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Single Dad's Christmas Miracle
SUSAN MEIER


Althea Johnson is only meant to tutor widower Clark Beaumont’s son. Not fall in love with her boss.But, with her help, Clark’s kids begin to come alive again after losing their mother and against the odds Althea hopes that when Christmas morning arrives there will be four stockings hanging over the fireplace…







He needs a helping hand…

Having recently lost his wife, Clark Beaumont is trying to make it through the holidays for the sake of his kids. But with his son failing at school and his little girl talking only in whispers, he needs nothing short of a miracle.…

…when one arrives on his doorstep!

Althea Johnson is only meant to tutor Clark’s son. But with her help the Beaumont family begins to come alive again, and against the odds Althea hopes that when Christmas morning arrives there will be four stockings hanging over the fireplace.…



Clark rose, tucked Teagan into bed, kissed her forehead and said, “I’ll never let anything happen to you.” He kissed her forehead again. “You can always depend on me.”


Dear Reader,

Clark Beaumont has a twelve-year-old son, Jack, who is failing his classes, and a four-year-old daughter, Teagan, who talks only in whispers. The last thing he needs is to fall in love.… Or is it?

Althea Johnson is a sweet, smart teacher who doesn’t merely see Jack’s problems and create a plan to help him push through his difficult semester; she also brings Teagan out of her shell.

But Althea comes with secrets. And Clark has already had more than his fair share of secrets and lies.

This is the story of a hero and heroine forced to come to terms with their pasts in order to have a future. Though some parts about the abuse in Althea’s past were difficult to write, I think you’ll enjoy their journey to a real, forever love that never disappoints. Especially since Clark and Althea are a hero and heroine who deserve real love!

Susan Meier


Single Dad’s Christmas Miracle

Susan Meier






www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


SUSAN MEIER spent most of her twenties thinking she was a job-hopper—until she began to write and realised everything that had come before was only research! One of eleven children, with twenty-four nieces and nephews and three kids of her own, Susan has had plenty of reallife experience watching romance blossom in unexpected ways. She lives in western Pennsylvania with her wonderful husband, Mike, three children, and two overfed, well-cuddled cats, Sophie and Fluffy. You can visit Susan’s website at: www.susanmeier.com.


For Jack and Helaina

(the inspiration for Jack and Teagan)


Contents

CHAPTER ONE (#u85022c2d-d741-5564-8aca-fd83d697c946)

CHAPTER TWO (#u052f4fa4-5198-55b9-99b7-98c7846024ad)

CHAPTER THREE (#ubd7fdf96-e814-53a0-a96f-3182fd65bd4d)

CHAPTER FOUR (#u1031ad6c-fa45-5177-8528-38bacd68a1f9)

CHAPTER FIVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)

EPILOGUE (#litres_trial_promo)

EXCERPT (#litres_trial_promo)


CHAPTER ONE

“TURN RIGHT.”

The soothing voice of the GPS rolled into Althea Johnson’s car, and she maneuvered her vehicle as directed, onto the snow-covered Main Street of Worthington, Pennsylvania. The week after Thanksgiving, the little town sparkled with the spirit of Christmas. Tinsel connected to telephone poles looped above the street. Huge evergreen wreaths decorated with shiny multicolored ornaments covered the top half of shop doors. Silver bells glistened in the sun that managed to peek through the falling snow.

But as quickly as she entered the tiny town, she exited. The GPS stayed silent so she continued up the winding road and climbed a tree-covered mountain.

Up and up she went for a good ten minutes, causing her palms to sweat as her car just barely chugged through the wet snow. Positive she’d missed an exit, she was about to look for a place to turn around when the GPS sang out, “In thirty feet, turn left.”

With a sigh of relief, she braked slowly, carefully. She’d learned to drive in Maryland winters, but she’d spent the past twelve years in sunny Southern California. Her car didn’t have snow tires and her driving skills were a bit rusty.

“Turn left.”

Braking again, she guided her little red car down a short lane lined with snow-coated pine trees. A huge Victorian house came into view. A pewter-colored SUV had been parked haphazardly in the driveway. A man reached in and pulled grocery bags out of the open hatch. Snow fell on him like cotton balls from heaven, covering his shoulders and back, and icing the evergreens that ringed his property. A big black dog bounced around him. A little girl clung to the hem of his jacket.

Frazzled.

That’s the word that came to Althea’s mind. She stopped her car, pushed open the door and slid out. The big dog bounded over with a “Woof.” In one quick movement, he jumped on his hind legs, his paws landed on her shoulders and she fell backward into the snow.

Cold seeped through the back of her lightweight jeans and Southern-California hoodie. Huge white flakes billowed down on her.

Trapped by the dog—who had his paws on her chest as if he were holding her down until the police could get there—she only saw boots rapidly approaching.

“Crazy!”

The man gave the dog a nudge. The beast bounced off with another “Woof!”

He extended his hand. “Let me help you up.”

She gaped at him. His face was perfect with a straight nose, angled cheekbones and the tint of five o’clock shadow, even though it was only noon. “Did you just call me crazy?”

“The dog’s name is Crazy. Her given name is Crazy Dog. If she had a birth certificate that’s what would be on it.”

She laughed.

She came up so fast that she stopped inches away from his nose. This close, she could see his whiskey-brown eyes that perfectly matched his light brown hair.

“You named your dog Crazy Dog?”

He stepped back, putting some space between them. “After the way she knocked you down, I would think you wouldn’t be surprised.”

She laughed again. Cold air filled her lungs. She slapped her hands together to remove the snow.

“Let me get your back.”

The words were barely out of his mouth before he turned her around and brushed the snow off her back and then did a quick sweep over her bottom.

“If this stuff melts on your clothes you’ll be wet all afternoon.”

Her nerve endings tingled. Her breath stuttered in and out. The intimacy of it should have made her indignant. Instead, it felt surprisingly...normal. This was a man who saw a problem and fixed it. For him, his brushing her butt was nothing more serious than that. For her...well, she hadn’t had a man touch her in years. So even that simple brush zinged through her and sent the wrong kind of warmth careening through her bloodstream.

She pivoted to face him. “I’m fine. You don’t have to brush anymore.”

“That big, stupid dog should know her place.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at her hoodie and jeans. “I’m hoping you have a coat in the car.”

“I’m from Southern California.” Funny how easy that came out of her mouth when really she was “from” right down the road. Newland, Maryland, was only fifty or so miles away from the green hills of Pennsylvania, where Clark Beaumont lived.

“California?” He stepped back. “Are you Althea Johnson?”

“In the snow-covered flesh.” She extended her hand to shake his. “I take it you’re Clark Beaumont.”

He caught her hand, gave one quick pump and pulled back. “I thought you weren’t coming until Friday?”

“Once I told Emily,” she said, referring to the mutual friend who had told her about the job and referred her to Clark, “that I would interview with you, I drove straight through.”

“You haven’t slept?”

“Or really eaten for that matter.”

“Wow. This is not your lucky day. Things sort of went to hell in a handbasket around here this morning when the snow started to fall.”

She glanced around at the winter wonderland, understanding why he chose to live in this peaceful, beautiful slice of heaven. Even if living this far out of town probably came with complications.

“Don’t sweat it. I haven’t really had a lucky year.” Or a lucky life for that matter, but a few months ago she’d decided not to wallow in self-pity anymore and it had worked. She laughed more. She forgot all about designer labels and getting married. She took one day at a time, did the task in front of her and didn’t worry about tomorrow. And her life, even though it came with trouble, had become happier.

“Which is why you were driving back to your hometown?”

“No. I’m driving back to my hometown to see my sister. I’m interviewing for the temp job with you because of the bad year. My teaching position was cut. Rather than wait until I ran out of money and lost my apartment, I decided to go home. My sister owns a company and can give me a job the second I get to Newland, but I don’t want to work in a bakery. I want to find a teaching job. And the few thousand dollars I’ll make tutoring your son will give me a couple more weeks before I’ll have to become a baker out of desperation.” Especially since room and board came with the job.

He sniffed a confirming laugh that said he knew all about bad years, temp employment and desperation. But looking at his house, with multiple angles and levels of roofs, green shutters that accented the creamy yellow siding and gingerbread trim along the wraparound porch, she had to wonder if the guy really knew trouble. The house only needed gumdrops and candy canes to be ready for a storybook. People who lived in storybook houses didn’t know trouble.

In her head, she snorted in derision. That’s what everyone had believed about her family. But behind the walls of their perfect Cape Cod home, their father had ruled with an iron fist. Literally.

She shivered.

Clark’s eyes widened. “I’m sorry. You’re freezing. Let’s go inside.” He glanced back at her car. “Do you want me to grab your luggage?”

She smiled politely. “Let’s see how the interview goes first.”

He winced. “Right. Sorry.” He pointed to the house and motioned for her to go before him. “Emily was so sure you’d be a good choice as Jack’s homeschool facilitator that I took the liberty of checking the references on the résumé you emailed me. So we really are just down to the interview.”

“That’s good.” She walked to the white porch steps and began climbing. The town she’d driven through at the bottom of the mountain had been decked out for Christmas. But this beautiful Victorian house, perfect for a dreamy holiday, didn’t have as much as a string of lights along the porch roof.

“With my housekeeper sick for the past week, everything’s been a little off-kilter. If I hadn’t gone to the grocery store, I wouldn’t even be able to offer you coffee.” He stopped. “Shoot. I forgot the groceries. You go ahead inside. I’ll get them.”

She turned around with him. “I’ll help.”

“You’re cold.”

“And carrying groceries will warm me up.”

She followed Clark to his SUV. He pulled out two plastic bags with handles and she took them from him.

“Just go in the front door and follow it back down the hall to the kitchen.”

She nodded, but by the time she got to the door in her slippery tennis shoes, Clark was right behind her.

“If you decide to take this job, you’ll have to get yourself a pair of boots.”

“I guess.”

“And a coat. Winters can be brutal here.”

The little girl who had been hanging on Clark’s coat when she arrived stood in the front foyer. Wearing a pink hooded jacket and little white mittens, she looked both adorable and warm.

“This is Teagan.”

The little girl’s gaze dipped to the marble floor, so Althea stooped in front of her. “Hey, Teagan.”

“Teagan, this is Ms. Johnson. She’s the lady interviewing to be Jack’s teacher.”

Teagan continued to look at the floor.

“It was nice to meet you, Teagan.” She rose. Sometimes it was best to give a child her space. Eventually, she’d warm up to her. Kids always did. With a quick smile at Teagan, she continued on to the kitchen.

Clark plopped his bags of groceries on the center island. Dark wood cabinets should have given the room a gloomy feel, but the cheerful white marble countertops and warm oak hardwood floors took care of that. So did the huge windows by the wooden table that provided a spectacular view of the mountains behind the house.

“Wow.”

“Thank my wife for that view. She found this land, created the design for this house.”

“She’s got a real eye for things.” She turned from the windows just as a boy of about twelve walked into the kitchen, the big black dog on his heels.

“Dad, did you get that ham I asked for?” When he saw Althea, he stopped dead in his tracks.

“Yes, I got the ham.” He faced Althea. “Althea, that’s my son, Jack.” He turned to Jack. “Jack, this is Althea Johnson. As soon as I get these groceries put away I’m going to interview her to see if she can become your new teacher.”

Taking a bag of cans to the pantry, Clark continued putting away the groceries. Big black dog by his side, Jack stood where he’d stopped, sizing her up.

Usually she wasn’t afraid of a twelve-year-old boy, especially not one so handsome. Shaggy brown hair and big brown eyes like his dad’s gave him an angelic choir-boy appearance. But he also had an odd expression on his face. Almost as if he were strategizing how to get her fired—and she hadn’t even taken the job.

Clark came out of the pantry. “Okay, I’ll make sandwiches. Jack, you finish with the groceries and then I can interview—” He stopped, faced Althea again. “I’m sorry. You’d said you hadn’t eaten yet.”

“I haven’t.”

“Okay, here’s what we’ll do. I’ll make cocoa for the kids and then coffee for us before I make the sandwiches. Jack and Teagan can eat out here. We’ll take our lunches into the den and we’ll talk while we eat.”

She wasn’t the kind of person who got cozy so quickly with strangers. But when she’d turned over the new leaf about her life a few months back, she’d promised herself she’d stop being so cautious. Plus she was extremely hungry. The thought of a cup of coffee and a sandwich made her taste buds dance for joy.

Clark walked to the counter, opened a rollaway door and pulled out a coffeemaker. Feeling odd with nothing to do, she said, “I could put on the pot of coffee if you show me how.”

On his way to the counter to get the groceries, Jack snorted a laugh. Clark faced her with a smile. “This is a single-serve coffeemaker. I can make two cups of cocoa for the kids and an individual cup of coffee for each of us.”

“Oh.” And didn’t she feel stupid?

While the first cup of cocoa brewed, Clark whipped around the kitchen, gathering bread and ham and retrieving milk for the coffee from the fridge, along with condiments for their sandwiches. Teagan crawled up on one of the stools beside the center island where Clark opened the deli meat and a loaf of bread. The dog clip-clopped over to her, soundlessly parking herself beside Teagan’s tall chair. Outside, the snow continued to fall. Big, beautiful white flakes on a huge, silent mountain.

Silent.

She glanced around. That’s what bothered her. It was as quiet in here as it was outside. Jack had put away the few things his father had directed him to, but he said nothing. Teagan sat on one of the tall chairs by the center island, just watching as Clark raced around, going between the coffeemaker and the refrigerator, gathering things for the sandwiches.

“Can I help with anything?”

“No. No. I’m fine. I’m accustomed to doing this.”

Doing what? Getting lunch? Having quiet kids? Being a one-person whirlwind of activity? Because it was Tuesday, Althea suspected his wife was at work. So maybe when she was around everything was noisier?

With the ham, bread and condiments on the center island, Clark motioned for her to come over. “Fix yourself a sandwich while I make Teagan’s cocoa.”

She walked over, put bread on a paper plate and noticed Teagan watching her, her dark brown eyes cautious, curious. “I can make your sandwich first.”

The little girl buried her face in the dirty pink bear she held. Though they’d been in the house ten minutes, she still wore her jacket with the hood on her head and her mittens on her hands.

Clark hustled over. She tugged on his shirtsleeve and he leaned down.

She whispered something in his ear.

He said, “Okay,” and went back to the coffee/cocoa maker. “We don’t have that flavor.”

Her lips turned down in an adorable pout, as she slid her hood off. Her hair was as dark as her eyes. The pale pink coat she wore accented both. As pretty as a princess, she blinked at Althea.

“I can help you with your coat, if you want.”

Teagan’s gaze whipped to her dad. He walked over with a cup of cocoa. “I’ll get her coat. You just finish making your sandwich.”

Teagan tugged on his shirtsleeve again. He leaned down. She whispered in his ear.

Baffled, Althea stopped slathering mayonnaise on her bread. Not only did the little girl think it normal to talk only to her dad and only in a whisper, but also Clark was so accustomed to it, he automatically leaned down to listen.

“Sure. We have marshmallows.”

She almost asked Clark about it. But she knew kids hated it when adults talked about them as if they weren’t in the room. Any minute now she and Clark would go into the den for her interview. She could ask him then. Delicately of course.

“Jack, do you want to make your sandwich now, too, so that I can put all this stuff back in the fridge before we go into the den?”

Jack walked over, grabbed some bread and ham and fixed his sandwich without a word.

Althea’s eyebrows rose. She’d taught middle school for six years. She knew twelve-year-olds. They were sassy, moody, and the boys were always hungry. They didn’t wait for an invitation to make a sandwich.

What was going on here?

Clark handed Teagan her sandwich then he brought over her cocoa, complete with marshmallows, and started the first cup of coffee. He made his sandwich and the second cup of coffee then he put away the bread, ham and condiments before he faced the kids.

“Althea and I will be in the den. If you need me, just come back and get me.”

Teagan blinked. Jack nodded.

She followed Clark down a long hall off the front foyer to the den. He motioned for her to take the empty chair in front of the desk then sat on the tall-back chair behind it.

“I think we should just get right to the point.”

She nodded, knowing what was coming. With a housekeeper in the hospital with pneumonia and a wife who obviously worked, this job had morphed into babysitter/teacher. She might even have to cook. Or clean up. It was not going to be the piece-of-cake, easy-money job she’d expected. Not that she was above helping out. Plus, truth be told, taking this position was about more than money. Spending four weeks close to her sister, but not really in Maryland was a stall tactic. She longed to see her sister. But she was afraid to see her dad. So finding employment close enough that Missy could drive up and visit her here in Pennsylvania might have been too good to be true.

That was usually how her life worked. Everything she thought was “perfect” ended up being a scam.

She smiled slightly. “Sure. Let’s just get right to the point.”

“My wife was killed in an automobile accident three years ago.”

Her mouth dropped a bit. That wasn’t at all what she’d been expecting. From the casual way he’d mentioned her when she complimented the view, she never would have guessed his wife had died. She’d even suspected the poor woman was at work.

“Jack did okay until this fall. Now suddenly he’s failing all his classes. He’s done so poorly that his former teacher quit. I need you to pack four months of learning into one month.”

“That’s quite a job.”

“He’s been over the material once already. Technically only the December material will be new.” He leaned back in his chair. “He’s not a stupid kid. In fact, he’s very bright. I’m sure he’s retained some of what he heard. This is more about getting him focused again and making him see that if he decides to slack off, there are consequences.”

“Are you sure this isn’t about him grieving for his mom?”

Clark sighed. “She died three years ago. He had two therapy sessions. One right after. One about a year ago. He has the techniques and tools to cope.”

“But he’s in a new life phase. And I’m not a therapist—”

“If you think he needs to begin seeing his therapist again, back he’ll go. But I think this is more about him getting soft than anything to do with his mom. Twelve is a normal rebellion stage.” He winced. “I know that because I went through one myself.”

When she pictured rebellion, she didn’t picture silence. She envisioned anger. Pouting, sure. But not the control and quiet she’d seen in that kitchen.

Still, he’d said if she believed his son needed to talk to someone he would get him help. She couldn’t argue that.

“So, what makes you want a temporary job?”

“As I said, I lost my job and I’m on my way to live with my sister in Maryland. I want the extra cash to give me more time to look for a teaching job.”

He nodded as if remembering their conversation outside.

“Plus, she has triplets and a new husband I haven’t yet met.”

He frowned. “You haven’t met your sister’s family?”

She shrugged that off easily. She could answer this without giving away any of her secrets. “California’s a long way from here. I didn’t have the money to just pop home and I also couldn’t take the time off work.”

Accepting that, he shifted on his chair, getting more comfortable, a sign that the interview was going well from his perspective.

“Since Jack’s original homeschooling program failed, I found three excellent replacement options you can use to catch him up on this semester, but there are also some incredible subject-specific websites you can use to reinforce the material.”

“Sounds like you’ve done your homework.”

“Being a single parent is something like a full-time job.”

She inclined her head. She understood what was going on. He could easily handle the concrete and the obvious. Parental duties and tasks, things he could see. Insubstantial, delicate things like talking weren’t as easily handled as getting groceries, finding homeschool programs or making lunch. He might be ignoring warning signs because he didn’t know to look for them.

He smiled. “Do you have any questions for me?”

“Yes. I’d like to know about Teagan.”

“Do you mean what will Teagan do while you teach Jack?” He tossed a pencil to his desk. “I was hoping she could color in the room you and Jack use for your class work.”

“Actually, I’m more concerned about the way she only talks to you and then only in a whisper.”

He laughed. “She’s three-and-a-half. She’s just shy.”

Three-and-a-half? And her mom had died three years ago? The poor thing had been only six months old when her mom died. Technically, she didn’t know her own mother. And he thought she didn’t talk because she was shy?

“Really? You think she’s just shy?”

“Yes. She’s fine.”

Althea took a bite of her sandwich to stop herself from saying something she might regret. Either this guy was in complete denial about his kids or he was right.

If he was right, if Jack was in the throes of a normal twelve-year-old rebellion and Teagan was just shy, everything would work itself out. If he wasn’t—

Well, if he wasn’t, these kids were suffering. They might not be huddled in a closet, desperately trying to block out the sounds of their dad beating their mom the way she and her older sister Missy had been, but they were suffering. And if their dad didn’t understand, there was no one to help them.

She knew she might be reading too much into this situation, but after her own miserable childhood, when every teacher, every neighbor, and even her grandmother missed the signs that she, her sister and her mom were in trouble, she couldn’t just walk away.

“I’ll take the job.”

He sat up. “Really?”

The disbelief in his voice made her laugh. “You were afraid that when I’d realized I may also have to become your temporary housekeeper/babysitter this week, I’d refuse.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to do the housekeeping, but if you could at least tidy up after meals it would be a big help.”

Drat. Her and her big mouth.

“I have some projects at work that I should be attending to. If you could start today, I could get an afternoon of research in. I’ll work from here, of course, so you and the kids will have today to get accustomed to each other. But I really do need to catch up. I missed all of last week.”

His hopeful voice made her shake her head. What the heck? She wasn’t doing anything else. And the sooner she sat down with these kids and tried to figure everything out, the better.

“As long as I don’t have to cook.”

“You can’t cook?”

“No reason to cook when I lived alone.”

“I’ll get takeout.”

She glanced across the desk at him with a smile to confirm their deal, but he rose and extended his hand to shake hers. She stood up. When she took his hand, a bolt of electricity crackled up her arm. Their eyes met and from the quick glimmer in his, she knew he’d felt it as clearly as she had.

Her gaze fell from his handsome face to his sweater-covered chest to his snug blue jeans and the crackle of electricity sparked again.

She stifled the urge to yank her hand away. It was one thing to take a job as a live-in employee, knowing she was attracted to her employer. She’d always been able to ignore her hormones.

But knowing he was attracted to her, too—

Weren’t they tempting fate?


CHAPTER TWO

CLARK WALKED AROUND the desk. “Let’s get your things from your car and I’ll give you the grand tour of the house.”

He motioned for her to precede him out of the den. She headed for the door and he followed, his gaze automatically dipping to her butt.

With a wince, he forced his eyes back up again. What was he doing? Yes, Althea was pretty with her sunny yellow hair and big blue eyes, and, yes, he’d felt that zap of electricity when they shook hands, but she was now his employee.

Even if she wasn’t, he wasn’t interested. He could have cited the usual reasons. Losing his wife so suddenly had been a shock. But discovering she’d been having an affair and that her lover was someone he’d considered a friend—that had about killed him.

The echo of the pain of the first few months after her accident still lingered. Memories of consoling Jack, the chaos of caring for a six-month-old baby alone, the cool, empty feeling of his bed, all rose up inside him every time he thought about moving on. But none of those were as bad as the ache. The solid ball of grief that weighed him down, sat in his belly like lead, even as it competed with the hurt and humiliation of discovering she’d been having an affair.

The woman he’d believed would love him forever, the woman who’d borne his children, had betrayed him.

That kind of humiliation left more than a mark. It changed a man’s perspective. Caused him to make vows—and keep them.

He would never be vulnerable again.

Never.

That’s why he wasn’t worried about his attraction to Jack’s new teacher. He was too smart to be tempted to even consider trusting someone again.

Plus, her résumé might say she was twenty-eight but she looked twenty-two. He’d already been made the town laughingstock. He didn’t need to add chasing after a woman who looked too young for him.

When he and Althea reached the front door, he opened it for her. She looked back at him with a smile. “Thanks.”

His heart tumbled in his chest. Had he thought her pretty? He’d been wrong. When she smiled she was breathtaking.

But he wasn’t interested. “You’re welcome.”

They stepped out onto the snow-covered porch and he grimaced. “I should have gotten you a coat.”

She glanced at him skeptically. “You have one that would fit?”

He wanted to drown in her big blue eyes and for a smart man that didn’t make sense. He’d already set his mind not to trust again and that precluded falling in love, or even indulging an attraction. But how could he stop an attraction? The bubbly feeling that rose when she looked at him was natural, spontaneous.

And annoying. He hated being out of control.

“No, but even a too big coat would be better than an insubstantial hoodie.”

She laughed.

The sound skipped along his nerve endings, filling him with pleasure. Damn it! Why was this happening?

She jogged down the steps. “Can’t argue that. But since we’re out here already, let’s just grab my suitcases and do the tour so you can get to work and I can spend some time with Jack.”

He couldn’t argue that. With his hormones going haywire, the less time they spent together, the better.

Her things turned out to be two suitcases, an overnight bag and a laptop. He carried the two suitcases. She carried the rest. He led her down the hall to the kitchen again, then to the suite of rooms behind it.

“Mrs. Alwine stays here when I travel. But while you’re here, the suite is all yours.”

She made a slow turn, taking in the big dresser and mirrored vanity, as well as the aqua-and-brown comforter and pillows that matched the aqua-and-brown print curtains.

She faced him with a frown. “So in other words, if you travel while I’m here, I’m in charge of the kids overnight.”

Heat crawled up his neck. He hadn’t even considered that might be presumptuous, then realized he’d done the same thing to Mrs. Alwine. The heat intensified. If there was one thing he prided himself on it was doing his fair share. Not leaving the kids to their own devices. But it seemed in being so careful of the kids, he’d been a little heavy handed with his employees.

“I guess that depends on when Mrs. Alwine comes back.”

She laughed and slid out of her jacket. A rust-colored T-shirt outlined perfect breasts and a small waist. With a quick shake of her head, her sunny yellow hair swirled around her and fell in place on her shoulders.

His mouth watered, and he cursed inside his head. With her hoodie gone, she didn’t look twenty-two anymore. She looked all twenty-eight of the years he’d seen on her résumé. But instead of that making her less desirable, it made her more desirable. She was right in his age range—not too young for him as she’d looked in the hoodie.

He pivoted to face the door. That kind of thinking wouldn’t do either one of them any good. He needed her help. She needed some money. For both of them to get what they wanted—what they needed—they had to keep this relationship strictly platonic.

“I’ll round up the kids and you can do what you want this afternoon. Maybe let Jack have a hand in choosing the new homeschooling program.”

She nodded, but he didn’t hang around. He bounded out of the room, found the kids, and got them set up in the den.

When everyone was settled around the big desk, Jack behind the computer, Althea on the chair beside him, and Teagan on the opposite side with her coloring book, he said, “Okay. Now I’m going upstairs to my office to work.”

He closed the den door behind him with a giant sigh of relief. But Althea faced his two quiet children with a sigh of confusion.

Seeing the look of exasperation on Jack’s face, she clicked off the computer monitor. “I just got here. You just met me.” She smiled at Jack, then Teagan. “I don’t think we should work this afternoon.”

Jack said, “All right!” But Teagan jumped off her chair, scampered over to Jack and frantically tugged on his shirtsleeve.

He leaned down, rolled his eyes, then caught Althea’s gaze. “She still wants to color.”

“Oh, sweetie! You can color, if that’s fun for you. I’m just saying that neither your brother nor I was prepared to work today so I don’t think we should.”

Teagan didn’t really pay attention to what Althea said. From the second the words, “You can color,” came out of her mouth, the little girl raced back to her chair and put her attention on a fat coloring book and a box of brightly colored crayons.

The temptation was strong to ask Jack if she was always like this. Then she remembered Missy. She remembered how as older sister Missy had ended up assuming responsibilities that shouldn’t have been hers, and she pulled back her question.

For all she knew, having to speak for his three-year-old sister could be part of the reason Jack was unhappy.

“So, do you want to play Yahtzee or Uno or something?”

Jack laughed. “Really?”

“Well, we can’t just sit here and do nothing. Plus you can learn a lot from how somebody plays a game.”

He slouched down on his seat with a huff and folded his arms across his chest. “You’re going to analyze me.”

“No, I’m going to get to know you. And if you’re smart you’ll also use the time to get to know me.”

He sniffed a laugh. “Right.” He sat up. “But I’d rather play video games.”

She winced. “I’m not very good.”

“Then I guess we’ll see if you have a temper.”

This time she laughed. “You’re pretty smart for a twelve-year-old.”

“Yeah. That’s why I’m failing all my classes.”

It would have been the perfect opportunity to get into a discussion about his classes and what he thought might have caused his bad semester, but he gave the video game instructions so quickly she didn’t have time to ask. He handed her a controller and pointed at the spot beside him on the sofa. Thrust into a game she’d never seen before, she needed all her concentration just to work the controller.

In between rounds, she glanced at Teagan who quietly colored in her fat book. After an hour or so of the game, Jack said, “Hey, Chai Tea.”

Teagan looked over.

“Isn’t it about time for your nap?”

She slid off her chair just as the den door opened and Clark stepped inside. He stooped down and opened his arms. “I see somebody’s ready for a nap.”

He scooped up the little girl, and, as he rose, he saw the video game. “I thought you’d be working.”

“Today is our first day together,” Althea said, then added a, “Drat” when Jack killed two of her soldiers. “Anyway, we’re using this time to get to know each other.”

Without taking his eyes off the screen, Jack said, “We’re bonding.”

“Just don’t bond too long. I want your grades up so you don’t fall behind a semester.”

He left the room and Jack tossed his controller to the sofa. “Let’s go.”

Baffled, she turned, her gaze following him as he walked to the desk. “Go?”

“To work. You heard him. He wants my grades up.”

She rose from the sofa. “Yes. But he didn’t seem to be angry that we were getting to know each other.”

“You should have spent some time bonding with my dad instead of me. Then you’d know that was his angry voice.”

“That was his angry voice?”

“Yep.”

They went to the computer and checked out the potential programs Clark had chosen for his son. Jack participated as they scrolled through each one, but his responses were lackluster. She tried to revive some of the enthusiasm he’d shown while playing video games, and though he would smile, his heart clearly wasn’t in his studies.

The den door opened again. Clark poked his head inside. “I ordered pizza. It should be here in a half hour or so. Jack, I’m sure Althea would appreciate the chance to clean up before we eat. So why don’t you turn everything off so she can go?”

“What time is it?”

“Six.”

“Six!” It had been noon when she’d arrived, probably after one before they finished the interview and got her set up in her room. That could have made it two when she and the kids got settled in the den. Maybe three before Teagan left for her nap. That meant she and Jack had spent three hours looking at programs. She supposed that wasn’t too far-fetched.

“Where’s Teagan?”

“After her nap, she stayed in the office with me.”

“Oh. Okay.” She smiled at Jack. “You and I certainly were immersed in our work.”

He smiled. But he didn’t say anything. She glanced at Clark then back at Jack.

He wasn’t afraid of his father. That she recognized from her own life. She knew what a frightened child looked like. But he was terribly unhappy.

She followed Clark to the kitchen, ducked into her suite behind it to wash her hands, then joined Clark and Teagan at the table. While Jack found paper plates and napkins, Clark opened the big pizza box. The scent of tomato sauce and pepperoni invaded the air, making Althea’s stomach growl.

“I guess this is what two days of going without food will do to you.”

Clark gaped at her. “You really did go without food?”

“I wanted to get here. I’d already been on the road three days. After I talked to Emily, I just wanted to keep moving so I could get here and get started.”

“I can understand that.” He glanced back at Jack. “Hurry up, buddy, or the pizza will be cold.”

At the easy way the term of endearment slipped from Clark’s lips, Althea frowned. He clearly loved his son. And with Teagan sitting on his lap while he cut her pizza into tiny pieces, it was also obvious that he loved his daughter. He was simply too much of an organizer. Someone who wanted everything to run like a well-oiled machine. Because everything was “working” he didn’t see anything wrong.

But there was plenty wrong. She could see it in Jack’s eyes.

They ate their pizza with Clark carrying on a steady stream of chitchat. When he announced he would be getting Teagan ready for bed, she asked if she could follow along.

His face scrunched in confusion. “Why?”

“With the housekeeper gone, it’s just good for me to know all the routines.”

He shrugged. “Sure. Great.”

She trailed behind him as he carried the little girl up the steps. They found her bedclothes first, then Teagan had a quick bath. She slipped into her princess nightgown and crawled under the covers.

Althea leaned against the doorjamb as Clark retrieved a well-worn storybook from the drawer in the white bedside table that matched the white frame of her canopy bed.

He read her a story about a bunny that had gotten lost in the woods. While most children’s eyes would droop as the story lulled them to sleep, Teagan’s eyes widened.

Althea frowned. Why read her a story that seemed to upset her?

But in the end the daddy rabbit found the lost bunny. He fed her soup, tucked her into bed and kissed her forehead, telling her he’d never let anything happen to her. She could always depend on him.

Happy ending.

Clark rose, tucked Teagan into bed, kissed her forehead and said, “I’ll never let anything happen to you.” He kissed her forehead again. “You can always depend on me.”

Teagan smiled. Her eyelids finally lowered. She snuggled into her pillow.

Warmth filled Althea’s soul. Using a story he had just told his daughter he’d always be there for her. A pretty smart move for a guy who obviously didn’t know how to say the words himself.

Clark motioned to the door. Althea turned and walked out into the hall with him on her heels, and the glow in her warming every part of her body. This was definitely a family worth saving.

But how?

* * *

The next morning when Althea stumbled into the kitchen, she found the quiet Beaumonts all seated on the tall stools around the center island.

“Good morning.”

Clark glanced up from his computer screen. “Good morning.”

Today he wore dark trousers, white shirt and blue tie. His hair neatly combed and his brown eyes bright with enthusiasm, he was clearly happy to be getting back to his normal routine.

Her attraction sparked to life again, but, as always with anything to do with her hormones, she ignored it. As she prepared a single cup of coffee using the directions on the side of the coffeemaker, she nodded at his laptop. “Working already?”

“Reading the Wall Street Journal online.”

Now why in the name of all that was holy had that sounded sexy? “Ah.”

She ambled to the center island. Clark pointed at a plate of French toast. “Breakfast?”

“Yeah. As soon as I have at least one cup of coffee.”

He rose and grabbed the black suit coat from the back of his stool. “If everything’s under control here, I’m going to go into the office right now. Even with email and fax machines, we couldn’t get everything done we needed to get done last week while I was home with the kids. And we’re hopelessly behind in preparing some important government bids.”

He shrugged into the charcoal-gray overcoat that had been flung across the unused table by the French doors.

“You never did tell me what you do for a living.”

“I own an engineering firm.”

“Oh.” The way he said that sounded sexy, too, confusing her. She wasn’t the kind of woman to fall for the executive type. She had been a sucker for beach bums. Which was why she kept getting her heart broken and her bank account depleted and why she’d stopped dating.

He motioned for her to walk him to the front door. When they were out of earshot of the kitchen he said, “My wife was the brains of the operation. She was actually the engineer. I’m just a lowly liberal arts major who took business courses at university after we realized Carol wanted to start her own firm, and she’d need me to run it. When she died, I had to hire two people to replace her.”

The casual, very calm way he talked about his deceased wife baffled her. Until she remembered that was sort of how Clark talked about everything. Casually. Calmly. With very little emotion.

“I also had to learn as much about the work as I possibly could so that I could speak intelligently to clients.”

“So you’ve had a long, difficult three years.”

Reaching for the doorknob, he frowned. “I would think that would go without saying.”

Yeah. She supposed he was right.

“Anyway, I’ll be back around six. All of my contact numbers are on a sheet in the kitchen. As you probably noticed yesterday, Teagan is fine coloring or playing by herself. Do whatever you would normally do with Jack’s lessons, etc. And then spend the rest of the day however you want.”

“You’ll bring dinner?”

He chuckled. “Yes.”

With a quick yank on the front door, he opened it and left.

She took her time returning to the kitchen. He wasn’t a bad guy. Actually, he seemed like a really nice guy—a gorgeous nice guy to whom she was unexpectedly attracted. But he was an executive who’d handled his wife’s death with the cool efficiency he probably spent on the company’s tax return. He had to use a storybook to show his daughter she could depend on him.

It wasn’t his fault that his kids were quiet, sad. Maybe even slightly lost. He handled things the way he knew how.

But his kids were quiet and sad, and slightly lost, and she ached for them.

In the kitchen, she glanced at Jack who wore jeans and a T-shirt then Teagan who wore little blue jeans with pink flowers embroidered on the pockets with a matching pink T-shirt. Her long dark hair had been combed, even though she didn’t have a clip or band to keep it out of her face.

She ambled to the center island, filled a plate with two slices of French toast and sat on the stool beside Teagan.

“Are you ready to color today?”

The little girl yanked on Jack’s sleeve. He bent down and she whispered in his ear.

Jack sighed. “She said yes.”

Althea poured syrup on her toast, her heart aching for Jack again. The kid was twelve, isolated on a mountaintop—a beautiful mountaintop to be sure, but a lonely one. And a boy who should be in the ignoring-his-siblings stage had to speak for his baby sister.

He needed some fun.

And not just video games. Something unexpected.

“We’re going on a field trip this morning.”

Jack gaped at her. “Field trip?”

“Yeah. I need a coat and boots.”

Teagan blinked at her. Jack frowned. “You don’t have a coat?”

“I lived in Southern California for the past ten years. The heaviest thing I have is a hoodie.”

Jack just stared at her.

“Come on. You’re old enough to know the geography of this country. We have all different kinds of weather.”

“I suppose. I just don’t want my dad to be mad.”

“He’s the one who told me to get boots.”

She turned him toward the door. “Go get your coat and your sister’s coat. I swear we’ll have fun.”


CHAPTER THREE

JACK REMINDED ALTHEA that Teagan was too small to ride in a car without a safety seat, so they grabbed the extra one from the garage and installed it in her little red car.

The whole time they worked, Althea kept glancing back at Teagan, hoping for her to speak. Clearly excited at the prospect of getting out of the house, the little girl jumped from foot to foot. Her eyes glowed. Her smile could light the garage. But she never said a word.

As they rode down the hill, Jack chatted happily, filling her chest with the light airy feeling that comes from pleasing another person. She’d figured out he needed to get out of the house, she just hadn’t realized how badly. It was a stroke of luck that she needed a coat and boots.

She parked in front of one of the meters, fed it enough to give them an hour for shopping and turned the kids in the direction of the town’s general store.

In a shop stocked for winter in the mountains, she immediately found a coat and boots. The light blue jacket, black mittens and black boots she tried on not only fit, they were cute. But because she found them so quickly, their trip into town was ending too soon.

So, wearing her new coat and boots, she herded the kids across the street, telling them she wanted to see more of the town. About halfway down, she got her second lucky break of the morning: a Santa Shop.

There was nothing like seeing decorations, talking about gifts and sharing secret gift wishes to perk up children.

“Why don’t we take a peek inside?”

Jack’s face scrunched in confusion. “You want to go into a Santa Shop?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Why not?”

“Because we don’t decorate until Christmas Eve?”

She took Teagan’s hand. “Well, maybe we should change that this year and do some decorating beforehand?”

Teagan blinked up at her silently. It wasn’t much, but she suspected eye contact was a big step for Teagan.

Jack shook his head. “If Dad hates us decorating early, I’m telling him it was all your idea.”

“Good. Fine. Because it is my idea. And if he loves it I’ll get all the credit.”

When they reached the shop door, Jack held it open like a perfect gentleman. The scents of cinnamon, apples and bayberry wafted out to them. Old-fashioned wooden tables held rows of toy soldiers. Model trains chugged in circles around miniature towns. Ceramic villages took up another two rows. Evergreen wreaths hung on the back walls beside bundles of tinsel.

“I can’t afford much,” she told the kids, “but we’re four weeks away from Christmas. The least we should get today is a wreath for the door. Then we’ll come back every week and get something new.”

Jack faced her. “You want us to pick out the wreath?”

“Sure. It’s for your house. Your Christmas.”

He stood in front of her, looking totally puzzled.

“I thought you said you decorated on Christmas Eve?”

“We do. But we only put up a tree. Dad says it’s enough.”

“Well, sure it’s enough,” she agreed, not wanting to undermine his dad or make him look bad. “But starting today and doing a little something every week to the house, a little something to remind us that in a few weeks we’ll get presents and drink hot cocoa by the fire and eat peppermint sticks—well, that’ll just make everything extra special.”

Jack laughed lightly. “I think you’re expecting a lot from a wreath.”

Holding Teagan’s hand, she headed for the wreaths. “You’ll see. Maybe not this week but next week it will all start to sink in and then we’ll have Christmas spirit all over the place.”

Following a few feet behind her, Jack laughed.

Althea’s spirits soared. Teagan might not be talking but she was happy. And Jack was laughing. Once they got the wreath, they could go home and start his lessons.

* * *

Around eleven o’clock, Clark began to get antsy. He’d been so focused on how much work he’d missed because of Mrs. Alwine that he hadn’t thought through leaving the kids that morning.

Technically, Althea wasn’t a total stranger. She was a friend of a friend. That was how she’d gotten wind of the job and why he’d agreed to interview her. Yes, he’d checked her references. But he didn’t know her. And he’d left his kids with her.

He fished his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and hit the speed dial number for his home phone. It rang the usual four times before it went to voice mail.

He sucked in a breath. She could be in the bathroom. Or she might have turned off the ringer of the phone in the den for Jack’s studying.

Or she could have kidnapped his kids.

He groaned internally, telling himself not to think like that, and rummaged around on his desk for the sheet of paper with her cell phone number on it.

When he finally found it, he punched in the digits and waited through five rings before it, too, went to voice mail.

He tossed his cell phone to the desk, telling himself not to be paranoid. But his situation was unusual. There was a reason he lived on a secluded mountaintop. A reason he hid his kids. Even discounting the possibility that someone might kidnap them because he was a wealthy man who could pay a ransom, lots of people were curious about Teagan.

He cursed, shot off his chair and grabbed his top coat. Walking through his assistant’s office, he said, “I’m going home,” and strode out to his SUV.

Even wanting to get to his house as quickly as possible, he made a loop around town and headed up the mountain. As his SUV rolled to a stop in front of the garage, his chest tightened. Althea’s car was gone.

Frantic, he flew up the porch steps and into the foyer, calling the kids’ names. No answer. Nothing but the eerie echo of his own words came back to him. Crazy clip-clopped into the foyer, nudging her nose against Clark’s hand for a pat on the top of her head.

Clark stooped to pet the nuzzling dog, but his mind jumped back to the day he’d gotten the call about his wife. He’d come home from a business trip to a cold, empty house and had no idea where his kids were, let alone his wife. Then the phone had rung and he’d gotten the news that his wife was dead and his kids were with her parents.

He broke out in a cold sweat.

Cold, empty houses were never good news.

And with a guy in town who might suspect he was Teagan’s father, a guy crazy enough to throw himself over Clark’s wife’s casket and wail—not worried about gossip or consequences—Clark couldn’t take any chances Brice Matthews would see Teagan.

Even if the kids were safe with Althea, that didn’t mean they were safe from Brice.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed 9-1-1.

* * *

Though they purchased a wreath and secured it in her trunk, Althea took the kids around town to visit a few more shops and scope out potential decorations they’d buy in the following weeks. Now that she’d talked Jack into decorating the house for Christmas, she wanted to see her options.

They had just walked out of the last shop, laughing as they ate ice cream, even though it was freezing out, when two policemen rushed them.

One policeman grabbed Jack and Teagan. The other backed her into the shop wall.

“Are you Althea Johnson?”

“Yes?”

Teagan began to cry. Jack tried to squirm out of the officer’s hold. “Let go of me.”

“And these children are Jack and Teagan Beaumont?”

“Yes.”

“We have a report that you took these kids from their home.”

“I’m their babysitter. We came to town to look for a coat and boots for me.” She motioned to her brand-new blue jacket and still shiny black boots. “Call their dad. He’ll tell you I’m their babysitter.”

“He’s the one who filed the report.”

Clark’s SUV slid to a stop in front of the sidewalk. He bounded out and raced over, grabbing Teagan from the officer and then pulling Jack under his arm protectively. “Are you guys okay?”

Jack looked at him as if he were crazy. “We were fine until you called the police on us.”

Teagan buried her face in her father’s neck. Clark’s expression hardened. “Teagan is not fine.”

“She was,” Jack insisted. “She was laughing.”

Standing on tiptoes to see over the policeman’s shoulder, Althea shouted, “She was. We were having fun.”

“You were supposed to be home!”

“We were on our way home to start Jack’s lessons. We had plenty of time. We just shifted our schedule.” She pointed at her jacket. “I needed a coat. And boots.” She held up her foot, displaying one of her new boots. “Remember?”

The policeman holding her back faced Clark. “So what’s going on here?”

“We were just shopping!” Jack spat. “But I get it! He doesn’t ever want us doing anything that might even remotely be fun.” He shrugged out from beneath his dad’s hold and headed for the SUV. “Take us home. Put us back in jail.”

Saddened for Jack, Althea swallowed, glanced at Clark, then pressed her lips together.

A mixture of horror and confusion played across Clark’s face. As if finally putting it all together in his head, he stepped back. “Oh, my God.”

He looked from Jack who stood beside his SUV to Teagan in his arms to Althea still backed up against the shop wall, and scrubbed his hand across his mouth. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry.”

The policeman released Althea. “So everything’s good?”

Althea forced a smile. She didn’t know whether to be angry with herself for not letting Clark know she was taking the kids shopping, annoyed with him for being so damned paranoid, or to feel sorry for him.

In the end, she decided to feel sorry for him. He’d lost his wife. He didn’t want to lose his kids, too. She got it. “Everything’s fine. Really. Let me get them home.”

* * *

The policeman looked to Clark for confirmation. He nodded. “I’m sorry. I panicked.” He nearly said, “Ever since my wife’s death I’ve been panicky,” but he knew that would only make him look like an idiot. God knew it made him feel like an idiot. So he said nothing.

The two policemen walked back to their car. Althea ambled over, looking warm and snuggly in her new blue coat and black mittens. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

He put his head back, closed his eyes. He’d just had her nabbed by the cops and she was asking him if he was okay? “I should be asking you that. I’m so sorry.” He opened his eyes and forced himself to look at her. “You have the right to use whatever schedule you want.” He sucked in a breath. “But I don’t like the kids going into town without me. I wish you had called me before you left the house.”

“You’re right. I should have called you.” She pressed her hand to her chest. “That’s my mistake. I never thought to call. But I should have.”

She put her hand on his arm consolingly. “Let’s go home.”

He couldn’t believe she wanted to go with him. Were he in her shoes, he’d probably quit. But when he pulled his SUV off Main Street and onto the mountain road, she was right behind him. When he drove onto his lane, her little red car was in his rearview mirror. When he got out, she got out.

They walked into the echoing foyer with Teagan asleep on his arm. A dull sound rang in his ears, making his head pound. He’d never been so mortified.

Or so confused. Jack thought they lived in a jail? Teagan had laughed with an outsider?

Althea said, “Why don’t you put her on her bed and I’ll make us all some cocoa.”

Jack sniffed with disdain. “I don’t want any cocoa.”

All the control he thought he had slipped through his fingers like melted snow. “Good. You can go into the den and take a look at today’s lesson.”

“Whatever.”

He watched Jack stalk away and knew he’d handled that badly, but his head hurt and his thoughts swam like fish in a bowl. How had he gotten to this place?

He slid his gaze to Althea. “I don’t need any cocoa.”

“Bourbon then?”

A surprised laugh escaped. “Actually, bourbon sounds really good right now. But I’ll be fine. You go work with Jack.”

She shook her head. “Jack needs a minute. Forcing him to set things up on the computer by himself will be a good way to occupy him and give him some space.”

He took Teagan to her room and lingered over removing her coat and boots. There wasn’t any part of him that wanted to confide in anyone, let alone Jack’s teacher—a woman he was actually attracted to. But, more than that, he was mortified that he’d panicked. And not just panicked. He’d panicked publicly. He’d called the police when his kids were happily strolling down Main Street.

Of course, he hadn’t known that.

Still, a sensible man would have at least looked in the obvious places—

But a man who’d been blindsided by his wife’s death and double blindsided by her infidelity jumped to all kinds of conclusions.

When he couldn’t delay any longer, he walked downstairs. Hoping Althea had gone to the den to be with Jack, he turned right, into the living room, and there she stood in front of the discreet bar housed in a black built-in beside a huge window. She held a short glass with two fingers of bourbon.

She handed it to him. “Is neat good?”

He smiled. “I don’t sully whiskey with frozen water.”

She laughed. “Have a seat.”

He lowered himself to the gray sofa. “You’re going to quit, aren’t you?”

She sat on one of the two white club chairs across from him. A glass-and-chrome coffee table sat on the gray, white and black printed rug that connected the small conversation group in the big living room.

“I’m not going to quit.”

“I sent the police after you.”

“You were afraid.”

He downed his drink, savoring the soothing warmth as it ran down his throat. He rose to get another. “Right.”

“I saw the look on your face. You were terrified.”

He grabbed the bourbon bottle and poured.

“You’d thought I’d taken your kids. There has to be a reason you were so suspicious.”

“I was angry with myself for leaving the kids with someone I really didn’t know.”

“Maybe. But something pushed you to the point that you panicked rather than check things out.”

He sighed. This time he sipped the whiskey. There was no way in hell he’d recount his private failures to a stranger. A stranger he’d wronged no less.

“All right. You don’t want to talk. I get it. But I also see your kids are in trouble emotionally and so are you.”

He snorted in disgust. “Are you saying we all need therapy?”

“I’m saying you need to give yourself a break and need to give your kids a break. You’re overorganized. Your kids seem to feel they need to be super quiet to please you.”

Heat of shame filled him. The day before, he’d noticed that he’d been taking advantage of Mrs. Alwine. Was it such a big stretch to consider that he’d forced his kids to overbehave?

He ambled back to his seat. She rose from hers. “I can understand that you don’t want the help of a stranger. I’m also not a therapist. But I have spent six years with kids Jack’s age. I know they sass. I know they experiment with cursing. I know they sulk and whine and roll their eyes and in general make the lives of adults miserable. And Jack does a few of those things, but not often. He’s too concerned with pleasing you.” She sucked in a breath. “You have an opportunity here. It’s four weeks before Christmas. Four weeks when you can decorate together, tell him stories about Christmases past with his mom. Watch old Christmas movies. Make snowmen. Sled ride.”

He raised his gaze to meet hers.

“The choice is yours. Use Christmas to turn your family into a family again. Or let this go on. Pretend Teagan’s not talking is shyness. Pretend Jack’s simmering silence is part of being a twelve-year-old. And six years from now when Jack leaves home without a word of why, and with no intention of ever coming back, you’ll have no one to blame but yourself.”

Jack’s angry comment about living in prison rumbled through his brain. He was failing as a father and though he was loathe to talk about any of this, he’d be a fool if he didn’t realize he was drowning.

He blew his breath out, rubbed his hand across his mouth and finally decided he had no choice. He didn’t want his kids to hate him or to be unhappy. But he also didn’t want them going into town, and if the way to keep them home was to tell their current babysitter the whole story then maybe that’s what he had to do.

“The day my wife died, I came home from work to find the house empty and cold.”

“So when you came here today and found we’d gone, the empty house scared you?”

“Not as much as having the kids go to town.” He scrubbed his hands across his mouth again. He hated this. Hated his misery. His humiliation. But he did not want his kids in town. “My wife had been having an affair. Apparently for at least a year. Brice Matthews, one of our employees, showed up at the funeral overcome with grief and sobbed over her coffin. He called me every name in the book for not letting her go—not giving her a divorce—when she’d never asked for a divorce.”

“Oh, my God.” Clearly shocked, she sat again. “I’m so sorry.”

“That’s why I don’t want the kids in town.”

“Because of gossip?” She shook her head. “It’s been three years. Trust me. You can stop worrying. People aren’t that interested in anybody’s life.”

“Everybody’s interested in Teagan’s.”

Her eyes narrowed. “Teagan’s? Jack’s the one old enough to understand—” Then her mouth dropped open. “Oh, God. Teagan was only a few months old when your wife died and your wife had been having an affair.”

“For a year before she died.”

“You think people wonder if she’s yours?”

“I don’t think. I know lots wonder whether or not she’s really mine.”

“They’ve told you this?”

“No. But a few days after Carol’s death, people started looking at Teagan oddly. If I’d go to the grocery store with her in a carrier, everybody peeked in to see her. Some people were more obvious than others. It took me a while, but I realized everybody thought she was Brice’s child and they were looking at her to see if there was a resemblance.”

“That’s awful.” She shook her head again, as if marveling at the stupidity of some people. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s the second time you’ve said that.” He sniffed a laugh. “And I appreciate the sentiment. But you certainly weren’t at fault.”

“I know. But on behalf of crappy, unfair things that happen everywhere, I feel somebody has to say they’re sorry.”

He laughed again. His chest loosened. The knot in his stomach unwound.

Their gazes met and he smiled. “Thanks.”

“On behalf of crappy things everywhere, you’re welcome.”

“No. I meant thanks for listening.” He rubbed his hand along the back of his neck. “You’re the first person I’ve told this story to.” And he didn’t feel god-awful. He felt calm, almost normal. “Anyway, that’s why I don’t want the kids to go into town. I don’t want Teagan subjected to scrutiny or Jack to hear things about his mom he’s too young to understand.”

“Got it.” She rose, smiled briefly. “Jack’s probably got the computer up and running by now.”

With that she left the room, and he flopped back on the sleek gray sofa, looking at the gorgeously appointed living room in the house so well designed “perfect” was too small of a term to use to describe it. In the end, the “perfect” house had meant nothing. Absolutely nothing.

His wife had cheated. Her affair had started before Teagan was conceived. And if Brice Matthews ever figured that out, he might lose Teagan long before he lost Jack.

He sipped his bourbon and closed his eyes. His life was a mess and though he appreciated Althea’s suggestion about decorating, he didn’t think decorating for Christmas was going to change that.

But at least he knew Althea would keep the kids home now.


CHAPTER FOUR

“I THINK I have a problem.”

Even though she’d closed the den door, Althea walked down the hall, away from the room, so the kids couldn’t hear her as she talked with her sister, Missy.

After her discussion with Clark, she’d tried to imagine what it would be like to lose a spouse, a wife he’d obviously believed loved him, discover she’d been unfaithful, and have poor, innocent Teagan’s parentage called into question by the town gossips. The humiliation would be off the charts. But couple that with grief? She couldn’t fathom the pain of that.

Her heart ached for him, but there was nothing she could do about any of that. She could, however, help him with Jack. And that’s why she’d called her sister. A woman raising triplets who’d stood up to their dad and made a real life for herself out of nothing, Missy would know what to do.

“Did your car break?”

Althea winced. “Not that lucky. I got to Clark Beaumont’s house early and he hired me immediately because his housekeeper has pneumonia.”

“You’re a housekeeper?”

“I’m just sort of helping out.”

“Oh, Althea!”

“I’m fine. It’s all fine.”

Missy sighed. “No, it’s not fine. You called me because you have a problem.”

She grimaced. “Okay. Let me put it this way. It’s fine that I got here early. I don’t mind straightening up after breakfast and making sandwiches and opening a can of soup for lunch.”

“But?”

“But the kids’ mom was killed in an automobile accident three years ago. Teagan is only about three. Which means her mom died when she was an infant.”

“Oh, that’s awful.”

She wanted to tell Missy that that was only half the Teagan story, but though Clark hadn’t sworn her to secrecy she didn’t feel right revealing intimate details of his life. So she stuck with the relevant facts.

“And Teagan doesn’t speak. Well, she does. But she doesn’t talk out loud. She tugs on her dad’s or her brother’s sleeve and whispers in their ears. They have to convey the message.”

“Oh. Poor sweet thing.”

“Clark thinks she’s just shy.”

“At that age, she could be.”

“Yeah. I’m kind of waiting that out. The real problem is Jack. I’m here because Jack failed last semester.”

“I know. Emily told me.”

“Well, I don’t think he failed because he’s dumb or lazy or even because of mourning his mom, but because Clark is overprotective. He doesn’t like the kids going into town because of gossip. He’s got lots of money and a dead wife and two kids and he thinks everybody’s curious about them.” She grimaced at the sketchy explanation, but it was the best she could do without invading Clark’s privacy.

“And you think Jack’s failing is a cry for help?”

“If what he said yesterday when Clark sent the police after us is true, I think it’s a cry for freedom.”

“He sent the police after you?”

She winced. “It all made sense at the time. I had taken the kids shopping without telling him. When he called and couldn’t get us, he panicked.”

“Althea, you’ve got a little girl who doesn’t talk, a twelve-year-old who is rebelling and a paranoid boss who sent the police after you. Are you sure you want to get involved in this?”

“I have to get involved in this. If one person had paid a little attention to us, just one teacher or doctor or neighbor, we might not have spent every damned Saturday night in a closet praying Dad wouldn’t kill Mom.”

“Yeah.” Missy sighed with understanding. “Okay. I get it.”

Althea’s shoulders sagged with relief. She knew her sister would understand that she couldn’t abandon these kids. “So what do I say? How can I get Clark to understand that he can’t protect Jack forever? That the poor kid just wants a little freedom? Maybe some friends?”

“Well, you could try explaining that kids are pretty resilient and even if the town is curious about them, once Jack’s been in school awhile he’ll be old news.”

“That’s great! I was also thinking of telling him that I’d like to use Jack going to school in town as an incentive for him to get his grades up.”

“That’s an even better idea.”

“Good. I’ll start working on him tonight.” Happy with her plan, Althea shifted subjects. “So how are the kids?”

“Eager for Christmas. But Wyatt is worse. God only knows what he bought us this year.”

She laughed. “You mean you didn’t like last year’s RV?”

“We love the RV, but the kids are getting spoiled.”

“A little spoiling never hurt anyone.”

Crazy Dog bounded out of the den and up the hall. “Crazy!” She flattened herself against the wall, and the dog whipped by her, but she pivoted and raced toward her again. “Crazy! You stop running right now!”

“What in the hell are you talking about?”

“The dog. Her name is Crazy. And trust me. She deserves it.”

“Have you ever thought that maybe she’d behave better if she had a better, calmer name?”

Althea laughed.

“I’m not kidding. Call her Crazy, she’ll act crazy. Rename that dog.” She paused then yelped, “Owen! You stop that right now!”

Althea’s laughter turned to fits of giggles. “I notice Owen’s name doesn’t make any difference in his behavior,” she said, referring to the only boy of her sister’s triplets. “I can’t wait to meet them.”

“Can you come for supper tomorrow?”

“I don’t want to miss any interaction between Clark and the kids until I fully understand what’s going on.” She might know the whole story, but she wasn’t sure how much Jack knew, how much he understood. “Give me a few more days to observe and analyze.”

“All right.” Missy paused to sigh. “But tread lightly, okay? You don’t want to get in over your head. Or worse, this might be nothing and you could be interfering when you’re not needed.”




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