“You’re not going to panic, that’s the first thing.” He rested his hand on her shoulder, stroking lightly. The funeral service had been huge, with every member of Paseo del Real’s fire department present while neighboring towns had covered in case an emergency occurred. Representatives from half the fire departments in the state and many from across the country had shown up. Police had been out in full force, so had many members of the community. Through it all, Janice had been a chin-up trouper. Her kids, too, considering their ages. Now she was falling apart. Logan was glad he was here to catch some of the pieces. “Then you’re going to go through your bank records. Chances are good you’ll find this is all a mistake. Meanwhile, the emergency fund will tide you over with whatever you and the kids need in order to get by.”
Her body shuddered beneath his hand. Vulnerable. Needing support. He tried not to think about how much he’d like to be the one she needed. Knowing what he did, he couldn’t be that man. Not for the long haul.
“I’ve been trying to sort through the records, but it’s like a maze. He had a half-dozen checking accounts. Some of them are closed, the others don’t show any balance at all. And I had no idea how many credit cards we had. It’s as though someone was handing them out like candy, and Ray accepted every offer that came his way.”
“Look, I don’t mean to butt in, but if you want me to, I’ll help you check through the records. Maybe together we can straighten this out.” Although he had the niggling feeling that whatever they found out wouldn’t be good news for Janice. Closed accounts and too many credit cards were a bad sign.
“I’ve been such a fool.” Her voice caught. “On all those talk shows, they warn you that a wife ought to know what’s going on financially. But Ray didn’t—” She fingered a grocery store flyer that had been delivered with the letter. “He didn’t think I was the smartest fish in the pond. He said he’d take care of everything.”
Resisting the urge to bunch his hands into fists, Logan wrapped his arm around her. Her hair smelled of a floral scent, like wild blossoms on a spring hillside. Fresh and invigorating. Elemental. So feminine it made him ache for her.
Damn it! She deserved better than to have been kept in the dark about the family finances. She deserved more than to be told she was dumb. She deserved somebody who would value her as the incredible woman that she was.
“Don’t throw in the towel yet, Jan. There’s still the state benefits, and the city provides something.”
She inhaled a shuddering breath. “I know. It’s just that—”
From across the street, two children came running, Janice’s son Kevin in the lead with five-year-old Maddie bringing up the rear.
“What are you doing to my mom?” Kevin demanded.
Janice broke away from Logan as though she’d been goosed. “Kevin, you remember Logan Strong, he rode on the ladder truck with your father.”
Kevin glared at Logan as if he’d committed some mortal sin—something that wasn’t ever going to happen, Logan reminded himself. At least not between him and Janice.
“Hey, Kevin,” he said. “How’s it going?”
The nine-year-old eyed him suspiciously. “My dad was a hero.”
“Yep,” Logan agreed. “That’s what they say.”
The chip on the boy’s shoulder was about ten feet high. “I’m gonna be a hero, too.”
“Good for you, son. I’m sure—”
“I’m not your son!”
Properly chastised, Logan agreed. “You’re right. But if you were, I’d be darn proud of you.”
The boy did a double take. “You would?”
“Sure. You take care of your mom, and your little sister, too. That’s pretty impressive for a nine-year-old kid.”
The youngster lifted his shoulders in a shrug that wasn’t all that uncaring. “I’ll do better when I’m grown up.”
Logan suppressed a smile. “I’m sure you will.”
Arriving at full speed, Maddie lunged into her mother’s lap. “Kevin cheated. He got a head start on me.”
Automatically, Janice stroked her daughter’s crop of dark, flyaway hair. “Look what Mr. Strong did for us. He hung the screen door.”
“My dad was gonna do that.” Curious, Kevin opened the screen. “He’s real good at stuff like this.”
“He had some nice tools,” Logan said. “The door still needs a spring and a latch. You could help me with the rest of the job.”
The boy glanced at his mother for guidance.
Maddie popped to her feet. “I’ll help you.”
Before Logan could respond, Janice said, “If you let these two minxes help, it’ll be another year before the job’s finished.”
“It shouldn’t take too long. We just have to install a screw eye, fix the latch plate and we’ll be all set.”
Janice looked at him skeptically. “You haven’t been around children much, have you?”
“I’ve got a couple of nephews but they live in Merced.”
“Well…” Smiling, she rose to her feet, the mail still in her hand. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
Two hours later, Logan discovered he should have listened to Janice’s warning. The kids had argued over every step, little sister insisting she was big enough to use a drill, big brother insisting she wasn’t, and Logan scared one or the other of them would ram the drill right through his palm while he was guiding their small hands. That didn’t begin to cover his concerns about them using a chisel and hammer.
Finally he sent them both into the house to announce that the job was finished, and he put the tools away.
Janice appeared on the other side of the screen door. She’d changed into a clean pair of shorts and it looked like she’d done something with her hair, the natural curl softer now. More touchable.
“You must have the patience of a saint.”
“If I do, it’s the only thing saintly about me.” Certainly his thoughts were anything but holy when it came to Janice.
“We’re having tacos and refried beans for dinner. It’s not much in the way of a thank-you, but will you stay?”
“I probably ought to get going,” he hedged.
“I was hoping after dinner, when the kids are in bed and we can get a little quiet around here, you’d help me make sense of Ray’s record-keeping. But if you have something to do—”
“No. Nothing important.” He only had an empty house to go home to, no one waiting for him on the porch that overlooked the small fishing lake in the foothills of the coastal range, an hour’s drive from Paseo del Real. His hideaway, his family called it. That wasn’t far from the truth.
JANICE COULD BARELY remember the last time she’d served a man his dinner. Not that tacos and beans at the kitchen table qualified as anything special. But with Ray’s shift work, and then his second job, he’d been little more than a shadow member of the family, the most obvious sign he’d been home a new heap of dirty clothes in the hamper.
How long had she been living like that, more housekeeper than wife? And why, she wondered with a pang of guilt, was her grief colored with an edge of relief that Ray was gone?
Setting aside her troubling thoughts, she served up four plates and carried them to the table.
“You