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Family by Design
Bonnie K. Winn
Doctor In Need Of Help Finding a sitter for his orphaned niece is Dr. J. C. Mueller’s priority. But he can’t ask the one person the girl actually takes a shine to. Maddie Carter is a full-time caregiver for her ailing mother. When she returned to Rosewood, Texas, she gave up her dream of opening a tea shop.Then J. C. provides the chance to make it happen. And when Maddie offers to watch his niece in exchange, he realizes that she will help anyone—except herself. J. C. ’s prescription? Convincing Maddie that adding love to her full plate will ease not only her burdens, but also her heart.



“I don’t blame her for acting out. She’s lost everyone she loves,” J.C. said.
Unexpectedly, Maddie covered his hand with hers. “Not quite everyone.”
He stared at her long, slender fingers and pulled his gaze back to hers. “My niece has been fighting with some of the girls at school, her grades are slipping.” And Chrissy was miserable.
Concern etched Maddie’s face. “Can I help? She could spend afternoons with us.”
“Don’t have enough on your plate now?”
“It’s what we do. You know, here in Rosewood. She’s a child who needs any help we can give her.”
It was how J.C. had been raised, too. “Maybe from people who have the time. You’re exhausted now. I’m not going to add to that burden.”
The fire in her now stormy gray eyes was one he remembered. “It’s not a burden. I have enough energy to spare some for Chrissy.”
She was pretty remarkable, J.C. decided. Even more remarkable—she didn’t seem to realize it.
Dear Reader,
Sometimes a book comes from the whisper of an idea or from experience. In an ever-shifting world, I draw from both. I was blessed with loving, caring parents. The immeasurable bond between my mother and myself was a gift from the Lord. Even when dementia robbed her memory, her love for me never wavered. I am thankful every day for what we shared and how incredibly blessed I was to have her for my mother.
I always wished to have the same relationship with my own daughter, but when “she” was born, it was a boy! Brian has been an incredible blessing and this last year had his first child, a baby girl, Liberty. She’s only the third girl in five generations of my family! A miracle! My daughter-in-law, Lindsey, is my girl now, too, a true daughter who I love.
The Lord knew I always wanted a sister, so He gave me friends who are my sisters. Through one, Karen, I was blessed with the daughter of my heart, Erica. She has been dear to me since she was a child, and with her I have been able to have the mother-daughter relationship that I prayed for.
I’ve never known if life does indeed imitate art, but I do know that we are all incredibly fortunate to have families, whether they’re of our blood or not, who care about and love us. My wish for you, dear reader, is that your life is blessed with family, perhaps even family by design.
God bless,


Family by Design
Bonnie K. Winn


www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
Many daughters have done nobly,
But you excel them all.
—Proverbs 31:29
For Erica Endo, daughter of my heart.

Chapter One
Maddie Carter forgot to breathe. Her hand, swallowed by the doctor’s larger one, rioted in unexpected reaction.
Dr. J. C. Mueller smiled and she gaped, unable to think of anything coherent to say as he turned to her mother, Lillian.
“So, Mrs. Carter, I understand your G.P. recommended you meet with me.” He winked. “Of course, I am the only neurologist in Rosewood.”
Maddie stumbled on her way to the extra chair in the examining room, righting herself quickly, hoping he hadn’t noticed.
How had she forgotten this man? True, he’d been three years ahead of her in high school, then he’d gone to Baylor, while she’d attended the University of Texas, but still … She couldn’t stop staring. Tall, broad-shouldered, with a shock of thick dark hair, mesmerizing brown eyes and a cleft in his chin that begged to be touched.
J.C. flipped through the thick pile of pages in her mother’s chart, detailing the history of strokes that had brought on early onset dementia. He put down the folder, picking up Lillian’s hand, placing two fingers over her upturned wrist.
Maddie couldn’t still her heartbeat, instantly remembering the strength of his long fingers, the touch that tickled even her toes.
“Mrs. Carter, your vital signs are excellent.”
Pleased, Lillian smiled. “Thank you, young man.”
“I’d like to run a few tests, nothing invasive.”
“Have I met you before?” Lillian questioned, puzzled.
“I grew up here in Rosewood,” J.C. responded patiently. His wide smile was easy, kind. And his gold-flecked brown eyes sparkled.
Maddie’s own pulse increased. Good thing he wasn’t recording hers.
“How about you, Mrs. Carter? Are you from Rosewood originally?”
Maddie recognized the pattern to the handsome doctor’s questions. He wanted to see if her mother could remember and verbalize her recollections. Lillian’s worsening symptoms had prompted their G.P.’s referral to a specialist.
“My mother was born here,” Lillian mused, her pale blue eyes reflective. “My father came from the Panhandle, near Amarillo. But he took one look at her and knew he wanted to stay.” Smiling, she looked up at the doctor. “Love will do that, you know.”
“Yes, ma’am,” J.C. agreed, stretching out his long legs.
Immediately, Maddie wondered if he was married, engaged. Surely some smart woman had snagged him long ago.
“So you raised your family here,” J.C. continued. Lillian’s short-term memory was nearly nonexistent, but she remembered quite a bit from the past.
“My Maddie, yes.”
J.C. glanced in Maddie’s direction to include her in the conversation. “Just one child?”
“One perfect daughter,” Lillian declared proudly.
Maddie felt her cheeks warming and shrugged an embarrassed apology to the doctor.
He grinned. “And why mess with perfection?”
“That’s how we always felt,” Lillian agreed with a vigorous nod as she turned to stare at her daughter.
J.C. mimicked her action.
Maddie immediately wished she’d remembered to wear lipstick. And what had she been thinking when she’d chosen this rumpled blouse and skirt? That her mother had let the bath water run unchecked until it overflowed. And Maddie had been zooming on full speed to get the mess cleaned up so that they could get ready for the appointment. Their small home had only one bathroom and Lillian could have easily slipped on the tile floor.
Self-consciously, Maddie smoothed her full cotton skirt, remembering she hadn’t done a thing with her hair. In fact, she’d pulled it back in a messy ponytail. Just add the braces she’d once worn and she would look as geeky as she had in high school. Trying not to flush more, Maddie smiled feebly beneath their inspection.
“Maddie should have her own tea shop,” Lillian continued.
“Oh, yes?”
Maddie squirmed. “Just an old dream.”
“Nothing of the kind,” Lillian declared. “She should set up right on Main Street, smack dab in the middle of town.”
“Let me know when you’re ready,” J.C. gazed at Maddie. “I happen to have a building … well, actually it belongs to my young niece. And it desperately needs a tenant. Be a great place for a tea shop.” Turning back to Lillian, he extended his hand. “Mrs. Carter, I’ve enjoyed our visit and I’m looking forward to seeing you more often.”
“I should think you’d rather visit with my beautiful daughter,” Lillian guilelessly replied.
Lord, a hole, please. Underneath this chair, just big enough for me to disappear.
“I’ll see you both on your next visit,” J.C. replied without missing a beat.
Rumpled, crumpled and thoroughly embarrassed, Maddie rose, ready to end their consultation.
But the doctor wasn’t. This time he spoke directly to her. “My nurse will set up the tests.” He held out a paper. “Just give this to her.” He scribbled on a second sheet of paper. “And I want to adjust your mother’s medications.”
“Thank …” Maddie cleared the embarrassing croaking in her voice. “Thank you.”
“My pleasure.”
She sincerely doubted that, but smiled. “Mom, should we go home? Have that cup of tea?”
“Maddie makes the best tea in the world,” Lillian announced, this time her voice not as strong. She weakened quickly these days.
J.C. opened the exam room door, allowing them to precede him. Maddie wasn’t sure how she knew, but she was almost certain that J.C. continued watching as they left. She had a wild impulse to look back, to see. But there wasn’t any point. Her social life had ended when her mother’s dementia had begun. And mooning over a handsome doctor would only make her long for what wasn’t in her destiny.
“Maddie?”
“Yes, Mom.”
“I have a yen for some tea. What do you think?”
That she needed to put longings out of her head. This was her reality. “Sounds good.”
Lillian patted her hand, having completely forgotten Maddie’s words only minutes before. J.C. wouldn’t be part of her own future, but Maddie was fiercely glad he was in her mother’s. At the rate she was deteriorating, otherwise, Lillian might lose her grip on even the distant past.
Chilled by the possibility, Maddie gently squeezed her mother’s delicate fingers. They were the last remaining members of their family. It didn’t bear thinking how dreadful it would be should that tiny number be halved.
J.C. stared after his departing patient. Well, her daughter, actually. Not that he’d forgotten a detail about Lillian.
Or Maddie. Refreshing. The one word summed her up completely. From the sprinkle of freckles on her smooth skin to the strawberry-blond wisps of hair that escaped from her bouncy ponytail. His gut reaction to her had come out of nowhere. That door had been closed since his ex-wife’s betrayal. Now with everything else in his life …
The intercom in his office buzzed. “Dr. M?”
“I’m here, Didi.”
“School’s on the phone.”
He sighed. His nine-year-old niece, Chrissy, wasn’t adjusting well after the deaths of her parents. It had been a blow out of the blue. His sister, Fran, and brother-in-law, Jay, had been asleep when carbon monoxide had leaked out of the furnace. Chrissy, their only child, had been at a friend’s pajama party for the night.
“Dr. M?” Didi called again.
“Yeah, I’ll get it.” Reluctantly he picked up the phone.
“Doctor Mueller?”
J.C. readily recognized the principal’s voice. They’d spoken often since the tragedy. “Yes, David?”
“You need to pick up Chrissy.”
Frowning, he checked his watch. It was only eleven in the morning. “Now?”
“There’s been another … incident.”
Chrissy, once a model child and student, had been acting out. “Surely she doesn’t need to come home this early in the day.”
“Afraid so, J.C.” The principal dropped the formalities. “She started a fight with two other girls. One is in tears, the other had to go home because we couldn’t calm her down. J.C., you’re going to have to figure out how to get Chrissy back under control.”
J.C. rubbed his forehead, feeling the onset of now near-constant pain. He’d easily diagnosed himself. Stress-induced migraines. Losing his only sibling had been a devastating blow. He and his older sister had always been close. She’d been the one always looking out for him, the one who had comforted him when they’d lost first their father, then not long afterward their mother. And she’d kept him propped up during his divorce. Without her …
Fran had been his pillar. Illogically, he wanted to speak to her, so she could tell him how to deal with Chrissy.
Opening the day’s schedule on his laptop, J.C. saw that he could steal an hour by switching one consultation. After asking Didi to make the arrangements, he drove quickly to the nearby school.
Chrissy sat in one of the chairs in the office, her arms crossed, her expression mute. But her posture and body spoke for her. Sulky. From the top of her head to the tips of her crossed feet.
She didn’t meet his gaze while he talked with the secretary and checked Chrissy out of school. But once in the hallway, her footsteps dragged.
J.C. couldn’t be mad. Under her rebellious expression was a hurt little girl overwhelmed by pain and loss. He placed one hand on her shoulder as they walked side-by-side, both silent as they approached the car.
Chrissy pulled off her backpack and flung it on the floor. Along with the clicking of seat belts being fastened in place, they were the only sounds until he turned the key in the ignition. J.C. drove out of the school parking lot before he spoke. “You’ll have to spend the afternoon at the office.”
Chrissy stared out the window. “I’m old enough to stay by myself.”
Thinking how vulnerable she was, he kept his tone light. “I’m not sure I’m old enough to stay on my own. At any rate, you’ll have more space to spread out your books in Mrs. Cook’s office.”
Chrissy snorted.
J.C. glanced over at his niece. She still stared out the window. The only time she reacted positively was when they passed Wagner Hill House, the building on Main Street that had contained her father’s business. It had sat undisturbed since Jay’s death.
Thinking it might help Chrissy, J.C. decided to drive by his sister’s house. Although he kept putting it off, he needed to sort through the house, make it livable again. Maybe Chrissy would settle down if she could live in her home again. He didn’t mind giving up his tiny apartment; it was just a place to sleep really.
Turning on Magnolia Avenue, he saw Chrissy straighten up.
Pleased she was finally showing interest in something, he pulled into the driveway.
As soon as he turned off the vehicle, Chrissy began shrieking.
“No! I won’t go in! No! No!” Sobs erupted and tears flooded her cheeks. “You can’t make me!”
Horrified, J.C. tried to calm her. “What is it, Chrissy?”
“The house killed them!” She blurted out between staggered sobs.
Her distress was so intense J.C. didn’t try to reason with her. Instead, he quickly backed out of the driveway, then sped from the neighborhood. Once past the familiar streets, he pulled into a space in front of the park. Unhooking his own seat belt and then Chrissy’s, he gently guided her from the car to a bench beneath a large oak.
Still shaking from the remaining gulps of tears, she allowed him to drape an arm over her shoulders. When she was tiny, he would have popped her in his lap, pulled a dozen silly faces and made her giggle. He felt completely ill-equipped to comfort her now.
Patting her arm, he waited until the last of her hiccupping gulps trailed to an end. “I’m sorry, Chrissy. I wouldn’t have gone to the house if I’d known it would upset you.” He paused. “I was hoping it would make you feel better.”
She shook her head so hard that her light brown hair flew unchecked from side to side. “I never, ever want to go there again.”
“After some time—”
“Never!” she exclaimed. Her lips wobbled and a few new tears mixed with the wash of others on her cheeks.
J.C. patted her knee. “I thought you might like to live there again, get out of my scruffy apartment.”
“No!” she cried again, burying her face against his shoulder. “I can’t!”
J.C. imagined he could hear the child’s heart actually breaking. “Then you won’t.” He would have the contents packed for storage, then rent out the house in case she changed her mind later. “And if it starts bothering you, we won’t go by the print building, either.”
Chrissy pulled back a bit so she could look at him. “It’s not the same.”
“No?”
“Daddy’s work didn’t hurt them. It was the house.”
Logic wasn’t a factor. Just the raw feelings of a wounded child.
“Okay, then.”
“We could move in there,” she suggested hopefully. “To Daddy’s work.”
The first floor of the building had been occupied by the business. And there were two apartments above it. Jay’s parents had lived in one until they passed away.
“No one’s lived in those apartments for a while,” he explained. More important, they wouldn’t have any immediate neighbors. Even though his bachelor apartment was small, at least in his complex, Chrissy was surrounded by people. He didn’t like the idea of her being alone in a big building on Main Street when he had to make night calls at the hospital. A few proprietors lived above their businesses, but not in the building next to them. And the Wagner Hill House was on a corner next to a side street that bisected Main, so there wasn’t a second adjoining neighbor.
“We could fix up the apartment,” Chrissy beseeched, kicking her feet back, dragging them through the grass. “And live on top of Daddy’s print shop.” The apartment was above the business on the second floor, but he knew what she meant.
Blair, a nurse who worked at the hospital, lived in his apartment complex and so far J.C. had asked her to listen for Chrissy when he had to leave her. But it wasn’t a comfortable situation. He worried the entire time he was away. What if Chrissy woke up and was scared? What if there was a fire? The possibilities were endless. But he couldn’t hire live-in help to share their small space. As it was, he was camping out on the sofa so Chrissy could have the only bedroom.
And babysitters weren’t pleased to be phoned in the middle of the night. The few who had reluctantly responded once didn’t respond again. Not that J.C. blamed them. Who wanted to get up at two or three in the morning to babysit, not knowing if they would have to stay an hour or the rest of the night? What they really needed was sort of a combination housekeeper and nanny who lived in. But Chrissy had run off every single one he had hired, resenting anyone she thought was trying to take her mother’s place.
“I’m afraid we can’t live in the Main Street building.”
Chrissy sniffled. “Then are we going to stay in your apartment?”
J.C. glanced up at the cloudless sky. Rosewood’s tranquility had always been a peaceful balm. But now he wasn’t certain there could be peace anywhere. Lord, we need your help. Chrissy deserves more than just me. Please help us find the answer.
Sighing, Chrissy leaned her head against his arm, her soft weight slumping dispiritedly.
Please, Lord.

Chapter Two
Maddie pulled one of her numerous tins of tea from a shelf in the pantry. “Sure you don’t have a preference?”
Samantha Conway, Maddie’s best friend and one-time neighbor, shrugged. “Surprise me. How many blends have you made now? One hundred?”
“Afraid not.” She placed the tin on the table. “I have ideas for twice that many and space for less than thirty.” Collecting two porcelain cups and saucers she added them to the table.
“So, did your mother like J.C.?” Samantha questioned.
“You were right all along. I should have taken her sooner,” Maddie admitted. Samantha had raved about J.C. ever since he successfully treated her paralysis. Now Samantha walked with only a cane. She had been urging Maddie to see him about Lillian’s worsening symptoms long before their G.P. had made his recommendation. “He’s already ordered new tests and altered her medications.” Swallowing, Maddie remembered the touch of his hand when he gave her the slip of paper.
“Earth to Maddie,” Samantha repeated. “Something on your mind?”
“Of course not.” Trying to sideline her friend’s curiosity, Maddie got up and retrieved the electric kettle. Pouring water into their cups, she set the kettle on a trivet.
“Um, I hate to complain,” Samantha began, “but we don’t have any tea in our cups.”
Maddie shook her face in tiny rapid nods. “Where’s my head?” Because she used loose tea leaves to make her own private blends, she also used individual cup strainers. She put one on each of their cups, then added a scoop of tea leaves. She’d made so much tea over the years that she didn’t need to measure the amount.
Samantha fiddled with her cup. “You sure you’re okay?”
“Why?”
“For one, the strainer’s sitting over the water, so I’m guessing the tea leaves aren’t actually wet and …” She looked intensely at her friend. “The water’s cold.”
“Cold?” Maddie frowned. “It can’t be cold. I just got it from the kettle.” Poking her finger in the cup, she expected a hot jolt. Cold water and limp tea leaves. Great. “I hope the kettle’s not broken.” But as she checked the adjustments and made sure the base was plugged in, Maddie couldn’t remember if she’d actually pushed the On button.
“Okay, give,” Samantha urged. “You forgot to put the tea in the tea? And then you forgot to turn on the kettle? That’s not like you.”
“I suppose it’s been a stressful day.” She recounted the mishap with the morning bath water, how flustered she’d been trying to get them to the appointment on time. “I felt like my accelerator was stuck,” she explained. “Filling in all the forms like a maniac as fast as I could, trying not to cause more delay …”
Samantha leaned back, studying her. “Just the letdown after an adrenaline rush?”
“I suppose so.”
“Funny. You have at least one crisis a week with Lillian, but you’ve never offered me a cold cup of water that hasn’t even swum close to a tea leaf.”
Maddie waved her hands. “Then I’m having an off day.”
“You haven’t told me what you thought of J.C.”
Maddie willed the sudden warmth in her neck to stay there and not redden her face. “He was fine.”
“Fine?”
“Nice, then.”
“Nice?”
“At this rate we’ll be chattering away all day,” Maddie observed with a wry twist of her lips. “I told you that Dr. Mueller ordered several tests and he’s altered Mom’s medications. He thinks one may be sedating her instead of treating the dementia.”
“Um.” Samantha studied her intently. “And that’s all?”
Maddie fiddled with the worn tablecloth. “It was just our first visit.”
“You plan on going back?”
“Of course!” Maddie replied in an instant. Inwardly grimacing, she slowed her words. “Providing Mom does better on the new medications.” The kettle whistled. Relieved, she rose to get the hot water, using the excuse to try and straighten her muddled thoughts. Taking a deep breath, she returned, carefully pouring the steaming water into their cups. “I should have noticed that there wasn’t any steam before. So, would you like some cookies with your tea?”
Looking truly concerned, Samantha drew her brows together, then pointed to a plate of lemon bars. “I brought these, remember?”
“Of course!” She clapped both hands over her reddening cheeks, then sank into her chair. “Not. I’ve been in a fluster since I got home.”
Worry colored Samantha’s eyes. “Is there something about Lillian’s condition you haven’t told me?”
Maddie shook her head. Thank heavens her mother was enjoying her regular afternoon nap and couldn’t overhear. Lifting one shoulder in a half shrug, Maddie stared down at the delicate pink roses edging her saucer. “It’s so stupid, it’s not worth repeating really.”
Samantha leaned forward. “If it’s got you this upset—”
“I wouldn’t exactly call it upsetting. Well, maybe. Depends on what you—”
Rapping the table with her knuckles, Samantha cut off her words. “Spill it.”
“I thought … I think Dr. Mueller is … well, attractive.”
“Downright handsome to be precise. How can this be a surprise? Surely you’ve seen him around town?”
“Mom’s doctor is in an old building downtown, not in the hospital where Dr. Mueller works. Thankfully, we haven’t had to be at the hospital much.”
“Still …” Samantha stopped abruptly. “Sorry. Of course I know you don’t get out enough. I just thought that somehow …” She brightened. “But you do like him?”
“He’s nice.”
“Don’t start that again. And you can call him J.C.” Samantha wriggled her eyebrows. “He’s single, you know. Well, divorced actually.”
“Divorced?”
“I don’t know the details, but I understand it was bad.”
Maddie wondered why any woman would let him go. Silly, she didn’t know a thing about him. Other than that smile, those eyes … Abruptly, she shook her head. “Honestly, Sam, you’re the last person I expected to matchmake. We’re seeing him so he can help Mom, not so I can develop a crush.” The word was barely out of her mouth when Maddie wished she could draw it back.
Samantha blinked.
“Bad choice of words,” Maddie tried to explain.
“Accurate is more like it.” She smiled more gently. “Hit that hard, did it?”
Her embarrassment waning, Maddie plopped her chin on one outstretched hand. “Stupid, huh? I’m old enough to know better.”
“You’re not that old,” Samantha objected. “Besides, I don’t believe in an age limit on falling in love.”
“Whoa!” Maddie protested. “Who said anything about love?”
Samantha grinned. “Puppy love?”
“I had my chance. I picked taking care of Mom instead. It’s what I want.” Maddie wasn’t only loyal, she couldn’t imagine shuttling her mother away because it was more convenient.
“It doesn’t have to be a choice.” Samantha patted Maddie’s hand. “Lillian wants you to be happy.”
“And a man deserves a woman who can devote herself to him and the family they create. I’m not that woman.” Although she’d never regretted her choice, Maddie sometimes dreamed of a life with a loving husband and children of her own. It wasn’t her destiny, but the fantasy was harmless.
“You just haven’t met the right man yet,” Samantha insisted in a gentle, yet confident, tone.
“Forgetting Owen, aren’t you?” Maddie’s high school, then college sweetheart, they’d been engaged when her mother had suffered the first of many strokes. Lillian had only been in her forties at the time, young for the onset of the neurological nightmare that had stolen her short-term memory.
Samantha’s expression was steady. “He’s a rat. What kind of man asks you to choose between him and your mother? He knew what was going on, how painful it was for you to give up everything.”
Maddie tried to interrupt. “But—”
“But nothing. I know you’d make the same choice again, but asking you to put her in a nursing home …” Samantha shook her head angrily. “And it’s not as though he was new to your life, didn’t know your history.”
Stroking the silken smoothness of the porcelain cup, Maddie remembered Owen’s unyielding stance. “I did think he might understand. We were going together when my dad passed away.”
“He also knew you didn’t have any relatives to share the load.” Samantha’s fierce loyalty didn’t waver. “Total rat.”
Maddie reluctantly smiled. “That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?”
“Nope.” Loyal to the end, Samantha didn’t give an inch. “And J.C.’s about as different from Owen as a rat is to a cat.”
“I wouldn’t have thought it until you came back to Rosewood, but you’re a romantic, Sam. Just because you and Bret got back together after nearly a decade—”
“That was fate,” Samantha insisted. “And real, genuine, honest love. It wasn’t a reunion, it was a new start.”
“I imagine Owen’s got his hands full with his business.” His family had money, and Owen had stepped into the enviable position of entrepreneur with none of the struggle most young business owners faced.
“Hmm. And, yes, I know, Bret’s running his family business, but it wasn’t stuffed with cash.”
In fact, it was almost failing when Bret took the helm. “No comparison, Sam. I agree. When we were younger I didn’t think Owen was that affected by having … okay, everything. He just seemed to take it in stride. But when he got older …” He wasn’t the boy she’d fallen in love with.
“Hey, I’m sorry.” Samantha’s voice changed to one of concern. “I didn’t mean to stir all that up. I guess I just thought … well, J.C.’s such a great guy, and you’re my best friend …” She smiled encouragingly. “I still think your life’s going to change because of him—he’s going to help Lillian and that’ll help you.”
“It’s not as though I don’t daydream myself. And you’re right. If he can help Mom …” Maddie smiled. “That’s all I ask.” Because her other dreams were just flotsam in the ether. And as likely to materialize.
True to his word, J.C. began Lillian’s tests with a noninvasive CT scan. Officially called computed tomography, it could detect a blood clot or intracranial bleeding in patients with a stroke. And the scan aided in differentiating the area of the brain affected by the disorder.
J.C. had prescribed a light sedative so that Lillian could lie still. Forgetting where she was, otherwise Lillian might have tried to move, skewing the test results.
The test took only about thirty minutes, but Maddie paced in the waiting room. She didn’t want her mother to wake up disoriented and scared. The technician had assured her that he would watch out for Lillian during the scan, but Maddie couldn’t stop worrying.
“She’s all right,” J.C. announced quietly from behind her.
Maddie whirled around. The carpeted waiting area had camouflaged the sound of his footsteps.
Dressed in scrubs, he acted as though it was normal for him to deliver the news, rather than the technician.
Maddie began to shake, fearing the worst. “Was there a problem?”
He stepped closer, his eyes flickering over her trembling limbs. “None whatsoever. I didn’t mean to alarm you. I just got out of surgery, thought I’d pop in and check on your mother.”
Relieved, Maddie exhaled, her chest still rising with the effort to breathe normally.
J.C. took her arm, guiding her to a chair. “You’re going to have to take it easy.”
Perched on the edge of the chair, she stared up at him.
“CT scan’s about the mildest procedure your mother’s going to have. You’ll sap your energy if you get this upset about every test.”
Suddenly Maddie could breathe. And stand. Nearly nose to nose with him. “I know you’re an excellent doctor. Samantha Conway is proof of that. But don’t presume to tell me how to react. I’ve been caring for my mother for years. I know she gets confused and scared …” Maddie’s trembling increased. “And I won’t let anyone make that worse.”
“Good.”
Maddie blinked.
“A dedicated caregiver is the best medicine any patient can have.” J.C.’s tone remained mild. His gold-flecked brown eyes were more elusive. “I’ll call you when I have the results. Should be about two days.” With a nod, he left.
Maddie wasn’t certain what to think. Plopping the palm of her hand against her forehead, she wished she could travel back in time a few minutes. This doctor was a road of hope for her mother and she’d just insulted him. Refusing to consider that her defensive reaction could have anything to do with her attraction to him, she bit down on her thumbnail.
Catching sight of the technician, she tried to shove the thoughts away and decided it would be easier to tame an infuriated horde of wasps.
J.C. strode down the familiar corridors toward his office. The sandy-beige walls were lined with portraits of the hospital’s founders and patrons. But he wasn’t looking at any of them. He wanted to kick something, preferably himself. Maddie Carter had been on his mind since the day they’d met. He’d sensed an empathetic soul. One who could understand what he was going through.
A tall, slim man in a white coat plopped himself in J.C.’s path. “Someone put cactus needles in your scrubs?”
J.C. immediately recognized the voice. “Adam.”
His colleague and friend Adam Winston tugged at the stethoscope looped around his neck. “I don’t normally drive into tornados, but from the look on your face, I think you might need some help getting out of the storm.”
“Just a mild gale.” J.C. exhaled. “Put too much thought into a nitwit notion.”
“Why don’t I believe that?”
“Don’t you have rounds?”
Adam shrugged. “Not for another hour.” Amiable, persistent, often brilliant, Adam wasn’t going anywhere without an answer.
J.C. summarized his two meetings with Maddie. “That’s it,” he concluded.
Adam’s knowing look was both confusing and annoying. “Uh-huh.”
“Don’t try to make something out of this.”
Whistling, Adam winked, then briefly shook his head. “I don’t need to. You’ve got that covered.”
J.C. clenched his teeth. Realizing he had, he made himself relax.
“Hasn’t it occurred to you that this woman’s under just as much strain as you are?” Adam continued. “When she saw you instead of the tech, she probably thought her mother had suffered another stroke. Wouldn’t be the first time a test triggered one.”
“I’m sure she’s stressed.”
“Are you? Have you checked out the situation? Does anyone help care for the mother? Or is she on her own?”
Remembering that Lillian had said Maddie was an only child, J.C. didn’t reply.
“If she’s the full-time live-in caregiver, you know she could be ready to crack.” Adam twirled the end of his stethoscope.
J.C. hadn’t asked about the details of Lillian Carter’s care. Had he done what he’d despised in others? Judged without knowing the facts? Worse even, judging at all?

Chapter Three
J.C. pulled into the semicircle driveway at the front of the Rosewood Community Church school. He was late. Again. Didi had picked up Chrissy a few times for him, but she was busy. Besides, he couldn’t expect his employees and friends to sacrifice any more than they already had.
The school was nearly deserted. Only the teachers’ cars remained in the parking lot and a few kids were kicking a ball on the playground. Chrissy sat on the steps, clutching her backpack, looking lost.
Poor kid. First she felt deserted when her parents died; now she felt just as abandoned by him. Turning off the car, he got out to meet her halfway. Her face was more than sullen; fear and vulnerability were just as apparent.
“Chrissy, I’m sorry. No excuses. I’m late.”
Although she tried to control it, her lips wobbled. “I know.”
“How about a big chocolate shake at the drugstore?” The old-fashioned marble fountain was one of Chrissy’s favorite places.
“Uh-uh,” she replied, shaking her head.
J.C. would have reached for the child’s backpack so he could carry it to the car, but she still clutched it like a lifeline. She’d had the backpack with her at the pajama party, untouched by the poisonous carbon monoxide. Untouched by what had changed her life forever.
J.C. wished he could think of something to distract her, to ease the pain from her face. But fun hadn’t been on the agenda for quite a while now.
Chrissy settled in her seat, scooting forward suddenly, pulling up a bag that was wedged beneath her. “What’s this?”
“Some trial medications for a new patient. I’ve been meaning to drop them off …” But every time he thought about it, he pictured Maddie’s anger.
“Why don’t we go now?”
He stared at his niece. “You want to go?”
She shrugged. “Nothing else to do.”
Except a mountain of dictation, articles, more work than he wanted to think about. “Right.” But the stop would distract Chrissy. “Nothing else to do.”
The Carter home wasn’t far. J.C. had copied their address on the sample bag. Located in one of Rosewood’s oldest neighborhoods, the house was an unimposing Victorian. Neither grand nor tiny, it spoke of the families that had inhabited it over the generations. The yard and flower beds were tidy, the porch and driveway well swept. But he noticed the aging roof and the peeling paint on the second-story fascia and gables.
An aged but inviting swing flanked two well-worn rocking chairs on the wide porch. It was quiet as they climbed the steps, then knocked on the outer screen door.
Within just a few moments the door swung open. Taken aback, Maddie stared at him, then collected her voice. “Dr. Mueller, I wasn’t expecting you.” Her gaze shifted to include Chrissy. “Hello.”
Chrissy ducked just a fraction behind him. J.C. put a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “This is my niece, Chrissy.”
“Good to meet you, Chrissy.” Maddie pushed the screen door back. “Come in. I just put the kettle on.”
Chrissy looked up at him in question.
J.C. patted her back. “Actually, we just stopped to drop off samples of a new medication for your mother.”
“Do you have time for tea?” Maddie asked, not a bit of the anger he remembered anywhere in sight.
He glanced down at his niece. She didn’t look averse to the idea. “I guess so. Thanks.”
“Mom’s in the living room,” Maddie explained, leading the way from the small entry hall. She glanced at Chrissy. “In a house this old, they used to call the front room a parlor, but ours isn’t the elegant sort.”
Looking intrigued, Chrissy listened quietly.
“Mom? Dr. Mueller stopped by to have tea.”
Lillian sat in a faded green rocker recliner. Seeing her guests, she brightened. “I love meeting new people!”
“This is Dr. Mueller’s niece, Chrissy,” Maddie began.
Lillian clapped her hands together. “Oh, my! You look an awful lot like my Maddie when she was your age.” She patted the chair next to hers. “Come. Sit.”
Chrissy’s normal reluctance dimmed and she crossed the room. “I thought you knew my uncle James.”
Lillian smiled. “Perhaps I do. You’ll have to tell me all about him.”
Chrissy looked at him, then turned back to Lillian.
“He’s a doctor. And he’s real busy.”
J.C. flinched.
“I imagine you stay busy with school.” Lillian’s gaze landed on the ever-present backpack. “Just like my Maddie, always did her homework straightaway.”
Chrissy stroked the pink bag and halfheartedly shrugged. “Sometimes.”
Lillian’s eyes glinted with mischief. “Sometimes we baked cookies first or built a playhouse.”
“You built a playhouse?” Chrissy asked in wonder as Lillian dug into the purse that was always at her side.
Lillian produced a roll of Life Savers and offered them to Chrissy. “Sure did. My father thought a girl should know how to use a hammer and a saw. He liked to make things with his hands, so he taught me in his workshop.”
Chrissy swallowed. “My dad did, too.”
Lillian patted her knee. “Sounds like we had wonderful fathers.”
Strange. It was as though somehow Lillian sensed Chrissy’s father was gone, as well.
J.C. heard a whistle from the other side of the house. No doubt the teakettle. Considering, he watched his niece, saw that her attention was entirely focused on Lillian. Pivoting, he followed the sound of the fading whistle to the kitchen. A carpet runner covered the oak floor in the long hall; it also muffled the sound of his footsteps.
He paused beneath the arched opening to the kitchen. Maddie was scurrying around the room, pushing strawberry-blond hair off her forehead with one hand, reaching for a tray with the other. Seeing that it was perched on one of the higher shelves, he quickened his pace. “Let me get that for you.”
Whirling around at the sound of his voice, she looked completely, totally, utterly flustered.
“Guess I need to stop doing that. Coming up from behind, surprising you.”
Her throat worked and her blue-gray eyes looked chastened. “I feel terrible about how I reacted the other day. It’s just that Mom’s gotten so fragile, and …” Moisture gathered in her eyes and she quickly wiped it away. “I’m so afraid that the next stroke …” Again her throat worked, but she pushed past the emotion. “I know she needs these tests—”
J.C. lightly clasped her arm. “Being a caregiver is the most stressful job I can imagine. Do you have enough help?”
“Help?” Maddie nodded. “Samantha relieves me so that I have some extra time when I run errands, but she has her own family to take care of. Neighbors and people from church sit with Mom, too, when they can.”
He’d reread the file and knew that Lillian was widowed. With no siblings, did that mean that Maddie was the sole caregiver? “It’s important that you have time for yourself.”
She laughed, a mirthless sound. “Hmm.”
Spotting the cups on the table, he took her elbow, guiding her to the table. “Let’s sit for a few minutes.”
“But your niece—”
“Is taken by your mother. Best Chrissy’s acted in a while. Tea smells good.”
Distracted, Maddie glanced at the tabletop. “It’s probably the vanilla you’re smelling.”
J.C. sat in the chair next to hers. “Who else helps you take care of Lillian?”
“Just me.”
J.C. knew that endless caregiving could suck the life from a person. And Lillian had required home care for nearly a decade. “Have you lost some of your relief help?”
“Never had any.” Picking up the sugar, she offered it to him.
“But when do you have time for yourself?”
She lifted the porcelain strainers from their cups. “I don’t think of it like that. This is my life, my choice. It’s hard for other people to understand.”
“What about before Lillian’s strokes? You must have had plans.”
An indecipherable emotion flashed in her now bluish eyes and then disappeared. Had her eyes changed color? Or was it a trick of the light?
“That’s the thing about the future,” Maddie replied calmly. “It can always change. So far, mine has.”
Since J.C. had witnessed that she wasn’t always a serene earth muffin, he sipped his tea, wondering exactly who the real Maddie was. “This is unusual. Don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything quite like it.”
“The tea’s my own blend,” she explained.
“How did you come to make your own tea recipe?”
She chuckled, some of her weariness disappearing. “Not just one recipe. I blend all sorts of teas.”
“Same question, then. How did you start making your own tea?”
“I’ve always been fascinated by spices. I can remember my grandfather telling me about the original spice routes from Asia and I could imagine all the smells, the excitement of the markets. So my mother let me collect spices and we’d make up recipes to use them in. Then one day I decided to add some fresh nutmeg to my tea.” Her cheeks flushed as her enthusiasm grew. “Mom always made drinking tea an event—using the good cups, all the accessories. Anyway, Mom bought every kind of loose tea leaf she could find so I could experiment. For a time our kitchen looked like a cross between an English farmhouse and a laboratory. After college I planned to open a shop where I could sell all my blends.” She leaned forward, her eyes dreamy. “And I’d serve fresh, hot tea on round bistro tables covered with white linen tablecloths. Oh, and little pastries, maybe sandwiches. Make it a place people want to linger … to come back to.”
“The tea shop your mother said should be smack dab in the middle of Main Street?”
“Oh, yes.”
“Did you ever get a shop set up?”
Maddie shook her head. “I was investigating small business loans when Mom had her first stroke, the major one. Luckily, I’d graduated from U.T. by then.”
“Have you considered starting the business? Using part of the profits to hire someone to stay with your mother while you’re working?”
“Our funds aren’t that extensive. I took enough business classes to know I’d have to factor in at least a year of loss before we’d show any profit. Or just staying even. Doesn’t leave anything for caregiver salaries. Besides, Mom’s happy with me.”
“Don’t forget I’ve got a building that needs a tenant if you change your mind. Plenty of room for a shop and tearoom.” He swallowed more of his tea. “What about the senior center activities we talked about? That would fill several hours a day.”
Maddie’s smile dimmed. “As the first step toward a nursing home?”
“Nothing of the kind. If Lillian responds to her new medication, she could well enjoy spending time with people her own age.”
“Her friends have been loyal,” Maddie objected. “People stop by fairly often to visit her.”
J.C. studied the obstinate set of her jaw. “But not to visit with you?”
Maddie looked down, fiddling with the dish towel still in her lap. “People my age have young families of their own to take care of.”
A situation he knew only too well.
“It’s difficult for someone who’s never been in this position to understand,” Maddie continued. “I’m sure you’re busy with your work … and it probably consumes most of your time, but I can’t walk away from my mother. It’s not some martyr complex. It’s my choice.”
“And sometimes there isn’t a choice.”
Maddie scrunched her eyes in concentration. “Your niece? Chrissy? You said something about how she was behaving. Is there a problem?”
J.C. explained how he’d come to be his niece’s guardian. “I don’t blame her for acting out. She’s lost everyone she loves.”
Unexpectedly, Maddie covered his hand with hers. “Not quite everyone.”
He stared at her long, slender fingers.
“Dr. Mueller? J.C.?”
“Sorry.” He pulled his gaze back to hers. “Chrissy’s been fighting with some of the girls at school, her grades are slipping.” And she was miserable.
“What about your babysitter? Do they get on well?”
“We’ve been through a parade of sitters and housekeepers. Can’t keep one.”
Concern etched Maddie’s face. “Can I help? She could spend afternoons with us. Does she go to the community church school? We’re in easy walking distance.”
“Don’t have enough on your plate?” J.C. was dumbfounded. Maddie claimed she wasn’t a martyr, but …
“It’s what we do.”
He felt as blank as he must have looked.
“You know, here in Rosewood. She’s a child who needs any help we can give her.”
It was how J.C. had been raised, too. “Maybe from people who have the time. You’re exhausted now. I’m not going to add to that burden.”
The fire in her now stormy-gray eyes was one he remembered. “It’s not a burden. I realize my situation isn’t for everyone, but it works for me. And I have enough energy to spare some for Chrissy.”
She was pretty remarkable, J.C. decided. Even more remarkable—she didn’t seem to realize it.

Chapter Four
J.C. stood in front of his sister’s closet in her far-too-quiet home. Fran’s things were just as she’d left them. Not perfectly in order; she was always in too much of a hurry to fuss over details she had considered unimportant. No, she’d lavished her time on her family, especially Chrissy.
A cheery yellow scarf dangled over an ivory jacket, looking for all the world as though Fran had just hung it up. Anyone searching through the rooms would never conclude it had been a scene of death. Instead, it looked as though Fran, Jay and Chrissy could walk in any moment, pick up their lives.
Fran would be laughing, teasing Chrissy and Jay in turn, turning her hand at a dozen projects, baking J.C.’s favorite apple crumble, inviting friends over.
There hadn’t been an awful lot of time to ask why. Why had they perished? Especially when each had so much to give. Caught up in trying to care for Chrissy, the questions had been shelved.
J.C. was on borrowed time even now. He had thought he could make some sort of inventory of the house so that he could set things in motion, have the important contents stored, the house rented. But he couldn’t bring himself to even reach inside the closet.
Other people survived loss. As a doctor, he’d seen his share and then some. But how did they take that first step, put the gears in motion? Fran had managed when their parents passed away. She had thoughtfully sorted out mementos for each of them, things she had accurately predicted he would cherish. Now, he needed to do the same for Chrissy.
His friend Adam suggested hiring an estate service, one that could view everything with an eye to its current or future value. To J.C., the process sounded like an autopsy. Backing away from the closet, he tore out of the room. Striding quickly, he passed through the living room, then bolted outside. Breathing heavily, he sank into the glider on the porch, loosening his tie.
The breeze was lighter than a bag of feathers, but he drew in big gulps of air. He’d never been claustrophobic, but he felt as though he’d just been locked in an airless pit. He pictured Chrissy’s stricken face. Maybe it wasn’t so illogical that she wouldn’t step foot in the house.
Lifting his head, he leaned back, his gaze drifting over the peaceful lane. School was in session, so no kids played in the yards or rode their bicycles in the street. A few houses down, Mrs. Morton was weeding her flower bed and a dog barked. Not that there was much to bark at. Extending his gaze, he spotted a woman pushing a wheelchair on the sidewalk across the street. The color of her hair stirred a note of recognition.
Maddie Carter? Shifting, he leaned forward, focusing on the pair. It was Maddie, pushing Lillian’s wheelchair. Although Lillian could walk, she tired easily. Combined with the mental confusion, he understood why Maddie chose to use the chair.
They were within shouting distance when Maddie glanced across the street. Recognition dawned and she leaned down to say something to her mother. Walking a few feet farther, Maddie detoured off the sidewalk via a driveway and used the same method to reach the front of Fran’s house.
Trying to tuck his emotions beneath a professional demeanor, J.C. walked down the steps.
Apparently he wasn’t completely successful.
“What’s wrong?” Maddie greeted him, her eyes filled with sudden concern. Today her eyes picked up some of the green of the grass, rendering them near-emerald.
J.C. straightened his tie, but couldn’t bring himself to pull it into a knot. The strangled feeling from being in Fran’s house hadn’t dissipated. “This is my sister’s house.”
Understanding flooded Maddie’s expression. “Are you here by yourself?”
J.C. nodded. “Chrissy won’t come back.”
“What can we do?”
He glanced at the wheelchair. “Your hands are full enough.”
Maddie patted Lillian’s shoulder in a soothing motion. “My mother always enjoys visiting new places.” She met his gaze. Both knew most anywhere other than her own home was now a new place for Lillian.
The older woman smiled at him kindly. “Young man, you need a bracing cup of tea.”
Apparently even his patient could see his distress. “I don’t have the makings for tea.”
“We do,” Lillian replied, craning her head around and up toward Maddie. “Don’t we?”
“Yes, but maybe Dr. Mueller would like to just sit on the porch.”
“Well, now, I’d like that myself,” Lillian replied.
Shedding his own worries, J.C. offered his arm. “Would you care to sit in the glider?”
She giggled, a young, fun sound. “I always have.”
As he helped her rise from the wheelchair, J.C. imagined she’d had a fair share of male attention in her youth. In ways, he could see an advantage in having only partial memories. Hopefully the bad ones faded and only the good stayed.
Once Lillian was settled on the glider, he pulled two rattan chairs close, offering one to Maddie. With the glider set in gentle motion, Lillian’s eyelids fluttered near closing.
“What was it?” Speaking quietly, Maddie tilted her head toward the house. “Inside?”
J.C. thought of a dozen noncommittal answers. “Everything.”
“It was hard after my dad died,” Maddie sympathized. “You said Chrissy won’t come back?”
“Completely freaked out when I tried,” he replied in an equally quiet tone. “Said she never wants to come back, that the house killed her parents.”
Maddie’s forehead furrowed. “Were you thinking of moving in here, so Chrissy would have all her familiar things?”
“That and because we’re two people living in a one-person tent. So to speak,” he explained. “I have a small one-bedroom apartment and it’s not good.”
“And you’re certain Chrissy won’t change her mind?”
“Absolutely.”
Maddie hesitated. “Are you going to sell the house?”
“Thought about renting it out in case Chrissy changes her mind in the future. But right now … I can’t rent it with all of my sister’s belongings still inside.”
“That’s what got to you,” Maddie murmured. “There’s still a sweater and bathrobe of my dad’s in Mom’s closet.”
The dog down the street barked again. And Mrs. Morton crossed the street to talk to her neighbor.
J.C. barely knew Maddie. Funny to be having this conversation with her. But none of his friends could really empathize. Some had lost a parent, but no one had lost everyone. Certainly no one else had the crucial role of caring for the sole survivor.
Maddie swiped at her wayward hair. He liked the way it sprang back with a mind of its own. “Do you have anyone to help you go through your sister’s belongings?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “No one else will know what’s important.”
“Not necessarily,” she objected mildly. “Thinking of things in categories could help. You can decide if there’s a special garment, like my dad’s sweater, you want to save. If not, then it doesn’t take a personal eye to empty closets. Same is pretty much true for the kitchen with the exception of heirloom pieces. Furniture can be sorted through, or just stored for now. Jewelry, papers, other keepsakes can be packed and labeled for when you feel it’s time to decide about them.”
J.C. sighed. “You make it sound reasonable—”
“It is if you’ll accept help.”
“It’s not a job I can ask anyone to tackle.”
“You didn’t ask. I’m offering.” With her back against the cloudy gray exterior of the house, Maddie’s eyes had changed again. But this time the gray held no storm warnings. “Before you mention my mother, she’ll come with me. I’m guessing there’s a comfortable chair and a television. It’ll be an outing for her that isn’t tiring.”
“For her, maybe not. But you—”
“I can’t believe I look that fragile,” Maddie declared. “To hear you talk, I’m so delicate it’s a wonder I don’t blow away in the breeze.” She held out one hand as though testing the air. “Even in this breeze. You, of all people, should know how good it makes a person feel to help someone. I’d like to help. You’re doing Mom a world of good. I can already see small improvements. Besides, you and Chrissy need to be able to move on. Once this house is rented to another family, it won’t seem so scary anymore.”
“A friend suggested hiring an estate service,” he admitted.
“That might be taking it a tad too impersonal. Do you recall grilling me about who helps with Mom? Now, it’s my turn. Who helps with Chrissy? Who can sort through the house? If that’s you, will it be between appointments and surgeries?”
“And I thought I felt bad being inside the house.”
She laughed, tipping her head back, allowing the laughter to gather and spill like a bright waterfall. “Touché.”
Somehow, his dread had disappeared.
Maddie held out her hand, palm side up, her eyes still dancing. “I’ll need a key.”
“I’m a little nervous,” Maddie admitted, fitting the key in the lock.
“You should be.” Samantha rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe—”
“Other-may,” Maddie resorted to pig Latin to remind her friend of Lillian’s presence.
“Oh, now you remember.”
“I never forgot.” The key to Fran’s house turned easily and Maddie pushed open the door. “Mom, you like getting out, don’t you?”
Lillian smiled. “I like new places.”
Samantha rolled her eyes again. “And it’ll be new for a month of Sundays.”
Maddie elbowed her friend. “I thought you liked J.C.”
“I didn’t expect you to take on organizing his life.”
Maddie flinched. “Do you think he feels that way? And quit rolling your eyes before they fall out of your head.”
“The only one here out of her head—”
Maddie grasped the handles of her mother’s wheelchair and pushed her inside. “How about some TV, Mom? The cable’s still on, so you can watch a movie or Animal Planet.”
Lillian considered. “Have I seen Animal Planet before?”
She watched it every day. “I think so.” Flipping through the channels, Maddie put the TV on an old movie her mother had seen dozens of times. Fortunately, it was new to her each and every time. Uncapping the thermos of tea she’d brought, Maddie poured some in a cup and placed it on the table next to Lillian.
She caught up to Samantha in the hallway, where she stood, leaning slightly on her cane as she studied family pictures grouped over a console table. “Seems hard to believe they just went to sleep and never woke up.”
“I don’t know J.C. well enough to say this, but I think he feels the same way.”
“As though he might wake up one day and find out it was all just a bad dream.” Samantha shook her head. “That’s how I felt about Andy.” Samantha’s brother had died in a plane crash, ending his young life far too soon.
Maddie linked her arm with Sam’s. “What we’re doing, it’s a good way to give back.”
Sam’s voice thickened. “Yeah.” When she had returned to Rosewood paralyzed from a fall, she’d nearly burned down her parents’ entire home. She succeeded in destroying the kitchen. But friends and neighbors had stepped up, rebuilding it, making it even better than before. And in the process, she had reconnected with her old love and now husband, Bret. Sam cleared her throat. “Where do you want to start?”
“Master bedroom, I think. J.C. insists on hiring someone to move the boxes once they’re packed, so I’d like to retrieve the jewelry for his safety deposit box. Then I thought of recording an inventory.” She held up her cell phone. “I can shoot photos of the big pieces to J.C., let him decide what to keep.”
They entered the carpeted master bedroom, feet sinking pleasantly into the deep pile. The four-poster bed looked as antique as the fireplace it flanked. In the curve of the bay window was a cozy reading area.
“Nice,” Sam murmured.
Maddie walked to the open closet, seeing what J.C. had, instantly understanding why it had been so difficult. Although Maddie hadn’t known Fran, remnants of her personality remained.
“What does he want to do with the clothes?”
“Donate them. But I thought we might find one outfit that we’d tuck away for Chrissy.”
“Wonder if Fran kept her wedding dress,” Samantha mused.
“Oh, Sam! That’s perfect! You old softie, I said you’d turned into a romantic.”
Samantha grinned. “Okay. So we’re both hopeless.”
The doorbell rang. A young man sent by J.C. to deliver packing boxes offered his help. Maddie showed him to the dining room where he could assemble the flat cartons.
“Efficient,” Samantha commented, sitting on the bed, folding clothes. “You’re right. Emptying this room first will make it easier for J.C. The longer we put off clearing Andy’s room, the worse it was.”
Maddie crossed the room to the dresser, then slid open the top drawer. A vintage leather jewelry box sat inside. “I’m guessing Fran inherited her mother’s jewelry. Two generations of mementos for Chrissy.”
“Poor kid. I can’t imagine losing my parents now … but when you’re nine years old?” Samantha smoothed the lines of the dress she was folding. “Still, I can’t help worrying about you. Even though you always act chipper, I know the constant caregiving gets to you. And now this …”
Maddie turned to speak, but Sam cut her off.
“I know, I know. Helping people makes you feel better. But face it, even you have to admit this is a depressing chore.”
The jewelry box still in her hands, Maddie stroked it absently. “If you could have seen his eyes …”
Samantha sighed. “It’s my own fault. I just didn’t expect you to wind up …” she waved her hands around “… here.”
Maddie thought of J.C.’s face, the bleak expression, the unexpected spark of hope. Swallowing, she wished it hadn’t meant so very much to her.

Chapter Five
Adam sat on the edge of J.C.’s desk, flipping through the messages on his cell phone.
“Your office must miss you,” J.C. told him drily as he signed a stack of insurance forms.
“Let Didi come to work for me and I’ll stay out of your way.”
J.C. grunted. “Last I heard, she’s still loyal.”
“Yeah. You have the women hooked.”
J.C. wagged his head in disbelief. “A whole harem.”
“What about the patient’s daughter? Maddie?”
Feeling an unwanted burst of protectiveness, J.C. looked up. “What about her?”
Adam flung out upturned hands. “Give.”
J.C. fiddled with his pen for a moment. “She offered to close up Fran’s house.”
The joking demeanor faded. “Wow.”
“That’s what I thought. I was at the house, felt like I was going to lose it and Maddie stopped by.”
“Out of the blue?”
“She was taking her mother out on a walk and spotted me on the porch. We talked about Fran’s things. Maddie said it would be harder the longer I left it.”
“What about the estate people?”
J.C. sighed. “I know you were trying to help, but it sounded so … cold. Maddie’s going to take an inventory, get things packed for storage so I can rent out the house.”
“Good plan. Then if Chrissy wants it later …”
“That’s what we thought.”
“We?”
“Lay off, Adam. Maddie’s just trying to help because she’s grateful that her mother’s improving.”
“Uh-huh.”
“You need to get married, get off the romance radar.”
“Because that worked out so well for you?”
J.C. winced. “There are downsides to having old friends. They know too much.”
“Sorry. You know I get jittery about the marriage thing.”
“Guess you haven’t met the right woman.” J.C. held up one hand before his friend could jump in with an obvious reminder. “And neither have I.”
Adam raised his eyebrows. “Maybe you have, my friend.”
J.C. frowned.
“Maddie sounds like someone worth getting to know.”
“Ah, just what I need in my upside-down life.”
Chuckling, Adam looked smug. “You said it.”
A few weeks later, J.C. glanced around the near-empty rooms of his sister’s house. “You’re amazing!”
Surprisingly, Maddie blushed.
The quaint sign was charming, taking him aback even more than all she had accomplished.
“You sent a lot of help,” she reminded him, not quite meeting his gaze as she fiddled with one of the few remaining cartons.
“Still …” He shifted, taking in how much had been accomplished, how his sister’s belongings had all been tucked away.
“I did think of something else.” Maddie finally lifted her eyes. Today they were as blue as her sapphire-colored blouse. “Even with another family living here, from the outside the house looks the same. If you had it painted in a new palette, one that doesn’t even resemble the gray, it would seem very different.”
J.C. hadn’t even considered the exterior. “I don’t know much about picking out colors.”
Maddie smiled, causing the dimple in her cheek to flash. “That’s the easy part.”
Wanting to study her face, her soft-looking lips, he nodded. “Such as?”
She brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “Um … yellow would be pretty. A daisy shade of yellow. White trim. Be cause the front door is mostly glass …” Her voice trailed off.
J.C. realized he was staring, not listening. “Sounds good.”
She brightened. “I don’t want you to think I’m meddling. I have this habit of over-organizing things, people, well, most everything.”
Her dimple moved when she spoke, a punctuation mark to her smile. As he watched, it gradually disappeared. What had she just said?
Maddie’s smile faded a bit.
And J.C. marshaled his thoughts. “You were saying?”
“That I meddle.”
“Thank the Lord you do.” She paled and he instantly realized she’d taken his words the wrong way. “Helping, not meddling. I’d never have guessed Fran’s house could be packed up so … quickly.”
“And the painting?” she prodded.
“Great idea.” Her eyes were incredibly blue. “Maybe blue?”
“With the yellow? Or just a light shade of blue?”
“Definitely not light,” he murmured, captivated by the depth of color in her eyes.
“Well, we could get some samples, look them over.” Maddie twisted her hands.
J.C.’s gaze followed her action when he abruptly remembered the last time he’d been entranced by a pretty face and mesmerizing eyes. His ex-wife had been pretty, as well. On the outside. “You still haven’t told me how much you’ll take for doing all this.”
Her eyes clouded and that enchanting dimple disappeared. “I did it to help you, not to make money.”
“But …” He waved around, again stunned by the emptiness. While it was a relief to have the job done, the house no longer held the reminders of Fran’s life. Facing Maddie again, he couldn’t keep a sliver of bleakness out of his voice. “It was a big job.”
Maddie’s voice, too, was quiet. “For me it was Dad’s fishing pole. Mom gave it to his best friend. Logically, I knew Dad was gone, that he wasn’t coming back, but when his fishing pole was in the shed, leaning against the wall, it almost seemed like he’d stroll back in, whistling, ready to tie new flies.”
She got it. Completely. “Yeah.”
“When everything’s done … if you do decide to change the look of the exterior, it might help Chrissy to see it’s just a house.”
His niece had been campaigning to live in the building on Main Street. “She’d kick and scream all the way here. And I’m not ready for that.”
“Think about my offer.”
He blanked, looking at her in question.
“To watch Chrissy in the afternoons.”
“Still not enough to do?” he asked wryly.
“Actually, Chrissy kept Mom entertained the day you visited. That means more time for me to get things done.”
He was skeptical. “You forget, I know Chrissy. Much as I love her, right now she’s acting like a pain.”
“Understandably.”
“It’s easier to be understanding from a distance,” he warned her, thinking of Chrissy’s refusal to do any homework. He’d wrangled with her for more than an hour and had gotten nowhere.
Maddie laughed. “Isn’t everything? Keep the offer in mind. I’m not going anywhere.”
Sobered, he wondered. In his experience, that’s exactly what women did.
The phone jangled loudly. J.C. bolted upright, reaching for the receiver before the noise could wake Chrissy. Momentarily forgetting he was sleeping on the couch, he overshot the mark and slammed his hand into a lamp that crashed to the floor. Grabbing the side table so that he wouldn’t land on top of the broken glass, he smashed his toes into the unyielding wood base.
Muttering under his breath, he finally reached the phone. Bad car accident on the highway, possible spinal fracture. Flipping on the overhead light, he glanced at his watch. Nearly two in the morning.
J.C. dressed quickly, then wrote a note for Chrissy. Still uneasy with leaving her alone, he stopped at Blair’s apartment, knocking quietly.
Yawning, she rubbed her eyes. “I’ll try to listen, but I pulled a double yesterday and I’m beat.”
“Sorry I woke you.”
She yawned again. “Me, too.”
“Thanks, Blair.”
Still yawning she closed the door.
Once at the hospital, J.C. rushed to the trauma area. Fortunately, the situation wasn’t as dire as he expected, but it was still over two hours before he neared home.
Red lights flashed from an ambulance, strobing eerily in the darkness. Grabbing his bag, he ran toward an EMT. Chrissy! Had something happened to her? “I’m a doctor.” Panting, he caught his breath. “What’s the situation?”
“Heart attack. Nurse that lives here gave him CPR. Touch and go, but she kept him alive.”
“Nurse?” Blair? J.C. skirted the back of the ambulance, catching sight of Blair, then reaching her on a run. “Where’s Chrissy?”
Blair looked distracted. “In your apartment I imagine. Had my hands pretty full here.”
“Sorry. Of course.” He pushed one hand through his thick hair. “Saved his life, I hear.”
“Hope so.”
J.C. loped across the lawn toward his apartment. Even from a distance, he could see that the overhead light in the living room was on. Not breaking his stride, he burst inside. But the living room was empty. With the lights on, his earlier tangle with the lamp looked ominous. “Chrissy?”
No answer.
The bedroom light was off, but he could see the mound of little girl beneath the covers. He switched on the lamp. “Chrissy?”
Muffled cries penetrated her covering.
Gently he peeled back the duvet. “It’s okay.”
“Uh-uh.” She cried harder.
“I know one of the neighbors got sick, but it looks like he’ll be all right.”
“You weren’t here!” she accused.
“There was an emergency—” J.C. started to explain.
“The sirens came and everything!”
Logic couldn’t overcome her fear. “I’m here now.”
Chrissy burst into a new round of tears. It was too late. And it wasn’t enough. Worse, he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again.
J.C. glanced at Lillian Carter’s chart. “No nausea or decreased appetite?”
Maddie answered for her mother. “Nope. If anything, she’s eating a bit more.”
“Now is that something we tell handsome young men?” Lillian fussed, then smiled at J.C. To Maddie’s surprise he didn’t smile back. Wasn’t like him. Not at all. Lillian smoothed her skirt. “You bake a lot of sweets. They’re hard to resist.”
“I do have a sweet tooth,” Maddie admitted.
Again no reaction from J.C. Had they somehow irritated him? “Everything all right?”
“Hmm.” Distracted, he glanced up from the chart. “I’m sorry, what?”
She frowned. “I said, is everything all right?”
He shrugged, then exhaled. “Not really.”
She searched his expression. “Chrissy?”
J.C. explained the emergency call and his neighbor’s heart attack.
“That’s dreadful!”
“Chrissy’s inconsolable.”
“Of course,” Lillian spoke up, surprising both of them. “A child must always feel safe. It’s the parents’ job to make sure of that.”
Maddie wanted to wince for him. Still … “It’s hard to hear, but true. J.C., you need help. And frankly, Mom and I could use the babysitting money.”
“In the middle of the night?” he responded.
“Middle of the night, morning, after school, whenever we’re needed. We don’t exactly have a schedule carved in stone. You can drop Chrissy by if you get a call in the night. It’s not ideal, but it’s far better than leaving her alone.”
He glanced at Lillian. “You have more to consider than just Chrissy.”
“Do you have any tea, young man?” Lillian questioned, apparently now off the subject at hand.
J.C. sharpened his gaze. “No, Mrs. Carter, but I’m pretty sure your daughter does.” He pushed the office intercom. “Didi? Could you bring in a cup of coffee for Mrs. Carter?”
“Sure, boss.”
There was a soft knock on the exam room door, then Didi pushed it open. As she brought the coffee and tray with creamer and sugar, J.C. took Maddie’s elbow, steering her to the other side of the room.
“Have you thought any more about your tea shop?”
Puzzled, she shook her head. “You know I can’t—”
“You want a shop. I have a building that needs a tenant. More important, I have a niece who needs someone besides me in her life. She looks at every housekeeper and nanny I’ve hired as a threat, someone set up to take her mother’s place. But she likes you. She likes Lillian.” He glanced over at the older woman. “You have to admit your mother couldn’t threaten a bug.”
“But—”
“Chrissy wants to live in the building on Main Street.”
Maddie blinked.
J.C. told her about the two apartments above the business level. “They haven’t been lived in for a while. Jay’s parents lived in one until they passed away. Then Jay used them mostly for storage the past few years, but both could be made livable without a lot of work.”
“Even if that was a viable option, Mom can’t handle stairs.”
“Jay had an elevator put in for his parents.”
Maddie glanced over at her mother who was busily chatting with Didi about African violets. “Even so …”
“It would be an enormous help to me. You and your mother are right. Chrissy should feel safe. With you directly across the hall, she would.”
“We have our house …” Maddie tried to think of all the considerations.
“You mentioned needing money. Renting it out would give you a nice income. Not to mention what you make in the shop.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t have the money to start a business.”
“Let me be your silent partner. Wagner Hill House has been a worry. I don’t want it rented by some cheesy tourist outfit or chain restaurant. And if the building sits empty too long, it won’t be good for the town.”
Overwhelmed, Maddie stared at him. “Just like that? Up and move? Start a business with no money?”
“Just like that,” he replied calmly. “What are your concerns?”
“Endless. My mother—”
“Would benefit from more interaction with people. That’s a medical opinion.”
She waved her hands in the air. “Fixing up the apartments.”
“I have friends in the contracting business. Next.”
“Renting out our house.”
“I have a friend in real estate.”
She plopped her hands on both hips. “Don’t tell me, you have a friend in tearooms, as well?”
His eyes softened a fraction. “I hope so.”
Her heart did a little two-step that dried her throat. “It’s so much to take in.”
“It’s trite, but every journey begins with a step. Think Sam might stand in for you while we take a look at the apartments?”
“I suppose, but—”
“Good. How about tomorrow morning?”
“Tomorrow?” she couldn’t keep the shock from her voice.
The smile she remembered was back on his face. “Unless you want to see them tonight?”
By morning, Maddie decided she was out of her mind. A sleepless night only confirmed the diagnosis. Now, a few hours later, Sam was perched on one of the kitchen chairs while Maddie turned on the electric kettle.
“I think it’s a great idea!” Sam nibbled on a cookie. “I hope you plan to stock these. I could eat a dozen by myself.”
Maddie rubbed her forehead, wondering why she’d given in to J.C.’s suggestion to phone Sam and set up the late-morning meeting. “You’ve just put at least a dozen carts before the horse. The more I think about J.C.’s idea—”
“Then stop thinking. Maddie, he’s right. It’s a good solution for all of you. J.C. needs help. Chrissy needs some stability in her life. Your mother will blossom—you know how she loves company. And you …”
“Can’t finish that one, can you?”
“Actually I can, but you’re too prickly right now to lis ten.”
“Prickly?”
“You’re not a martyr. I know that. But you’re refusing to think beyond today. You’re cutting corners now. How many are left? Do you see the cost of living shrinking in the next decade? And even though we don’t want to think about it, Lillian’s medical expenses could rise significantly. A business could give you the means to make sure you can take care of her. And, stubborn friend, what’s wrong with you having some happiness? Pursuing your dream?”
Maddie swallowed. She’d purposely pushed their financial future to the corners of her thoughts, hoping that somehow it would work out. “And if the business is a big flop?”
Sam shook her head gently. “I doubt that’s possible. But if it did, we’d be here for you—your friends, your neighbors.”
Sighing Maddie plunked down into a chair across from her friend. “This is all going too fast. I barely know J.C.”
“That could change,” Sam suggested hopefully.
Maddie swallowed. That was about the scariest part of the whole venture.
J.C. was highly aware of Maddie’s reluctance. He’d all but dragged her from her house. Feeling like a used car salesman, he’d talked up the place during the short drive to Main Street. Now, he inserted the key in the lock. Unused since Jay’s death, the building seemed to echo with the loss. Jay’s employees had scattered. Some were old enough to retire, the rest had found other jobs when the company closed. Without Jay’s networking, the place would have crawled to a halt, so J.C. had chosen the only practical option.
Still, their footsteps rang in the emptiness.
“What happened to the equipment?” Maddie whispered.
“Sold it.” His voice seemed unnaturally loud in the quiet. Finding a multiple light switch, he flipped all the levers. Fluorescent lights glared overhead. Seeing Maddie wince, he turned all but one off. “You’d have to imagine it without the commercial additions.” He pointed toward the walls on the east side. “The original moldings are still in place. Jay updated the lighting and wiring for his business. But Wagner Hill House was built in the 1890s.”
Maddie glanced around uncertainly. “The wood floors are still good.” She stared upward at the ugly drop ceiling.
“The original’s still under those panels. Be easy to restore. Of course you have to look past the dust.”
Just then she sneezed.
“Way under the dust.”
“Seems more suited to a different sort of business.” She halted in front of a stack of boxes taller than she was. “Not really a tea shop sort of place.”
J.C. pointed to the original bay window that faced Main Street. “Picture it without the signs and printing displays. You could put up some kind of curtains, I imagine.”
“Hmm.” Maddie studied the large window. “European,” she murmured. “That’s the feel I always wanted. Plastered walls.”
Helpfully, he gestured toward the original plastered walls. “They’re still in good shape.”
“Maybe …”
“Plumbing’s good. You can reconfigure it however you want.”
Maddie frowned. “Sounds expensive.”
“That’s where your silent partner comes in.”
“I’d never be able to pay you back!”
“Look at it this way, Maddie. No matter who I rent to, I’m looking at renovations.”
She looked at him suspiciously. “Are you sure?”
“Yep. And the improvements are a write-off. Just clearing the rest of the junk out of here will make a big difference. You’ll see.”
Pivoting, she studied the space. “It would, actually.”
“Let’s take a look at the apartments. The elevator’s in the back and there are two sets of stairs, one up front and one in the rear.”
Reaching the front stairway, Maddie smoothed her hand over the curved bannister. “Lovely woodwork. Don’t see this in modern buildings.”

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