in the room. It was homey and clean-looking with a mahogany chest of drawers, and a small, mahogany writing desk. Near the window was a pale wood and hunter-green chair. A print of a Monet adorned the wall above the bed with its white bedskirt and a green, white and pink basket quilt. “She said that she worked for you. Is she the one who makes coffee that tastes like motor oil?”
A laugh clung to his voice. “She’s the one.”
“She takes a personal interest in you.”
Sam groaned and sent her a knowing look. “Did she ask you if your intentions were honorable about me?”
He knew the woman well. “Sort of.”
“She figures she has a right since she’s family. Christina’s aunt.”
Jessica matched his smile. “The room is lovely.”
“I’m glad you like it.” His lips curved in a pleased smile. “After you get settled, come downstairs. I’ll give you coffee.”
“I’ll come now.” Jessica trailed him out of the room. “I don’t have much to unpack.”
On her way to the kitchen, she scanned rooms, noted photographs of the girls, a piano in the corner of the living room, shelves of books, mostly mysteries. The house was cozy, welcoming.
In the kitchen, she spotted a small plant on the kitchen windowsill. School papers held with magnets clung to the refrigerator. “Annie got a gold star,” she said about one of the papers.
“She works hard for them.” His back to her, he removed two blue mugs from a mug tree. “She’s a good student.”
“I’d have guessed that.”
“Sometimes she’s six going on thirty,” he said while pouring their coffee. “She has been more affected by all the different nannies than Casey. But like I said, it’s hard finding someone. What we need most is someone who’ll stick around.”
Jessica quickly reminded him, “I explained that I’d only take this job for a little while.”
“I know. I appreciate your honesty.”
His words made her cringe. She wasn’t honest, not at all. And though she wasn’t sure how long she’d stay, she knew she couldn’t offer the girls the stability he was looking for in their nanny. Actually she had no definite plans and had given her future little thought. She’d hoped her leaving home would make her mother and grandfather believe that she was serious about not marrying Ryan Noble. She’d believed if they really cared about her, then they’d want her happy.
“Want milk or sugar?”
She shook her head. Until she was sure her family understood she meant business, she needed the job. But she realized how unfair that was to Sam and the girls. “I’ll try to stay until the end of May. Would that help you?” A month or so was the best she could give him.
“It might.” He handed her one of the mugs. “By then, some of the college kids will be home for the summer.” Cautiously he sipped his coffee. “Have you had dinner?”
His question sparked one of her own. “Do you want me to cook? Will that be part of my job?”
While she stayed by the table, he braced his backside against the kitchen counter. “I’d hoped—do you cook?”
She loved to, but at home her mother would have been aghast if she spent even a few hours in the kitchen. “Yes. Do you?”
He pulled a face. “Grudgingly. If you haven’t eaten, you’re welcome to dig in and have whatever you want.”
She wandered to the windowsill, stared at the pot of soil and the little sprout. “I’m not really hungry,” she answered, but she eyed an apple and a banana in a wicker basket of fruit in the center of the table. “Do I have other duties?”
“What about cleaning and laundry? Will you do them?”
Of course he’d suggest that. She’d told Herb that she’d done “this and that, been a sales clerk, an elderly woman’s companion, a maid.”
“If you don’t want to, it’s all right, Jess.”
She liked the way he’d said her name—smooth, easy and with a friendliness that bordered on affectionate.
“But—” A wry smile curved his mouth. “It would help me a lot. I can’t be a good daddy, a good sheriff and handle those jobs, too.” Jessica heard a trace of guilt in his voice, and quickly concluded he wouldn’t have felt that if he wasn’t so loving, so caring. “I need help. And you’re it.”
Poor man. He had no idea that he was about to rely on someone who had no idea how to operate a washing machine, a vacuum cleaner or a dishwasher. She wasn’t dumb, she had degrees in anthropology and medieval history, but just no practical life experience. “I’ll do whatever I can to make things easier for you.” She hadn’t exactly lied. She would try. That didn’t mean she would succeed.
“I’m usually home at the girls’ bedtime.”
“When is that?”
He grimaced as if uncomfortable with his answer. “When I get home. Schedules aren’t set in stone around here. Anyway I don’t want to get off on the wrong foot, but I might as well get this out in the open now. I hired one nanny who tried to take over. The girls are mine. I raise them.”
Jessica couldn’t find fault with his responsible attitude toward his daughters. “It seems you’ve done a great job.”
