His Two Little Blessings

She blinked up at him as if she didn’t quite follow his train of thought. “Finances for the program?”

“How much is earmarked in the budget for supplies, your salary, things like that,” he clarified as patiently as he could. Sarah had often accused him of assuming that everyone had his affinity for numbers and how certain strategies affected a company’s bottom line, he mused sadly. Apparently, his approach to problem-solving still had some room for improvement.

“Oh, there’s no salary involved,” Emma told him, laughing as if it was absurd for him to think there might be. “I go into the budget hearing every May and beg, praying they’ll find some money to help offset my expenses.”

Rick couldn’t believe what she was telling him. He’d never met anyone who so willingly sacrificed not only their free time but also a chunk of their own money to make sure kids had a fun place to go after school. From her answer, he realized that while the school contributed a share, it didn’t fund the program entirely. That left Emma picking up the rest on a teacher’s salary, which he suspected wasn’t all that much in a small town like Liberty Creek.

“Maybe parents could pay a small fee to help defray the costs.”

Emma firmly shook her head. “Folks around here have a tough enough time making ends meet as it is. I’m afraid if I ask for something like that, their kids won’t be able to come anymore. That would leave some of them going home to an empty house after school, and I can’t stand the thought of that.”

“This isn’t a big city,” he argued sensibly. “It’s not like they’ll get into trouble with a gang or something like that.”

“But it’s lonely,” she argued, compassion deepening the blue of her eyes in an emotion he could almost feel. “To my mind, that’s just as bad for them. I’d rather put in a few extra hours of my time and give them a bright, constructive place to go hang out with their friends than know they’re by themselves, plopped in front of the TV or some video game until their parents get home from work.”

That was the challenge so many modern families faced, Rick knew. As he’d worked his way up the ladder from floor teller to bank management, he’d always known that he was fortunate to be in a business that had allowed Sarah to be a full-time mother, and now enabled him to afford a dedicated nanny and housekeeper. If he had to cope with day care and car pools on top of his demanding job, he wasn’t sure how well it would go. But he was fairly certain that his girls wouldn’t be nearly as secure and happy as they were now.

This was his first opportunity to work as an assistant branch manager, and he wanted to shine in the position. Not so much for himself, but for his sweet girls. While Patriots Bank was a collection of modestly sized regional offices, his boss and mentor had made it clear that his intention was to groom Rick for something more. That meant a spot at one of his larger banks that offered an equally larger salary. Then Caitlin and Aubrey would have a permanent home to grow up in rather than the time-worn rental near the square that he’d been forced to take.

Rick acknowledged that there was no way for him to replace their mother, but he’d do everything in his power to make certain his daughters never wanted for anything he could possibly give them.

“I get that,” he relented, letting go of his usual pragmatism to see things from Emma’s vastly different point of view. “And I think it’s great that you’re willing to do it. I also think you deserve to be compensated for your time.”

“There are more important things in life than money,” she told him. Nodding toward his content daughters, she smiled up at him. “Being a father, you know that better than anyone.”

It wasn’t exactly a scolding, but her gentle reminder hit him harder than if she’d yelled at him for being a coldhearted, capitalistic jerk. He couldn’t recall the last time that he’d paused in his busy schedule long enough to consider what was most important in his life.

Without question, his family came first. But during the past two years, while struggling to cope with the demands of his career and raising two precocious daughters on his own, he’d become more concerned about making it from day-to-day with no major disasters. He adored his girls, and he’d do everything humanly possible to keep them safe and happy in a world that seemed to grow more complicated every year.

In Emma’s quiet conviction, he heard an echo of how he’d felt when he was a new father, overjoyed by the simple pleasures that had governed their time as a family. Coming home from the hospital, crawling, walking, first words—those memories were precious to him. All the more because Sarah had been part of them.

But, as Caitlin liked to remind him on a regular basis, they weren’t babies anymore. At six and four, they were far from being independent, but they didn’t need him for every little thing as they once did. His role in their lives was gradually changing and would continue to evolve until the day he died. His goal was to enjoy every moment of that time to the fullest, but sometimes he lost sight of what that meant.

It didn’t escape him that this lovely artist had been the one to set him straight, and he couldn’t come up with a better way to repay her than to help save the program she’d put so much effort into.

“You’re right,” he agreed, smiling to show her there were no hard feelings. “And I appreciate you pointing that out to me. In return, I’d like to support you at the upcoming board meeting. When is it?”

“This coming Wednesday night. But it’s really not necessary for you to come. I know how busy you must be.”

“Everyone is, but we all make time for the things that matter. If you can stop by the bank tomorrow around three, I’ll take a look at what you have and see if there’s anything I can do to help you make your case for keeping the program a little stronger.”

Emma gave him a long, assessing look, and he got the feeling she was sizing him up. Deciding if she could trust him, maybe. “That sounds good to me. Thank you.”

She added a bright smile, and he found himself returning the gesture with no thought at all. He was no stranger to feminine attention, which was why he kept his wedding band firmly in place. Liberty Creek was a small town, and the last thing he needed was women thinking he was available. As a single dad, he’d gone through that before, and it had always ended badly. While he’d enjoy having someone to spend his scant free time with, he wasn’t about to subject his young daughters—or himself—to the dating scene anytime soon.

So for now he’d keep his wedding ring on and avoid getting into a relationship that would probably end up going nowhere and making a lot of people miserable. It was just simpler that way.

Chapter Two

“You really don’t have to do this,” Emma protested while the Marshalls helped her dismantle her display area. She’d sold most of her stock, and while she wasn’t sure of the final tally in her cash box, she could tell from the weight of it that between sales and donations, she’d done well. “The boys will be coming over to help me when they’re done working for the day.”

“We’re here now, so we can save them a trip. It’s really not a problem,” Rick assured her, setting out some white cushioned boxes for Caitlin and Aubrey to load her extra jewelry into. “Make sure you don’t tangle the chains on those necklaces, Cait. Knots are no fun.”

“My hair got all tangled last week,” she commented with a sour face. “It took Mrs. Fields a long time to get it out.”

“I like braids,” Aubrey informed Emma, holding one out to prove her point.

She was so adorable, Emma couldn’t help laughing. “So do I, especially ones as pretty as yours. Who does them up so nicely for you?”

“Daddy. He’s good at lots of things.”

“Like what?”

“Making waffles, doing Band-Aids, singing,” Aubrey replied, ticking off his admirable skills on her pudgy fingers. “Mostly, he’s good at being Daddy.”

From the corner of her eye, Emma saw him smile while he broke down the table that had held the handmade items she’d been selling. He didn’t say anything, but his expression told her that his daughter’s praise meant a lot to him. From their conversation earlier about him being a numbers guy, she’d gotten the impression that he was the pragmatic type who didn’t get overly sentimental about things.

Seeing this softer side of him made her wonder if she’d misjudged the young widower. Timid by nature, she certainly could relate to why some people chose to keep their feelings under wraps. Considering his profession, he’d probably learned that it was smart to bide his time and carefully assess new situations—and acquaintances—before jumping in with both feet.

Emma’s own experience with the uncertainties of life had taught her to embrace each day and squeeze every ounce of joy from it that was humanly possible. It was tiring sometimes, especially because her health still tended to ebb and flow without much warning. But during all those months of chemo and her challenging recovery, she’d promised herself one thing.

When God finally decided to call her home, she’d go with a peaceful heart, secure in the knowledge that she’d used all the talents He’d given her and had accomplished everything she could have done during her time on earth.

After closing the back door of her hatchback, she turned to her assistants and gave them a smile. “Thanks so much for all your help today. What have you got planned for the rest of this weekend?”

Alternating, the girls rattled off their lists of what they hoped to achieve, including cleaning their room, finishing the puzzle they’d been working on and learning how to make snickerdoodles.

“Why snickerdoodles?” she asked.

“They’re Daddy’s favorite,” Caitlin informed her in a tone that implied the reason should have been obvious to Emma. She nearly laughed, but didn’t want to insult the bright girl by giving the impression that she wasn’t taking the subject seriously.

Instead, she sighed. “That all sounds like a lot of fun. I’ll be doing dishes and laundry, which isn’t nearly as interesting.”

“But very important,” Rick said, giving his darling girls a father-knows-best kind of look. “Work first, right, ladies?”

“Yes, then cookies,” Aubrey agreed, braids bobbing with enthusiasm for the treat that awaited them at the end of the job.

This time Emma couldn’t hold back her laughter, and after a moment he joined her. He’d struck her as a very serious man, and now that she was more familiar with what he had to manage on a daily basis, she completely understood his reserved demeanor. Still, she couldn’t help noticing that his eyes twinkled when he smiled at either of his daughters. It told her that there was a lighter side to his personality, and she hoped that he might feel more comfortable showing it to people as he got to know them better.

Not to her, of course. She was Caitlin’s teacher, which meant considering anything serious with Rick Marshall would be foolish, at best. Beyond that, between her job and ongoing recovery, she had more than enough to handle as it was. Some days she woke up so drained, she could barely drag herself out of bed to face the day ahead of her. The Marshalls had already been through that heart-wrenching territory with Sarah, and she’d never dream of encouraging any sort of relationship that might lead to their family being forced to retrace those agonizing steps.

It was one thing to be optimistic about her condition for her own sake. It was quite another to pull someone else into the uncertainty she faced every day. While she’d love to have a family of her own one day, she’d come to terms with the fact that, at least for a while, she was better off staying single. It was lonely sometimes, but in her heart, she knew it was for the best.

“Before we do any of that,” he said as he fished his car keys from the pocket of his shorts, “we’ll go over to Miss Calhoun’s and help put all of her supplies away.”

“That’s really not necessary,” she objected. “You’ve spent most of the afternoon here, and I’d hate to keep you from your fun any longer.”

He didn’t respond to that as he beeped open the doors of a gray sedan so the girls could climb into their spots in the backseat. Glancing at them, he then turned to Emma. “I know you’re not supposed to say this kind of thing to a lady, but you look totally wiped out. I can’t just take off and leave you here to manage all this stuff by yourself.”

It hadn’t occurred to her that he’d be able to read her physical signs so well, and then she reminded herself that he was all too familiar with the kind of exhaustion that occasionally still came out of nowhere to stop her in her tracks. So, since he clearly had no intention of letting the subject drop, she relented with a smile. “That’s very sweet of you. Thanks.”

“Not a problem.”

His quick smile seemed genuine enough, but she noticed that it didn’t quite reach his eyes. So much sadness, she lamented as she got into her car and started the engine. Sarah Marshall must have been a remarkable woman for him to still love her so much even though she was gone. That kind of loyalty was rare these days, which Emma knew from personal experience. Her last boyfriend had bolted soon after her cancer diagnosis, and while she didn’t blame him, his lack of fortitude had been a tremendous disappointment to her. That Rick had remained strong for his family said a lot about the kind of man he was beneath the expertly pressed shorts and deck shoes.

When they arrived at her house, she pulled into the driveway far enough to allow Rick to park behind her. She got out and looked back to find that there was a ruckus going on in his backseat. She peeked in to find the girls bouncing in place, pointing at the old maple tree that shaded the front yard. She walked back to meet her guests, and he chuckled as Caitlin and Aubrey bolted from the car and made a beeline for the tree. “I think they like your swing.”

“So do I,” she replied, strolling over to join them. The seat was wide enough for them to sit side by side, and she gave them a light push to get them started. “My brothers and I grew up here, and my dad hung a swing from this tree when we were kids. There have been a few more since then, and the last time it needed to be replaced I almost didn’t bother. Sam insisted on hanging a new one for me, to keep the tradition going. Seeing how much your girls like it, I’m glad he did.”

“You’ve always lived here?” Caitlin asked, clearly amazed by the concept.

“Yes. I went away for college, and when I was done, the elementary school’s art teacher was ready to retire. She encouraged me to pursue art when I was young, so it just seemed right to come back here and pick up where she’d left off.”

“That’s so awesome,” the girl approved, glancing at the house and then staring up into the wide branches overhead with a huge grin. “I would’ve done that, too.”

Emma was happy with her decision, but she had to admit that sometimes she wondered what she’d missed by so quickly returning to her tiny hometown. “Oh, I’m sure you’ll have lots of adventures when you’re older. There’s a big, exciting world out there for you to explore.”

“I guess. But it’d be nice to have a house like this to come back to.”

“Did someone paint your windows?” Aubrey asked.

Emma laughed. “Sort of. They’re called stained glass, and it takes a real artist to do them right. My cousin Jordan makes them, and he did them for me as a housewarming gift when I bought the house from my parents a few years ago.”

“Was your house cold?” the adorable cherub asked, forehead puckering in obvious confusion.

At first Emma didn’t understand the question. Then she replayed their exchange in her head and smiled. “A housewarming is when you invite people to see your new home and they bring you presents of things you might need. Like towels or a welcome mat, things like that.”

“And your cousin brought you windows that he made special for you?” When Emma nodded, Aubrey’s eyes widened in appreciation. “That was really nice of him.”

“Yes, it was.”

“Is he your favorite cousin?” Emma nodded again, and the girl said, “My favorite cousin is Gigi. She lives in Vi-ginia. We used to live in Charleston by Grammy and Grampa, but then Daddy got a new job and we moved here.”

Emma glanced over at Rick, who was leaning against the tree, listening to their conversation. When she caught his eye, he gave her a what-can-you-do sort of look, but he didn’t step in to cut off his suddenly chatty daughter. So many people did that to young children, and Emma was pleased to discover that he wasn’t one of them. Kids were openly curious about everything around them, and she’d always hated it when adults tried to maneuver them into behaving more properly.

Quite honestly, she believed that if grown-ups could find a way to be as open-minded as kids were, life would be a lot more fun for everyone.

“And I’m very glad he did,” she told them as she went up the front porch steps of the vintage Craftsman house. “We can always use someone like your dad around here. In Liberty Creek,” she added quickly, to avoid any potential misunderstanding. The Marshall girls were sweet and engaging, but she was well aware that children often repeated things they’d heard without realizing how they might be received when heard out of context. She didn’t want Rick—or anyone else—getting the idea that she personally liked having him around. Considering the Liberty Creek gossip mill, that was the last thing either of them needed.

Pushing open the beautiful original door that Sam had recently refinished for her, she stepped into the living room and motioned them inside. “Come on in.”

The girls pushed past their father and stopped so abruptly, he nearly ran them over. When he’d regained his balance, he looked around with the same awed expression they were wearing.

“Wow,” he murmured, clearly trying to take everything in at once. “This is not at all what I was expecting.”

“I don’t have much use for a living room,” she explained. “What I needed was a studio.”

“And I’d say you have one. This is incredible. Don’t touch anything, girls.”

“Oh, they’re fine,” Emma assured him. “Everything’s dry, and there’s nothing breakable in here. You caught me on a good day—I just cleaned.”

Eyes sparkling in appreciation, Caitlin slowly made her way between easels, pausing to stare at the panoramic landscape that was almost finished. It was so large, it spanned two easels all by itself. Looking up at Emma, she asked, “Is this the town?”

“You have a good eye,” Emma praised her student with a smile. Taking down an aging tintype that was tacked to the upper edge of the canvas, she handed it to Caitlin. “It’s Liberty Creek, but this is how it looked a long time ago. Back when people drove horses and wagons instead of cars, and my grandmother’s bakery was a general store that sold things like fabric, candy, hammers and saddles.”

Rick sauntered over and looked above their heads at the scene. “This is what Liberty Creek Forge looked like back in its heyday?”

“More or less. This piece is a surprise for Brian and Lindsay, so please don’t mention it to either of them. I thought it might look nice hanging in the lobby at the forge.”

“Nice?” he echoed with a chuckle. “I’d say it’ll be the centerpiece. The detail is incredible, right down to the dog sitting on the front landing. It looks just like their Riley, Aussie markings and all. It doesn’t seem like I’m looking at a portrait of something two-dimensional. You have a knack for making it feel like I actually went back in time and am standing right there.”

Emma had been sketching, painting and sculpting her entire life. It was something she’d always done, because she couldn’t not do it. People often admired her work, but to most she was the school’s art teacher. Or Sam and Brian’s little sister, or Ellie’s youngest grandchild. It was one of the drawbacks of never having left home, she supposed. People saw her as the starry-eyed pixie she’d always been, not the capable woman she’d become.

She wasn’t one to cater to her ego, but Rick’s assessment of her talent made her stand up a little straighter, proud to share her work with him.

There were several large frames standing on edge against one wall, and he slowly flipped through them, asking questions about her inspiration for each. One in particular appeared to interest him, and he pulled it free to set it out on its own. To her utter astonishment, he looked over at her and asked, “Is this for sale?”

“For sale?” she squeaked, totally flabbergasted by the idea of it. “You mean, you want to buy it from me?”

“If you’re willing to part with it, then yes. My office at the bank is about the blandest place you’ve ever seen, and I’ve been hunting for artwork to bring in some color. This autumn forest scene would be perfect.”

“It would?” Realizing she sounded like a complete moron, Emma scraped up some dignity and tried to sound more professional. “I’m pleased that you like it so much.”

“How much is it?”

She’d never sold anything this large before. Mostly, the oversize canvases were gifts for family and friends. Or they wound up hanging on her own walls until she ran out of space and carefully wrapped them in brown paper before consigning them to the attic. Completely out of her depth, she fell back on a tactic that she’d learned from her late grandfather when he used to sell his handmade metal items at the area’s many summertime crafts shows. “That depends. How much do you think it’s worth?”

Rick tilted his head in a chiding gesture. “You’re not exactly a hardheaded businesswoman, are you?”

“Not many dreamers are,” she informed him, smarting a bit from the dig.

Judging by the sudden shift in his features, he’d picked up on her annoyance. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to insult you. As far as I’m concerned, your approach is a refreshing change from the money-first people I deal with every day.”

“Oh. Well, then, apology accepted.”

When she named a price that seemed reasonable to her, he shook his head. “You’re selling yourself way too short. A one-of-a-kind piece this size, of this quality, is worth twice that much at any art gallery in New England.”

Emma’s jaw fell open in astonishment. “Seriously? I had no idea.”

“I can see that,” he commented, adding a smile that made her feel slightly less naive. Setting the frame carefully against the wall, he pulled out his wallet and fingered through the contents before handing her several bills. “Will this be enough to hold it until I can come back with the rest and pick it up?”

It was more money than she’d ever made in an afternoon, and she tried not to stammer. “Of course. Would you like to have it framed?”

“You do that, too?”

“Well, Sam makes them custom for me. He’s the carpenter in the family.”

“That’s right—I’ve seen his craftsmanship over at the forge. When I was admiring the repaired vintage woodwork he recently installed there, Brian told me that there’s nothing Sam can’t build or fix.”

Her oldest brother had been through a lot since leaving the army, and Rick’s admiration of his skills made her smile. “Very true. If you get in touch with him and tell him what style of frame you’d like, I’m sure he’d be happy to take care of it for you.”

“Sounds good.” Flashing her a quick smile, he said, “Girls, let’s help Miss Calhoun unload her car and then head home. We’ve still got things to get done today.”

In a matter of minutes, all of her crafts show supplies were stowed in the enclosed side porch she’d converted into her storage space, and she was waving goodbye to the Marshalls. When she was alone, she strolled into the living room and stared thoughtfully at the large painting she’d somehow managed to sell without even trying. A teacher’s salary didn’t go very far when you were maintaining your own house and still paying off a car and college loans, so the extra cash would be a welcome addition to her modest bank account.

This month it would be easier to pay her bills, and she might even be able to put a little bit away for a future rainy day. They always seemed to pop up at the worst times, like when the aging chimney had started leaking into the living room and needed repair in the middle of a frigid, snowy January.