“Her test?”
“Casey’s her own person. Some people don’t understand that. One nanny called my youngest weird. The one who worked for me before Arlene was annoyed that I came home so late. No explanation mattered. She didn’t want to hear one. I’m a sheriff. Sometimes I can’t leave. She didn’t understand. Do you have a problem with that?”
“No.” She wanted to hug him for solving her problems. “But I have to be fair. If I get the job, it would only be temporary. I can’t stay for long.” She expected questions now, and worried he would consider that a good reason not to hire her. “I want the job,” she added on a rush. “I need the job.” Slowly he grinned and Jessica saw then why he really had a reputation for curling toes. A rush of warmth swept through her.
“And we need you.”
How could everything be so wrong one minute and so right the next? she wondered.
He braced a shoulder against the opened folding door. “Want to know anything about me, about us?”
Cory and several other servers had informed her about one of Thunder Lake’s most eligible males. He was honest and hardworking, and would do anything for his daughters. He was also considered a real catch by most single women in town. They’d claimed he was fair and compassionate. He was well-liked, well-respected, but could be tough when necessary.
And he was brave, Cory had assured her, then had gone on to tell a story about how he’d single-handedly brought in an escaped convict who’d been hiding in an abandoned farmhouse outside of town. “I already know all about you.” She felt a blush sweep over her face. When had she become such a motormouth?
He made no comment about what she’d said, but a smile twitched up the corners of his lips. “Give me an hour to delegate a few jobs to my deputy, then I’ll meet you at my house, show you your room and you can settle in.” He withdrew a pad of paper from his front shirt pocket, yanked a sheet of paper from it. Using the frame of the phone booth for a writing surface, he scribbled down the address.
Peripherally Jessica saw the girls inching closer.
So had he. He paused in writing. “She said yes.”
“She said yes!” Annie repeated.
Displaying typical four-year-old exuberance, Casey jumped up and down. “Yippee!”
“As you can see, they’re happy.” He handed her the paper with the address. “On their behalf, thank you.”
Jessica felt as if she should be saying that. She stepped out of the booth, dropped the coins for the phone call back in her shoulder bag and watched him slip his hand around Casey’s.
Over her shoulder, Casey looked back and waved.
Annie gave a look back, too, and sent Jessica one of her hundred-watt smiles.
In that second, she knew that she didn’t want to lose this job. She almost felt guilty about getting paid for it. She read the address first, then pocketed the paper.
All seemed perfect, but she’d need different clothes, wouldn’t she? She’d never fool him if she wore designer T-shirts and jeans. She crossed the street to browse through a thrift shop. Lucky for her it was open this one evening of the week. Using part of the thirty-three dollars and seventy-five cents that she’d collected in lunch and dinner tips, she purchased several T-shirts and another pair of jeans.
She stuffed the new items into her suitcase, then started walking toward his house. She’d been so thrilled to get a job that nothing else had mattered. She hadn’t asked what he would expect her to do. She’d assumed she would watch the girls. Would he want her to do more? Housekeeping? Oh, how difficult could it be to run a vacuum cleaner? Sounds good, she mused. Keep convincing yourself you can handle this. All she’d have to do is learn which buttons to push on the dishwasher and washing machine, how hard could that be?
Three blocks away from the town’s business district, she turned down a street of huge pines and silver oaks. Unlike the ranch-style homes near the edge of the town, the sheriff and his daughters lived in a house reminiscent of a 19th-century farmhouse with two French-pane windows upstairs, and four on the first floor. It was painted brownish-red with a white door and white trim around the windows. A cobblestone walkway led to the three front steps and the front door. Several huge pines shaded the house from the late afternoon sun.
Jessica leaned against the white wood railing to wait. It wasn’t long. Within minutes, a vehicle zipped around the corner and pulled onto the driveway.
“Jesse, Jesse,” Casey yelled when she opened the vehicle’s door. Wearing a baseball cap, khaki pants, a blue-and-white striped top, and sneakers, she bounded toward the house. Jessica smiled at the wallet-sized, red shoulder bag hanging from Casey’s shoulder. She’d definitely set her own style.
“We hurried home,” Annie informed her, coming in second in the race with Casey. “We’d have been here sooner, but Daddy had to give Humphrey a ride home. He’s Mrs. Olsen’s dog.”
Sam strolled up, shaking his head. “If you let her, she’ll tell you about every person in town.”
“Daddy says I like to talk.” All innocence, Annie grinned up at him. “Don’t you, Daddy?”
His knuckles stroked her cheek lovingly. “I hope you haven’t been waiting here too long.”
“Hardly at all,” Jessica assured him.
“Good.” Sam stepped up to the door. “Let’s go in.”
The front door opened to a short foyer and the staircase to the second floor. To her right was the living room with a comfy-looking sofa in a deep blue color and several chairs in a blue-and-maroon pattern.
“It needs a little picking up.” He skirted the coffee table to snatch up the newspaper that was strewn across the sofa cushions, then gestured to his right. “The kitchen is this way.”
Jessica nodded and traced his steps through a formal dining room with a highly polished cherrywood table and chairs and a breakfront. A collection of china cups, a crystal decanter and wineglasses occupied the shelves. A few steps behind him, she entered the kitchen to see him plugging in the coffee brewer.
Done in oak, the kitchen was a large, sunny room, the result of French doors that led to the backyard. A round oak table and cane chairs rested on a multi-colored braided rug.
“I’ll show you your room,” Annie volunteered.
“I will,” Casey insisted.
Sam ran interference. “You both can.”
Together they went upstairs. Feeling a touch uneasy in her new surroundings, Jessica hoped that once she could call someplace home, even temporarily, she’d begin to relax.
Casey’s chattering about her favorite cartoon movie, the one about ants, helped. Noticing her small hand’s possessive hold on the purse, Jessica assumed it was a treasured item. “I like your purse.”
“She carries it everywhere,” Annie said from behind them.
A little huffily, Casey raised her chin. “I like it.”
Jessica sensed the start of an argument. “Will you show me your rooms first?” she asked to sidetrack them from their dispute.
At the landing, Annie pointed to her left. “My room is that way.” Eagerly she steered her toward a feminine room done in purple and white with a white canopy bed and a collection of dolls at center stage on shelves lining one wall.
Casey’s room contained the usual four-year-old toys, but it was done in mostly green, and a giant picture of a black-and-yellow butterfly adorned one wall. A baseball mitt and cap were tossed in a corner of oversized pillows, and propped