“Miss Maggie?” A small voice interrupted her thoughts.
Skylar and Ruthy stood at the bottom of her steps with Mrs. Rowe not far behind.
Maggie closed the Bible and set it on the bench next to her. “Hi, girls. To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing your beautiful faces?”
Mrs. Rowe nodded to them.
Skylar took Ruthy’s hand and helped her up the steps. Ruthy shoved a bouquet of wildflowers and dandelions toward Maggie.
Skylar smiled. “We came to thank you for saving Daddy’s life.”
Ruthy nodded solemnly. “I love him.”
Maggie leaned forward and accepted the flowers. “I’m glad I could help. How’s your dad doing?”
Ruthy finally offered a smile as she whispered, “He’s singing.”
Skylar patted Maggie’s knee. “That means he’s really good. Daddy likes to sing. It’s his favorite thing in the world.”
“I’m so glad to hear that. Do you girls want to come inside and help me find a vase?”
Skylar was at the door before Maggie got up from her seat. “You always smell like cinnamon.”
“Thanks.” Maggie grimaced at Mrs. Rowe. “I think.”
Mrs. Rowe yawned. She wore the same outfit she had on yesterday, meaning she had yet to be back home since the bee-sting incident and probably needed a break.
Maggie offered her hand to Ruthy, who shyly took it. “Diane, you can head home. Let Kellen know I have the girls entertained here and he can give a call whenever he feels up to having them come back home. They’re welcome here all day if he’d like to rest. Let him know that, okay?”
Diane Rowe mouthed Thank you and headed back toward the cottage.
Maggie continued into the kitchen and helped both the girls into aprons, folding the fabric over and tying the waist part under their armpits just like the way her mother used to do with her. “Who wants to help me make some brownies?”
“I do!”
“Me!”
“Know what, Miss Maggie?”
Maggie smiled down at Skylar, smoothing her hand over the girl’s hair. “What, sweetheart?”
“We picked the kittens we’re going to keep. A black one and an orange one.”
“The black one had white paws!” Ruthy chimed in.
Skylar nodded. “We’re naming them Pete and Repeat. Isn’t that silly?”
Maggie laughed along with them and promised to visit the kitties soon. “Now, let’s have some fun.” Maggie handed out spoons and cranked the volume on the local Christian radio station to high. Both girls started singing along. Their smiles were infectious.
If Maggie was going to get kicked out of the inn by their father anyway, she could still make a few fun memories with the two sweet little girls. Her eviction wasn’t their fault. All they knew was that their daddy could have died last night. Maggie would do whatever she could to erase the memory of their fear. Brownies were a good start.
* * *
Kellen winced on the way over to the inn.
He’d forgotten how sore an EpiPen shot could make his leg. The bruise it left was nothing short of impressive. Besides the soreness, he felt fine, though, so he needed to continue with getting things in order before Skylar started school on Monday. Mrs. Rowe had offered to watch Ruthy during the workday for the next month until he was settled and could decide if she’d stay around the inn with Kellen during the day or if he’d sign her up for formal day care.
First on the list, he needed to assess the business at the West Oaks Inn. Kellen didn’t want to. Not after Maggie had been so great last night. She’d stayed with him at the hospital. Refilled his water jug whenever it got down to the halfway mark and gone on a mission to find him trail mix from a vending machine located on a different level of the hospital. She’d seemed to thrive off of taking care of someone.
Or she was doing her best to get on his good side now that she knew he owned the mansion.
He almost wished he hadn’t told her. It would have been useful to study her a little longer and be able to decide if she was out to get something from his aunt or if she was what she appeared to be—a caring and passionate person who enjoyed serving others.
Kellen would probably never get to know the honest answer now. What did it matter? His track record at assessing people’s characters wasn’t all that great to begin with. Why start trying now?
He couldn’t put off seeing the ledgers and making choices concerning the inn any longer. He had to plan the best moves to provide for his family. If the inn was working in an efficient manner as he hoped, he could leave it be.
If her reaction to him gutting Ida’s home was any indication, change and Maggie didn’t go well together. He hoped the bed-and-breakfast worked like a well-oiled machine. If not, he’d have to make some changes whether or not Maggie West approved.
Back when his friend had offered him the restaurant-manager position at Casa Bonita as a favor, Kellen didn’t know how he would handle the pressure of such a different job. Lead guitar and singer of a rock band versus managing a five-star restaurant—talk about different worlds. But then, it hadn’t been such a stretch in retrospect. Long hours. Late nights. Lots of time on his feet.
During the Snaggletooth Lions’ early days, Kellen had been the one to schedule their tours, meet with marketing professionals and interview agents. Managing was already like second nature to him by the time he left the band. Good thing his friend had believed in him enough to hand over Casa Bonita. How would he have provided for his daughters if that job hadn’t fallen into his lap?
Kellen ran his hand through his hair.
God had provided. All along, even when Kellen wasn’t being faithful—God was there. Just as He was now. God had worked through Ida to provide a new life for his girls and him. A way out of the busy existence that had become the norm in LA. In Goose Harbor he’d have more time with the girls. He didn’t want them to be in day care eleven hours a day ever again.
As he neared, music filtered out the open kitchen windows with his girls’ laughter sprinkled in for good measure.
He tapped on the back door and waited for an answer. They couldn’t hear him. Kellen cracked open the door and couldn’t help the grin on his face.
Maggie, Skylar and Ruthy danced around the kitchen singing into spatulas. The kitchen looked as though a cookie factory had exploded inside it—mid mixing. Flour painted every surface, and chocolate chips littered the large island counter.
He loved seeing his daughters having a good time, but who paid for the flour and sugar and eggs that had been spilled everywhere? Perhaps he was mean-hearted to think about the bottom line, as Maggie had alluded to the other day. But was the waste Maggie’s goods or was she used to Ida footing the bill on everything and didn’t care what got spilled?
“Daddy!” Skylar spotted him first.
Maggie blushed profusely and set down her spatula. “I said just to call when you were ready for them.”
“I don’t have your number.” He hollered over the music. Kellen eyed the radio.
Maggie read his mind and turned the music down. “The number to the inn is on the internet. You could have looked it up.”
“I came to see the office.”
Skylar flashed a toothy grin. “We’re