by Shirley Jump
Katie gasped. “Wow. It’s gorgeous.”
“I’m so glad you like the room. I’ll give you some time to get settled. If you want to join me in the kitchen for some coffee and fresh-baked cookies, come on downstairs.” Della placed a room key in Katie’s palm. “Welcome to Stone Gap.”
Katie sank onto the bed after Della was gone, and thought yes, this was exactly what she needed. Maybe, just maybe, here in this town that seemed to wrap around her like a warm blanket, she could find a way to move forward again.
* * *
The scent of chocolate chip cookies drew Katie out of her nap and back downstairs an hour later. She’d slept better in that hour than she had in the last two months. It had to be the bed, or the total quiet that surrounded her, so unlike the constant hum of Atlanta.
In the kitchen, Della was at the stove, stirring something that smelled amazing. She turned when Katie entered the kitchen. “Coffee?”
“Do you have decaf?”
“I do indeed. Have a seat and—”
Katie waved off Della’s instructions. She felt useless just relaxing like this. “Please, let me help.”
“I’ll do no such thing. Bed-and-breakfast means you get a place to sleep and breakfast served to you. But an inn means you get all that and more.” Della grabbed a coffee mug and filled it with steaming brew. She placed it before Katie, along with cream and sugar in cute little cow-shaped containers. “Now, sit down and enjoy yourself. This is your vacation, dear.”
“Will you please sit with me?” Katie said. For some reason, she didn’t want to be alone. Maybe because when she was alone she tended to think, and that just brought everything back to the surface again. “Please.”
Della glanced at the stove, then at the small table’s empty chair. “I think I will. My feet are barking at me to take a few minutes to sit on my duff. Besides, that crab chowder is done enough to cook all by itself.” Della slipped out of the apron and hung it over the back of a chair, then poured herself a cup of coffee and added a splash of cream. “So, tell me, what brings you to Stone Gap?”
“Like you said, vacation. And...” Katie toyed with the mug. There was something friendly and open about Della Barlow that warmed the air between them and made Katie want to confide, a little, about all that was going on in her life. “And maybe find a job. I’m sort of between things and not sure where I want to go next. Colton raves about this town, and I thought I’d give it a couple weeks to see if it grows on me, too.”
“If you’re not careful, this town will wrap around your heart like ivy on an oak tree, pretty and strong. That’s what it did to me, more than thirty-five years ago, when I moved here with my Bobby. ’Course, it helped that the man himself was also wrapped around my heart.” Della smiled, clearly proud of her town and the man she’d married.
A man who had had an affair more than thirty years ago with Katie’s mother, an affair that had produced Colton. Katie had seen pictures of her mother from those years, before her drinking took its toll. Vanessa Williams had been beautiful, with long dark hair, deep green eyes and a wide smile. In the years since Colton and Katie had been born, she’d morphed into a sullen, resentful woman who considered both her children as unwanted burdens.
But Della Barlow—she was obviously the kind of mother everyone wished they could have. It was clear she loved her sons and her husband, despite the brief bump their marriage had hit more than three decades ago. Katie had no doubt staying here would be like coming home.
“So, Katie, what do you do?” Della asked. “Or, a better question, what do you want to do, since not all of us work at our first-love jobs when we’re young.”
It had been a long time since Katie had thought about her ideal career. She felt like she was in middle school again, lying on her bed and looking up at the cracks in the ceiling. When she was eleven, she’d imagined they were paths, creeping like a spider out in different directions. If she took this path, she’d end up there, by that missing chunk of plaster. That path, and she’d connect with that path and that one, and end up fading into the window frame. The world had seemed open and endless back then, filled with crazy ideas like becoming a veterinarian and an actress and a chef, all at the same time. “I... I don’t know. I’ve been an accountant for so long, I don’t know anything else.”
“Was that your dream, working with numbers?”
Katie scoffed. “No. I sort of fell into it. I was good at math, and I got a scholarship to college, as long as I enrolled in the accounting program. I’ve been doing this job so long, I don’t know if I can do anything else.”
Della waved that off. “Honey, you are as young as a baby bird. You still have time to go after whatever dream you want. Heck, I’m in my fifties and just now embarking on my dream.” She gestured at the sunny yellow kitchen, the off-white cabinets, the wide plank floors. “Dare to do something different, while you aren’t tied down to a family and a dog.”
Dare to do something different. That was part of why Katie was here, because she didn’t know what else to do with herself, except for something different. She couldn’t stay one more second in Atlanta, where everything she looked at reminded her of what she had lost. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Della’s hand covered hers. “Start with cookies.”
“Cookies?”
“Of course. Everything’s better with cookies.” Della grinned. “And then, if you’re interested in something temporary, I know someone who needs some help for the next few weeks. It’s not a glamorous job, but I guarantee it’ll be fun and not at all like accounting.”
Katie took a bite out of a chewy chocolate chip cookie that melted against her tongue. Like the rest of the house and the owner herself, the cookies were the best ever. “What kind of job are you talking about?”
“Well...” Della took a sip of coffee, then wrapped her hands around the mug, “Sam Millwright is in need of a tutor. If you ask me, he needs a good nanny, too. I’ve met Charity Jacobs, the one working for him now, and she’s a dear girl, but in over her head.”
A tutor maybe, but a nanny? As in someone who watched kids all day? Katie had zero experience with children, unless one counted the couple summers she’d spent as a camp counselor. But that had been a team experience—never one where she was on her own, in charge of everything from sunup to sundown for a kid. She’d never had a younger sibling, never really babysat (okay, so she had watched her neighbor’s Pomeranians twice, and commandeered her cousins almost every holiday meal, but that wasn’t the same thing), never even watched a friend’s child, let alone helped anyone with homework. And the thought of being with a baby...
“Sam’s kids are just the cutest little things you ever did see. Libby just turned eight, and Henry is three,” Della said. “You’d love them.”
Three and eight. So not babies. Maybe doable. Maybe. But still, a nanny? Della was right, that was about as far removed from accountant as Katie could get. Except she had no desire to be a nanny, and not enough experience to even consider the job.
“Wait...did you say he needed a tutor, too?”
Della nodded. “Libby’s struggling in school. Ever since her mom passed away, she’s been having a hard time keeping up, poor thing. Sam’s doing the best he can, but it’s tough, being breadwinner and everything else at the same time. His regular babysitter up and quit a month ago, and Sam’s been struggling ever since to find someone to watch the kids. He’s got Charity filling in part of the time, but she’s...” Della made a little face. “Anyway, I had the kids over here yesterday, trying to take the load off Sam, but you know, it’s hard to run a business and watch two kids.” She smiled. “Even if they’re truly the nicest kids ever.”
Couple of nice, sweet kids. How hard could it be? Katie would have to tutor only one of them, it seemed. And the extra money would be a godsend while she was debating her next move.
Not to mention, as Della had said, it wasn’t accounting. It wouldn’t be a job that would require her to remember a million details or figure out complicated tax structures. It would be almost as easy as just staying home all day, except she’d hopefully be too busy to think. If the girl was eight, it wasn’t like Katie was going to need a master’s in English to tutor her. What was that, third grade? She could handle third grade homework help. And surely the math would be a breeze for her. As much as Katie said she wanted time to think, to breathe, just the thought of all that time in her head...
She’d rather be working. Doing something that wasn’t difficult, but still kept her mind from spinning. “Sure. I’ll talk to him.”
“Lovely!” Della grinned. “I’ll give him a call quicker than a bunny running through a pepper patch.”
Della did as she’d promised, calling up Sam Millwright a second later. Katie caught only half the conversation, but it was full of “you’re going to love her” and “she’s delightful” endorsements of Katie. Della dropped Colton’s name into the conversation and that seemed to be the clincher. Della hung up the phone, then scribbled an address on a piece of paper. “Here’s his address,” she said. “He said to be there at eight thirty tomorrow morning and he’ll give you an interview.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Katie said, taking the paper. It wasn’t moving on or moving forward, but it wasn’t standing still, either, and for now, that was enough.
Chapter Two
It was only a little after eight in the morning and already Sam had resorted to bribery. “If you eat your breakfast, Libby Bear, I’ll let you have a cookie.”
Probably not the healthiest bribe, but at this point, after dealing with the kids for two hours—thanks to Henry waking up at the crack of way-too-early—Sam was desperate. Hell, most days he was desperate. Between the kids and an overly eager one-year-old golden retriever, Sam felt outnumbered, outmaneuvered and out of ideas.
“Miss Della’s cookies?” Libby asked with a wary look. “Because your cookies smell weird.”
As in eau de burned. Della Barlow had taken one look at the snack Sam had packed for the kids yesterday and baked them three dozen chocolate chip pity cookies. Thank God, because Sam couldn’t cook his way out of a paper bag. He wasn’t much good at housework or doing ponytails or answering tough questions from a still-grieving three-and eight-year-old. What he was good at was corporate real estate. Or at least he had been, until the agency he worked for went belly-up. All the profits on million-dollar deals he’d brought into the agency had been frittered away by the owner, leaving the coffers dry when it came to making the payments on their own building. Sam had walked into work last Monday and found a for-sale sign on the door, and the locks changed, most likely by the bank. All his pending deals went up in smoke as panicked clients ran off to other agents, and the commission check Sam had been counting on to pay the bills had bounced higher than a new tennis ball.
It was partly his own fault. All the signs of a business in trouble had been there, but he’d been too distracted, trying to run a household and keep the kids fed and clothed and going to bed on time, to pay attention. He’d done the one thing he couldn’t afford to do—turned his focus away from his job—and it had nearly cost him everything.
He had an interview with the agency’s biggest competitor later this morning. The problem? He had yet to find regular child care. One would think it wouldn’t be hard, but the three nannies he had met so far had been like the Three Stooges: incompetent, irresponsible and insane. He’d hired Charity Jacobs a couple weeks ago. She was okay, but not exactly Nanny of the Year, nor was she interested in taking on the job full-time. She kept saying something about needing to see her boyfriend. Half the time, Charity looked terrified to be left alone with the kids. But so far she’d kept them fed and clean, and that was more than the others had done.
On top of that, there was Libby and the constant worry about her falling behind. Third grade was a pivotal year for math skills, her teacher had said, with the kind of impending doom in her voice that suggested Libby would end up a panhandler if she didn’t grasp the basics this year. She needed a tutor and Sam needed a miracle.
Thank God Della had called yesterday and promised the perfect candidate in Colton’s little sister.
Sam liked Colton. Liked all the Barlows, in fact. He’d met Colton, half brother to Mac, Luke and Jack, at a town picnic a couple months ago. There’d been a rousing and surprisingly competitive game of cornhole, which Colton was close to winning until Sam made his final shot. The two men had laughed, then shared a couple beers and found a common ground in fishing, something Colton had done a lot of recently with his future father-in-law and his fiancée. Sam and he had hung out a few times since, now that Colton had moved to Stone Gap on a permanent basis.
Libby hopped down off the chair and started twirling. Her skirt swung out around her in a rising bell. “I want ballet lessons. Can I have ballet lessons?”
Ballet lessons. Another thing he’d have to schedule and run to. Libby made a constant argument in favor of the lessons by wearing an old, tattered ballerina dress, a Halloween costume from years ago, pretty much every day. He’d wanted Libby to wear jeans and a T-shirt to school today. Libby had thrown a fit, pitching herself onto the floor and sobbing, saying that Mommy had bought her the ballerina dress and she really wanted to wear it—
And Sam caved. He’d also caved on letting the kids watch cartoons while they ate, though Bugs Bunny and friends hadn’t exactly inspired anyone to take a single bite yet.
He glanced at the still untouched waffle on Libby’s plate. “Libby, you need to eat your breakfast so we can get to school and I can get Henry over to the community center.” He had just enough time to give the tutor a quick interview, drop the kids at school by nine and get to his interview at nine fifteen.
Libby let out a sigh that sounded way too grown-up. “We don’t have school today.”
“Of course you have school today. It’s Tuesday.”
Libby shook her head. “Miss McCarthy said we didn’t. There’s some big meeting for the teachers or something.”
Sam crossed to the fridge, moving menus and notes and drawings around until he finally found the school calendar, tacked in place by a thick magnet. He ran his finger down to today’s date—
No School. In-Service Teacher Day.
He started to curse, then stopped himself. Now what was he supposed to do? He pulled out his phone and texted Charity. No school today. Need you ASAP.
“And Uncle Ty said the community center is closed today. ’Cuz he had to fix the bathroom or something.”
“There’s no storytime today?” What else could go wrong this morning?
Libby shrugged. “Can I go play?”
“Eat your breakfast first.” While I come up with a miracle. He had forty-five minutes until his interview. Forty-five minutes to get Charity over here and interview this new girl for the tutor job.
Libby shook her head. “I don’t like those waffles. I like the ones...”
Her voice trailed off, but Sam could fill in the blank himself. She liked the ones her mommy had made, before Mommy had been killed by a drunk driver. The year and a half since then had passed in a blur, with Sam juggling a job and the kids and babysitters and his grief. He’d thought he was doing a good job, until he lost first Mrs. Rey, the best nanny in the world, who had moved to Florida to be with her grandkids, then a few weeks later, his job. He’d tried to step in and do it all, but he wasn’t much good at being two parents in one. Time, he told himself, time fixed everything.
Except when he was running late. “Libby, you need to eat because I need to—”
She stopped spinning and crossed her arms over her chest. “No.”
Lately, Libby had mastered defiance. She wasn’t outright disobedient, just enough to add another stress to Sam�
�s day.
From his booster seat at the other end of the kitchen table, Henry let out a shriek of support. Sam turned to his son. “Hey, buddy, want to eat breakfast?”
Henry shook his head.
“Do you want something else? Just say it, buddy, and I’ll get you whatever you want.”
Henry stared at his father for one long moment. Sam waited, his heart in his throat. Maybe this time...
Instead, Henry picked up his waffle and flung it on the floor. Before Sam could react, the golden retriever dashed in and stole a bonus meal.
That made Libby laugh, while she tossed her waffle at the dog, too. “Get it, Bandit. Get it!”
“Libby—”
But she was already gone, tearing off to the living room to snatch up the TV remote and raise the volume to deafening levels. Henry saw his own opportunity for escape, and clambered down from the chair and over to the giant box of Legos that Sam had forgotten to put up on the top shelf. Before Sam could say “don’t touch that,” Henry had knocked it onto the floor, releasing a cavalcade of miniature bricks.
And then the doorbell rang.
The dog started barking. Libby started peppering her father with questions about who was there, was it Miss Della, was it the mailman, was it Barney the dinosaur. Sam closed his eyes for a too-brief second, then strode down the hall and pulled open the door.
One of the most beautiful women Sam had ever seen stared back at him, with big brown doe-like eyes peeking out from under long dark wavy hair. She wore a pencil skirt that hugged her curves, a satiny pink blouse and dark pumps that raised her from what he guessed was a normal height of about five foot three. “Uh, I’m Katie Williams,” she said, while he continued to stare. “I’m here to interview for the tutor position? I’m sorry I’m a few minutes early.”
