Small-Town Nanny (8 page)

Mindy had already taken off for the water.

Susan pressed the beach toys into his already overloaded arms. “She'll figure that out for herself!” she called over her shoulder as she raced after Mindy. “Relax, Sam!”

Sam gritted his teeth, dumped the gear on a picnic table, and hustled after them.

Mindy was already up to her knees in the water. She looked back toward the shore, her expression defiant.

He opened his mouth, but Susan's hand on his arm stopped him. “It's called natural consequences,” she said. “If she goes in, she'll get cold and come out quickly. No harm, no foul. And she learns something.”

“But she'll catch a cold!”

Susan shrugged. “I actually think colds come from viruses, but whatever. A cold never hurt anyone.”

“For a nanny, you're not very protective.”

“For a successful entrepreneur, you're not much of a risk taker.”

They glared at each other for a minute.

“Come in, Daddy!” Mindy called.

“No way!” He looked at his shivering daughter and took a step forward.

“Then I'll come out,” Mindy decided, and splashed her way to the shoreline.

Susan gave him an I-told-you-so grin. “What are you waiting for, Dad? Get her a towel. She's freezing!”

As Sam jogged off toward the beach bags, he couldn't help smiling. A trip to the lake with Susan was never going to be dull.

After Mindy was toweled off and building a sandcastle under Susan's supervision, Sam set up the colorful beach tent they'd always used to protect Mindy's tender skin. Then he rummaged for the tablecloth, but it was nowhere in sight.

Nor was the picnic. Had Susan forgotten to pack it?

Don't be controlling, he reminded himself. Maybe she thought packing food for a Saturday beach trip was beyond her regular duties. They could always call Daisy and ask her to bring something, or as a last resort, could get something from the junk food stand at the other end of the beach.

Noticing that several children had gathered around Susan and Mindy, he strolled down to see what was going on. The little group had already created a somewhat complicated castle with the help of Mindy's multiple beach buckets and molds.

Mindy held a bucket with her half arm and shoved sand in with her whole one, attracting the attention of the two visiting boys.

“How come you only have one hand?” one of the boys asked Mindy.

“This is how I was born,” she answered simply.

“That's weird,” the child said.

Color rose on the back of Mindy's neck, and Sam opened his mouth to yell at the kid, and then closed it again. He was learning from Susan that he needed to wait and watch sometimes, rather than intervening, but when someone made a comment about his kid, it was hard. Natural consequences and learning better social skills were all well and good, but insults, not so much.

He looked at Susan to find her watching the kids with a slightly twisted mouth.

“Yeah, it's really weird,” said the other boy, and they both started to laugh.

“That's enough!” Susan stepped toward them and squatted down, a protective hand on Mindy's shoulder.

“It's bullying,” Mindy said. “Right, Miss Hayashi?” She'd automatically reverted to Susan's professional name, maybe because bullying was something they talked about in school.

“Very good, Mindy. You're right.” Susan turned a steely glare on the two young offenders. “And bullies can't play. Goodbye, boys.”

“Aw, I didn't want to play with her anyway,” said one of the boys. He jumped up and ran toward the water.

“I didn't mean to be a bully,” the other boy said, looking stricken. “I'm sorry.”

Susan looked at Mindy. “What do you think? Can he still play, or would you rather he goes away?”

Mindy considered. “He said he was sorry.”

“Yes, he did.”

“He can play,” Mindy decided.

“Thanks!” And the two of them were back to building a castle as if nothing had happened, while the other boy kicked stones on the beach, alone.

Susan stood and backed a little bit away, keeping her eyes on the scene as another little girl joined the group. She ended up right next to Sam.

“You did a good job handling that,” he said to her, sotto voce. “I want to strangle anyone who teases my kid.”

“Believe me, I felt the same way.” She smiled up at him.

There was that little click of awareness between them again. She looked away first, her cheeks turning pink.

He needed to nip that attraction in the bud. He needed to start dating, before he did something silly like let Susan know that he found her...interesting.

As he was casting about in his mind for a new subject, Mindy looked up at them. “I'm hungry,” she announced.

“Well, I think we forgot a picnic,” he said tactfully.

“No, I brought stuff.” Susan said. “Come on over, we'll have lunch.”

“I'm hungry, too,” said the little girl who'd just joined in the group.

“Me, too!” The little boy stood up and brushed sand off his hands onto his swim trunks.

“Tell you what, go ask your mom or dad if you can share our lunch,” Susan said easily.

“Do we have enough?” Sam hadn't seen evidence of
any
food, so the thought of sharing was puzzling.

“Oh, sure,” she said as the children ran toward their separate families. “It'll be fine.”

He didn't see how, but he followed Susan and Mindy, curious to see what she came up with.

From the bottom of the bag of beach toys, she tugged a loaf of whole wheat bread, a tub of peanut butter, and a squeeze bottle of grape jelly. “Voila,” she said as the other two kids approached. “Let's play ‘make your own sandwich!'”

“Yay!” cheered the kids.

Sam frowned at the splintery picnic table, thinking of the neat checkered tablecloth Marie had always brought to the lake. “It's not very clean.”

She was digging again in the toy bag and didn't hear him. “Hey, Sam, grab me one of those beach towels, could you? Oh, there we go.” Triumphantly, she produced a small stack of paper cups.

He handed a towel to her and she spread it over the table. “Everybody, take a cup. We'll wash hands and then get water from the drinking fountain.” She looked at Sam. “Coming?”

“So lunch is...peanut butter sandwiches and water?”

She seemed genuinely puzzled. “You were expecting caviar?”

“No, but maybe...never mind.” He didn't elaborate on checkered tablecloths and homemade chicken salad and cut up melon in a special blue bowl, but for a second, his whole chest hurt with missing his wife.

Mindy was tugging at his hand. “Come on, Daddy, I'm hungry!”

The next fifteen minutes were a blur of helping a bunch of primary-school-aged kids make messy PB&J sandwiches and chatting with the parents who came over to check everything out. Both families, it turned out, knew Susan from the school, and showed respect for her and interest in her summer plans.

Finally the kids headed back to the water with one of the other families, and he and Susan collapsed down onto the picnic bench. Susan cut the sandwich she'd managed to make for herself and offered him half.

To his surprise, it actually tasted good.

“What I wouldn't give for a cup of coffee,” she admitted.

“I could buy you one at the refreshment stand, since you provided the lunch,” he offered.

“Well, technically you provided it. But if you'll buy me a coffee I'll follow you anywhere.”

“Anywhere?” he asked lightly as they stood up together.

“Maybe.” She had the cutest way of wrinkling her nose.

And he needed to watch it, or he'd be getting those romantic feelings for her again. He pulled himself together, checked one last time on Mindy, and then led the way to the concession area.

They were halfway across the grassy lawn when a young guy tossed a ball straight at Susan.

Sam stepped forward, ready to slug the guy, but Susan had already caught the ball and tossed it back, laughing. “Hey, Hunter,” she said. “What's going on? Enjoying the summer off?”

The twentysomething guy rose to his feet, shirtless and in surf-style jammer shorts, and pushed his sunglasses to the top of his head. “I'd be better if you'd join the teachers' volleyball league,” he said. “Every Wednesday. It's fun.”

“Oh, well, I don't think so, but thanks.”

“What are you doing for fun this summer?” the guy asked. Focused on Susan, he was completely ignoring Sam.

Sam restrained the urge to move closer and put a protective arm around Susan. No way could she be interested in this guy, right? He was much too young and silly.

He's Susan's age,
his inner critic reminded him.

“I'm at the lake! That's fun, right?” She gestured toward a couple of people who'd headed down toward the water. “Your friends are leaving you. You'd better catch up.”

“Hey, good to see you. I'll give you a call.” He jogged off.

Susan rolled her eyes. “And I'll block your number,” she muttered.

Relief washed over him. “You don't like him?”

She shook her head. “He's fine, but he just won't take no for an answer.”

Curious now, Sam fell into step beside her. “That must be a problem, guys hitting on you.”

She laughed. “No, not usually, but Hunter is fairly new in town. He doesn't know my reputation.”

“What's your reputation?”

“I'm known as a cold fish.” She kicked at a rock with a small, neat bare foot, toenails painted pale blue. “Or, sometimes, too mouthy and assertive. I don't get asked out a lot.”

“That surprises me,” Sam said, tearing his eyes away from those delicate feet. “Does it bother you?”

She shook her head. “Not really,” she said. “I'm not looking for love. I'm one of those people who's meant to be single, I think.”

Sam knew with everything in him that this warm, funny, kid-loving woman was meant to be a mother. And a wife. “That surprises me, too.”

“Why?” she asked.

“Well, because you're...cute. And a lot of fun.”

“Thanks,” she said drily. “I didn't know you cared.”

He lifted his hands. “I didn't mean I cared like
that
...” He felt heat rising up his neck.

She studied him sideways. “It's okay, Sam. I really have no expectations in that area. I'm not angling for a date with Rescue River's richest bachelor.”

She seemed to be telling the truth, and to his surprise, he found that refreshing. A lot of the women he dated did have expectations. They liked him for his big house and his money and his CEO position. Not so much for who he was inside.

“So tell me about
your
love life,” she said, seeming to read his mind. “Since I don't have one.”

“Not much to tell on my side, either,” he said.

She made a small sound of disagreement in her throat. “Daisy says you date women just like your wife.”

He felt his face redden. “Daisy has a few too many opinions.”

She chuckled. “I know what you mean. And there's nothing wrong with having a type. What was Marie like?”

He smiled, remembering, for once, with enjoyment rather than pain. “Beautiful, though she always worried about her weight. Loved being a mother more than anything else.”

“I'm sure Mindy was a joy to her.”

“That she was.” He thought some more. “Marie was...a perfectionist. Wanted her home and her flowers and her family to be just picture-perfect.”

She nodded. “How did she deal with Mindy's disability, then?”

He frowned, thinking. “She didn't want to highlight it, but she loved Mindy just as she was.”

“That's good,” Susan said. “Sounds like the two of you were...in sync. Perfect, loving parents.”

“We were.” They'd reached the food stand, and he ordered them both coffees. “We were in sync, that is. Perfect, of course not. Nobody is.”

“Some people try harder at it,” she said as she stirred an inordinate amount of sugar into her coffee.

She was making him think: about his history, his relationship with Marie, his views on how life should be lived. In the past year of dating, no other woman had really got him to examine his life.

He wasn't sure if he loved it or hated it. Yet another thing to think about, but not today. “What about you?” he asked. “You seem driven in the career area of your life. Wouldn't you say you try to be perfect there?”

She shook her head. “I'm in elementary and special ed. Aiming for perfection doesn't work for us.”

He eyed her narrowly. “Excellence?”

“As a teacher, I try. In my personal life...I pretty much ruled that out a long time ago.”

“That's cryptic.” He paused, giving her space to respond, but for whatever reason, she didn't.

They strolled together back toward the picnic table. “Mindy's having fun,” Sam said, pointing to her as she splashed in the lake with her new friends. “Thanks for making this happen.”

“I didn't. It was your idea.”

“I know, but...for whatever reason, I don't tend to do stuff like this alone with Mindy.”

“Why don't you?”

“It just doesn't seem...right. Not without Marie.”

“It doesn't seem perfect?”

“I guess not.”

They strolled together more slowly. “Somehow,” she said, “I don't think it was just Marie who was the perfectionist. But I'll do my best to keep things together for you guys this summer, until the right woman comes along.”

Chapter Six

B
ack at the house, after a quick dinner of beefaroni stirred up by Sam, they watched an hour of TV. All sprawled together on the sectional sofa, Sam on one side of Mindy and Susan on the other.

Like a family. Too much so. Susan was hyperaware of Sam's warm arm, curved around Mindy but brushing against her. Of the smell of his skin, some brisk manly bodywash or deodorant he used. Of the carefree way he threw back his head and laughed at the cartoon antics on the TV screen. She liked seeing this carefree, boyish side of him. He didn't relax enough.

And wherever that wifely thought had come from, it needed to go right back there.

As the show ended, Mindy slumped to her side, asleep.

“Poor kiddo, she's exhausted,” Susan said, stroking Mindy's soft hair.

Sam slid his arms underneath her. “I'll carry her upstairs. C'mon, Mindy. Time for bed.”

“Miss...Susan...come,” Mindy ordered sleepily.

“Do you mind?” Sam asked.

Did she mind playing the mother role, hanging out with this sweet father and daughter and falling for them more each day? “No problem,” she said, and followed Sam up the stairs.

While Sam helped Mindy get ready, Susan looked around the big bedroom, really paying attention to its décor for the first time. With a Noah's Ark theme, it had a hand-painted border, and the bed was shaped like an ark. Ruffly curtains portrayed cheery pairs of animals, and a mobile dangled above the bed. It was a gorgeous room...for a three-year-old.

It made sense that Sam hadn't redecorated; that had to be the last thing on his mind, and the room was fine. But noticing all the things in this house that had frozen, at the point where a loving mother had gotten too ill to update them, made sadness push at Susan's chest.

Once Mindy was in her pajamas with teeth brushed, she was awake enough to want to talk. “That boy today was a bully,” she said seriously. “Wasn't he, Miss Susan?”

Susan nodded. “He was. Did he hurt your feelings?”

“Yes. I don't like the way my arm is.” Mindy held it up to look at it critically. “I wish I had two hands like other kids.”

Susan glanced up in time to see pain flash across Sam's face. It must be hard to see your child suffering. And it didn't look as if Sam knew what to say.

But suddenly, Susan remembered how her own mother had talked to her about looking different. “You know,” she said, “when I was a little girl, I wished I had round eyes instead of Japanese ones,” she said.

“Your eyes aren't round,” Mindy agreed, “but they're pretty.”

“Thank you! But I still wished I looked like my mom. Even my brother came out looking more white, with round eyes. But I got my dad's Japanese look. For a while, I really hated it.”

Mindy nodded, trying to understand. “What did you do?”

Susan laughed. “I did eye exercises every night, hoping I could make my eyes round. But of course, I couldn't.”

“Sometimes I pull on my arm,” Mindy confided, “so maybe it will grow longer.”

“Mindy!” Sam sounded horrified. “That won't work, and it could hurt you.”

Mindy's lip pouted out. “It
could
work.”

“My eye exercises never did,” Susan said. “But my mom bought me a poster for my room. It said, ‘Be Your Own Kind of Beautiful.' There were pink butterflies on it.” She smiled, remembering how happy the special attention from her mom had made her.

“I like butterflies. Can I have a poster like that?”

Susan raised her eyebrows at Sam, pretty sure that he'd order one before midnight struck.

“Of course you can, sweetie,” he said.

“What really helped the most,” Susan said, “was knowing God made me the way He did for a reason. My mom kept telling me I was part of His plan.”

“God made everyone,” Mindy agreed doubtfully.

“That's right.” Susan patted Mindy's arm. “Also, getting some more friends who looked like me helped a lot, too. I could see I wasn't alone, or strange.”

“Nobody else has a short arm,” Mindy said.

“Oh, yes, they do. In fact, when we go to the library next week, we'll see if Miss Fern can order us some books about kids with limb differences.”

Mindy's eyes were closing. “'Kay,” she said. “Can you sing for me, Miss Susan?”

Sing? Susan couldn't restrain a chuckle. “Oh, honey, you don't want me to sing. Maybe Daddy could sing for you.”

“Mommy and Daddy...used to sing...together.”

Susan drew in a breath and let it out in a sigh and looked at Sam. So much grief in this house. So much healing to do. So many ways she'd never live up to the perfect Marie, not even as a summer nanny. “Go for it, Dad,” she said.

Sam cleared his throat, his face closed. “We'll sing tomorrow, sweetheart.”

Susan thought to flick on the little music player beside the bed, and some lullabies, meant for a younger child, poured out.

A quiet moment later, Mindy was asleep.

With a glance at each other, Sam and Susan rose at the same moment and tiptoed from the room. As they walked quietly down the stairs, she glanced up at him. “Sorry I can't sing.”

“You bring other strengths,” he said. “That really helped, what you said to her about wanting to be different from how you are.”

“She should definitely meet other kids with limb differences.” Susan felt relieved as they eased into a more businesslike topic. “I'll do a little research tomorrow, see what's out there. Angelica said something about a camp for kids with special needs.”

“Great. But hey,” he said, putting a hand on her shoulder, “did you really want your eyes to be different, or was that just for Mindy's benefit?”

“I wanted it. Every little girl wants to look like her mommy.”

His grip tightened on her shoulder, and he turned her toward him. One hand cupped the side of her face, and his thumb touched the corner of her eye with a gentle caress. “I, for one, think your eyes are beautiful just as they are.”

Susan went still, but inside, her heart was pounding out of control. She stared up at him, unable to speak.

He smiled, his own eyes crinkling. “Thanks for today.”

“It was good to be with you and Mindy.”

They were frozen there, in a moment that seemed to last forever, looking at each other. Lullabies sounded quietly from upstairs, and Susan breathed in the soap-and-aftershave scent that was Sam. She tipped her head a little to feel more of the hand that still rested on her cheek.

And then the front door opened, letting in the most unwelcome sound in the world. “Hey, yoo-hoo!”

It was Helen. Susan stepped back guiltily. Sam let his hand drop.

And they came down the steps double time, but not before Mindy's grandmother had appeared at the landing and seen them, her husband close behind her.

And not before Susan caught sight of the giant portrait of Sam, Mindy and the perfect Marie, directly at the bottom of the stairs.

“Just let me know what it costs,” Sam said, and Susan looked at him, puzzled.

“That camp for special-needs kids,” he explained.

“Oh!” Susan nodded. “You're fine with her going?”

“Sure, fine,” he said, trotting the rest of the way down the stairs, obviously having no idea of what he'd just agreed to.

“Mindy isn't special needs.” Helen eyed them suspiciously. “What's been going on?”

Way too much, Susan wanted to say as she followed Sam. Too much emotion for a little family that wasn't hers and never would be. A family that had a perfect woman always in the background.

She was starting to see that she might be able to fit into a family, that she might have something to offer, despite her lack of domestic skills. Part of that was Sam's appreciation for what she offered to a child like Mindy.

But she wasn't what he wanted. He wanted another Marie.

And he wasn't what she wanted, either, she reminded herself. She didn't want a businessman like her dad and her ex-fiancé, who would have overly high expectations and just throw money at any problem that arose.

“Sam,” Helen said, “We stopped over to invite you to the Fourth of July picnic next week at the country club. There's someone I want you to meet.” Her voice was rich with innuendo, and she was practically waggling her eyebrows at Sam.

“Mindy and I always go,” Sam said, looking uncomfortable. “Surely you didn't come here just to invite me to that?”

“Oh, my, no. Come on, sit down.” Helen led the way to the kitchen and pulled a sheaf of papers out of her large purse. Susan, feeling unwelcome but unsure of what to do, followed along behind them.

“There's all this paperwork for the Little Miss Rescue River Pageant. It's got to be filled out this week. I thought I could help you get Mindy signed up.” She held up a brochure portraying a little girl dressed in a super-fancy evening dress.

“A beauty pageant?” Susan couldn't keep the derisive squeak out of her voice.

But Helen didn't seem to notice. “Yes, it's so much fun. I'm on the planning committee, and we've been busy setting up a wonderful show.” Her voice was animated, her eyes lively.

“Oh, it's a big to-do,” Ralph contributed.

Susan looked at Sam. Was he on board with this?

Thankfully, he was shaking his head. “It's a great event, but I'm not sure Mindy's ready...” He trailed off and sat down at the counter.

“But she's about to turn six, which is the lower age limit. I'm so happy that she can finally join in the fun!” Helen's voice was determinedly peppy, as if she was getting ready to run right over Sam.

And Sam, the big tough businessman, looked about to cave.

Susan jumped in. “I don't think that would be good for Mindy.”

All eyes turned her way.

“Why on earth not?” Helen glared at her.

Could the woman really have no clue? “Beauty pageants force little girls to dress in age-inappropriate clothes and focus only on their appearance. There's research that shows they foster eating disorders and an unhealthy dependence on external validation.”

“You could use a little more focus on
your
appearance,” Helen said, eyeing Susan's cutoffs and T-shirt with disdain.

Ouch! Susan clamped her mouth shut to avoid saying something she couldn't take back, and surprising, unwelcome tears pushed at her eyes. Her self-image had improved since the days when she'd hated the way she looked, but it still wasn't perfect.

“Hey, hey now.” Sam held up a hand. “Susan, Mindy and I dressed for a day at the lake, and we look it. Nothing wrong with that.”

Helen muttered something that might have been “Sorry.”

Susan made a little sound in her throat that might pass for “okay.” But it wasn't. She didn't like Helen one bit.

“Let's keep the focus on Mindy,” Sam went on. “I just worry, Helen, that with her hand—”

“She could carry something to cover it if she wanted, or wear gloves,” Helen said. “You know what a mix the pageant is. Everything from casual and relaxed to hairpieces and fake teeth.”

“Exactly! It's a huge fake thing.” Susan thought of the little girl sleeping upstairs, pulling on her hand to try to make it look like other children's. “It's an outdated ritual, and it would be bad for Mindy. Have you ever watched
Tiny Tot Beauty
?”

“Susan, it's not that kind of thing.” Sam looked distinctly uncomfortable.

She understood. It was hard for him to stand up to Mindy's overbearing grandmother. But she herself had no such qualms. “Have you seen what pageant people are like? What can those parents be thinking, pushing their little kids into that high-glamour lifestyle? I mean, I'm sure this small-town pageant isn't as bad as the big pageants you see on reality TV, but it's a step in the wrong direction.”

The room was silent around her.

“Right?” she said, looking at Sam.

“Susan,” he said quietly, “Marie was in pageants.”

“Yep,” Ralph said, nodding. “Those big ones. There wasn't reality TV back in those days, but I've watched the shows. They pretty much tell it like it was for us.”

“Oh.” Oops. Susan blew out her breath, her face heating.

Helen didn't say anything. Not in words, anyway, but her glare said it all.

Without meaning to, Susan had shot daggers at the woman they all loved so much. The woman Sam had adored and still did. The mother little Mindy aspired to look like and never would. Never would even see again.

They were all looking at her.

When would she ever learn to shut her mouth? “I'm sorry. I'm sure I...don't know everything about pageants. In fact, I probably know a lot less than anyone else in this room, so...” She trailed off into the silence.

The doorbell provided a welcome distraction. “Let me get that,” she said.

“She certainly makes herself at home in your house,” Susan heard Helen say as she left the room.

“Got some opinions, too,” Ralph said.

As she hurried to the door, Susan's face felt as if it was on fire.

She opened it to a welcome sight: Daisy.

“Hey girl, I knocked on your apartment door and when I didn't find you, I figured you must be over here.” She squinted at Susan. “Looks like you could use some girl talk.”

“More than you know. Let me grab my stuff.” She hurried into the kitchen for her beach bag, cell phone and keys as Daisy chatted with Helen.

Five minutes later they were drinking sodas in Susan's tiny living room. “How's it going?” Daisy asked. “You surviving the dragon lady?”

“She didn't like me before,” Susan said, “but after tonight, she hates me.” She told Daisy about the beauty pageant fiasco. “So if there was any hope of our getting along, not that it really matters, it went out the window tonight.”