by Karen Muir
“No, not much. I have work to do every night.”
“What do you play?”
“Play?” He gave a strangled laugh. There could be no play with his sons in constant rebellion.
“Do you read them bedtime stories? Or play hide-and-seek?”
He shifted uneasily in his chair. If she was trying to make him feel like a rotten dad, she was much too late. “The boys play on their own,” he said. “I make sure they eat dinner, take a bath, and brush their teeth. That takes hours, and it’s an uphill fight.”
“If you think they’re tough now, wait until they’re teenagers.”
The prospect sent chills down his spine. “I’m doing the best I can.”
Her frown said his best was not good enough. “You’re not making my job easier.”
“Just keep up the good work. That’s all we can do.”
She stood and walked stiffly from the room. Watching her go, he wondered if he was about to lose another nanny, a surprisingly good one. The boys would be disappointed this time. He would be, too.
…
“Gentle hands,” Gina warned as Harry patted soil into his plastic flowerpot. He and Ian were planting orange seeds from today’s lunch. Ian spooned dirt into his pots with care. Harry worked faster and with a heavy hand.
“We’ll water them every day with a spray bottle,” she said, “and watch for green sprouts. It will take a few days before we see anything.”
“That long?” Harry asked.
“Important things take time.”
They carried the pots upstairs and set them carefully on the windowsill. Then Gina told the boys to lie down on their beds. “I’ll read you a story, and then you can take a nap.”
“We don’t take naps,” Harry informed her.
“Then lie down and rest your eyes.”
“Two stories,” Harry said.
“Deal.” She read them Corduroy and It Looked Like Spilt Milk, books they had selected last Friday at the library. The boys were yawning when she finished and seemed content to “rest their eyes.” She tiptoed from the room, sure they’d be dozing shortly.
She went straight to Will’s den, anxious to finish her search there. The file cabinets were locked, and she found no key. She checked the walls for a hidden safe behind a painting, like in the movies. Again, no luck. Returning to the desk, she opened the top right drawer. Behind the bank statements she’d already scanned, she found a letter from an insurance company.
A faint sound came from the foyer. She stilled, listening, but heard nothing more. All houses creaked. Reassured, she slipped the insurance letter out of its envelope and tried to decipher the legalese. The gist of it was that the Vanderburg’s claim against Will’s company for the missing diamonds exceeded the coverage provided by his professional liability insurance. He would have to make up the difference out of his own pocket.
She gasped at the six-figure dollar amount of the claim. Will was in big trouble. What irony, to have framed her brother for stealing the diamonds, only to find himself held accountable for their loss. She doubted he could come up with that much money. Hope blossomed within her. He would have to come up with the diamonds instead.
Glad she was on scene to look out for Kyle’s interests, she went upstairs to check on the boys. They looked so sweet when they were asleep. She crept into the room to cover them with the tattered blue blankets they’d probably slept with since they were babies. She left the door to their room ajar and moved on to Will’s.
Pausing in the doorway, she surveyed the room. The king-size bed to her right had a desert-motif comforter with sunbursts and hawks in soft oranges and browns. Beyond the bed, curtains of the same material framed a window looking out at the backyard.
A clear skylight was centered over the bed, and she wondered what Will thought when he looked up at the stars. Was he awed by the wonders of the universe? Did he think about his life? His children? The innocent man he’d sent to prison?
Moving farther into the room, she caught the woodsy scent of his cologne, the one she liked too much. Frowning, she focused on her surroundings. Directly ahead on the outside wall stood an oak chest of drawers, the usual spot for family photos. There were none there, nor anywhere else in the house. It seemed strange not to see a wall of photos somewhere, showing the boys as they grew from babies.
Crossing to the nightstand nearest the window, she sat on the bed. The top drawer contained loose change, a large flashlight, a heating pad—nothing out of the ordinary. The bottom drawer held much the same. Hearing another sound, she froze and heard the wind stirring the backyard cedars. Breathing out slowly, she closed the bottom drawer. Sleuthing made her nervous.
Hurry, so you don’t get caught in this room. She moved quickly to the other side of the bed. This table had only one drawer, as the bottom part was a bookshelf filled with mysteries—some of her favorites.
Opening the top drawer, she found keys, two full rings of them and several loose ones. Bypassing the obvious ones for cars and doors, she eyed them one by one, searching for a key to unlock the filing cabinet in the den. No luck. About to close the drawer, she spotted a distinctive single key that might go to a safe-deposit box. Inspecting it carefully, she found “R753” inscribed on the blade. Her hand tightened around it. Was this a key to the missing jewels?
Footsteps came suddenly from the top of the stairs, the heavy tread of an adult approaching. Fast!
Her heart racing, she shot off the bed and quickly smoothed wrinkles from the spread. Turning to the doorway, she stilled as Will strode into the room, loosening his tie. He stopped short at the sight of her, his brows lifting in surprise.
Her grip tightened on the safe-deposit box key she held behind her back. The open drawer of the bedside table was directly behind her. She edged sideways to block it from Will’s view.
He moved closer. “Looking for something?”
“I…was looking for a flashlight. The boys wanted to check for spiders under their beds.”
“The boys are asleep.”
“Yes. Well, I’ve been looking for a long time.” Her throat tightened as she waited for him to call her bluff. Instead, he turned and rounded the foot of the bed to walk up the other side. She stepped back to ease the drawer behind her shut with the back of her legs. Will didn’t seem to notice as he opened the top drawer of the other nightstand and pulled out the large yellow flashlight she’d noticed earlier.
Retracing his steps, he faced her once more. “The boys each have a pocket flashlight in the drawer between their beds,” he said. “I’m surprised they forgot they were there.”
“They wanted a really big one.”
“I see.” When he held out the flashlight, she took it with her left hand, still clutching the key in her right. “Thanks.”
“Gina, we need to talk.”
Her heart sank. He wasn’t buying her story. She tucked the key in her skirt pocket and followed him from the room. When he paused in the doorway of the boys’ room, she stopped alongside him. Harry and Ian lay sprawled on their beds, arms and legs flung out, looking vulnerable and endearing. Did Will see them that way, too?
He spoke softly. “We’ll talk in the den.”
She set the flashlight on the boys’ bookshelf then followed him downstairs, braced for a lecture. Or worse. “Come into my parlor,” said the spider to the fly.
Will sat behind his desk and gestured for her to sit, as well. As she watched, he leaned forward and stared down at his hands. “This is hard for me, but it needs to be done.”
“I’m sorry I was in your room,” she interjected. “We observed bugs today, and Harry was convinced he’d find several under his bed.”
An out-and-out lie that could come back and bite her once the boys awoke. But she couldn’t let Will fire her just when she’d discovered a possible trail to the missing diamonds. Her hand tightened around the safe-deposit box key in her pocket as Will pushed out of his chair and walked to the French doors to stare out at the yard
.
Was being caught in his bedroom a firing offense?
A moment passed before he spoke. “I was shocked by what you told me yesterday.”
Yesterday? What is he talking about?
Hands in his pockets, he faced her. “I was sure the boys understood about their mother. I’d explained it all thoroughly many times.”
She breathed out slowly with relief.
“But when I talked to them last night, I discovered you were right. The boys do believe their mother is coming to rescue them. And I’m not their real dad. I’m just some guy who stole them.”
It surprised her to hear the hurt in his words. Will seemed to care very much what his boys thought of him.
“I’ve got a problem here, Gina, and I need your help.”
She shifted uneasily. “I don’t understand.”
“I want you to help me get through to the boys. If that means sharing our family’s painful past, so be it. You were right about needing to know how things got screwed up.”
He paced back to his desk and sat. “Six months ago, I didn’t even know Ian and Harry existed.”
She frowned. “How could that be?”
“Five years ago, my wife left me for another man. A former lover she’d quarreled with shortly before we met.”
Will’s painful past wasn’t what she needed to hear. “I didn’t mean—”
He spoke over her. “My wife was the daughter of a rich client who wanted a guest cottage built behind his house. Felice was poolside every day, all fun and flirty in her bikini. We married in a rush, a wedding chapel in Las Vegas. Then came home to discover we were strangers.”
“You really don’t have to—”
He cut her off again. “Felice liked to entertain. I had a business to run. We had nothing in common, outside the bedroom. We fought from day one.”
Way too much information. She stood resolutely. “This isn’t what I meant. I need to hear about the boys.”
He leaned forward, his mouth tight. “I wouldn’t share this if I didn’t think it necessary. But to understand the boys, you need to know what came before.”
She sat back down, resigned to hear him out.
“Things were bad by the time my wife’s former fiancé returned. Felice ran off with him to his New Jersey mansion and divorced me. Once the papers were signed, I never heard from her again. That suited me fine.”
She heard no regret. “Where do the boys come in?”
Will picked up a pencil and rolled it between his fingers. “Six months ago, I got a call from Felice’s mother-in-law. She told me that her son and Felice were both killed in a private-plane crash.”
She gasped. “Oh no.”
“When I expressed my condolences, the woman informed me Felice and her husband had left behind twin four-year-old boys. My sons, she claimed. I was stunned and, naturally, didn’t believe her.”
Dropping the pencil, he leaned back in his squeaky chair. “She insisted I come to New Jersey to take them home with me. Since I was their biological father, they were now my responsibility.”
His mouth tightened. “I was sure she was trying to unload Felice’s unwanted offspring on me, and I refused. But she kept calling, and her attorney sent me letters, until I finally agreed to DNA testing. Results take time, so I went to her home to put an end to her claim once and for all.” He paused and rubbed his chin. “Then, I saw the boys. One look, and I knew they were mine.”
She nodded. Ian and Harry were pint-sized images of Will. “It must have been a shock.”
He snorted. “An incredible one. I was furious that Felice had kept them from me and tried to pass them off as her second husband’s. He knew better, of course, and had nothing to do with them. It hurt the boys to be rejected by the man they thought was their dad.”
“Was Felice a good mom?”
He shrugged. “She loved the boys, but she was a child herself. Too busy doing her own thing to spend much time with them. They were left with nannies and friends. It’s no wonder they have issues.”
Her grip tightened on the arms of her chair. Every child needed love and attention, and it angered her to hear of a parent who didn’t give it. Parents like hers. Slamming the door on that old hurt, she focused on Will. He wasn’t the uncaring father she’d thought him. Staring down at the floor, she told herself it didn’t matter. He was still the man who’d betrayed her brother, and her first loyalty was to Kyle.
Glancing up, she found Will eyeing her closely. “Now that you know more about Harry and Ian, what do you suggest I do?”
“Do?” He couldn’t be asking her for advice.
He nodded. “How can I get my sons to accept me as their dad?”
She held up her hands in protest. “I’m not into counseling.”
“But you’re good with the boys. I’m sure you could give me some good advice.”
She eyed him with horror. This was surely a joke, a bizarre twist of fate she’d incurred by pretending to be a child expert.
“You look stunned,” he said. “Not surprising. I’ve given you quite a challenge.”
If you only knew. Arms crossed, she rocked forward. This couldn’t get worse. The man she’d plotted to send to prison wanted to entrust her with the welfare of his children. Abruptly, she stood, and the room swayed. “I’ll have to think about this.”
“Of course.” Will circled the desk and put his hand on her shoulder. “Are you all right? You look a bit wobbly.”
“I’m fine.” She pulled free of his touch and rushed to the door, anxious to escape this disturbing new side of him. His wife’s betrayal, his sons’ misery, his desperate plea for her help were all jammed inside her head and making her dizzy. Could she balance her loyalty to her brother with her responsibility to Will and his boys? Things had been so much simpler when she’d thought him heartless.
Chapter Five
Doubts swarmed Gina like angry bees as she headed for her backyard garden. Will’s concern for his sons didn’t jibe with his being a cold-hearted thief. Did Kyle get it wrong? Had someone else stolen the diamonds? Frowning, she pulled on her brown garden gloves. The Saint-John’s-wort had overrun the tiger lilies, the perfect vent for her frustration. Down on her knees, she wrenched tenacious runners from the ground and considered her options.
If she did find the diamonds and Will went to prison, Harry and Ian would lose their only parent. And if they learned to love him, they’d be hurt more. Yet, refusing to help would leave them confused about their mom and defiant toward Will and their future caregivers and teachers. The same way she had been as a girl.
Sitting cross-legged in the dirt, she tipped her head back and growled with frustration. I want to walk away from this whole complicated mess. But quitting her nanny job meant letting down Kyle. She’d looked out for him as far back as she could remember. Yet he’d helped her, too, in a way.
In her teens, she’d planned to run away from home, but Kyle had been too vulnerable to leave behind. By staying home to protect him, she’d finished high school and gone on to scholarships and college and a career she loved.
She closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Slowly in, slowly out. The scrabble of tiny feet drew her attention to a lush-tailed squirrel scurrying up a tree. A breeze smelling of newly cut grass tossed her hair and stirred the bright-orange poppies Kyle had planted for her.
The peace of the garden claimed her at last, and answers fell into place. Kyle was family, and her loyalty to him eclipsed all others, which meant she must continue to investigate Will. Learning he wasn’t the complete lowlife she’d thought him didn’t change that. But she could do something to ease Harry’s and Ian’s misery. A jailbird dad who loved them seemed preferable to having no one at all.
Smoothing the soft dirt where she’d weeded, she tried to think of ways to help Will bond with his boys. Talk about a challenge. She snorted. The man was as fun as a toothache. He rarely smiled. Was it possible to turn him into a warm and fuzzy daddy?
And am I up to
the task? Despite her mystifying success as a nanny, the nuts and bolts of good parenting were still a mystery. She was no child expert. Committed, but clueless, she gathered up her garden tools to head for the house and the fount of her sketchy kid knowledge—the internet.
…
Gina sat across from Will at his desk the following day to share her “expert advice.” Glancing up from the list of suggestions in her spiral notebook, she began. “Let’s talk about closure.”
“Okay.”
“Did Ian and Harry go to their mother’s funeral?”
“No.” Will leaned back in his chair. “I wanted to bring them home as soon as possible.”
“So they never told her goodbye?”
“I was trying to spare them. Was that a mistake?”
“Her funeral might have helped them grasp that Mom wasn’t coming back.”
He shrugged. “Too late now.”
Will seemed different today, dressed casually in a blue polo shirt, jeans, and scuffed Nikes. But it was more than the clothes; it was his attitude. Normally, his manner reminded her of a stern headmaster at a school for wayward boys. Today, he seemed much more open and…nice.
No. Her grip tightened on the spiral notebook. Don’t think he’s “nice.” She could not allow herself to start liking him, despite yesterday’s revelations. So what if he loved his kids?
Shoulders back, she voiced her bold plan. “It’s not too late. You should take the boys to New Jersey.”
“What?”
At his dropped-jaw look, she hastened to explain. “Revisit the house where the boys lived, and let them see someone else living there. Bring flowers to their mother’s grave and help them tell her goodbye.” And get out of this house, so I can search it from top to bottom.
He shook his head. “That’s not possible.”
“Why not?”
“I can’t spare the money, or the time.”
She knew of his financial peril because she’d snooped in his desk, but she hoped to learn more. “You seem to live comfortably.”
He grimaced. “My business took a hit because of a dishonest employee. For now, things are tight, and New Jersey is out.”
