by Shirley Jump
She laughed. “It’s fine, really. And made all that much better by a man who admits he can’t do it all.”
“I definitely can’t do it all.” Sam gestured toward the empty seat and waited for her to take it before he sat opposite her. “At work, I can juggle multiple clients and deals, but here, I’m bested regularly by a three-year-old and a third-grader.”
“You seem to be doing fine.” Okay, so maybe she was generously stretching the definition of the word fine.
He ran a hand through his hair, a move that made him seem more vulnerable somehow. “I’m not, but thanks for saying that. I really need some help, at least until Libby gets caught up. It’s a short-term job, if that’s okay. Feel free to say no. You are incredibly overqualified to teach math to a third-grader.”
She didn’t want to get into the reasons why an overqualified CPA would take on a tutoring job. “That works for me. I wasn’t really looking for anything permanent, so I’m flexible with whatever schedule you want.” It shouldn’t be too hard, right? Though the thirtyish man across from her didn’t seem to have it under control, so why would she think she could do it better?
“Aren’t you here on vacation?” Sam asked. “I’d hate to take up whatever free time you have. You said two weeks, which, if you can work with Libby regularly, should give her a good head start on getting caught up. I’ll worry about a more permanent solution once I find one.” He sighed. “Anyway, I really don’t want to monopolize your time off.”
“It’s only sort of a vacation.” How did she begin to explain the meltdown in the office, the clear signs that she needed to get away, to leave town, to start over? How once she’d arrived here and had more than five minutes of quiet, all those thoughts and memories and emotions she’d been avoiding washed over her like a tidal wave? And how the one thing she was banking on with being Sam’s tutor was that it would leave her too busy to think? “This job works perfectly with my plans.”
“Well, I am glad to hear that.” Relief washed over her at his words. He mentioned a decent hourly rate, and she agreed. His phone buzzed and he pulled it out of his pocket, then read the text on the screen. “Thank God. Charity is on her way over. Normally, I bring Henry to storytime at the community center my uncle runs, and Charity picks him up from there. But since Libby doesn’t have school today, it’s easiest if I just leave Henry here. She can watch him while you work with Libby. If it’s at all possible, do you think you could start with Libby today?”
“Today?”
“If you can’t, well, I understand, but Charity is still new and though she’s great, she gets overwhelmed when she has both kids. With you here, that should help her out. I’d take them, but I have this job interview and I can’t take the kids because I’m still paying for Henry’s ‘creativity’—” Sam rolled his eyes and made air quotes “—at the last place I interviewed at.”
She bit back a laugh. Sam was so clearly out of his depth with these kids that she couldn’t help but want to make it easier on him. Plus, if she started today, she wouldn’t have a long, endless day stretching ahead of her with nothing to fill the hours. Colton was sleeping, after getting off his shift at the fire station, and wouldn’t be available until dinnertime. “Today sounds perfect.”
“Great. Thank you.” He glanced over at the sofa. “The kids are quiet right now, so if it’s okay, I’m going to run upstairs, take a shower and get ready. Charity should be here in ten minutes, but I have to leave in...eleven. If you don’t mind waiting, I’d appreciate it. Give me five minutes. Ten, tops. Okay?”
“I think I can handle this for ten minutes.” She gave him a soft smile, and tried to pretend a part of her wasn’t thinking about the hunky man before her taking off his clothes and stepping into a shower.
When Sam went upstairs, Katie wandered into the living room. This space, too, looked like the aftermath of a tornado, complete with a second carpet of tiny little bricks. Now that it was just her and the two kids, she wasn’t quite sure what to do or how to engage them. She glanced at the television. Some cartoon sponge-shaped guy was running around in his underwear and letting out an annoying nasal laugh. “Hey, guys, what are you watching?”
“SpongeBob,” Libby said. “He lives in the water. With Mr. Krabs. And Patrick.”
“Sounds, uh...educational.” Whatever happened to Sesame Street? The Electric Company? Shows she remembered and understood.
A commercial came on and Libby turned toward Katie. “Do you have a boyfriend?”
“Uh...no.” She’d had a boyfriend. Who had dumped her the second he found out she was pregnant. She’d never in a million years thought nerdy Leonard Backstrom, another accountant at the firm, would be the one to break up first. He’d talked a lot about wanting to settle down, buying a house in an up-and-coming neighborhood, then starting joint retirement and 529 accounts. One stupid night when they both had too much to drink, and his tune had changed. He was, apparently, all talk and no real action. Last she heard, Leonard was dating Meredith the receptionist. He’d never even called Katie after she told him she was pregnant, as if he figured it was all her problem now.
After Katie had accepted that she was pregnant, she’d begun to think of a future with a child. A future of just the two of them. Those thoughts had grown into dreams, a plan—
Until she’d started cramping ten weeks later and lost everything.
So yeah, that was the complicated answer to do you have a boyfriend? Probably best to keep it to uh...no.
“My father says I can’t have a boyfriend until I’m thirty,” Libby said, and once again, Katie was struck by how mature she sounded. She sat down and Libby leaned closer. “Are you thirty?”
Katie laughed. “Almost. I’m twenty-nine.”
“My father is thirty-four.” Libby held up all her fingers, then flashed the digits three times. “That’s old.”
“You won’t think so when you’re thirty-four.” Interacting with these kids wasn’t so hard. She could do this. And she and Libby seemed to get along okay. The tutor thing should work out perfectly. In and out, an hour at a time. No biggie.
Libby considered that, then glanced over at Henry. “That’s my brother. He’s three.”
Henry sat there, a blanket curled in one hand, just watching the exchange. He was a quiet kid. Probably easy to handle, Katie was sure. “He seems very nice.”
Libby’s nose wrinkled. “He smells funny and he takes my toys and he makes a mess with his food.”
Katie laughed. “My brother was like that. But you know, he grew up to be really cool. Henry probably will, too.”
Libby’s nose wrinkled more. “My father makes me eat vegetables.”
“Vegetables are good for you,” Katie said.
“Are you gonna make me eat vegetables?”
“I don’t think that’s in my job description.”
“Good. Because I don’t wanna eat them,” Libby said.
“Libby Bear, be nice to Katie. She’s only here to help you with your schoolwork. No broccoli involved.” Sam’s voice came from behind Katie. She turned in her seat and her pulse did a little skip.
If she’d thought he looked handsome in a T-shirt and jeans, he was positively devastating in a suit and tie, with his hair still wet from the shower, smelling of fresh aftershave and soap. He was adjusting the cuffs on his white shirt, and for some reason, she thought that was one of the sexiest things she’d ever seen. Everything from the dark blue windowpane-pattern suit to the crimson tie at his neck and the black wingtip shoes gave him an air of power and manly confidence. Like a lion stepping onto the prairie and claiming his turf.
“I don’t want to do schoolwork!” Libby sat back on the couch, crossed her arms over her chest and let out a huff. “You’re mean.”
“Yup. I am.” He gave Katie a grin. “Still want the job?”
A job tha
t came with perks like seeing Sam in a suit? Sign her up. “Yes, yes. I... I do.”
Good Lord, she was stammering. The confident partner at the accounting firm had been replaced by a hormone-crazed teenage girl. She got to her feet, smoothed her skirt and cleared her throat. “Perhaps it’s best if we went over any additional rules or expectations now.”
He didn’t say anything for a second, then he seemed to refocus, and nodded. “Yes. Yes, you’re right.”
She followed him out to the kitchen and they took the same seats as before. “So, do you have a list of things that Libby needs to work on?”
“Her teacher said she needed help with times tables and three-digit addition and subtraction problems. The whole carrying the one thing, you know? Then there are word problems, which I swear were created to stump parents.” He laughed.
“Lucy has seven cantaloupes and Dave has three apples, so what time will the train arrive at the station?” Katie asked.
“Exactly.” He crossed to a pile of papers on the back kitchen counter and riffled through it. “Her teacher sent home a list that I’ve got here somewhere. My late wife was the planner and organizer. Since she’s been gone, I’ve just kind of...held on for dear life. I’m not very good at this whole juggling act.”
“My childhood was like that. I guess it’s why I’m the opposite. I like everything to add up, and for all the columns to balance.”
He pulled a sheet out of the pile, then handed it to Katie as he sat down again. “Well, one thing I’ve learned about having kids, no matter how organized and planned you make your days, you’re never going to get everything to add up perfectly. Kids...” His voice trailed off and his gaze drifted to the sofa, where Libby and Henry were laughing at the antics of the sponge and his starfish friend. “Kids change everything.”
“Yes,” she said softly, and her hand strayed to her empty belly, “yes, they do.”
He turned back and his gaze met hers, and held, for one long second. “Thank you.”
The praise made her shift in her seat. “I haven’t even done my job yet. Why are you thanking me?”
“Because...” Sam’s face clouded and his eyes filled, and his voice grew rough. “Because you got Henry to talk. I haven’t heard his voice in a long, long time.” Then, as if the emotion was too much, Sam got to his feet and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the middle of the table. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the paper. “I’m going to write down my cell number. Call or text me if you have any problems. I’ll be back after the interview, and Charity will be here any second, so you should be fine. Libby has a folder of practice sheets in her backpack that her teacher needs her to work on. If you and Libby get along, and this works for you, we’ll talk about a schedule for the next week when I get home. Sound good?”
She rose, too, and closed the gap between them to take the paper, adding it to the one from Libby’s teacher. “Sounds good.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, then to her eyes. “And...thank you.”
She was close. Too close to him. But she couldn’t seem to make her feet move in reverse. “You...you said that already.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just...distracted.”
She wanted to ask him if that was because of her or the job interview or something else, but the doorbell rang just then. The dog started barking, the kids started shouting, and a second later, a sullen twenty-year-old was in the kitchen, and the moment was gone. Charity looked about as happy to be there as a grandparent at a death metal concert.
Sam made the introductions and filled Charity in on Katie’s role. “Call me or text me if either of you have any problems at all. I’ll be back before you know it.”
A few minutes later, Sam was gone. Charity leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her slim frame. “Good luck,” she said.
“Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s just third grade math and reading.”
Charity scoffed. “Yup. And with Libby, that’s about as much fun as negotiating a nuclear war. So I say again, good luck.”
Charity stalked out of the room, scooped up Henry and took him into the backyard to play on the swing set. Katie turned and saw Libby standing in the doorway, arms crossed, defiance in her eyes.
Good luck.
Chapter Four
“Welcome to the team, Sam.” Hank Osborn got to his feet and put his hand out. “We look forward to working with you.”
Relief filled Sam. He had a job again. Thank God. If there was one worry that had consumed his every thought, it was how he was going to provide for his family. There was no wife to fall back on for an additional income, no partner to help pick up the slack. It was all on Sam’s shoulders, a weight that damned near seemed to kill him some days. The house, the kids, the bills, the...the loneliness. That was a place in his mind he didn’t dare dwell upon. That hole in his world, that empty spot in his bedroom, his bathroom. The way he missed Wendy’s chirpy good mornings and her sweet, whispered good nights.
Sam pushed those thoughts away. One thing at a time—right now, he had the job. That alone made him want to shout from the rooftops. Instead he settled for a professional smile and a nod of gratitude.
“When I looked back over some of your deals, I was really impressed,” Hank went on. “You did a great job negotiating that multi-property deal in Raleigh. One of my guys was trying to win that battle, but you had that creative idea to find tenants before the negotiations started, and we were out of the running before the race even started. That was one hell of a deal, son.”
“Thank you.”
“And I expect the same kind of ingenious thinking while you’re working for me. I like a man who thinks outside the box. Sound good?”
“Definitely, sir.” Sam was glad to find Hank was a lot like him when it came to getting the deal done. It was part of the reason he had liked the gregarious older man immediately. Hank had owned Osborn Properties for thirty years, and brought it from a small one-man operation up to a three-office company with two dozen brokers, serving all of North Carolina and parts of the rest of the South. It was a big step for Sam, going from the small company he’d been at before to this one. The opportunities and support structure would be better, but the performance expectations were also going to be higher.
“I’ll put you on the Midway Mall project right away,” Hank said, handing Sam a file folder. “We have five open spaces in there, and want to get them filled before the mall opens in two months. One hundred percent capacity by opening day. Nothing less. Think you can do that?”
A huge task. It would mean working a lot of hours, and he still had a shaky child care solution. But the last thing he wanted to say to his new boss was no. “Yes, sir.”
“One more thing,” Hank said as he came around the desk. He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and walked with him to the door. “Don’t call me sir. That’s for my dad or my grandpa. Around here, I’m just Hank.”
“Sounds good... Hank.” Sam shook hands with the other man one more time, then said goodbye and headed out the door. It wasn’t until he got in his car that he allowed himself a giant exhalation of relief.
The loss of his job had weighed on him like a ten-ton Mack truck. But now, with Hank’s offer—even if it came wrapped up in some pretty high expectations—that weight had been lifted. He had a job, Libby had a tutor—a beautiful and capable tutor at that—and life was finally improving, a little at a time.
He wound his way through the bucolic, hilly roads of Stone Gap, mentally running through a list of potential clients to call for the mall project. If he could talk to Charity and convince her to sign on long-term for babysitting, then achieving Hank’s goal was doable. Plus, if things had gone well with Katie today, then all the better—it would get Libby back on track in math and reading, and reduce the number of arguments he had with his daughter.
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br /> Not to mention how Katie had transformed his little family in the space of a morning. Sam could still hear the echoes of Henry’s voice in his head. His son had turned a corner today, thanks to Katie Williams, and it was one that Sam hoped spelled good changes ahead.
Such a small thing, one that too many people took for granted, but oh, how he never would again. He owed Katie something huge—something impossible to grasp—for bringing his little boy back from the world of silence. Even if it was only a tiny step forward, and lasted only a moment, Sam would be eternally grateful.
For the first time in a long time, Sam allowed himself an emotion he thought had died in that car accident with Wendy—
Hope.
He pulled into the driveway, parked the car, then got out and paused a moment in the driveway. The sound of children laughing, of Bandit barking, filled the air.
Life was good. In this moment, in this space. It was something he’d been trying to work on—learning to appreciate the small moments. After the dark days he and the kids had gone through, every small moment seemed like a miracle.
Sam allowed himself another smile, then circled around through the side gate to the backyard. “Sounds like you guys are having a great—”
His step faltered. For several long seconds, he was sure he was seeing things. But no, there was Katie, mud-spattered, her hair a wild jumble around her head, trying to clean up a spilled pot of red finger paint on the patio, while Henry and Libby ran barefoot through the grass, taking turns aiming the hose at each other and the dog.
“You’re home!” Katie got to her feet, and brushed at her hair with the back of her hand, but all that did was smear a long streak of red paint across her temple. “That’s so...great.”
He tried not to laugh at the paint on her face, the clear relief in her features. He glanced around the yard again, and when he noticed one less person than he’d left here this morning, alarm bells went off in his head. “Where’s Charity?”
