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Leah smiled and settled comfortably into the chair. “I’m ready.”
There was no point. What he needed to do was tell Leah Paxson—politely—that he couldn’t hire her, call Mrs. Wallace and ask her—politely—what in the world she’d been thinking, and start back at square one. His gaze drifted to the photo of Olivia and Nanny Baker again, then back to the young woman who sat across from him. She was too young. Too unconventional. Too…pretty. He ruthlessly squashed that wayward thought. But there was something about her…
“Why do I get the feeling, Miss Paxson, that if I tear up this piece of paper, somehow it’s going to piece itself together again and you’ll be back here tomorrow?”
“Mmm.” Leah seemed to consider the notion and he caught a glimpse of a dimple in her left cheek as a slow smile drew up the corners of her lips and warmed her eyes. “Let me guess. You want someone firm, respectable and no-nonsense. Isn’t that right, Mr. Banks?”
She’d seen Mary Poppins, too. And not just once, if she’d caught on that fast. It happened to be one of Olivia’s favorite movies and he had half the lines memorized. And, thanks to a case of the chicken pox when Olivia was two, the lyrics of every song.
“Exactly so.” His imitation of a British accent was so terrible he could tell Leah Paxson was trying not to laugh. He gave in with a sigh and looked down at Olivia’s list. “Are you friendly?”
“I am friendly. But very strict,” Leah said promptly.
“Really?” Somehow, he found that difficult to believe. Maybe it was the boots. “Read books?”
Leah nodded. “And play games…all sorts.”
Ben felt his lips twitch. “Allergic to animals?”
“Not a bit.”
“When you go to the park, do the swings make you sick?”
“The swings, no.” Leah leaned forward. “But I hate the slide. I’m afraid of heights. Do you think that’s going to count against me?”
“I think that evens it out. Can you, and I quote, ‘make macaroni and cheese not from a box?’”
“Blindfolded with one hand tied behind my back.”
Suddenly, he had a visual of Leah Paxson’s face as she moved around the kitchen, with only her pert nose and softly curved mouth showing underneath a blindfold. His office felt warm and he cleared his throat. “Do you have Rollerblades or can you borrow some?”
“I’m willing to give it a try. But not without elbow and knee pads and a federally approved helmet.”
Now he did smile.
“Crabby in the morning before you drink coffee?”
“I only drink herbal tea,” Leah said, “unless someone happens to offer me a cappuccino with whipped cream and sprinkles. And I’m never crabby.”
Somehow, Ben knew that the words he was about to say were going to change his peaceful, quiet home. Maybe forever. “Would you agree to a trial period, Miss Paxson?”
Chapter Two
When the door had opened, Leah was sure of two things. She was sure that Ben Cavanaugh was a man who didn’t smile very often, and she was sure it would be divine intervention if she was offered the position.
She was right on both counts.
What she hadn’t been prepared for was the fact that Ben Cavanaugh was going to be so—just admit it, Leah—so attractive. The fact that he’d been getting ready to terminate her, which at less than sixty seconds may have set a record for the shortest employment term in history, didn’t lessen the impact his serious brown-eyed gaze had on her. Then, just when she knew she’d be back in Mrs. Wallace’s office by noon, still jobless, he’d stumbled on the note from his daughter and his expression had softened.
Up to that point, she would have guessed he was a perfectionist who didn’t allow room for error. The kind of man who made sure the people in his life had been carefully mitered to fit there. Then he’d totally blown her theory by showing an unexpected—and humorous—knowledge of Mary Poppins. Which just happened to be one of her favorite movies.
“Miss Paxson? Would a month’s trial period be agreeable to you?” Ben prompted.
“That would be fine.” She noticed that the humor had faded from his eyes. He already looked like he regretted his decision.
“Why don’t you come by this evening to meet Olivia,” Ben suggested, his tone once again distant and professional. “If you can start tomorrow, I’ll arrange for your things to be moved over.”
Leah thought of the meager possessions she had in her apartment. “Tender Care has always arranged those details for me,” she told him, even as she silently admitted that it was her pride that didn’t want him to know how little she actually owned.
She watched as Ben, still obviously lost in thought, picked up a photo on his desk, framed with painted craft sticks.
“Is that a picture of Olivia?” Leah leaned forward in anticipation as Ben handed her the photograph….
And felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach.
The little girl grinning at her from the photo looked achingly familiar. From the soft, wispy autumn curls to the wide, velvety brown eyes, the girl in the photo was a seven-year-old replica of Leah’s mother, Sara Paxson, when she’d been a child.
“She’s beautiful,” Leah stammered, realizing that Ben was waiting for her to say something. “She looks like you.”
It was only half-true. Olivia Cavanaugh may have inherited her father’s coloring, but the heart-shaped face that gave her an almost pixieish look had come from someone else. Leah continued to stare at the photo, mesmerized.
“You aren’t the first person to say that,” Ben said slowly. “But my wife, Julia, and I adopted Olivia right after she was born.”
Leah swallowed. Hard. It had to be a coincidence. A coincidence that Olivia Cavanaugh looked so much like the pictures taken of her mother when she was a little girl.
“We adopted her from Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency,” Ben continued. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”
Leah tried to maintain her composure even as an energy-draining numbness began to seep into every pore. Of course she’d heard of Tiny Blessings. When she’d gotten pregnant at sixteen, she’d made a sacrifice that had ripped out her heart, while at the same time it had given her child what she’d never had—two loving parents. And Tiny Blessings had placed her child with those loving parents.
Concentrate, Leah, she told herself. The photo started to get fuzzy and she blinked, focusing on the colorful plastic lei around Olivia’s neck and the jeweled tiara on her head. “Was this taken at her birthday party?”
“Yes.” Ben had a distracted, faraway look in his eyes. Leah could see the pain that shadowed them and somehow knew he was remembering his wife. “Olivia turned seven in May.”
Now her mouth was completely dry. “May?”
He nodded. “May fifth.”
Leah laced her fingers together to keep them from shaking. It didn’t work. Fine tremors began to course through her body. She prayed that Ben wouldn’t notice.
“I don’t want to cut our interview short, Miss Paxson.” Ben rose to his feet, signaling the fact that he was about to do just that. “When you come over tonight to meet Olivia, we can talk specifics about your job. That way there will be no surprises for either of us.”
From his tone, it was obvious that he didn’t like surprises. Leah rose to her feet, resisting the urge to wipe her damp hands on her cargo pants. “That will be fine.”
“Miss Paxson?” Ben looked slightly uncomfortable.
Leah waited, her breath catching in her throat. Maybe he’d already changed his mind…
“Is what you’re wearing, ah, the standard issue uniform for all the nannies at Tender Care?” He was staring down at her boots.
“Of course,” Leah said, her sense of humor surfacing despite her agitation. It was one of the things that she’d learned over the years—to look for the joy in every situation. She deliberately widened her eyes. “You mean Mrs. Baker didn’t wear hers?”
Ben stared at her. She knew he was intelligent, but somewhere along the way his sense of humor had definitely slipped its track.
“That was a joke, Mr. Cavanaugh.”
“Oh.” He forced a smile.
“This is my confidence outfit.” He was still looking rather uncertain, so Leah realized she needed to explain. “Last summer I lived with a family whose oldest daughter was thirteen and very shy. I encouraged her to try out for a summer play at the high school and we went shopping before the tryouts for a confidence outfit. She let me pick it out. When the time came for me to leave and I had to interview with a new family, Christine took me shopping. Only that time, she picked out my confidence outfit. I promised her I’d wear it every time I had a new interview.”
“So the boots…”
“You’ll never see them again.” The truth was she loved them. But if she had to choose between her favorite footwear and the chance to meet Olivia Cavanaugh, the boots would be banished to the back of the closet.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with them,” he said quickly. Too quickly.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Cavanaugh?” She really needed to find a quiet place to fall apart. At least she’d just discovered a hidden benefit of her boots—they prevented her ankles from shaking. “Did you want to check my umbrella to make sure there’s not a talking parrot on the end of it?”
At the look on Ben Cavanaugh’s face, Leah wished she had a rewind button on her lips. People told her she had a rather offbeat sense of humor and even though Ben had started the whole Mary Poppins thing to begin with…
“A joke, right, Miss Paxson?” he ventured quietly.
She nodded, not trusting herself to say another word.
“We’ll see you tonight.”
She ducked toward the door.
“Miss Paxson?”
Leah paused.
“Bring your umbrella.”
Ben knew the exact moment when Leah’s honeydew-on-wheels pulled into the driveway. Olivia, who had had her face pressed to the window for almost an hour, gave an excited shriek.
“Daddy, she’s here! Miss Paxson is here!”
He plucked the dishcloth off his shoulder, triple-folded it and hung it over the sink. “You can let her…”
The front door slammed.
“In.”
He shook his head, realizing that his concern over Olivia accepting a new nanny had been wasted energy. From the time he’d picked her up from school she’d asked him a million questions about Leah. Then changed the order and asked them all again.
While he made supper, she’d taken it upon herself to dust Leah’s room, even though no dust had dared to settle there while Nanny Baker occupied it. Olivia had even put some of her favorite stuffed animals on the bed as a welcoming committee.
He knew he should be relieved that Olivia wasn’t grieving over Nanny Baker’s departure but he still felt a bit uneasy. Especially since Leah Paxson was only with them on a trial basis.
He still thought she was too young. And too unconventional. And too…he clamped down hard on the next thought before it could surface again.
Nanny Baker had fit smoothly into their lives. The evenings in his home were generally quiet and orderly. By the time he got home from work, Olivia and Nanny had already eaten supper. Olivia had her bath while he watched the news or read the paper. Then, he helped Olivia with her homework. Nanny Baker read to her. He tucked her in. Together, they had been a well-oiled machine. Shortly after Olivia went to bed, Nanny Baker retired to her room, giving him the freedom to stretch out on the sofa with a bag of microwave popcorn and the latest bestselling suspense novel.
Why did he have the uneasy feeling that Leah was going to be the proverbial wrench in that well-oiled machine?
Ben exhaled slowly. More than anything, he wanted Olivia to be happy. In a sense, she’d lost two mothers. The first was her birth mother, who Ben had been told was a teenager when she’d had Olivia and given her up for adoption, and then Julia, who’d fallen in love with her on sight but had had only two precious months to hold her.
He tried to do the best he could, but many times he felt ill-equipped to handle the enormous responsibilities of being a parent, especially now that Olivia was getting older. With his mother living in Florida, he’d had to trust Mrs. Baker to provide a feminine influence in his daughter’s life.
Now the question was, could he trust Leah Paxson?
Twice on the way to the Cavanaughs’ home, Leah felt a wave of panic wash over her. When she was half a block away, she was tempted to call Mrs. Wallace and tell her she had decided to turn down the position.
She’d spent the afternoon sifting through the box of photos she’d inherited when her mother passed away, trying to come to grips with the fact that Olivia Cavanaugh was the baby she’d given birth to. Seven years ago. The child she never thought she’d see again. Not only was her resemblance to Leah’s mother uncanny, but Leah could see Olivia in the pictures taken of her as a child.
Now, as she turned the corner that took her into the quiet neighborhood where the Cavanaughs lived, she struggled with what to do. She knew Ben Cavanaugh wouldn’t hire her if he even suspected she was Olivia’s biological mother. He wouldn’t understand her motive….
What is your motive? The question rose up and mocked her, but it was her heart, not her head, that responded. She wanted to know Olivia. And even though she had no intention of hurting her, Ben Cavanaugh wouldn’t care. His first instinct would be to protect his child.
My child…
She whispered the words out loud and then, as the house came into view, she saw a face in the living room window. And then a blur of pink and lavender rushing down the sidewalk toward her car.
God, help me. I don’t think I can do this.
Immediately, the suffocating weight disappeared and she was able to breathe again.
There was a light rap on the passenger window of her car. Leah dared to look over and saw Olivia’s smiling face looking in at her. She slid out of the car and tested her knees, wondering if they were going to do their job and hold her upright.
“Your car is a funny color.”
Now Olivia was right beside her, her eyes bright and curious. Her finger traced a crooked path down the hood of the car.
Leah felt hot tears prickle her eyes as her heart struggled to absorb every detail about Olivia Cavanaugh. She was small for her age. Her hair had been expertly braided into matching pigtails. She was missing a front tooth. Her fingernails were coated with pink polish.
“Charlie is a little different.” Leah forced herself to concentrate.
“Charlie?” Olivia’s head tilted to one side, reminding Leah of a little bird.
“That’s its name. And your name must be Olivia.”
“Yup. But our car doesn’t have a name.” Olivia giggled.
As used to the sound of childish giggles as she was, this one went straight to her heart. Leah had expected Olivia to be shy, perhaps even resentful, of the woman taking Mrs. Baker’s place. She hadn’t expected the little girl to be so open and friendly.
When Olivia slipped her hand into Leah’s, Leah caught her breath.
“My daddy told me all about you,” Olivia chattered as they made their way up the sidewalk. She lowered her voice a little. “He said you don’t like the slide.”
