Dare to do something different. That was part of why Katie was here, because she didn’t know what else to do with herself, except for something different. She couldn’t stay one more second in Atlanta, where everything she looked at reminded her of what she had lost. “I don’t even know where to start.”
Della’s hand covered hers. “Start with cookies.”
“Cookies?”
“Of course. Everything’s better with cookies.” Della grinned. “And then, if you’re interested in something temporary, I know someone who needs some help for the next few weeks. It’s not a glamorous job, but I guarantee it’ll be fun and not at all like accounting.”
Katie took a bite out of a chewy chocolate chip cookie that melted against her tongue. Like the rest of the house and the owner herself, the cookies were the best ever. “What kind of job are you talking about?”
“Well...” Della took a sip of coffee, then wrapped her hands around the mug, “Sam Millwright is in need of a tutor. If you ask me, he needs a good nanny, too. I’ve met Charity Jacobs, the one working for him now, and she’s a dear girl, but in over her head.”
A tutor maybe, but a nanny? As in someone who watched kids all day? Katie had zero experience with children, unless one counted the couple summers she’d spent as a camp counselor. But that had been a team experience—never one where she was on her own, in charge of everything from sunup to sundown for a kid. She’d never had a younger sibling, never really babysat (okay, so she had watched her neighbor’s Pomeranians twice, and commandeered her cousins almost every holiday meal, but that wasn’t the same thing), never even watched a friend’s child, let alone helped anyone with homework. And the thought of being with a baby...
“Sam’s kids are just the cutest little things you ever did see. Libby just turned eight, and Henry is three,” Della said. “You’d love them.”
Three and eight. So not babies. Maybe doable. Maybe. But still, a nanny? Della was right, that was about as far removed from accountant as Katie could get. Except she had no desire to be a nanny, and not enough experience to even consider the job.
“Wait...did you say he needed a tutor, too?”
Della nodded. “Libby’s struggling in school. Ever since her mom passed away, she’s been having a hard time keeping up, poor thing. Sam’s doing the best he can, but it’s tough, being breadwinner and everything else at the same time. His regular babysitter up and quit a month ago, and Sam’s been struggling ever since to find someone to watch the kids. He’s got Charity filling in part of the time, but she’s...” Della made a little face. “Anyway, I had the kids over here yesterday, trying to take the load off Sam, but you know, it’s hard to run a business and watch two kids.” She smiled. “Even if they’re truly the nicest kids ever.”
Couple of nice, sweet kids. How hard could it be? Katie would have to tutor only one of them, it seemed. And the extra money would be a godsend while she was debating her next move. Not to mention, as Della had said, it wasn’t accounting. It wouldn’t be a job that would require her to remember a million details or figure out complicated tax structures. It would be almost as easy as just staying home all day, except she’d hopefully be too busy to think. If the girl was eight, it wasn’t like Katie was going to need a master’s in English to tutor her. What was that, third grade? She could handle third grade homework help. And surely the math would be a breeze for her. As much as Katie said she wanted time to think, to breathe, just the thought of all that time in her head...
She’d rather be working. Doing something that wasn’t difficult, but still kept her mind from spinning. “Sure. I’ll talk to him.”
“Lovely!” Della grinned. “I’ll give him a call quicker than a bunny running through a pepper patch.”
Della did as she’d promised, calling up Sam Millwright a second later. Katie caught only half the conversation, but it was full of “you’re going to love her” and “she’s delightful” endorsements of Katie. Della dropped Colton’s name into the conversation and that seemed to be the clincher. Della hung up the phone, then scribbled an address on a piece of paper. “Here’s his address,” she said. “He said to be there at eight thirty tomorrow morning and he’ll give you an interview.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Katie said, taking the paper. It wasn’t moving on or moving forward, but it wasn’t standing still, either, and for now, that was enough.
It was only a little after eight in the morning and already Sam had resorted to bribery. “If you eat your breakfast, Libby Bear, I’ll let you have a cookie.”
Probably not the healthiest bribe, but at this point, after dealing with the kids for two hours—thanks to Henry waking up at the crack of way-too-early—Sam was desperate. Hell, most days he was desperate. Between the kids and an overly eager one-year-old golden retriever, Sam felt outnumbered, outmaneuvered and out of ideas.
“Miss Della’s cookies?” Libby asked with a wary look. “Because your cookies smell weird.”
As in eau de burned. Della Barlow had taken one look at the snack Sam had packed for the kids yesterday and baked them three dozen chocolate chip pity cookies. Thank God, because Sam couldn’t cook his way out of a paper bag. He wasn’t much good at housework or doing ponytails or answering tough questions from a still-grieving three-and eight-year-old. What he was good at was corporate real estate. Or at least he had been, until the agency he worked for went belly-up. All the profits on million-dollar deals he’d brought into the agency had been frittered away by the owner, leaving the coffers dry when it came to making the payments on their own building. Sam had walked into work last Monday and found a for-sale sign on the door, and the locks changed, most likely by the bank. All his pending deals went up in smoke as panicked clients ran off to other agents, and the commission check Sam had been counting on to pay the bills had bounced higher than a new tennis ball.
It was partly his own fault. All the signs of a business in trouble had been there, but he’d been too distracted, trying to run a household and keep the kids fed and clothed and going to bed on time, to pay attention. He’d done the one thing he couldn’t afford to do—turned his focus away from his job—and it had nearly cost him everything.
He had an interview with the agency’s biggest competitor later this morning. The problem? He had yet to find regular child care. One would think it wouldn’t be hard, but the three nannies he had met so far had been like the Three Stooges: incompetent, irresponsible and insane. He’d hired Charity Jacobs a couple weeks ago. She was okay, but not exactly Nanny of the Year, nor was she interested in taking on the job full-time. She kept saying something about needing to see her boyfriend. Half the time, Charity looked terrified to be left alone with the kids. But so far she’d kept them fed and clean, and that was more than the others had done.
On top of that, there was Libby and the constant worry about her falling behind. Third grade was a pivotal year for math skills, her teacher had said, with the kind of impending doom in her voice that suggested Libby would end up a panhandler if she didn’t grasp the basics this year. She needed a tutor and Sam needed a miracle.
Thank God Della had called yesterday and promised the perfect candidate in Colton’s little sister.
Sam liked Colton. Liked all the Barlows, in fact. He’d met Colton, half brother to Mac, Luke and Jack, at a town picnic a couple months ago. There’d been a rousing and surprisingly competitive game of cornhole, which Colton was close to winning until Sam made his final shot. The two men had laughed, then shared a couple beers and found a