Sobbing, Wyatt followed her up the stairs, slamming himself in his own room.
Feeling a little as if his heart had been ripped from his chest and thrown in a blender, Adam finished coring the apple. The sharp knife slipped, grazing his thumb. He stared at the blood pouring from the small cut and immediately memories flashed through his mind. Don’t go there. Don’t. Nothing good could possibly come from remembering.
He slapped a Band-Aid over his cut, threw the lunch meat and cheese into the fridge, tossed away the apple and then slowly made his way toward the patio doors at the back of the house. Stay calm. It’ll be all right. Everything will be all right. He slid open the door and stepped outside into the warm early evening air.
“Adam!”
His stomach flipped. The last thing he needed at the moment was a visit from his sugary sweet, always jovial neighbor Missy Abel from two doors down. As he took a deep breath, turned and saw three women coming toward him, one trailing several feet behind the other two, it was clear that was exactly what he was going to get. Client, he reminded himself.
“I want you to meet my mother and sister,” Missy said. “They’ll be renting the house next to yours.”
Great. Two more chipper females like Missy living next door. Could this night get any better?
“Mom, this is Adam Harding. Mirabelle’s savior.”
“Oh, no,” Adam insisted, shaking his head. Since he’d arrived on Mirabelle, every resident had either rolled out the welcome mat for him in a big way or treated him with kid gloves, sometimes both. “Savior I am not, but it’s a pleasure meeting you.”
“Angelica Camden,” the older woman said, smiling as she extended her hand.
“This is my sister, Marin.”
The sister looked about as happy to be meeting him as he was to be having this conversation. “Never met a savior before,” she muttered, shaking his hand. Although both sisters were attractive little things, Marin’s demeanor was as assessing as Missy’s was inviting.
“They say there’s a first time for everything.” Clearly, all the charm in the family had gone to Missy and her mother.
Normally, he wouldn’t have paid the slightest bit of attention to what a woman was wearing, but the sisters not only acted like polar opposites, they looked it, too, making a comparison of the two unavoidable. Missy had curly sandy-blond hair, Bohemian in style, and wore a tie-dyed skirt and loose-fitting blouse. A hippie. Marin’s brunette hair was stick-straight and all business, cut shoulder-length with stylishly long bangs swooping down over her forehead. She wore a pair of pencil-thin pants and a pale blue silky-looking T-shirt topped by a casual black blazer. Strangely enough, their mother appeared to be a clear-cut mix of the two.
“Adam owns the construction company that will be putting Mirabelle back to rights,” Missy explained.
“That sounds like a big job,” Angelica said.
“It gets a little easier with every town.”
“He’s not giving himself enough credit,” Missy said. “His is the most highly recommended company in the country for this type of work.”
Not really feeling like carrying on this conversation, he glanced away, trying to think of a way of extricating himself.
“Is everything all right?” Missy asked. “You seem troubled.”
It was possible she might know of someone who might be able to help on a temporary basis. “The kids’ nanny just quit today.” He explained the situation with Carla’s mother.
“Oh, that’s terrible.”
“Do you know anyone on the island who might be willing to babysit until I can find another nanny?”
“I’ll ask around, but it’s not likely.” Missy cringed. “After the tornado hit most of the teenagers looked to the mainland for jobs. I’m having trouble finding babysitters myself.”
“Let me know if you have any luck.”
“Will do.” Missy turned to her mother and sister and explained, “Adam’s a widower.”
He hated being described that way. People generally had two reasons for the clarification. Either they wanted to set him up with some eligible female—which, based on a quick glance at Marin’s left hand, she was—or they pitied him and wanted everyone else to pity him, as well. Normally, he could decipher right off the bat a person’s motivations. Missy, though, was hard to read.
“I hope your nanny leaving won’t negatively impact your work here on Mirabelle,” Marin said.
“Marin!” Her mother admonished, raising her eyebrows.
Surreptitiously, he studied Missy’s sister. She had to be either a lawyer or an accountant, possibly both, and he guessed she came by her analytical attitude naturally. He prided himself on straightforward business dealings and respected the same from others. So why, all of a sudden, should the comment of a virtual stranger strike a chord?
“What? It’s just a question.” Marin shrugged. “There seem to be a lot of people depending on him here. They deserve to know if he’ll be delayed.”
“That’s no excuse for being rude,” her mother said.
Adam almost smiled. “Actually, she’s right, Mrs. Camden. I’m sure that will be the first thought that crosses many minds here on Mirabelle.” He’d worked hard over the years to not let anything influence his work. Nearly having to declare bankruptcy after Beth’s death had taught him the hard way that emotions had no place in business. He turned to Marin. “And to answer your question,” he said. “No. No one needs to worry about this impacting this project. I always honor my commitments.”
BY THE TIME MARIN AND HER mother had gotten settled in their rental, it’d been dinnertime. They’d immediately headed to Missy’s for a special welcome meal and were now visiting in the spacious family room off the kitchen. Trucks, cars and toy airplanes were strewn on the floor, along with books, wooden blocks and sippy cups.
Close to reaching her child tolerance level for the day, Marin sat on the couch with Missy’s short-haired black cat, Slim, on her lap. She scratched the cat’s muscular neck, and while he appeared to appreciate the attention, he never took his eyes off the two toddlers playing on the floor. Who could blame him? The two little monsters had more than likely grabbed, kicked or fallen on the poor cat more than once.
Monsters. That’s what they were all right. Missy had bought at least two of every toy, but the boys still managed to find something to fight over.
Nate suddenly picked up a block and hit Michael with it. “No hitting, Nate,” Missy said to her little blond. “Just because you’re mad doesn’t make it okay to hit.”
“Yeah, right,” Jonas muttered under his breath to Marin. “Two boys only a couple months apart? We’ll be lucky if they don’t kill each other by kindergarten.”
“I know you’re mad because Michael took that toy away,” Missy went on. “But use your words. Tell him he has to share.”
Marin was fascinated watching her sister interact with her kids. Her sister was gentle, loving and patient. Compared to her, Marin felt like an old spinster hag. The mother gene had obviously been either buried so deeply under the thick skin Marin had developed after years on Wall Street or she’d been missing it entirely in the first place.
When the boys started in on the tug-of-war over the toy, Angelica tapped Missy on the shoulder and snuck down the hall.
“Oh, oh!” Missy said, feigning surprise. “Where did Grandma go?”
“I don’t see her,” Jonas added.
Wide-eyed