He rubbed his jaw. “Miss Whitman, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, because, believe me, I’m more grateful than I can say for all of your help so far and all you’ve offered to do in the days to come. But I have to ask, why are you doing this? I mean, what you’re offering here is going way above what one would normally expect.”
“When this happened to my sister, we didn’t have any idea what to do or how to handle things. As a result, Lizzie withdrew from everything and everyone. If there’s a chance I can spare Chloe at least some small part of that, I have a duty to try.”
So this was all just out of some sense of duty on her part?
“Besides,” she continued with a smile, “I can use the time to work with you all on your sign-language skills.”
He had to admit, it would certainly simplify his life to have her here the next few days.
“By the way, I saw Mr. Dempsey earlier today and asked him to deliver a half-dozen eggs here in the morning. I baked an extra loaf of bread tonight so there will be some for breakfast tomorrow. And there’s a jar of blackberry jam in your pantry, so you should be able to provide a basic breakfast for the three of you.”
Seemed she’d done a better job of thinking ahead than he had.
“After the church service, I’d like to come back here and fix a simple lunch, then sit down with the children and explain to them about our plans for you all to learn sign language. We can even start with a few easy lessons.”
Apparently she did have it all planned out.
Something of his thoughts must have shown in his face, because she sat up straighter and folded her hands primly. “Mr. Chandler, I hope you don’t think I’m being too forward with all of this. But I assure you I’m only trying to help.”
“I know you are.” Then he mentally grimaced. Had he even thanked her yet for all she was doing?
This time he moderated his tone. “I certainly appreciate your taking such an interest in Chloe’s welfare.”
“There’s no need for thanks.” She touched the lace at her throat diffidently. “I know this might sound a bit conceited, but I feel perhaps this is one reason God put me here in Turnabout, so there would be someone here with the skills needed to help Chloe when the time came.”
There was a curious air of vulnerability about her as she said that, the first such hint he’d seen in the starchy schoolteacher. And it made him feel suddenly protective. This time it was he who touched her hand. “That doesn’t sound conceited at all.”
The smile she responded with was sweet enough to make him blink. Then it was gone and she gently withdrew her hand. “I do have one more suggestion.”
Of course she did. “I’m listening.”
“Just as you don’t want to push her too hard, you don’t want to mollycoddle her, either. It’s a fine line to walk, I know, but if we act as if we think she is totally helpless, she’ll begin to believe that as well.”
So he was supposed to both give her time to adjust and nudge her to take some responsibilities? Nothing to it.
He met her gaze and saw the soft concern in her eyes. He decided there was no time like the present. “No matter how this turns out,” he told her, “I want you to know that I appreciate your efforts to help us.”
Her face pinkened prettily. “Thank you, Mr. Chandler. It’s always nice to know one’s efforts are being appreciated.”
Hank decided that he really did like her smile.
Then he drew himself up short. That was not the direction he intended this to take. It was going to be strictly business.
That was the only way he could face such an arrangement.
Hank cleared his throat. “As you can no doubt imagine, I’ve had to face some rather stark realities since Enid and Joe died.”
Her expression softened further. “I know. And from what I’ve observed, you are handling the situation quite well.”
“Thank you. But there’s still another challenge to be faced. Aunt Rowena coming here to help out is only a short-term solution. I need to look for another, more permanent arrangement.”
She nodded. “I agree.”
“I need to find a wife.” He stood and paced to the counter, leaning back against it. Saying the words aloud made it feel more real somehow.
She didn’t seem surprised. “I see.” Her dry tone made him feel defensive.
“You disapprove?”
“It is not my place to approve or disapprove. May I ask if you have already engaged the affections of a young lady here in Turnabout?”
“No, nor do I intend to.” He crossed back to the table, though he didn’t sit. “I’m looking to get married because the children need a mother, not because I need or want a wife. And before you voice any objections, I intend to be honest about that with whatever woman I propose to.”
Again, she didn’t seem particularly shocked. Nor did she seem approving, either. How did that bode for his plans?
“It’s not my place to object.” She pushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Do you have anyone in particular in mind?”
There was something about her tone that gave him pause. But he brushed it aside—this was his opening and he intended to take it. “I’ve been giving it a great deal of thought, actually, and there are a few names on my list.”
He met her gaze, wanting to see her reaction.
“Right now, your name is at the top of that list.”
This time it was obvious he’d surprised her. Her posture stiffened and her eyes widened. “I beg your pardon.”
He tried to read her, wanting to gauge what her main objection might be. Was it merely being caught off guard? Or did she have objections to him personally?
Or was it something else entirely?
His best course was to keep things on a logical level. “I mean no offense. But anyone can see you and the children are already forming an attachment for each other. And there’s no denying you’re ideally suited to deal with Chloe. And as far as I can tell, you don’t have any other prospects at the moment.”
Her eyes narrowed as she glared at him. “Mr. Chandler, while it is true I have a fondness for your children, it is the fondness of a teacher for her students.” She lifted her chin, her expression taking a decidedly chilly turn. “As for my prospects, that is none of your concern. But I’ll have you know I haven’t been without offers since I moved here.”
He’d obviously struck a nerve. Perhaps she wasn’t as free of silly romantic notions as he’d assumed. He rubbed the back of his neck. It surprised him how hard her refusal hit. And not just because this would have been a convenient solution. He’d convinced himself that the two of them would suit nicely and he’d hoped she’d feel the same way.
But it appeared it was not to be and there was no point in fretting over it.
Right now he needed to smooth her ruffled feathers—he’d rather not get on the wrong side of someone he’d be spending so much time with in the coming days.
He held up his hands, palms outward. “All right. As I said, I meant no insult, but I had to ask. If you’re not interested, then you’re not interested.”
* * *
Janell kept her hands hidden in her lap, afraid their trembling would betray her emotions.
How dare he ask her to marry him, and in such a cavalier manner? No matter that they barely knew each other. The way he’d asked—it was clear she was no more than a convenient choice. Someone both close-at-hand and suited—like a nearby rag he’d reach for when he spilled his coffee.
His assumptions about her—that she had no prospects—stung most of all. Vain of her, she knew, but there it was. No woman liked to be thought of as a spinster.
And even if he had no way of knowing it, there had been a time in her life when she’d thought she would have it all—a loving husband, a house fu
ll of children, a respected place in the community. The fact that that had been torn from her didn’t mean she still didn’t yearn for it.
His proposal had brought home to her just how very alive that yearning still was inside her.
Too bad her status as a divorcée made that kind of future impossible.
Chapter Eight
Janell tried not to let her thoughts dwell on that awful, painful time in her life. No one here besides Eve knew about her ill-fated marriage and that was how she wanted it. To reveal her secret, especially after all this time, would jeopardize not only her job, but also her very position in the community. Especially if her neighbors and friends knew the circumstances. Because she wasn’t just divorced—the divorce had been all her fault.
She’d taken a chance telling Eve six months ago, but was glad now that she had. Her friend had understood all too well what it was to live under the burden of a shameful past and had not been the least judgmental.
“I suppose I’ll have to look elsewhere, then.”
Mr. Chandler’s comment pulled her back to the present. Thank goodness he seemed to have seen nothing amiss in her demeanor the past few seconds.
Still, she was unexpectedly piqued by his easy acceptance of her refusal. Apparently she was nothing more than one of the names on his list.
Janell gave a stiff nod as she sat up straighter. “So it seems,” she replied, striving to keep her tone unemotional and businesslike.
“I wonder if you’d mind giving me your opinion on some potential candidates,” Mr. Chandler asked.
“You want my opinion on who would make you a good wife?” Apparently he saw nothing incongruous about asking the woman he’d just proposed to to help him pick a wife.
He frowned as if insulted. “Not a wife. A mother for the children. What I need from you is an opinion on how the lady under consideration and the children would get on.”
“I see.” The man really didn’t have an ounce of romance in him.
He nodded, apparently warming to the idea. “With your insights, you can save me from wasting time talking to someone who’s obviously not the right fit.”
Janell resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “Assuming you find the right woman, may I ask how you intend to approach her?”
His eyebrow shot up at that.
“If you’re wondering if I intend to go a’courtin’—” his tone had a sarcastic bite to it “—the answer is a very definite no, at least not in the usual way. Like I said, I will make it clear right up front what my intentions are. I don’t want to deceive anyone into thinking this will be more than a marriage of convenience.”
“Your intentions are admirable, I suppose, but I would advise you not to just baldly lay out your intentions and propose.”
“Well, I—”
She didn’t let him finish. “I understand why you wouldn’t want to go through a conventional courtship or mislead the lady as to your feelings. But don’t you think you and your prospective bride should get to know each other before you propose? I mean, you must take the time to decide if she’s the right one to share your home and the right one to share the responsibility for the children.”
He drew himself up. “I consider myself a good judge of character. It won’t take me long to figure out if she’s a good candidate or not.”
“I see.” She held his gaze, hoping to make her disapproval obvious.
Apparently it worked. “I assume you’d handle it differently.”
“I would.”
“Care to elaborate?”
Was she really about to give him pointers on how to find a wife? It seemed she was. “I’d recruit a third party to act as a go-between.” She leaned forward, trying to emphasize her point. “It should be someone you can count on to have your and the children’s best interest in mind, someone whose judgment you trust.”
“And what would this go-between do exactly?”
“Go to the candidate on your behalf, of course. He or she would let the lady in question know the situation in general terms without extending any offers or promises and ascertain said lady’s interest in such a match.”
“So you agree that a businesslike approach is best, just that I should go about it from a distance.”
“It could save a great deal of awkwardness and misunderstanding if you did so.”
“Assuming I go along with this plan of yours to use a go-between, and they acted on my behalf, then what?”
“Well, if the lady appears interested, he could ask a few discreet questions that would allow him to form an opinion of how good a fit she would be for you and the children. Then he would report back to you, and the two of you could discuss whether to pursue her or move on to another candidate.”
“In other words, you think I need a matchmaker.”
“You could look at it that way, I suppose. But you do want to approach this in a very businesslike manner, don’t you?”
He nodded. “I have to admit, it sounds like a good approach.”
Happy that he’d seen the wisdom of her advice, she moved to the next logical step. “Is there someone you could trust to take on this job of go-between?”
He rubbed his jaw, deep in thought. Finally he looked up. “How about you?”
“Me?” She raised a hand to her chest, surprised. “Surely you have some close friend—”
“You’re already intimately acquainted with our situation. I have complete confidence that you’d be looking out for the children’s best interests. And this was your idea in the first place, so I don’t have to do a lot of explaining. In other words, you’re the perfect candidate.”
“Still, I would think you’d want someone you know better—”
“It also occurred to me that this is a role that would benefit from a woman’s touch.”
He had a point there.
“Besides, I believe you’ll be looking out for Chloe’s and Alex’s best interests.”
“As you said earlier, the children and I have formed an attachment. I’d like to make certain that the woman whose care they are eventually placed in can give them the love and attention they’ll need.”
He sat back with a smug smile. “Exactly.”
Why not? “Well then, if you’re sure you trust my judgment, I would be glad to assist you in finding a wife.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Janell wondered what she’d just got herself into. Was she really going to take on the role of matchmaker for this man?
Suddenly, she had had all she could take for one day. She stood. “It’s getting late—we can discuss this in more detail tomorrow.”
He stood as well. “Of course. I didn’t mean to keep you so long.”
Had it been a mistake to agree to this? A better question was, why had she agreed to this? She wanted to think it was for the sake of the children alone.
But she had a niggling feeling that the fact that it would mean spending more time with their uncle had played a part as well.
* * *
Hank jammed his hands in his pockets and moved to the front of the house while Miss Whitman went to tell the children goodbye. Things hadn’t worked out as he’d hoped—he should have known better than to think the straitlaced schoolteacher would agree to marry someone like him, but from the depth of the disappointment he was feeling, apparently he had.
Of course, one only had to be in her company a little while to know that Miss Whitman came from a place of refinement and money. Her circumstances may have taken a downturn, but that didn’t change who she was.
Still, he’d hoped her obvious affection for the kids, at least, would offset any reservations she might have about marrying him, and that the knowledge that she was quickly approaching the age of spinsterhood might factor into her decision as well.
The strength of his disap
pointment surprised him, though. Having her say yes would obviously have made this whole ordeal simpler. And it would also have had the added advantage of him being certain he could share a house with her without her driving him crazy. Strange how certain he was after barely a day in her company.
At least she’d agreed to help him find someone suitable. It made him feel not quite so alone in all this.
He stared out the front door and frowned. He didn’t like the idea of letting Miss Whitman walk home unescorted. Dusk was settling in and it wouldn’t be much longer until it was full dark.
Not that he believed anyone here in Turnabout would bother the schoolteacher. Still, she deserved more consideration than that. Problem was, he couldn’t leave the children home alone, and he also didn’t think it would be a good idea to take them out for a long walk right now.
But there was one way to handle this without disturbing the children. As she joined him at the door, he said, “I wonder if I could impose on you for just a few minutes longer.”
“Of course. What can I do for you?”
“I need to step down to Dennis Raine’s house for a moment, if you could stay and keep an eye on the children. I promise I won’t tarry long.” The Raines were his closest neighbors.
She settled down on the chair near the sofa. “I’ll wait right here.”
Hank’s errand took less than ten minutes. When he returned, he had the Raines’ oldest daughter with him. The girl nodded at Janell. “Good evening, Miss Whitman.”
“Hello, Glenda.” She turned to Hank questioningly.
“Glenda is going to keep an eye on things here while I walk you home.”
From the look on her face, she didn’t seem to be particularly appreciative of his attempted gallantry. “That’s very thoughtful of you, Mr. Chandler, but there’s no need—”
He cut her off, determined to have his way on this at least. “Of course there is. And since Glenda is already here, you might as well just go along with the plan.”
The Holiday Courtship Page 7
