The Single Dad Next Door

by Jessica Keller

  * * *

  If Maggie had been worried about losing her position before, with the new girl starting today, it felt almost certain. Kellen had backpedaled on his idea to hire someone else to help her cook and clean, but then insisted that they needed someone business savvy to plan events, help with marketing and handle their social media.

  Maggie waved goodbye to the couple from Ohio who had spent the past five days at the West Oaks Inn. They were down to only two serviceable rooms since Kellen and his girls had drawn all over the walls in the other ones. Not that the rooms had all been booked for the week, but still. No one else was scheduled until the reopening happened after the remodel. A reopening that the new girl would plan.

  How would Maggie make it through the remodeling?

  She went through the motions, tugging the sheets off the guest bed and taking out the trash. But even doing normal chores felt pointless. In the coming days she’d have to pack up all the items in the rooms and they’d move out the furniture to make way for the impending changes. Kellen hadn’t even shown her the new floor plans. Not that she wanted to see them. Seeing them might make the fact that the innards of the home she grew up in and loved were about to be pulled out, thrown away and completely forgotten. While Ida had kept most of the home intact, the construction permits Kellen plastered to the front window told her he would not.

  She made her way down to the kitchen. As she filled the sink, Kellen breezed in the back door.

  “Morning.” Elbow deep in suds, she tossed the word over her shoulder.

  Kellen nodded once and made a half-grunt greeting sound and continued walking. It had been the way with him for a little more than a week. Since the flour fight. He’d been acting...standoffish.

  “Check’s on the counter,” he finally called from the office.

  Sure enough, in a sealed envelope with her name printed on the front she found a paycheck. It was far more money than Ida had ever handed to her. If she could continue working for the next few months she could build up a nest egg. She’d be able to leave, find a local job cooking and rent an apartment close to town. Printed on the left-hand side of the check was West Oaks Inn Inc. He must have snuck off to the bank at some point and set up a business account. So the knowledge that he owned the place and not Maggie would start circulating.

  Maggie had no clue how Ida had run everything. So relieved that Ida had saved the West Mansion, Maggie never considered questioning her on business practices.

  How had Maggie ever thought she could run this place? She had a hard time saving money even without expenses. Not that she was wasteful—she tried not to be. For the first time Maggie realized she probably couldn’t have run the inn well if she had been given the reins. The realization hurt.

  Asking Kellen whom he had told about the inn was out of the question. Not with his current grumpy mood.

  Was he offended that Maggie hadn’t known about the Snaggletooth Lions? If so, the man needed to learn to get over himself. His near miss at stardom didn’t impress her one bit. Probably used to girls fawning over him. Not her...well, not any longer. She hadn’t fawned per se, but she’d started hoping. And hoping was far more dangerous than fawning.

  Since first looking him up online, she’d poked around on the internet some more. Curious. He’d led the band on a path to stardom but dropped out a week before a record deal was signed. The songs played on the radio didn’t include him singing, but he had written all of them. Maggie printed out the lyrics and read them over. While not sung in a way she liked—far too loud—the content and subject matters covered in the songs were deep. Saying goodbye to a terminally ill loved one. Battling self-doubt. Struggling with loving someone who didn’t love back. Letting listeners know their lives mattered.

  She’d also gotten ahold of the songs from the band’s second album. One Kellen had nothing to do with. The songs had lost their punch. They were about partying, finding the best girl at a club and a man covering his tracks after committing adultery. She’d stopped reading lyrics after that. In the reviews she’d located, music critics panned the second album and most cited the loss of their songwriter and front man as the missing piece.

  The doorbell sounded and Kellen left his office to get it. Being nosy, Maggie stepped into the doorway between the kitchen and the public part of the inn. The girl at the door couldn’t have been more than twenty-two or twenty-three years old. Tiny in stature, with dark hair accented by red lowlights, and she had it pulled back in a stylish clipped bun. The woman wore dress pants and a formfitting white button-down, looking as if she were arriving at an accounting firm for work. Not an inn.

  “Right on time.” Kellen smiled down at the woman. A huge, Hollywood-worthy, handsome smile.

  Maggie crossed her arms, shoving her fisted hands under her biceps.

  The woman handed him a shiny portfolio and followed him inside. Maggie watched her assess the inn. Her eyes went to the grand piano situated off to the right of the lobby. Next, her gaze bounced to the large crystal chandelier that lit the dining room. Maggie’s great-grandfather had purchased the huge piece as an anniversary gift, supposedly telling his wife that as bright as it made the mansion was as bright as she made his life.

  Kellen cleared his throat. “Annika Graft, this is Maggie West. She also works here.”

  “Oh.” Annika laid her hand on Kellen’s arm. “I go by Nika. Always Nika.”

  Who touched their employer like that on their first day on the job?

  The huge grandfather clock in the parlor sounded for the half hour.

  Summoning a smile, Maggie reached out to shake her hand. “Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.” Nika beamed at her. “I’ve driven past this place so many times and wondered what it looked like inside. It’s exciting to now be a part of it. I mean, look at this railing.” Nika crossed the room and ran her fingers over the intricately carved wood.

  Kellen pressed his hand over the top of the portfolio. “That’s actually not staying.”

  Maggie spun to face him. “You can’t take that out. It’s original with the home. It’s part of the appeal. It...” Was a part of one of her favorite memories.

  “Sorry.” He shrugged. “It doesn’t fit with the new aesthetic.”

  Together they gave Nika a tour of the mansion and Maggie discovered it was impossible not to like her. She oohed and aahed at the right moments, tripped adorably when there was nothing under her feet and sounded genuinely thrilled to be at the West Oaks Inn.

  Kellen ended the tour in his office. “This is where you’ll be spending a lot of your time. Just like we talked about in the interview, you’ll spearhead our social-media presence, and I need your organizing expertise.” He shook the mouse, waking up the computer. He glanced over his shoulder, looking right at Nika. “You know QuickBooks?”

  “Of course.” She stepped closer. Too close.

  Maggie hung back as they launched into a discussion on the wonders of financial software. Nika dropped into the chair and immediately started showing Kellen a few ways to streamline the inn’s cash flow and spending accounts. Kellen had one hand braced on the arm of the computer chair and the other on the desk, leaning near Nika. Of course, he’d have to in order to share the computer screen. But an angry clawing feeling worked its way through Maggie’s stomach.

  The look on Nika’s face bothered her the most. Whenever she’d tip her head back to make eye contact with Kellen, Nika had the expression of a girl meeting a crown prince. Open. Hopeful. How did Kellen inspire that sort of adoration so quickly?

  Maggie shuffled back in the room, rubbing her arms.

  Perhaps that was why she and Kellen couldn’t get along. Maggie had never approached him the way Nika was doing. Maggie had fought with him, challenged him and treated him the same as she would anyone.

  Okay. The last part wasn’t entirely true
. Maybe when she first met him it had been, but as she got to know him, she’d started to care. Kellen and his daughters had worked their way quickly into a place in her heart that she’d thought she’d shut down long ago. Family. Home. Even the hope of being loved someday had returned.

  They still hadn’t acknowledged that she was in the room with them, so Maggie bowed out and headed to the back door, toward her gardens. She’d work on the far edge of the property today. Down near the mill.

  Newly opened flowers gently bobbed in the spring air, filling the yard with their sweet perfume. She’d always loved gardening because it made sense. If she followed a care-and-maintenance schedule, they’d produce and flourish 99 percent of the time.

  The same philosophy hadn’t rung true in Maggie’s life. She’d been the well-behaved kid in class, the daughter who caused her parents no stress and the girl in the group who let her friends speak up because it was kind to let them have their way, right? Saying what she wanted over them would have been selfish. And if she’d been anything, it had been the model follower of God growing up in her church. She hadn’t dated in high school, because she’d valued purity and never broken the rules. When her sister moved on, it was Maggie who hung back to assume household responsibilities and care for ailing relatives.

  All of her life she’d spent carefully doing everything right—for what?

  Wasn’t God supposed to bless those who made their choices in a biblical way? Who obeyed and put others first?

  If that was the case...how come everyone else got their dream and Maggie was left holding fistfuls of dirt? Alone. Again.

  Maggie shoved on her gardening gloves and found a secluded area near the river and began to weed. She tugged on a large dandelion. But it wouldn’t budge. She tugged again. Still nothing.

  She rocked back on her heels and swiped the back of her arm over her forehead.

  How could she have believed there was a future for her with Kellen? So foolish and immature. Like a teenager falling for a photo of a guy in one of the trendy magazines her sister, Sarah, used to hoard under her bed. But Kellen had been open with her and kind and he’d sought out moments to spend time together in the evening. Yet she’d read all that wrong.

  He’d never been interested in her. More than likely, it was convenient to make Maggie feel as if he cared so she’d watch his daughters at a moment’s notice. A man like him probably just used her to pass the time until someone better came along. Someone like beautiful, young, organized Nika.

  Chapter Ten

  After wrapping the final vase in newspaper, Maggie lowered it into a packing box. She dusted off her hands and stood. Spinning once, she took in the almost barren room and sighed.

  She could do this. At least, she’d have to.

  Besides, putting the decorations in storage until Kellen decided what he wanted to do with them—that she could handle. While she enjoyed all the antiquing adventures she’d gone on to locate each of the pieces in the inn, it was the structure she cared about. Not the possessions inside.

  Downstairs the tinkling bells let her know that someone walked in through the front door. Maggie stretched. Probably Nika, although both she and Kellen had instructed the younger woman to use the side door going forward. Without expecting guests, they should just lock the front from now on. Although, come to think of it, Nika wasn’t expected today. She had a family function to attend.

  Kellen? He rarely used the front door, either. It could be a walk-in guest, hoping to book a room. They really needed to hang a notice near the West Oaks Inn sign that announced they were closed for construction. Even if part of the upstairs wasn’t going to be touched, Kellen and Maggie had decided not to subject potential guests to all the dust and noise that would evidently come with the remodel.

  Maggie hustled down the hallway and took the steps two at a time.

  An older woman wearing a gentle smile waited in the lobby with an old-style carpetbag clutched in her hands. She had long white-silver hair and a soft, motherly figure.

  “Hi there. I’m afraid we can’t accommodate guests right now due to construction.” Maggie offered her hand. “However, I can recommend another bed-and-breakfast close to downtown that has the same feel as this one if you’d like.”

  The lady scrunched her brow as she worked her pursed lips back and forth. “That won’t do for me. I really wanted to stay here and my cab’s already left.”

  “I’m so sorry.” Maggie patted her hand.

  She set down her bag. “Is my son around? Maybe he has room.”

  “Your...son?”

  “Kellen.”

  Maggie felt her eyes go wide. “Mrs. Ashby. I’m sorry. Follow me. I didn’t know we were expecting you. Right through here.” She stumbled over her own feet as she led the way to the kitchen.

  Mrs. Ashby grabbed ahold of her arm, righting her with a stronger grip than Maggie would have guessed she had. “Now, dear, as I understand it, you’re usually not one to lose your head, so don’t do so on my account.”

  “You know who I am?” Maggie couldn’t hide the note of disbelief that colored her voice.

  “Maggie West. Am I right?” Kellen’s mom left her bag on the kitchen table and pulled out a seat. “I knew it was you the moment I saw you. It’s like I’ve known you for years.”

  Needing something in her hands, Maggie opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of sun tea. Ever since learning Kellen loved the stuff, she’d made a new batch every couple days. “Tea?”

  “Mint. Right?” Mrs. Ashby winked. “That’s Kellen’s favorite.”

  “I’ll let him know you’re here.” Maggie reached for her phone.

  Mrs. Ashby waved her hand, dismissing the need. “He can wait. Right now I want to visit with you.”

  Maggie set a cup in front of Kellen’s mother and then lowered herself into a chair on the opposite side of the table. “Mrs. Ashby, I have to ask. How do you know me?”

  “Call me Susan.” She took a long swig of the tea. “That’s the best sun tea I’ve ever tasted. Kellen was right about your kitchen skills.”

  “He’s talked to you about me?”

  She nodded twice in an exaggerated manner. “Ida, too. Like I said, I’ve known you—been praying for you—for years.”

  What did Susan know? While it made Maggie slightly uncomfortable realizing that Susan had heard stories about her—enough that she felt as if they were friends already—that feeling was quickly overrun as the second statement sank in. Been praying for you for years.

  “You...you prayed for me?”

  “Pray-ing. That i-n-g on the end makes it an action verb. I believe God calls us to action and that’s an everyday sort of thing. Don’t you agree?”

  Maggie folded her hands together on the table then flipped them over, examining the lines on her palms. “Honestly? I haven’t been speaking much with God lately. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a Christian, but I have a lot of unanswered questions right now.”

  Kellen’s mother was younger than Ida by a good ten to fifteen years, but the conversation felt just like their old talks. Growing up with her grandmother, mother and sister, Maggie found it easier to open up to a woman than to speak to a man about...anything. The recent situation with Kellen proved how terrible she was at understanding the male species.

  Susan reached across the table to cup her hand over Maggie’s. “One thing you must understand is that as long as we’re breathing oxygen on this earth, there will always be unanswered questions. That’s where the trust and hope parts of the Bible come into play.”

  “Hope,” Maggie whispered. “I don’t even know if I have it in me to hope anymore.”

  “I’ve got extra. You can borrow some of mine.”

  Maggie shifted in her seat. “Thanks. But it’s still not my favorite word these days.”

 
With her hand still covering Maggie’s, Kellen’s mom bowed her head for a few moments. When she lifted her head again, she waited to speak until she had Maggie’s eye contact. “You have been good and faithful and God sees that. Don’t believe the lie that He doesn’t or that your obedience didn’t matter. All right? Because that’s the furthest from the truth you’ll ever get. Truth is, God treasures you and has kept you safe.”

  “How...?” Maggie breathed the word.

  “Like I said.” Susan squeezed her hand tight and then released it, sitting back in her chair. “I know you and have been praying for you for a very long time. Action, Maggie. I want you to remember that. Our Lord believes in verbs. We don’t need to speak in past tense, because good or bad, our past doesn’t matter at any given moment. What matters is today. Are you more like Jesus this afternoon than you were this morning? That’s how we should all be thinking.”

  “What about the passages in the Bible that tell us to wait?”

  “Oh, my dear, waiting is action. Don’t you go believing otherwise.”

  Her words worked like a balm, seeping into the hurting parts of Maggie’s heart. If what she said was true, then Maggie’s obedience hadn’t been a waste. Moreover, Susan was right. If Maggie loved God as she said she did, then it should show in her everyday life. Being a Christian wasn’t summed up by knowing a date of conversion. No. Like Kellen’s mom had pointed out, it was a daily walk, a minute-by-minute conscious effort of growing closer to God.

  Maggie sucked in a long, shaky breath. “Thinking back, I’ve made myself a little cocoon inside the walls of this old house. I’m safe, but I’m also closed off. Far away from everything. It’s kept me protected. Maybe too protected.”

  Susan offered a tender smile. “Time to come out, little butterfly.”

  The side door opened and Kellen stopped with his hand on the knob, an instant of shock that quickly turned into joy. A huge, goofy grin broke out across his face. “Mom!” He rounded the table in four steps and enveloped the older woman in a tight hug. “What are you doing here? I wasn’t expecting you. Is everything all right?”