Small-Town Nanny (9 page)

“She thinks you're after Sam,” Daisy said, nodding shrewdly.

“What? Why would she think that?” Even as she spoke, Susan felt her face flush, remembering that moment on the stairs.

If Helen hadn't come, would he have kissed her?

Would she have let him?

Daisy eyed her suspiciously. “What's going on?”

Susan shook her head. Daisy was her best friend, but no way was she going to share the occasional moments of strange attraction between her and Daisy's big brother.

Instead, she turned the topic back to the pageant Helen wanted Mindy to enter.

Daisy rolled her eyes. “I'm with you. Pageants are pretty ridiculous most of the time. But the Rescue River one isn't so bad.”

Susan couldn't restrain her curiosity. “Was Marie really a pageant kid? Like on
Tiny Tot Beauty?
”

“Yep. She was way into it, through middle school at least. I'm sure there are some pictures around.” Daisy cocked her head to one side, thinking. “In fact, Helen might have been in some pageants, too, back in the day.”

Susan groaned. “So it's a family tradition, and I interfered with it with all my big California ideas. Sam's probably getting ready to fire me right now.”

Daisy laughed. “Sam can take it. In fact, I think you're good for him. He looks more relaxed than usual. Even seems to have a bit of a tan.”

“We were at the lake today,” Susan explained, and told her about their day.

Daisy crossed her arms and studied Susan, her expression curious. “Sounds pretty cozy. How do you feel about Sam, anyway?”

“He's a good employer, and we're getting along better than I expected.”

“Are you sure that's all there is to it? I mean, Sam's incredibly handsome, and has a great big heart, and he's also the richest man in town. Any chance of you falling for him?”

“No!” Susan held up a hand to stop Daisy's protest. “I don't date, remember? I'm committed to staying single so I can focus on my career. Plus,” she added, “if I were going to go out with someone, it wouldn't be one of those classic business types. I like quirky, creative guys, and Sam's anything but.”

“Does your dad's treatment of your family have to affect you forever?” Daisy asked bluntly.

“My dad's...what do you mean?” She didn't like the way Daisy was looking at her, as if she was a social work client. A troubled one.

“Our childhoods have an impact,” Daisy lectured, in full counselor mode. “You think Sam is too much like your dad, but he's not only a businessman. He's a brother and a dad. And he's very lonely.”

“He misses his wife, I can tell that.” Susan frowned. “Even if I
were
interested—and I'm not—it would be crazy to get involved with a family still grieving such a big loss. They'd rip my heart out.”

Daisy looked thoughtful. “I know Sam seems obsessed with Marie, but appearances can be deceptive. He's trying to keep her memory alive for Mindy, and he's been too busy surviving to build them a new life. But I can see him changing, letting go.”

Susan walked over to the kitchen and snagged the jumbo bag of spicy tortilla chips. “Don't you think they need some counseling?” she asked as she replenished the bowl on the coffee table.

“They've had it. Do you think I would've let them muddle through without help? But it's a process.” Daisy grabbed a chip and munched it, thoughtfully, then spoke again. “And you have to remember that Jesus can heal. He can heal Sam and Mindy of what they lost when Marie died. And He can heal you from the way your father treated you.”

Susan leaned her head back on the couch and stared up at the ceiling fan. She wanted to believe it. She wished for Daisy's faith. But it was a stretch right now. “I'm afraid to change,” she admitted. “I've been committed to being a single schoolteacher for so long. I've felt like that's God's will for me.”

“His will might be bigger than you can imagine right now. Maybe it involves getting married, having kids of your own
and
being a schoolteacher. Ever think of that?”

Susan
had
thought of it lately. Specifically in connection to Sam and Mindy. But the whole idea felt risky and dangerous and scary. “It's out of my comfort zone. What with my family and all.”

“God kinda specializes in out-of-our-comfort-zone.”

Susan thought about that. God had called her to work with special-needs kids—in the classroom, or so she'd thought. But she knew she was doing good for Mindy right now. Taking this job with Sam had been a risk, but she could see that it was paying off. At least for Mindy, which was the important thing.

“And,” Daisy continued, frowning, “it might be time for Sam to take down a few pictures from the Marie gallery. I'll talk to him about it.” She grabbed Susan's hand. “But you need to work on healing, too. You're not limited to your past. With God's help, you can have a bright future and you can have love.”

“But I don't want—”

“Just think about it.”

Night was falling, turning the summer sky to pinks and purples, sending a cool breeze fragrant with honeysuckle through the open window.

Susan heard a car door slam outside. Hopefully, that was Helen and Ralph, leaving.

“Promise me you'll think and pray about healing, okay? Not just so you can work something out with Sam, although that would be totally cool. But no matter what happens with him, I want to see you be happy and whole.”

Susan hugged her friend. “Thanks for caring about me. I know Jesus can heal. I know it in my head. But I'm not quite there with believing it in my heart.”

* * *

After that emotional night, Susan and Sam steered a little clear of each other, seemingly by mutual agreement. When Susan had a question about the company picnic she was planning, she mostly texted Sam and he responded with brief, impersonal instructions.

She did notice that Sam quietly took down some of the Marie pictures, replacing them with drawings Mindy had made, which he'd had beautifully framed, and more recent photographs of him and Mindy. The change, Susan was sure, was Daisy's doing; she must have had that talk with Sam.

He'd also spent a couple of evenings helping Mindy create a photo album of her mother and her, which Mindy had proudly showed Susan each morning after Sam went to work.

Susan was surprised and impressed. Sam definitely had a stubborn, bossy side, but he also was able to listen to his sister's wisdom and follow it, and his thoughtfulness with his daughter, his intelligent care of her, made him all the more appealing.

She found herself watching him sometimes, in a silly, romantic way that wasn't doing her heart any good at all.

She just needed to keep reminding herself that her goal wasn't to swoon over her boss's softer side. It was to fix her own family's problems while staying independent. She wasn't the marrying kind, and in a tempting situation like this, she had to keep that well in mind.

Sam had brushed aside her apologies about her awkward words to his in-laws, saying everything was fine. But it wasn't, Susan could tell. He'd been distant, and she felt bad about it. Who was she to judge how others lived their lives? Maybe there was some redeeming value in pageants she didn't understand. And in any case, it wasn't her business. She was just the nanny.

She and Mindy were finger-painting late one afternoon when her phone buzzed. She washed her hands and looked at the text message. From Sam, and her heart jumped.

Did you get my message before?

Susan looked and started to sweat.

Hate to ask but could you fix something easy for dinner? Job candidate here with wife and two active boys. Would like to invite them home. Nothing special, no stress. ETA 5 p.m.

No stress. Ha! She checked the message again. Yes, it did say they'd arrive at 5.

It was 4:15.

She drew in a breath and sat up straighter. Here was her chance to impress Sam with her domestic abilities and make up for being such a screw-up the other night.

No problem
, she texted back. She'd disappointed him then, but she wouldn't do it again. She could get it done.

“Come on, Mindy,” she said. “We have work to do.”

* * *

When Sam arrived home promptly at 4:55, he had a little trepidation as he held the car door for Emily, his job candidate's wife.

“Wow, that's a big house!” cried one of the couple's twin boys. They were cute, freckle-faced redheads with energy to burn, probably a couple years older than Mindy.

“How many kids do you have?” the other twin asked.

“One, and she should be inside. Come on in.”

Just then, Susan came around the side of the house. She wore neat shorts and a...was that a golf shirt? He'd never have guessed she owned anything so plain and ordinary.

She didn't look like herself, quite; she looked...almost traditional. A thought crossed his mind: had she dressed that way for him?

Surely she wouldn't do that, but the very notion of it tugged at his heart. If she'd tried to look conservative for him, it was a totally endearing effort.

And she should probably remove some of her multiple earrings to complete the effect.

“Come around back,” she said. “Everything's ready.”

“I can get the drinks,” Sam said, relief washing over him at her gracious greeting. Times like this, he really needed a wife, and Susan was acting like a good stand-in. He wanted to bring Bill in as CEO of his agricultural real estate division, which would free Sam up to focus on the land management side of the business—and to spend a little less time at the office. But Bill and Emily were city people, used to sophisticated living, so he was going to have to sell them hard on the virtues of Rescue River.

On the back deck, overlooking the pool, the table was set with a red checkered tablecloth and there were baskets of potato chips and dip. Retro, casual, but that was okay. He'd only let Susan know today.

Burgers were on the grill, smelling great, and through the open kitchen window, peppy jazz played. Nice.

Mindy came out, carefully carrying a bowl of baby carrots. A glass bowl, but Sam restrained himself from helping her. She was adept with her hand and half arm, and he was learning, from Susan, to let her do as much as possible on her own. He introduced her to the boys and the adults and she greeted everyone politely and turned away. “'Scuse me, I gotta bring the dip.”

Susan emerged with a bin of assorted soft drinks on ice, and since everyone seemed to enjoy choosing their own, he didn't even complain about the fact that they were drinking from cans. It was a barbecue, he told himself. Relax.

Susan looked extremely cute. She'd tied a barbecue apron over her shorts and shirt and was concentrating on the burgers. “Hey, I think these are done already,” she said, and they all sat down.

Dinner was happening a little too quickly, and he wanted to suggest that everyone needed to enjoy their sodas and relax a bit before eating.

“Yay, I'm starving!” cried one of the boys.

“Me, too!” yelled his brother.

Their mother smiled, so Sam let it go.

It was make-your-own-burgers—again, a little too casual for his tastes, but the family seemed fine with it. Susan ducked back into the kitchen and emerged with a casserole dish which, when she opened it, contained macaroni and cheese that looked suspiciously like the kind from a box. He arched an eyebrow at her.

“Mac and cheese!” the boys shouted.

“I really appreciate your arranging this to be so kid-friendly,” the job candidate, Bill, said to Susan.

She chuckled, a throaty sound that tickled Sam's nerve endings. “Casual and kid-friendly, that's my specialty,” she said with an apologetic smile to Sam.

Sam offered up a quick prayer and then they all dug in.

Sam took a giant bite of hamburger. His teeth hit something hard and he tasted ice.

Quickly he put the burger down. “I don't think these are done. Better get them back on the grill,” he said.

Susan's face flamed. “Oh, no, I'm sorry. They came right out of the freezer, but I thought, with the grill so hot...”

Bill grinned. “Mistake of a novice griller,” he said.

“I don't like hamburgers,” announced one of the boys. “I like hot dogs better.”

“Me, too!” Mindy said.

“We do have some,” Susan said hesitantly. “I'm sorry, Sam.”

Sam slapped a mosquito and noticed Mindy and the quieter little boy were doing the same. “Couldn't you find the bug torches?” he asked Susan.

“I...never heard of bug torches,” she said regretfully. “Look. I'll grab the hot dogs, and we'll put the burgers back on the grill. You guys go hunt down the bug torches because I, for one, am getting eaten alive.”

Everyone got up from the table and went to their respective stations. Sam was shaking his head. If there had ever been a worse attempt at impressing a prospective employee, he didn't know what it was.

“Sorry,” she whispered as she brushed past him. And even amidst his annoyance, he felt a rush of sympathy and patted her shoulder.

“Can I come in and help?” asked Emily, a very quiet woman.

Susan shrugged resignedly. “If you want. It's a huge mess inside.”

“We'll come, too!” the ginger-haired twins said and rushed inside.

As they walked to the garage, Bill clapped him on the back. “Ask me sometime to tell you about my major disaster of a client dinner,” he said.

When they got the torches lit, everyone was still in the house, and the sound of the boys' yelling rang through the open windows. With some trepidation, Sam pushed in, followed by his client. And stopped and stared.

The entire kitchen table was covered with paint pots and paper, and the two visiting boys were having a heyday with it. The mother, who seemed to lack discipline or authority, was scolding ineffectually, and the boys were ignoring her.