Small-Town Nanny (11 page)

Gramps snorted. “She doesn't want to listen to your dad give her the third degree, and I don't blame her.”

Susan looked at Sam with alarm as she accepted the plate. “Is your dad going to give me the third degree? Why?”

“Because he's like his son,” Gramps jumped in, “a millionaire with no consideration for the common folk.”

Susan looked up at Sam in time to notice the hurt expression that flickered briefly across his face. Now that she knew Sam better, she understood how unfair Gramps's accusations were. Sam treated his workers well and bent over backward to contribute to the town's well-being. “Sam's not as much of a Scrooge as I expected,” she told Gramps, softening her words with a smile. “Maybe your information is a little bit out of date.”

“The lady's right,” Bob Eakin said, elbowing Gramps Camden. “Leave the man alone. He's done his share for Rescue River, just like we all try to do.”

The kids' train returned then, and they all trooped back to the table.

Susan's plan of sitting with the children didn't hold water, though, because Helen was there and adamant about her own position as Mindy's grandmother. “I'll help her if she needs it,” she insisted, sliding into the seat beside Mindy.

So Susan had to sit with the other adults. Which turned out to be okay. She stuffed herself with hamburgers and corn on the cob and potato salad, and laughed with Daisy and Angelica, and generally had a good time.

Mr. Hinton stopped by the table but demurred from eating with them. “I've got my eye on Camden. He's sitting a little too close to Lou Ann Miller, and I'd better make sure he doesn't bother her.”

Daisy, Fern and Angelica exchanged glances. “Does Lou Ann have a preference for one or the other?” Daisy asked Angelica in a low voice.

“She's doing just fine on her own,” Fern said. “I think she likes being single.”

“Exactly,” Angelica said, salting a second ear of corn. “I don't think she's wanting them to court her, but she can hardly say no if they put their plates down beside hers.”

“Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety,” quoted Fern's fiancé, Carlo, with a wink at Fern. “William Shakespeare,
Antony and Cleopatra
.”

“He was in
one
play at Rescue River High School,” Angelica said, rolling her eyes at her brother, “but he uses it every chance he can get. Makes him seem literary.”

“I love it when you quote Shakespeare at me,” Fern said, leaning her head on her husband-to-be's shoulder with an exaggerated lash-flutter.

Susan swallowed a huge bite of potato salad and waved her fork at the table of elders. “When I lived near the Senior Towers, I witnessed more drama than you see at a middle school. I wouldn't be surprised if those two came to blows over Lou Ann.”

“That's for sure,” Fern said with a quiet laugh. “When I go there for book group or to replenish the library cart, things can get pretty lively. Even Bob Eakin has his lady friends, and he's over ninety.”

Sam was there, on the other side of Daisy, and it seemed to Susan that he watched her thoughtfully. At one point, as Angelica was apologizing for Gramps Camden's crotchety attitudes, he broke in. “I'm sorry you had to deal with all of that,” he said. “I hope the older guys treated you okay.”

“Mr. Eakin's going to lend me a book about Japanese who fought for the US in World War II,” Susan said. “It's no problem, Sam. I always got along with older relatives.”

“Maybe so, but watch out for Mr. Hinton, Senior,” Angelica said in a low voice, grinning. “He's a tough nut to crack.”

Another remark about Sam's dad. Hmm. After his appearance at the disastrous dinner she'd tried to cook, she wasn't looking forward to seeing him again. Although, she reminded herself, it didn't really matter what he thought. She was just a summer nanny.

Still, right at this moment, Susan felt welcomed and affirmed, almost as if she was a part of the family. Which was strange...but nice.

As they all talked about how full they were—and made trips to the buffet for seconds—a tall, curvaceous redhead walked hesitantly toward the table, her four subdued kids following, all looking to be under the age of eight.

Susan's teacher radar went up immediately. Why weren't the kids looking happy in the presence of cotton candy and inflatables and face painters? Why the tension and caution?

Helen jumped up to greet the woman. “Fiona! Come on, right here. I have a seat for you, and we can squeeze in your little ones at this end of the table. Have you eaten?”

As she settled the woman beside Sam, Helen was practically glowing with excitement, and it all came clear to Susan.

Helen had an agenda to set Sam up with a replacement Marie. And here she was.

On Susan's other side, Daisy filled in the facts. “Fiona Farmingham. Just moved to Rescue River to escape all the gossip. Her celebrity husband just died, and it turns out he had a whole other family down in Texas.”

Susan looked at the woman with sympathy. “Do the kids know?”

“Oh, yeah, they couldn't help but hear about it. Apparently, they got teased pretty bad. Fiona is Marie's distant cousin, so she knows the town. She's hoping Rescue River will be a fresh start.”

“Looks like they need one.”

But as sympathetic as she felt, she couldn't help feeling jealous as Sam and Fiona talked, egged on by Helen. Even after the rest of them had stood up, Sam and Fiona talked on.

Helen came over to share her triumph with Susan and Daisy. “They're hitting it off, I think,” she said in a confiding voice. “Look what lovely manners she has. And she was a stay-at-home mom, and she knows just how to keep a big house nice. She was kind of Marie's role model in that.”

“You doing some matchmaking, Helen?” Daisy asked bluntly.

“Sam needs a wife, and Mindy needs a mother. It should have been Marie, but since it can't...well. I hope he'll find a woman who's as like her as possible.” Helen's eyes shone with unshed tears.

Susan stuffed down the feelings of hurt and inadequacy prompted by Helen's words. This was good. This was what she wanted: to keep a distance from Sam, which his serious dating of another woman would do. This would be good for Mindy, providing a mother figure and ready-made siblings.

“She's built like a model,” Daisy complained in Susan's other ear. “And look, she's just picking at her food. It's hard to like a woman like that.”

But Fiona soon excused herself from Sam and came over to talk to them. “Are you guys the moms of these kids?” she asked, her voice throaty and surprisingly deep. “Because I'm fairly desperate for mom friends. I had to leave a lot of people behind when I moved, and I don't know a soul here except for Helen. Well, and I've met Mindy a time or two.”

Fern, who was unfailingly kind and accepting, started chatting with Fiona about her daughter, who was the same age as Fern's daughter, Mercedes. Angelica joined in the conversation, and Susan had to admit: the woman was lovely. When she squatted down to see what the kids were doing, she greeted Mindy happily with a hug, reminding the little girl that they'd met before. Soon, she'd engaged all the kids in conversation, introducing her own, encouraging the kids to play together.

As Fiona sat back down with Sam, now surrounded by her children and Mindy, Susan ground her teeth and gave herself a firm talking to.

This was right; this was what everyone, herself included, wanted. Fiona was good with Mindy and was the type of woman Sam needed, way more than Susan herself was.

She swallowed the giant lump in her throat.

She needed to leave them to it.

She excused herself from the others. She was left out anyway. Daisy had gone to see Dion and everyone else was talking. She pulled out her phone and shot Sam a text:
Not feeling well, found a way home.
There. That sounded breezy.

Then she slipped away and out the side door of the country club.

She'd achieved her goal of staying independent, she told herself as she started walking the two miles toward Sam's house. And it was just her own stupidity that had her feeling teary and blue about it. She'd get over it. She was meant to be alone. This was how it was to be, and it was just going to have to be good enough.

Chapter Seven

A
fter Susan left the table, Sam tried to focus on Fiona, new in town and someone his mother-in-law wanted him to get to know better. “She's perfect for you and Mindy, Sam,” Helen had whispered as Fiona approached the table. “I know, four kids is a lot, but you have the resources. And she's happy to stay at home. Wouldn't that be wonderful for Mindy?”

The hard sell had made him feel resistant, but Fiona was a genuinely nice woman. They chatted easily about the small liberal arts college they'd both attended, although in different years, about how Rescue River was a great place to raise a family, about people they knew in common, since Fiona was related to Marie.

There was something shuttered in her eyes, some distance, some pain. Still, she was pretty, with her long, wavy red hair, tall as a model but with pleasant curves. Obviously smart.

Sam's attention strayed, wondering where Susan had gone. He scanned the crowd down by the band's tent, where the sounds of pop music emerged alongside patriotic favorites. Checked the food area, where the fragrance of barbecue and burned sugar lingered.

No Susan, though.

“Look,” Fiona said, “I get the sense that Helen is trying to push us together, but don't feel obligated to stick around and talk. I'm not in the market for a relationship. I'm just trying to straighten out my life after my husband's death.”

He snapped back to focus on her. “I'm sorry for your loss. I faced that and I'm dealing with it, but it's not easy when you had a great relationship and high hopes for the future.”

She stared off across the field where people were starting to stake out spots to watch fireworks. Craned her neck, perhaps to see her kids, who were over at the face-painting station with Mindy, under Daisy's supervision. Then she turned back to him. “Be glad if yours was a clean break, Sam,” she said, her voice surprisingly intense. “Not everyone has that. In a way, it's harder if the loss was...complicated.”

He cocked his head to one side, looking at her and wondering about her story.

One of her children ran to her, a girl of seven or eight, and whispered something in her ear. The two talked in low tones while Sam thought about what she had said.

Thinking about Marie.

It had, in fact, been a clean break. He'd never had any reason to doubt her faithfulness or her love. They'd been genuinely happy together. And right up to the end, her faith had been strong, had guided him even, kept him on a positive path.

It was only after her death that he'd strayed away, mentally, from his faith. Had gotten angry with God about what He'd taken away, not just from Sam himself, but from a little girl who'd sobbed for days as if her heart was breaking—which it surely was—about the loss of her loving mama.

But Mindy had only positive memories of her mother. She'd been well-cared for, and even though the loss had been terribly, terribly hard on her, she hadn't ever questioned her mother's love. She had more moments of joy than pain, these days. Nothing like the skulking, furtive demeanor of the mysterious Fiona's kids.

Marie had been everything a mother should be.

And maybe, just maybe, rather than exclusively feeling bitter about losing her, he should feel grateful to have had a faithful, loving wife.

Fiona's daughter ran off, and she turned to meet his bemused eyes.

“Are you doing okay?” he asked, feeling awkward. “Do you need someone to talk to?”

She waved a hand. “Don't worry about me. I have a strong faith and an appointment with the pastor here. I'll be fine. We'll be fine.” Her face broke into a genuinely beautiful smile. “God's good even when times are hard.”

“That's...true.” And he wasn't just saying it. Maybe it was time for a change. Maybe he needed to not only get to church each week, but get right with God. “You've made me think,” he said to Fiona. “I appreciate that.”

“Sure, Sam. Nice talking to you.”

The obvious ending of their conversation turned on a light bulb for him: his “find Mindy a mom” campaign was going to be harder than he thought. Because right here in front of him was a perfect woman. Exactly what he would have wanted, had he filled out an order form.

And he had zero interest in her, romantically.

She pushed back her chair, holding out a hand to briskly shake his, and he could tell she felt the same way about him, so there was no guilt. There might even be a friendship, one of these days; they seemed to have some things in common. “Your kids are welcome to swim in my pool anytime,” he said. “Mindy would love the company.”

“Thanks, that's nice of you.” She smiled at him, but her mind was clearly elsewhere. Her eyes held pain and secrets, and Sam resolved to get Daisy on the case.

He walked around for a while, enjoying the companionship of old friends, watching the kids run around in small packs, relishing another piece of pie. But something was missing: he couldn't find Susan. Mindy was still with Daisy, who hadn't seen Susan in a while.

Finally he thought to text Susan, but when he pulled out his phone and looked at it, he saw her message.

He frowned. She'd gone home? How, when she'd ridden over with him?

Sam asked around to see whether anyone had noticed her leaving. “I think she walked,” a teenager told him offhandedly.

Walked
home? That was close to three miles, mostly on deserted country roads, and darkness was falling. Not good.

He shot her a text:
Where are you?

She didn't answer.

He turned to find his mother-in-law at his elbow. “How did you like Fiona?” she asked.

“Can you watch over Mindy tonight and make sure she gets home?”

“Of course!” A wide smile spread over her face. “You liked her, then? Are you taking her home?”

Had she lost her mind? Sam shook his head distractedly. “Fiona is lovely, and we have nothing going on romantically. She seems to need a friend, so if you're wanting to help her out, that's probably the direction to go. Introduce her to some of the local women, something like that.”

“But if you're not going to take Fiona home,” she asked unhappily, “then why are you leaving?”

“Susan walked home, and I need to check on her.”

Helen put a hand on her hip, her forehead wrinkling. “Now why would anyone do something like that? That's just strange.”

He ignored the judgment. “I'll see you when you get home with Mindy,” he said, turning toward the parking lot.

“But you'll miss the fireworks!” Helen sounded truly distressed. “That woman is a terrible influence on you. She's not even patriotic!”

“Later, Helen,” he called over his shoulder.

After catching Mindy long enough to explain that she was to leave with her grandparents—which appeared to be fine with her, she was having such a good time with all the kids to play with—Sam got in his truck and started driving, thinking about what Helen had said.

Susan
was
different. She was independent and outspoken and didn't always say the proper thing.

But as for patriotism... Sam thought of her interactions with the older veterans and chuckled. She'd had those guys eating from the palm of her hand. She was every bit a proud American, as evidenced by the words on her obviously well-worn T-shirt.

He drove slowly along the country road, windows open. A gentle breeze brought the smells of hay and fresh-plowed soil that had always been part of his homeland experience. Crickets chirped, their music rising and falling, accompanied by a throaty chorus of frogs as he passed a small farm pond.

The sky was darkening, and up ahead, he saw the moon rise in a perfect circle, like a large round coin in the sky.

Even with the moonlight, it was still too dark. Too dark for a young woman to be out alone, a woman unfamiliar with the roads. Could Susan have gotten lost? Could something bad have happened to her?

As he arrived at Main Street in downtown Rescue River, concern grew in his heart. Where was she? Had something happened? He'd been studying the dark road the whole way and hadn't seen her, but could she have fallen into a ditch or been abducted?

Finally he spotted a petite form just sinking onto a bench, a couple of buildings down from the Chatterbox Café. Susan.

She was taking off her sandals and studying one foot, and when he stopped the truck in front of her, she looked up.

She wasn't as classically beautiful as Fiona. Her hair was coming out of its neat ponytail, and her shoulders slumped a little.

He'd never been so glad to see anyone in his life.

He jumped out of the truck and strode over to her. “What were you thinking, walking home?”

She squinted up at him. “Umm...I was tired?”

“You walked two miles on rough country roads. Of course you're tired.” He sat down beside her and gestured toward the foot she'd been examining. “What happened?”

“Blister,” she said. “I'll live.”

He sighed and shook his head. “Wait here a minute.”

He trotted over to his truck, fumbled in the glove box and returned with the small first-aid kit he always carried. “Let me see that.”

“Why am I not surprised that you have a first-aid kit?” she asked, but she let him take her foot on his lap.

The skin had broken and the blister was a large, angry red. He opened an antibiotic wipe and cleansed it carefully, scolding himself internally for enjoying the opportunity to touch her delicate foot.

“Ow!” She winced when the medicine touched the broken skin.

“Sorry.” He patted her ankle. “Now we'll bandage you up.”

He rubbed antibiotic ointment over the hurt spot and pressed on a bandage. “There,” he said. He kept a loose grip on her foot, strangely reluctant to let it go.

Without the daytime bustle, Main Street felt peaceful. The streetlights had come on. Overhead were leafy trees, and beyond them, stars were starting to blink in the graying sky.

Down the street, the lights of the Chatterbox Café clicked off.

Susan looked at him with eyes wide and vulnerable above a forced-looking smile. “Didn't you want to stay and talk with the wife Helen picked out for you?”

He felt one side of his mouth quirk up. “Was it that obvious?”

“Kinda. She seemed really nice.”

“Yes, she is.” He squeezed her foot a little tighter. “And no, I didn't want to stay. Not when I realized you were missing.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Hey.” He touched her chin. “I wanted to come find you.”

“How come?”

The question hung in the air between them. He looked at her lips.

Which parted a little, very prettily, and then Susan pulled her foot off his lap and twisted it around her other leg, looking nervous. “Sam...”

He brushed back a strand of hair that had tumbled down her forehead. Her skin felt soft as a baby's.

He breathed in, and leaned forward, and pressed his lips to hers.

* * *

Susan's heart pounded faster than a rock-and-roll drumbeat as Sam kissed her. Just a light brush of the lips took her breath away.

She lifted her hands, not sure whether she meant to stop him or urge him on, and her hands encountered the rough stubble on his cheek. Intrigued, she stroked his face, getting to know the planes and angles she'd been studying, without intending to, for days.

What did this mean? And why, oh why, did it have to feel so good? She drew in a sharp breath, almost a gasp, because he hadn't moved away. His handsome face was still an inch from hers, and this felt like every forbidden dream she'd ever had, coming true.

“Close your eyes,” he said in his bossy way that, right now, didn't bother her in the least.

And he leaned closer and pressed his lips to hers again, just a little harder.

Susan's heart seemed to expand in her chest, reaching out toward his. Everything she'd admired about him, everything she'd been drawn to, seemed alive in the air around them.

There was a booming sound, a bunch of crackling pops, and she jerked back as Sam lifted his head. At the same time, they both realized what it was.

“Fireworks!” Sam exclaimed, a grin crossing his face. “How appropriate.” He studied her tenderly. “Was that okay?”

Was it okay that he'd rocked her world? Was it okay that his lightest touch made her feel as if she was in love with him? “When I kissed my boss, I felt fireworks,” she joked awkwardly to cover the tension she felt.

He looked stricken as the fireworks continued to create a display above their heads, green and red and gold. “Oh, Susan, I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“I was forgetting for a minute that you're an employee. That was completely inappropriate.”

Amidst the popping and booming sounds, his words were too much to process. She was still reeling from how his kiss had made her feel, and she couldn't think why he was looking so upset.

Unless he wished he hadn't done it.

“Come on,” he said, and pulled her to her feet. He didn't hold her hand, though; as soon as he was sure she was steady, he stepped a foot away. Too far! her heart called, wanting her to grab onto him. But she squashed the feelings down.

A minute later, she was in his truck and headed to his house. He drove like a silent statue, a muscle twitching in his jaw.

He pulled up in the driveway and stared straight ahead. “We'll talk tomorrow. Again, I apologize.”

She looked at him, confused. Clearly she was being dismissed.

Was he angry at himself for having let his feelings go out of control? Did he even
have
feelings, or had that been just a guy thing, driven by testosterone rather than his heart?

She wanted to ask him about it, but suddenly, there was no closeness available for such a discussion.

And she was just a little too fragile to push it tonight, when her lips still tingled from his kiss, her fingertips still remembered the way his strong jaw had felt beneath them.