by Lori Wick
“It’s all right, Katherine. You can tell me.”
She sighed, knowing in an instant that she must leave Quintin out of this. “It’s nothing personal, Mr. McCandles, but I can’t work under the kind of structure you have in your home. As I said, here at the orphanage we have to have rules to survive, but I would be miserable with those kind of limitations in your home—in any home. I know I would.”
Chase nodded. “Now it is my turn to apologize. I’m not asking you to come and be Mrs. Harding. I want you to come with your own style and ideas.”
Rusty was shaking her head. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Mr. McCandles.”
“Yes, I do,” he said firmly.
“Hide and seek all over the house,” she tested him.
“That’s fine.”
“Forts under the dining room table,” she tried again.
“Fine.”
“Towers made from books in the library. No particular schedule or focus.”
“All right.”
Rusty eyed him. Did he really mean it? Had she really made herself clear? This was the way she had grown up. It had been wonderful, but it was not the sedate environment to which he had become accustomed.
“It won’t always be quiet,” she felt a need to remind him.
“No one is going to complain. I know better than to worry that you would let anything happen to Quintin, and nothing else concerns me. The house is yours to do with as you like.”
Rusty licked her lips. Could he mean it? If she could do with Quintin all summer what they’d been able to do in one day, it would be one of the greatest summers of her life. She reminded Mr. McCandles of that day.
“Do you recall the day Quintin and I had together?”
“Very well.”
“It could very well be like that day every day, Mr. McCandles. Muddy boots and late to lunch.”
Chase shrugged. “So far, Katherine, you haven’t said anything I can’t live with. Not to mention knowing that Quintin will love it.”
If you know Quintin will love it, why hasn’t he had that all along? The question came out of nowhere, and Rusty knew she was going to have to watch her thoughts. He was asking her to come and be with his son, not give a critique on his past performance.
“When do you need your answer, Mr. McCandles?”
“I’m leaving here Tuesday afternoon, but I don’t want you to feel pressured. If you still don’t know what you want to do when I’m ready to leave, you can get word to me later. If that’s the case, I’ll begin interviewing nannies when I arrive home, but you’re my first choice, so I won’t hire anyone until I hear from you.”
Rusty nodded. “And if I took the job, when would you need me?”
“Mrs. Harding would like to leave as early as possible. The first of June is this Tuesday, so I think anytime the following week would work for her.”
“Does Quintin know you’ve asked me?”
“No, he knows nothing of our plans. Mrs. Harding and I decided that she would tell him when things were a little more settled.”
Rusty’s mind wandered to the little boy in question. She could still see him at the front door of Briarly. Had he thought of her after that or had he gone back to his own world without a qualm? Rusty knew better than to ask. The answer might tempt her to handle her decision on emotions, and she couldn’t do that. She needed to do some level-headed thinking right now.
“I don’t think it fair that I leave you hanging on this subject, Mr. McCandles.” Her voice was all business. “I’ll have your answer by the time you leave Tuesday. Is there somewhere I can reach you?”
“I’ll be here for dinner tomorrow night, and beyond that I’m staying at the Jarvis House. If you’d like, I’ll stop back here on my way to the train station.”
“Very well. I’ll plan on that, thank you.”
“Was there anything else you wished to know?”
Rusty shook her head. “I don’t think so, although …” Rusty had a thought. “Your staff is very warm and kind, but when I was last there, I was a guest. Will they welcome someone new working in your home?”
“They were very impressed with you. I have no doubt that you’ll all get along splendidly.”
Again Rusty nodded, but another thought had come to mind. “I just remembered, two of my friends are getting married this summer. If I come to Briarly, would I be able to take time off to return here to Manitou and Boulder?”
“Absolutely. Just let me know your plans as soon as you know them.”
“And my family. Where in Colorado Springs would my parents stay if they wanted to visit me?”
He blinked in surprise. “They would stay at Briarly for as long as they’d like.”
“Oh.” Rusty felt slightly taken aback at his matter-of-fact tone. Again her head cocked to one side. “I would be working for you, wouldn’t I, Mr. McCandles? Right now I’m beginning to think I’d be a glorified houseguest.”
“You would have a salary, Katherine, and days off to do with as you choose. I would naturally depend on you to take care of Quintin, but if you come, I would want you to see Briarly as your home for the summer. If there is anything we can do to make you more comfortable, or if Quintin needs something, you have only to ask. If you don’t like the way the furniture is arranged in your room, you can change it. If your friends or family want to visit, they will be more than welcome. Have I made myself clear?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
Rusty had a lot to think about indeed. The job sounded like a dream come true, but knowing very well how things were between Quintin and his father, she needed to be cautious about dreaming. That alone was enough to make her pause over getting involved. She would seek counsel with Paddy and Sammy, and she would pray.
Watching her face, Chase knew that she needed to be alone. It had been foolish of him to believe that if Paddy could spare her, Rusty would automatically agree to come. He could tell she wanted to, but there was also something holding her back. By the time he and Rusty parted, Chase assumed he would indeed be headed home to interview nannies.
27
“Do you wish someone would just tell you what to do?” Sammy asked of Rusty much later that day. Rusty smiled.
“No, I guess not. I keep asking myself, what’s the worst thing that can happen?”
“And what do you come up with?”
Rusty shrugged. “That I’ll be miserable and have to tell Mr. McCandles that I can’t stay.”
“Said like that, it doesn’t sound bad at all,” Paddy put in, “but it might be harder than you think.”
“In that case,” Rusty replied logically, “I’d have to ask myself what would be harder: staying on or telling Mr. McCandles that I have to leave. I’m not being naïve—saying goodbye to Quintin would be horrible—but I’ve tried to view all the options to see if I can make this work.”
Paddy nodded. For having had only about three hours to think it over, Rusty had certainly come up with many possibilities.
“I am worried about one thing, Rusty.”
Rusty had been looking at nothing in particular. She now centered on her aunt.
“You can’t go in there with a mind to ‘fix’ things between Chase and Quintin.” Sammy’s voice was gentle but to the point. “As much as the relationship bothers you, you can’t have that attitude or plan.”
“I honestly wasn’t planning to do that, Sammy, but that doesn’t mean it wouldn’t have come to mind. Thank you.”
The three of them fell silent, but the silence didn’t last. Rusty had made up her mind.
“I’m going to go,” she said softly. “I’ll miss everyone here, but I think I should do this. Thank you, Uncle Paddy, for giving me this opportunity.”
“You’re welcome. We’ll miss you too. Our loss is Quintin McCandles’ gain.”
Rusty smiled at the compliment. “Mr. McCandles told me he’ll be coming to dinner tomorrow night.”
Sammy nodded in affirmation. “Six o’clock.”
“In tha
t case, I’ll tell him then.” She fell silent again and just thought about Quintin. She wanted to see him again and was certain they would have a wonderful time together.
“What will you do about the children’s church schedule?” Paddy asked.
“I’ll talk with Pastor tomorrow. That will still give me time to reconsider if it puts him in a spot. I know Tibby is going to faint.”
“What day will you leave?” Sammy asked.
Rusty looked at her uncle. “What works for you?”
“Did he say anytime during the week of the seventh?”
“Yes.”
“I think later would be better than earlier. Maybe Thursday or even Friday.”
“Okay.”
No one spoke for several minutes. Rusty was praying, still thanking God for this opportunity and asking for His help to do the job and be the person Quintin needed. At one point she glanced up to find Sammy’s eyes on her.
“I’ll miss you, Rusty” was all she said, but it was enough to send them both into tears.
Colorado Springs
Mrs. Whitley lost track of Quintin for several minutes, but she need not have worried. Standing straight as a soldier, he was still in front of the window in the vestibule, his eyes on the front drive. She knew whom he was waiting for. The wise housekeeper suspected that the woman arriving was his favorite person in the world.
Mrs. Harding had been gone since the day before. It had been decided that she would be away before Miss Taggart arrived. Quintin had known of the plans only since the beginning of the week, but Mrs. Whitley couldn’t help but ask herself if Mrs. Harding might not be hurt by Quintin’s buoyant mood. The staff had never seen him so happy. He hadn’t even cried at the prospect of not seeing Mrs. Harding for the entire summer. Of course time was a vague thing to a five-year-old, but Mrs. Whitley knew there was more to it than that.
The housekeeper was turning away from Quintin’s vigil when Mr. McCandles wandered by. He’d been doing a bit of pacing and worrying himself. Chase was thinking about his last conversation with Rusty. He’d been very pleased to know that she was coming.
“That’s great,” he had said at least twice. “I’ll come and get you. What day will you be finished there?”
“I don’t need you to come,” she’d told him, “but thank you.”
Chase had already been shaking his head. “I’ll come for you; just tell me the day.”
Rusty’s chin had instantly gone in the air. “I’m not sure what day,” she said, her eyes challenging him. “But I will get there on my own.”
Chase opened his mouth to set her straight, but she cut back in.
“Mr. McCandles, I’ll come over to Briarly on my own, and when I need to travel to Boulder or back here to Manitou, I’ll also do that on my own. And that’s my final word on the subject.”
He hadn’t been happy about her decision, and she knew it, but she never gave any hint of backing down. He’d had no choice but to let the matter drop. Chase now wished he had pushed the point and gone for her anyway.
Why, Chase? he found himself asking. Why do you need to bring her here—so you won’t have to worry? You shouldn’t be worrying anyway. Is God in control or not?
With this reminder, he turned, and leaving his son at the window, went back to his office. Quite sadly, it never occurred to him to speak to the boy or initiate any type of interchange. He didn’t even notice that Quintin held his bear snugly in his arms.
Rusty stepped onto the platform and immediately hailed a porter. The porter, a young man with a preference for redheads, was happy to be of service to this petite woman with the determined glint in her lovely lavender eyes.
“I have a trunk,” Rusty told the gawking porter. Not even she could miss his interest. “And I’ll need a hack. Are you able to see to those things for me?”
“I certainly am,” he told her with a smile. He was tempted to ask if the trunk meant she would be in town for a while, but the question remained inside of him for fear that she would report him to his superior. “If you’ll come with me to the station and point out your trunk, I’ll get right to it.”
“Thank you.”
The porter smiled at her and made light conversation as he got her trunk and saw her settled into a waiting carriage, but other than tipping him fairly and thanking him for his time, Rusty had nothing else to say. Indeed, she didn’t look at him again. Had she done so, she would have seen the huge lift of his eyebrows when she told the hack driver that her destination was Briarly.
Quintin McCandles couldn’t breathe. His little chest rose but would not fall. She was here. Miss Taggart was in the front of the house, stepping lightly down from the carriage and smiling at the driver who had helped her. He had to tell someone. He had to let someone know! His little legs turned and he moved to the hallway, but it was empty. Panic was filling his breast when Mrs. Whitley came down the stairs. One look at the mute appeal on his face and her heart wrung with tenderness.
“Is she here, Quintin?”
All he could do was nod.
“I’ll let her in, shall I?”
Again Quintin could only manage a nod, but as he did so the door opened. Mr. Whitley, the footman, carriage driver, and general handyman, had opened it. Quintin watched as he stepped back and then she was there.
Miss Taggart was the most wonderful person he’d ever known, and now she was coming in the front door. Every time he held his bear, he thought of her and tried not to cry, but he wouldn’t merely have to think of her any longer.
He couldn’t move. He wanted to run to her, but his legs wouldn’t work. There was no need. The moment Rusty spotted him, she dashed across the vestibule, under the ornate archway, and into the foyer to scoop him up into her arms. Quintin’s arms went around her. He heard her say his name, but he couldn’t reply. His little face was buried in her neck, and he thought she smelled like flowers. A moment later he felt his feet touch the floor, and when he raised his head, he found her kneeling in front of him and smiling into his face.
“Hello, Quintin McCandles.”
“Hello, Miss Taggart,” he said, feeling all at once shy.
“Now that,” she declared, “is the first thing we must correct. My name is Aunt Rusty. Can you remember that?”
“Yes.”
“And that’s what you’ll call me, do you understand?”
“Yes.”
“How have you been?” She smiled at how much he wanted to please her.
“Very well, thank you.”
“Is Mrs. Harding still here?”
“No. She left yesterday.”
“And what did you do today to have fun?”
“I watched you come.”
Rusty smiled. She didn’t need an interpreter for that one. She was also relieved. It was not going to be a painful transition, at least not today. When she began suggesting things that he’d never done in his life, he was certain to panic, but for today he was glad to see her.
“Would you like to come and help me unpack?”
“I believe Mrs. Whitley planned on seeing to that.”
Rusty looked up at the sound of Chase’s voice and stood to full height, taking Quintin’s hand without thought. Chase was glad she’d just now seen him. He’d come to the hallway in time to see her enfold Quintin in her arms. The scene had so touched him that if he’d been required to speak prior to that moment, he would have been at a painful loss.
“Hello, Mr. McCandles,” Rusty acknowledged graciously.
“Hello, Katherine. How was your trip?”
“It was fine,” she said, her eyes sparkling.
“Uneventful?”
Rusty laughed. “Very.”
“I’m glad to hear it.” Rusty watched as he turned to Mrs. Whitley. Rusty had smiled at her when she came in but otherwise had been wholly taken up with Quintin.
“Mrs. Whitley, has Miss Taggart met the rest of the staff?”
“I don’t believe all of them, sir. Would you like me to see to i
t?”
“Please.” He turned back to Rusty. “Mrs. Whitley is prepared to see to Quintin for the remainder of the day if you care to rest.”
“Thank you,” Rusty said, her gaze encompassing both of them, “but the trip just wasn’t that taxing. I had hoped that Quintin and I could do some things.”
“As you wish.” Chase was at his most gracious. “If there is anything you need, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you, Mr. McCandles,” Rusty said to him. She then turned to Briarly’s housekeeper. Mrs. Whitley was swift to respond.
“Miss Taggart, I don’t believe you’ve met my husband.” She indicated the man who had helped her after she’d paid the carriage driver. Marshall Whitley was fair-haired like his wife, with a quick smile and ready-to-please eyes. He’d come in to stand quietly in the background, his hat in his hand. Rusty went right over and shook his hand.
“Hello, Mr. Whitley. Thank you for taking care of my trunk.”
“You’re welcome, Miss Taggart. I’ll just see that it gets upstairs to your room.”
“Thank you. Are you going to lead the way?” Rusty asked Quintin.
He nodded. “You’re in the same room.”
Rusty’s eyes grew with enthusiasm. “How nice. That’s a beautiful room.”
“My room is across the landing.”
“We can visit each other.” Her voice had dropped to a conspiratorial tone.
As usual, he nodded yes to everything she said. Rusty started toward the stairs. Just two steps later, Quintin took the lead. He went ahead of her, talking all the way.
Watching them, Chase suddenly knew why children were so drawn to her. She never said things to children and then looked to other adults with a teasing glint in her eye. Her conversations with children were strictly for them. What a special gift she had.
Chase returned to his office, a great peace filling his heart. He wouldn’t think about the end of the summer when she had to go away, or how Quintin might take it. Right now he determined to be thankful that she had come for this time. As God’s Word reminded him, tomorrow had enough worries of its own. Right now he would focus on today and give thanks.
