# Second Chance Match

Arlene James

Single mom Jessa Lynn Pagett is grateful for the old Victorian she's fixing up.Now she can fulfill both her dreams: providing a safe home for her young son and opening a florist shop. But Garrett Willows insists he's the rightful owner of the house—and has dreams of his own for the place.With one look at her withdrawn son, the handsome man seems to know that she needs the house more. And his selfless solution will change everyone's lives…forever.

Home At Last

Single mom Jessa Lynn Pagett is grateful for the old Victorian she’s fixing up. Now she can fulfill both her dreams: providing a safe home for her young son and opening a florist shop. But Garrett Willows insists he’s the rightful owner of the house—and has dreams of his own for the place. With one look at her withdrawn son, the handsome man seems to know that she needs the house more. And his selfless solution will change everyone’s lives...forever.

Chatam House: Where three matchmaking aunts bring faith and love to life.

Jessa felt Garrett’s gaze on her as she and Hunter came downstairs.

He poured himself a cup of black coffee and carried it to the table. He smiled at Hunter. “Sleep well?”

The boy nodded and dropped his gaze to his plate. Garrett turned his blue eyes on Jessa. “He’s a quiet one.”

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

“How about you?”

She felt a bit off-balance around Garrett, which seemed understandable since he’d literally shaken her off a ladder––and into his arms––the moment they’d met. “Um, am I quiet?”

Garrett smiled again. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d slept well, too.”

“Oh. I did, yes. Thank you.”

What was it about him that made her feel as if she had to be on high alert? And how could she want to run in the opposite direction yet sit here and take in every detail about him?

The man was a puzzle. One she dared not attempt to solve.

Second Chance Match

Arlene James


www.millsandboon.co.uk

Do not be afraid, little flock, for your Father

has been pleased to give you the kingdom.

—Luke 12:32

Thanks to my editor, Melissa Endlich, for the time, the attention, the expertise and the inspiration.

God bless you, dear lady.

DAR

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Epilogue

Dear Reader

Questions for Discussion

Chapter One

The dream that had sustained Garrett Willows throughout the dark years of his life was at last about to become a reality. Turning in a wide circle, Garrett sucked in a deep breath, reveling in the sweet, clean greenness of April in Texas. He smiled at the rugged outbuildings and elegant old Victorian house that would become his home and business. Surely, God had created no more perfect of a place for him to open his plant nursery. His bright blue eyes twinkled with delight as he dropped his gaze on the older woman at his side.

“Let’s take a look inside,” his companion encouraged eagerly. Magnolia Chatam, one of triplet sisters in their mid-seventies, had long been his personal champion. Small and wizened, with her ubiquitous iron-gray braid hanging over one shoulder, she smiled up at him, her curious amber eyes sparkling. “Kent says the repairs are essentially done.”

When the Monroe house had suffered fire damage a few months ago, Kent Monroe and his granddaughter, Ellie, had moved into Chatam House, the lovely old antebellum mansion owned by Magnolia and her sisters, until the insurance could be collected and repairs made. No one had been surprised by that particular turn of events. The Chatam sisters were constantly taking in those in need of shelter. What came afterward had surprised everyone, though—and opened the door to the future for Garrett.

He nodded his inky head and, pulling the key from a pocket, let Magnolia in through the back of the house. Wordlessly, they wandered across the back parlor to a pair of doors at the end of the sizable room. According to Kent, one door would open into a short hallway that skirted the dining room, and the other would lead into the kitchen.

Choosing a door, Garrett pulled it open then drew up short. An orange metal ladder blocked the way. Assuming that the workmen had left it there, Garrett placed a hand on each of the nearest metal legs and lifted the ladder to set it aside, finding it surprisingly heavy.

“Wow,” he began, clumsily moving the thing only a couple feet. It rocked. And shrieked. Managing to crowd into the small room, Garrett glanced upward in time to see a body falling toward him in a flurry of flailing limbs. “Whoa!”

Heart hammering, Garrett threw out his arms and somehow managed to catch the fellow—or child, given the slight weight—while the ladder stuttered backward.

But what would a child be doing up on that ladder?

No, not a child, he thought, catching sight of the flushed face of a young woman. A very lovely young woman with long, wheat-brown hair tumbling over his arm.

For a stunned moment, Garrett could do nothing more than gape, taking in the triangular face with a dainty nose and big, very dark brown eyes, loosely framed by wisps of straight, golden-brown hair. The slight woman in his arms could not be called beautiful in the classical sense; her face was too unusual for that. But something more than mere shock made Garrett’s heart race. Something about that clean, almost angular face seemed both breathtakingly fresh and oddly, achingly familiar, as if he ought to know her. Yet, he was sure that they had never met.

Suddenly those deep brown eyes darkened to black, the generous lips pulled down in a frown, and a sharp elbow jabbed into his ribs as she began to struggle. Garrett swiftly set her on her feet, aware of Magnolia crowding close behind him. The tiny woman glared at him, her dark eyes sweeping over him accusingly as her dainty hands tugged at the hem of her heather-gray T-shirt. One hand crept up to smooth over the weighty mass of her hair before jerking away again. Garrett doubted that she stood as tall as five feet.

“You could’ve killed me!”

“Sorry. I—I didn’t realize anyone—”

“Who are you,” she interrupted, “and what are you doing here?”

Garrett shook his head, trying to marshal his thoughts, and belatedly stuck out his hand. “Garrett. Willows. And, um…this is my new house.”

“Your house?” She backed up, bumping into the ladder, which rocked precariously before settling once more.

“I’m moving in here and opening a plant nursery.”

Her big, dark eyes widened even further. “This is my house! I’m moving in and opening a shop. I made arrangements with the owner this morning.”

Garrett matched her frown with his. “That’s impossible. I spoke to Kent not four hours ago.”

“Kent? Who’s Kent?”

“Kent Monroe.”

The woman shook her head, catching the butterfly clip that her fall had dislodged from her hair as it flew to one side. Garrett saw for the first time that her T-shirt and baggy jeans were flecked with bits of paper.

“I made arrangements with Ellie Monroe,” she declared.

A sick feeling roiled in Garrett’s stomach. As Kent’s granddaughter, Ellie was co-owner of the house. Moreover, Kent tended to indulge Ellie. If Ellie wanted this woman to have the house, chances were that she would. Garrett felt his optimism drain away. So much for his dreams.

Taking a deep breath, Garrett traded worried looks with Magnolia, who stepped up and said sweetly, “I’m Magnolia Chatam. What’s your name, dear?”

The other woman fidgeted for a moment. Finally, she mumbled, “Jessa Lynn Pagett.”

“And when did you speak with Ellie?” Magnolia asked.

She shrugged and twisted up her hair, making a long rope of it and coiling it at the nape of her neck before securing it with the hairclip. Long, tendrils of it fell free, wafting about her face. “I don’t know exactly. Sometime between nine-fifteen and ten o’clock this morning. She had a break in her class schedule and told us to come over to the school.”

“Us?” Magnolia queried with an innocent smile.

Jessa Lynn Pagett’s dark eyes darted to one side. “My friend, Abby Stringer, my son and me.”

At first glance, she hadn’t looked old enough to be a mother, but on closer study, Garrett realized that she could be in her early twenties. He noted that she hadn’t mentioned a husband, so he did it for her. “What about your husband? Didn’t he want to be with you when you spoke to Ellie?”

“I’m divorced,” Jessa Lynn Pagett told him sharply.

More pleased by that information than he should be, Garrett shifted his gaze away and caught a speaking glance from Magnolia. He cleared his throat.

“I know Abby,” Magnolia said conversationally, shifting her attention back to Jessa. “When she retired, Ellie took her place teaching at the elementary school.”

That connection made Jessa Pagett’s story entirely credible. Sighing, Garrett pinched the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

“So you arranged to rent the place from Ellie,” he said to Jessa, “and I arranged to lease it from her grandfather, Kent. On the very same morning. Swell.”

“All I know,” Jessa declared, folding her arms, “is that my son and I are moving in here tonight and I’m opening a shop in the front room as soon as possible.”

Biting back a groan, Garrett glanced at Magnolia. She had been instrumental in convincing Kent Monroe to have the place re-zoned residential/commercial recently, with Garrett in mind. Neither of them had considered the possibility that the new zoning would attract others with similar goals to his.

“You’ve signed papers, then?” Garrett asked dully. That would definitely give Jessa Lynn Pagett precedence as Kent had suggested that Garrett could sign his lease on Friday, two days from now.

Jessa blanched, giving Garrett a glimmer of hope. “The papers weren’t drawn up yet. But Ellie said we could go ahead and stay here tonight because—” She broke off, biting her lip.

“Because you have nowhere else to go?” Magnolia surmised gently.

Jessa looked away, swallowing.

“Do you?” Garrett asked, fairly sure where Magnolia was going with this. “Do you have somewhere else to stay?”

Jessa lifted her chin. “Not exactly.”

Garrett looked to Magnolia, thinking of something that he’d heard said recently by her nephew, Asher Chatam, an attorney and the fiancé of Ellie Monroe.

“Possession,” the astute counselor had declared, “is nine-tenths of the law.”

In other words, if neither he nor Jessa had signed papers, the one actually in residence could have the upper hand.

Thankfully, Magnolia did exactly what Garrett expected her to do. “Until this is settled,” she said kindly, stroking her cleft chin, “you and your son should, perhaps, stay with my sisters and me at Chatam House.”

Jessa turned a startled gaze on the older woman. “Chatam House. That’s the mansion we passed on the way here. Abby pointed it out.”

Magnolia waved away the description. “It’s just a big old house with a great deal of room.”

A big old house with a ballroom, library, sunroom and more than a dozen bedrooms, Garrett thought wryly. It was the largest house in the entire town of Buffalo Creek, Texas, and had been since before the Civil War.

Jessa shook her head, saying to Magnolia, “We couldn’t impose on you like that.”

“No imposition at all,” Magnolia told her. “You would be entirely welcome, I assure you. We’re used to unexpected guests. We delight in them, in fact. Ellie is staying at Chatam House, you know, along with her grandfather.”

That ignited a light in Jessa Lynn Pagett’s dark eyes. “The Monroes are staying at Chatam House?”

“That’s right, and I’m sure that as soon as we get everyone together, we can settle this whole thing,” Magnolia told her, folding her gnarled hands against the waistband of her old-fashioned shirtwaist dress. “Though not tonight. I know for a fact that Ellie has a date tonight with her fiancé, my nephew, Asher.”

Jessa chewed her full lower lip, digesting this information. “I see. So, it would be for just one night?”

Magnolia smiled, saying, “That’s up to you, dear. You can stay as long as necessary. No one will mind.”

Looking around her, Jessa considered. Garrett’s gaze followed hers. Flakes of scorched, yellowed paper that she’d obviously been peeling off the wall littered every surface from the painted counters and shelves to the hardwood floors. She might be small, but she was obviously capable and had been very busy here. He found that oddly attractive. In fact, he found her oddly attractive, which was no doubt a very bad idea.

They were essentially opponents here, each claiming rights to the same property. Attraction could only get in the way. Yet, something about her called to him. Not that a woman like her would ever give a second look to someone like him.

Suddenly, what had, not many minutes before, seemed so sweetly straightforward had somehow become a tangled, confusing mess. And wasn’t that the story of his life?

Oh, Lord, he asked silently, why can’t it ever be simple with me?

Finally, Jessa Pagett nodded. “All right. I accept your invitation. We’ll try not to be any bother.”

“I’m sure you won’t be,” Magnolia replied politely, while Garrett tried mightily to believe it. “Honestly, Chatam House is the next best thing to a hotel these days.”

“Thank you for the invitation. I—I’ll have Abby drop us off later.”

Magnolia gave her hands a clap. “Lovely. My sisters and I will look forward to hosting you. And say hello to Abby for me, won’t you?” Jessa nodded stiffly. “We’ll let ourselves out now and see you later, then.” She started away, snagging Garrett by the short sleeve of his faded red T-shirt.

Blinking, he realized that he’d been staring at Jessa Lynn Pagett for some time. He cleared his throat. “Sorry about…” He waved a hand at the ladder.

Her dainty fingers fluttered nervously at her sides, then she shrugged. “Scared me, but no harm done, I guess.”

He backed away, saying, “I trust you can lock up.”

She gave him a wry smile. “I have a key.”

Slipping his from the pocket of his jeans, he held it aloft. “Me, too.”

And that about summed up the situation. They both had a claim to the place. The only question now was: Whose claim would actually prevail?

Garrett turned and followed Magnolia from the house. He carefully locked the door behind him and once more pocketed the key, his shoulders slumping.

“Now, now,” Magnolia assured him, “all will be well, never you fear.”

“I know,” he told her glumly, stooping to accept her wiry hug. “I know.”

Somehow, it would all work out. If the April afternoon no longer seemed quite as bright as it had earlier, well, it was still a far cry from the darkness of his past.

Thank You, Lord, he prayed silently, tamping down his disappointment and qualms, for bringing dear old Mags and her sisters into my and Bethany’s lives.

His younger sister, Bethany, had married another Chatam nephew, Chandler, last summer, and together they were raising a young son on their ranch outside of Stephenville, about three hours away.

Whatever happens, Garrett went on determinedly, I am blessed. Help me to remember that. Always.

He had the feeling that he was going to need reminders in the days to come.

“I should’ve known,” Jessa muttered, swiping at the hot tears that rolled down her cheeks. Closing her eyes, she turned her face upward, speaking through her teeth, “But just once couldn’t it have been easy? Please, God. How can You let this happen now? Is a safe place in this world too much to ask?”

She’d thought that she and Hunter were finally going to get their lives together, but no. That Willows guy thought this was his house. And maybe it was. Talk about your major complications.

If that wasn’t bad enough, why did he have to be so good-looking, too? The last thing she needed in her life was another handsome man, especially one with electric blue eyes—and a claim on her property. This house here on Charter Street was the perfect place for her to open her florist shop and make a home for Hunter. For a couple hours, she’d thought God had answered her prayers, only to have her hopes dashed.

“Well, what else is new?” she asked herself, scrubbing away fresh tears. It wasn’t as if God had ever really listened to her, after all.

At least she and Hunter had a place to spend the night. They’d already overstayed their welcome at Abby’s retirement complex, which restricted guests to visits no longer than four nights in a row.

Jessa shuddered to think what they’d have done without Abby, who was an old friend of her mom’s. When Jessa had finally gathered the courage to leave behind her old life and rebuild here in Buffalo Creek, Abby had not only offered temporary sanctuary, she’d come after them in her old car. She had even thought of the Monroe place for them, having seen a change of zoning notice in the local newspaper. Her personal connection with Ellie Monroe had made the idea seem heaven-sent. Jessa had reached an agreement with Ellie about leasing the place even before she’d seen inside the house, but as soon as she’d walked through the front door, a sense of well-being had come over her, a feeling of home.

So much for that.

Not that she would just roll over and give up. She’d fought fiercer battles, after all. No, she was going to stay, at least for the night, at Chatam House. With the Monroes. And find a way to plead her case. The worst that could happen was that she’d get her money back, some of it, anyway.

Sighing, she dropped her head into her hands. Oh, why, had she let herself spend hard-earned cash on ladders and such to fix up the house, a house that might not even be hers? She groaned aloud, thinking of the business license for which she’d applied that very day. Why couldn’t she have waited until the papers on the house had been signed?

The pounding of small feet on bare hardwood jerked her from her pit of regret. She rubbed her face with her hands and put on a smile just as her six-year-old son, Hunter, burst into the room from the kitchen, his shaggy, nut-brown hair flopping.

“Mommy! Abby teached me my lessons already.”

“Taught, not teached,” Jessa corrected, opening her arms. Hunter collided with her in a glancing hug. “Wasn’t that nice of Abby to take over your schooling for the day?”

“Uh-huh,” Hunter replied absently. He seemed much more interested in the bits of paper littering the place, dragging the toes of his canvas shoes through them. “It snowed.”

Jessa chuckled. “Kind of. Unfortunately, this snow won’t melt. It has to be swept up.”

Abby appeared in the doorway. She glanced around, remarking, “I see you’ve made some progress.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jessa told her glumly. Pointing Hunter toward the kitchen and the laundry room beyond, she instructed the boy to see if he could find the broom and dustpan. He ran off to do so, giving Jessa the chance to inform Abby of the mix-up with the house.

“Good grief,” Abby commented, the wrinkles in her square face deepening as she considered the situation. She ran a hand over her short, thin, salt-and-pepper hair. “What are you going to do?”

“We’ve been invited to stay at Chatam House,” Jessa said, reaching out for the broom as Hunter ran up, dragging it behind him.

“Chatam House!” Abby exclaimed. “By whom?”

“Magnolia Chatam. She said to tell you hello.”

Abby’s thin eyebrows lifted upward, creating a series of grooves in her forehead. “Magnolia is one of the Chatam triplets. We worked together on a panel for the Historical Society.”

Jessa had heard all about the Historical Society. With some three hundred buildings of historical significance in town, the society wielded a good bit of influence.

“And who is the man again,” Abby asked, “the one who says this is his house?”

That moment when Garrett Willows had caught her in his arms swept over Jessa. She’d been perched near the top of the ladder, reaching for a long strip of paper that dangled just above her head, and the next thing she’d known the ladder had rocked and she’d been falling. Then suddenly a pair of strong arms had caught her and pulled her safely against a broad, rock-hard chest. She’d felt his heart racing in tandem with hers, and though all fear had swiftly passed, she’d felt an insane urge to loop her arms around his neck. A pleased smile had hovered over her lips as she’d gazed up into his handsome face, and then she had realized that he had made her fall and her good sense had, thankfully, come rushing back. Mortified, she’d scrambled out of his arms and tried to catch her breath.

Jessa shrugged, as if he hadn’t made much of an impression on her. “Garrett something-or-other.” Abby shook her head, so Jessa went on. “Tallish.” Six feet, at least, maybe an inch or two over. “Black hair.” Thick, coal-black hair that shadowed his square jaws and made his bright blue eyes all the more piercing.

She shivered. Men that handsome always disturbed her. This one…something about this one frightened her, and it wasn’t just his claim on her home. It was more an odd sense of familiarity coupled with instant attraction.

“Hmm,” Abby mused, “could be another nephew. There are too many Chatams to shake a stick at, and not just around here, either.” She straightened. A busty woman with skinny legs, she wore a boxy shirt and shorts that displayed bony knees. “Well, it’s all for the good. After a few days at Chatam House, you and Hunter can return to me. That will give us at least a week to find another place for you.”

“In other words,” Jessa said morosely, “you think he’s going to get this place.”

Abby opened her mouth as if to deny it, but in the end, she merely sighed. Jessa figured she was right, but she pushed her hopelessness aside.

No. Not this time.

She had a verbal agreement with Ellie Monroe, entered into in good faith. Money had changed hands. Not much of it, granted, but money, nonetheless. She had invested in the place already and started scraping off the nasty, stained wallpaper in the butler’s pantry that was so perfect for her purposes. She had every right to this property, and she would not stand by while some man took their home from her and her son. Not again.

Not ever again.

Meanwhile, she would plan how best to approach this matter. Looking down at herself, she grimaced. She could start by putting her best foot forward. She hoped Abby had an iron.

As usual, the tea tray had been prepared while Garrett and the Chatam sisters attended the midweek meeting at the Downtown Bible Church that evening. Hilda, the cook, poured hot water into the silver pot before Garrett carried the tray from the kitchen. Despite the mouthwatering aroma of Hilda’s famous ginger muffins, Garrett felt in a grim mood. Jessa Pagett and her son should have arrived hours ago, but Hilda reported seeing “neither hide nor hair” of their expected guests thus far. Had she decided to stay at the house on Charter Street, after all? He didn’t suppose it mattered, in the end. She was bound to get the place if that’s what Ellie wanted.

Reaching the elegant foyer, he skirted the sweeping, marble staircase and turned into the large, antique-filled front parlor. It tickled him to see Odelia Chatam cuddled up on the settee with Kent Monroe while Mags and Hypatia pretended not to notice from the wing chairs placed around the low, piecrust table.

The Chatam sisters, maiden ladies in their mid-seventies, were as different as triplets could possibly be. Hypatia was all silver and silk, as regal as a queen. Odelia could not have been more endearing in her flamboyant costumes and oversize jewelry, her hair a soft, wild cap of white curls. Kent obviously adored her, but her many nieces and nephews didn’t call her Auntie Od for nothing. Magnolia, on the other hand, his own dear Mags, brought to mind visions of garden spades. Tough and no-nonsense in her funky galoshes and shirtwaist dresses, she possessed a heart of pure gold. As did they all.

“Here we are,” Hypatia said, turning as Garrett carried the heavy tray to the table.

“Tea is served,” Garrett announced unnecessarily, his words punctuated by the sound of the brass knocker on the front door.

“Our new guests have arrived,” Hypatia concluded, as Magnolia moved briskly toward the foyer.

“About time,” Garrett muttered. Aware that his heartbeat had sped up, he slowly straightened and turned toward the open, doublewide pocket door, parking his hands on his hips just below belt level.

Several seconds of muted conversation ensued before Magnolia reappeared with Jessa Pagett and a young boy in tow. Mags made short work of the introductions.

“Allow me to make known to you my sisters, Hypatia and Odelia. Garrett you’ve met. And this…” She waved a hand at Kent, who was even then lumbering to his feet. “Is Kent Monroe. Everyone, this is Jessa Lynn Pagett and her son, Hunter.”

Jessa had changed into crisp, dark slacks, a tailored, off-white blouse and dress shoes with tall heels. Wisps of light golden-brown hair framed her face, the mass of it having been twisted up in the back. She smiled and nodded, but he felt her wariness.

The shaggy-haired little boy with her looked to be about four years old and seemed equally curious and uneasy. His plump-cheeked face showed nothing in common with his mother’s triangular one, but his dark, troubled eyes were miniature versions of hers. In his baggy jeans and yellow plaid shirt, he looked like someone Garrett had used to know.

Himself. After his dad had died.

Garrett’s heart turned over in his chest. There were other houses, he told himself. And this would not be the first or the last time that he suffered disappointment.

Chapter Two

“Won’t you join us?” Hypatia asked from her chair, but Jessa shook her head.

“Oh, no. Thank you. We wouldn’t want to intrude, and it’s been an eventful day.” She glanced at Garrett, adding, “We’re both tired.”

A gentleman of the old school, Kent straightened his bowtie before smoothing the hang of his tweedy sport coat over his prodigious belly and clearing his throat. “My apologies, ma’am, concerning the situation on Charter Street.”

Jessa nodded and offered him a strained smile, her gaze again flitting to Garrett.

“Well, it will all be sorted soon enough,” Magnolia said, “once Ellie and Asher have a moment to get together with everyone.”

After seeing the boy, Garrett figured he knew just how it would all sort out.

“Bad timing,” Odelia opined, smiling at Jessa, “with the weddings and all.”

Garrett could almost see Jessa Pagett’s ears perk up at that.

“Weddings?” she echoed.

“Oh, my, yes,” Kent said with a chuckle. “First Asher and Ellie’s. Then ours.” Reaching down, he took Odelia’s hand in his and bent over it, so far as his prodigious belly would allow, to press a kiss to her knuckles. She chirped like a tree full of magpies. This, in turn, set her earrings aquiver, huge clumps of yellow beads to complement the layers of lemony gauze that she wore belted at her waist with a twist of gold rope.

Garrett smiled in sheer delight. They were just so happy, and why shouldn’t they be? At their ages, they had put aside the mundane cares that burdened most marriages and looked forward simply to spending the rest of their days together. Odelia was in alt over being a June bride, and Kent was in alt over her, his lost love restored to him after fifty years. Garrett envied them, but at least he enjoyed watching them make calf’s eyes at each other. He could hardly bear to be in the same room with Ellie Monroe and Asher. The two of them together made him feel…lonely. For some reason, his gaze went to Jessa Lynn Pagett, who stood staring at the toes of her shoes.

The sisters traded looks, then Magnolia said, “Well, we won’t keep you. Garrett, would you mind showing Jessa and Hunter to their rooms? Chester’s already taken their luggage up to the small suite.”

“My pleasure,” he murmured, moving toward the door.

The boy reached for the reassurance of his mother’s small hand, shrinking back as if literally frightened of Garrett. Garrett had seen that reaction before, and he did not like what it implied. Carefully, he signaled for mother and son to precede him toward the stairs.

They climbed the wide, tall spiral of gold marble and mahogany with all the enthusiasm of condemned prisoners. Following behind them, Garrett felt a bit offended on behalf of the Chatam sisters, who were the most generous Christian women he had ever met. If he could never quite bring himself to impose upon their kindness more than he must, well, that was to be expected. He was hired help around here, after all, and his gratitude for that fact would not allow him to forget it, even if his sister had married into the family.

Soon, he vowed, he would not even be a Chatam employee. One way or another, he would start his business. However, after seeing Hunter Pagett, Garrett could not in good conscience deny that boy a home.

So be it. If God meant the Monroe place for the Pagetts, then He would surely have another place for Garrett.

But when?

“Seriously?” Jessa muttered, emerging from the second bedroom to look around the sitting room. She’d expected a single bedroom with a trundle for Hunter, maybe two connected bedrooms with a bath nearby. This suite of rooms was twice the size of Abby’s apartment! If it had a kitchen, it would equal the house in which she’d grown up. She wouldn’t think of the house that Wayne had insisted on taking in the divorce. It had always meant more to him than to her.

“I beg your pardon?” Garrett Willows said.

Jessa turned, smiled wanly and waved a hand. “I—I didn’t expect this.” She glanced around once more, taking in the tasteful cream-and-cocoa décor. The furnishings were a mixture of antiques and modern comfort. A flat-screen TV hung above the fireplace, and Hunter was even now standing in front of it with his mouth hanging open. “It’s too much, frankly.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean,” Garrett conceded with a crooked smile. “And this is the small suite, meaning that it’s the smallest in the house. You have to admit, it’s much smaller than the Monroe place.”

Jessa couldn’t argue with that. “I guess I’m just a bit…bewildered.”

“Well, that makes two of us,” Garrett returned. “It’s been quite a day, frankly.”

“You can say that again,” Jessa muttered, glancing around once more.

“It’s been quite a day,” Garrett repeated a shade louder than the first time. That elicited a reluctant smile from her.

“I didn’t mean that you should literally repeat it.”

“I know.” He gave her a cheeky grin. “Couldn’t resist, though.”

A chuckle escaped her, and he gave her a genuine smile, obviously pleased to have lightened the mood.

Oh, this could be dangerous, she thought, forcing the delight from her face.

“Make yourselves comfortable,” he advised, pretending not to notice, “and don’t hesitate to ask for anything you need.”

“We’ll be fine,” she said blandly. “Thanks for the help, but don’t let us keep you.”

Apparently, he was in no mood to be dismissed, however. He narrowed his eyes and folded his arms.

“If you decide you’d like a little bedtime snack, the kitchen is downstairs at the back of the house,” he informed her. “Hilda keeps the pantry well stocked. Oh, and there’s a dumbwaiter down the hall so you don’t have to carry heavy trays up and down the stairs.”

“A dumbwaiter,” she echoed.

“I can show you how to operate it, if you want,” he offered.

“That won’t be necessary,” she replied tersely.

He shrugged. “See you in the morning, then.”

“Y-you’re staying here?” she asked. She’d been dismayed to find him in the living room with the Chatams. Clearly, he was close to them somehow, but she’d hoped that he wouldn’t be staying. She couldn’t very well plead her case in front of him, after all. It was bad enough that she’d wasted her best outfit, but now to find that she wasn’t about to be rid of him, well, it was enough to make a girl testy.

“Not here here,” he said, pointing at the floor. “I live in the carriage house.” Great. So, was he renting? Family? Freeloading? She was dying to know.

He turned to go, then abruptly spun back to face her. “Oh, um, I should point out that there is some construction going on across the landing. Odelia and Kent are reconfiguring some single rooms into a private suite of their own, but you know how it is with old houses. It takes forever to make changes. Shouldn’t disturb you too much.”

“About those weddings,” Jessa ventured quickly, stepping forward. “I’m a little confused.”

“It’s very simple,” Garrett said with a grin. “Asher Chatam and Ellie Monroe will wed on the fourth Thursday of May, and Odelia and Kent will marry on the fourth Tuesday of June.”

“I see.”

He chuckled. “I know what you’re thinking. A June bride at Odelia’s age. It tickles me every time I think about it.”

She had been surprised to find that the elderly pair were engaged to marry, but her mother had designed arrangements for more than one such wedding at a local nursing home. Jessa’s concerns, however, featured flowers—and work.

“Actually, I was just wondering what florist they’re using.” She prayed that she didn’t sound greedy, but after finding Garrett Willows in the parlor with the family and learning that he lived on the premises, she very much doubted that she would ever claim the Monroe place, let alone open a business there. Maybe she could get a temporary job with the shop lucky enough to garner a Chatam wedding, though.

Garrett snorted and shook his head. “Florist? They don’t have a florist. Both couples only became engaged a couple weeks ago and neither is willing to wait too long. That’s why the weddings will take place on weeknights. All the weekends were taken already at the church. And, of course, it being the wedding season, all the local florists are booked solid. Between you and me, more than one offered to work in the Chatams, but the ladies wouldn’t allow that.”

“Why not?” Jessa asked. Her mother had often worked in favorite customers.

“They truly would not want to risk creating hardship for others,” Garrett divulged, “but mostly they wouldn’t want anyone to think that they were taking advantage of the Chatam name. So, Magnolia will be handling the flowers.” He shrugged as if to say she’d do her best.

Jessa blinked. “Magnolia?”

“She does all the flower arranging around the house, and she’s been reading about bouquets and corsages and such. There are some wonderful books in the library, by the way, if you’re interested.”

“Thank you,” Jessa returned automatically, her heart beginning to pound. “M-maybe I could help, though. With the flowers. It just so happens that I am a florist. I—I’ve handled quite a few weddings, actually.” Three, to be precise, but she’d helped her mom with designs for many more, and this would be a great way to pay her room and board while creating local references. And just maybe she could sway the Monroes in her favor while she was at it.

Garrett tilted his head. It seemed to her that a tiny light ignited deep within those blue, blue eyes, building into an unnerving glow. “Is that a fact?” he drawled finally.

“Yes. My mother was a florist, and she trained me.”

After a moment, Jessa began to wonder what he was staring at. Then Garrett smiled and folded his arms.

“Well,” he said, grinning broadly. “Imagine that.”

Jessa wasn’t sure if that meant the Chatams would welcome her help or not, and he didn’t enlighten her. Shaking his head, he turned and left the room, leaving Jessa puzzled in his wake.

Well, at least she and Hunter had a safe place to sleep for the night and it wasn’t costing them anything—except a home and a new life.

Jessa slept surprisingly well. Hunter had a bit of trouble settling down in the strange opulence of his room, but eventually he drifted off. Exhausted herself, she’d changed into cotton pajamas and fallen into her own ostentatious bed without even brushing her teeth. Sleep had claimed her almost immediately.

She woke at first light and lay pondering the morning’s agenda as the gray dawn yellowed into day. The sound of Hunter’s small feet hitting the floor had her sitting up to peer around the brocade hangings at the front of the bed. Hunter darted through her open door, caught the bedpost with one hand and leapt up onto the mattress.

She opened her arms, smiling even as she scolded. “Careful, Hunter. This is expensive antique furniture.”

Always quiet, he burrowed into her warm embrace without comment, sighing with contentment. She loved those happy little sounds that he made; they healed the wounds in her heart that his frightened squeaks and shivers inflicted.

He tilted his head back, asking solemnly, “When do we eat?”

She laughed. “As soon as we’re dressed, we’ll go downstairs and see what we can find.” She’d bought groceries at Abby’s, but she didn’t think the Chatams would appreciate that, and she’d feel foolish offering it.

He ran away. She knew he’d stuff his pajamas into a corner of his suitcase and put on the clothing that she’d laid out the evening before.

“Your toothbrush is in here,” she called. She’d prefer that he didn’t use the bath off his bedroom for fear that he’d break something precious.

He returned mere minutes later, allowing her just enough time to change clothes and twist up her hair. After they brushed their teeth, they wandered hand-in-hand across the broad landing and down the grand staircase. It was like something out of a movie, that staircase, all gold marble and dark, glossy wood overhung by a spectacular crystal chandelier anchored to an amazing sky-blue ceiling painted with wafting feathers, ethereal clouds and sparkling sunshine. Hunter could barely walk for gazing upward.

They passed no one as they turned around the newel post and moved down a long hallway that flanked one side of the staircase, only to wind up in a bright sunroom overflowing with wicker and tropical prints. Retracing their steps, they went in the other direction and down the hall that passed by the parlor where their hostesses had gathered the previous night. This time, they found themselves in a darker back hall. The sounds of clanking pots and clinking dishes prompted Jessa to push through a tall swinging door and into the warm, redolent kitchen. Her gaze darted about the amazing room, noting delightful features: a huge fireplace, shuttered windows open to the morning sun, stainless-steel worktables and a massive range.

A large woman with straight hair cropped just below her ears turned from the stove, a spatula in hand. She wore a loose, shapeless dress of brightly flowered fabric under her apron. “The Pagetts, I reckon,” she said expressionlessly.

“Yes. He’s Hunter, and I’m Jessa.”

“Early risers,” the woman announced. “I like early risers. I’m Hilda, the cook. Chester, the houseman, is my husband, and my sister Carol’s the maid.” She waved the spatula at a small, charmingly battered table. “Take a seat. Unless you’d prefer to eat in another room. The misses breakfast next door in the sunroom or take trays upstairs.”

“This will suit us fine, if it’s no bother,” Jessa said, shepherding Hunter toward the table.

“No bother. My job’s feeding folks. There’s tea, coffee, juice and milk. Help yourselves. How do you take your eggs?”

“We’re not particular,” Jessa assured the gruff but likable cook.

They were sitting before plates of fluffy scrambled eggs, crisp bacon and plump biscuits before Jessa could taste her coffee. No sooner did she lift a fork, however, than an outside door creaked open and Garrett Willows stepped up into the room.

“Morning, Hilda. What’s for breakfast?”

“Eggs and bacon, unless you want a ham steak,” came the answer as Hilda shifted a skillet around on the stove.

Garrett clumped across the floor in heavy work boots, heading for the coffee pot. He drew up short when he realized that Jessa and Hunter were seated at the table.

“You’re up early.”

Jessa nodded and quickly forked egg into her mouth. He poured himself a cup of black coffee and carried it to the table. Pulling out the end chair, he sat and laid one forearm along the edge of the table. Lifting his cup, he sipped then smiled at Hunter.

“Sleep okay?”

Hunter nodded and dropped his gaze to his plate. Garrett turned his blue eyes on Jessa. “He’s a quiet one.”

“Yes. Yes, he is.”

“How about you?”

She felt a bit off-balance, as if he’d just shaken that ladder again. Thankfully, she wasn’t about to find herself in his arms this time. Just the memory of that warmed her cheeks. “Uh, am I quiet?”

Garrett grinned. “Actually, I was wondering if you’d slept well, too.”

“Oh! I did, yes. Thank you.”

He sipped more coffee, eyeing her over the rim of his mug, before drawling, “That makes three of us, then.”

Jessa felt her face heat, as he called to the cook, “How about you, Hilda? How did you sleep?”

“Like a two-hundred-and-fifty-pound rock,” came the acerbic reply.

Garrett laughed silently into his mug, blue eyes twinkling. Was he making fun of the woman’s weight? Even if Hilda was making fun of herself, it seemed crude for him to be so amused.

Jessa tried to ignore him by eating. Unfortunately, she couldn’t stop being supremely aware of him. Such fascination made no sense. The man was, if not her enemy, then at least her opponent. What difference did it make how handsome he was or how likable? Who cared if his eyes twinkled when he teased or how tanned and strong his hands looked? She was a fool to even notice such things, but notice she did. She just couldn’t seem to help herself, and that puzzled her.

Hilda came and dropped a plate onto the table in front of Garrett. “You didn’t say, so you get bacon.”

“Bacon suits me to a T,” he said, sending a smile up at her. “Is there honey for the biscuits?”

She snorted and waved her spatula. “Of course there’s honey for the biscuits. Right over there.”

Garrett looked in that direction then literally fluttered his long, inky eyelashes at her, imploring her with a look.

“You’ll have to do better than that,” she huffed, even as she trundled across the room for the honey pot. She plunked it down in front of him then stayed to talk about wedding cake. “I’ve been thinking of decorating Ellie’s cake with candied violets. That seems like Ellie, doesn’t it?”

Garrett nodded, cutting into a trio of over-easy eggs. “I’ve noticed that she favors purples.”

“Well, with those eyes, who wouldn’t?” Hilda said.

Jessa had noticed Ellie Monroe’s unusual coloring when they’d met. With hair a glossy slate gray and eyes like amethysts, purple would suit Ellie very well.

“We could have candied violets in the ice ring, too,” Hilda went on. “Wouldn’t that be pretty in a grape punch? And if we had some fresh violets, we could scatter them around the serving tables.”

Garrett just grunted and crammed a huge bite of egg-drenched biscuit into his mouth.

Jessa laid down her fork, mind whirling, and carefully inquired, “Where do you intend to get your flowers?”

“From the greenhouse out back,” Garrett answered off-handedly.

She gaped at him. “There’s a greenhouse?”

He nodded, gobbling bacon. “More than one, actually. We just added the second to the original.”

“A real, proper greenhouse?” Jessa pressed.

One corner of his lips hitched up in a lopsided grin. “Why don’t you be the judge?” He tucked in more food, chewed perfunctorily and said, “I can show you around when we’re done here.”

“Really?”

She hadn’t meant to sound so eager, especially when she found his company so troubling and he’d just dashed her hopes of supplying any flowers for the weddings. She loved plants, though. They offered beauty without ulterior motive, and peace came as a by-product. In fact, she never felt God’s presence more keenly than when surrounded by His leafy creations. Garrett’s willingness to afford her the opportunity surprised her, however.

He looked up from his plate, his gaze seeming to indicate that he’d read her thoughts. “I’ll be glad to show you around. I like showing off my greenhouse.”

“Your greenhouse?”

He shrugged. “As the gardener, I have free run of the place.”

She nearly dropped her fork. “You’re the gardener here?”

“Yep. What’d you think?”

She spread her hands in amazement. “I—I don’t know. Abby thought you might be a nephew.”

He straightened. “A Chatam nephew? Nope. My sister’s married to one, though. Good guy.”

“Then you are family.”

“Nope.” He hunched over his plate again. “My sister is family. I’m just hired help.”

Hilda “humphed” but said nothing. Garrett ignored her and, using his remaining biscuit, began mopping up the mess of honey, egg yolk and bacon grease on his plate.

Jessa tried to digest this information, but she couldn’t seem to make sense of it all. Family but not family, both Monroes marrying into the family, and Garrett Willows turning out to be the gardener. Plus, there was a greenhouse!

Garrett sat back with an “aahh” and patted his flat, firm middle. “Looks like I have violet pots to divide. Thankfully, we have a few weeks left to force some more blooms.” He waved a hand at Jessa’s plate, saying, “Eat up. We’re burning daylight.”

Jessa looked down, surprised that her plate remained full while Garrett’s had been cleaned. He turned his attention on Hunter, smiling. Hunter froze, glancing to her for guidance, but she didn’t know what to signal. She didn’t know what to make of Garrett Willows yet. He could be rude or kind, nefarious or an open book, a threat or a blessing. She just didn’t know what to think of him. She recalled again how easily he’d caught her when she’d fallen from the ladder, his strong arms supporting her. It had been too long, perhaps forever, since she’d felt so safe with a man, and that, above all, she must not trust. That didn’t mean she couldn’t take a tour of the greenhouse, though.

In fact, she should tour the greenhouse, she told herself, if only to get a feel for the sort of flowers that the Chatams liked best. Yes, indeed, she told herself, that was wise. It had nothing at all to do with the man next to her with the startling blue eyes.

Nothing whatsoever.

Chapter Three

Jessa gulped down the remainder of her meal, made sure that Hunter thanked Hilda and followed Garrett out the door. She found herself on a narrow, covered walkway that linked a smaller house with the mansion.

“Carriage house,” Garrett informed her with a wave of his hand. “All the staff live there.”

He was staff, she told herself silently. And family. Almost. Sort of. She still didn’t know what to make of that.

He led them past a shoulder-high hedge that flanked an expansive patio strewn with wrought-iron furniture and bright potted plants, but the greenhouse some thirty yards away captured Jessa’s full attention. She’d seen smaller airplane hangers! Built of glass panels rather than plastic sheeting, the glittering building rose from a lush green lawn artfully transected by wandering walkways of broken paving stone.

“Wow,” Jessa said, while standing in the midst of what amounted to a small forest in pots, Hunter’s hand in hers. She identified miniature fruit trees and several ornamentals, but the rest were unknown to her.

“The larger trees for outdoor plantings will come after I get the greenhouse built on Charter Street,” Garrett told her. “I mean, if I get the greenhouse built on Charter Street.”

Jessa looked at him, “You’re telling me that you want to build a similar nursery at the Monroe place?”

“Actually, I was planning to move this greenhouse there. It belongs to me. Most of it, anyway. I’ve been planning to open a retail nursery for years, and Magnolia’s been helping me by letting me expand the original greenhouse here and load it with stock. She even talked Kent into applying for the combined-use zoning because she thought the Monroe place would be a good site for me.”

Jessa winced, deflated. Well, there was the nail in the coffin of her own dreams for the place. “I was planning to open a florist shop in the front room of the house.”

He nodded. “So I gathered.” Smiling wanly, he added, “Looks like the old adage was right. Great minds do think alike.”

Unfortunately, Jessa mused, only one of those “great minds” could claim the property.

“Well, if it’s flowers you’re interested in,” he said, changing the subject, “you should take a look back here.”

Gesturing for them to follow, he led her and Hunter through the potted grove and past a well-organized work area. He pushed through a split divider of heavy plastic and into a shocking riot of color.

“Ooooh,” Hunter breathed, as intrigued by the display of blossoms as Jessa.

“Are you going to wholesale at some point?” she asked after taking it all in for a minute.

“Hadn’t planned on it. Magnolia likes flowers, so this section kind of got out of hand, if you know what I mean.”

Hunter pointed at a lush rose bush heavy with glorious orange blossoms. “That’s Grandma’s flower.”

“It is,” Jessa told him with an approving smile before explaining to Garrett, “We planted Cinnamon Glow roses on my mother’s grave before we moved here.”

“I see. Sorry for your loss. Did she pass recently?”

“Five years ago,” she replied, oddly touched.

“Almost six for my mom,” he said quietly. “Doesn’t go away, does it, the feeling of being alone in the world without her?”

“I’m not alone,” she replied, squeezing Hunter’s small hand, but Garrett was right. Knowing her mother no longer walked this earth left her feeling orphaned.

“What about your dad?” Garrett asked suddenly.

She straightened her shoulders. “I have no idea. He left us and just disappeared.”

“That’s too bad,” Garrett said. “My dad died when I was seven, but I think that might have been better.” She jerked her head around and found herself staring straight into eyes the color of the bluest sky imaginable. “I know that he didn’t want to leave us because he loved us all so much,” Garrett went on, “but that he’s well and happy in heaven with the Lord.”

“You’re right,” she told him, gulping and looking away. “That is better. I’d like to see those violets you mentioned.”

He seemed to accept the change of subject as gladly as she made it. “Over here.” He led her through tables and shelves burdened with too many plants to count. “They’re just Common Blue Violets.”

“The color is an intense purple, though,” Jessa noted, examining dozens of the small, five-petal blossoms, “and they’re very healthy.”

“I have a few not-so-healthy ones over there,” he said, pointing. “I think I can bring those around by the wedding.”

“What are you using?”

“I always go organic first.”

That started a discussion of organic treatments that carried on far longer than Jessa realized, until Hunter yanked her hand.

“What is it, honey?” She looked down to find him standing with crossed legs and a worried expression on his face. “Oh.”

Garrett, too, got the message. “Hey, the carriage house is closer. I can run him over there, if you like.”

Seeing Hunter’s distress, she almost agreed, but then she realized how close she stood to Garrett and just how long they had been lost together in conversation, and she mentally berated herself. She knew nothing of this man beyond his preferred methods of treating various garden pests and diseases. But a tiny voice in her head argued that they had more than a love of plants in common: they’d both grown up fatherless and lost their moms a few years ago, and they were both Christians.

“He can make it to our rooms. Can’t you, sweetie?”

“I’m six, not a baby,” the boy said in his little-boy voice.

“Go through the sunroom,” Garrett advised. “There’s a men’s room in the East Hall, across from the ballroom.”

“Thanks,” she said, urging Hunter forward. “For the tour, too.”

“No problem,” Garrett called after her. “You’re both welcome to poke around anytime.”

Jessa didn’t answer, mostly because she knew that she should stay away from him. She couldn’t risk liking Garrett Willows any more than she could let herself get too comfortable in a place like Chatam House. East Hall, library, ballroom, suites, greenhouses that would make commercial growers weep with joy; Chatam House had it all—including the too-handsome man who had upset all her hopes and plans.

“Skittish little thing,” Garrett muttered, watching Jessa and Hunter disappear through the divider. The long, vertical strips of heavy plastic flapped and swayed behind them as if to underscore the turmoil that they left in their wake.

He turned back to the violets, heavy of heart. Something was going on with the Pagetts, and it disturbed him plenty. Something about Jessa Lynn Pagett brought out Garrett’s protective instincts, and that, he had learned the hard way, was never a good thing. He struggled with that protective part of himself, which often led him to erroneous conclusions and impulsive actions, like the time he’d yanked Chandler Chatam out of his pickup truck and started throwing punches, believing that the man was responsible for Bethany, Garrett’s sister, being pregnant and unmarried.

He’d soon found out otherwise, of course, but not until he’d made a real idiot of himself. Thankfully, that episode in stupidity had not created an enemy of the man who was now his brother-in-law and the father of his nephew. Garrett took a moment to thank God for that, smiling to think how happy his sister and her little family were. Obviously, Jessa had not been so blessed.

For one thing, she was divorced. For another, she was clearly overprotective with the boy. Plus, something about her manner signaled that she expected to get the short end of every stick. The boy’s quietness and docility bothered Garrett, too. He’d been shocked to hear the kid say that he was six years old. Normal six-year-olds didn’t stand silently clasping their moms’ hands for the better part of an hour. None that Garret knew, anyway. Still, it wasn’t his concern.

Her business ambitions were, though. A florist shop. The Monroe place would be perfect for that. She’d have to be careful not to upset the Historical Society when she put in her shop, but that shouldn’t be too tough.

Sighing, he went to work splitting a healthy violet into two shallow pots. While he worked, he pondered the situation with Jessa and the Monroe place.

He could not, in good conscience, fight her on possession of the site. She had a son to house and a business to launch, and unless he missed his guess, she didn’t have much funding. Buffalo Creek could certainly use another florist, though, almost as much as a good plant nursery, so she should be okay. He’d tell everyone at the meeting. No point in dragging it out. They were all getting together at some point later today to go over wedding plans and decide the matter of the Monroe place. It could all be settled by nightfall.

Garrett acknowledged a sharp sense of disappointment. The Charter Street site had felt right to him. It felt like home and the future and hope all wrapped up together, but not too long ago a cardboard box would have felt that way to him. He certainly couldn’t complain about living and working here at Chatam House. Closing his eyes, he found a silent place within himself and spoke to God.

Guess I jumped the gun in regard to all this, he acknowledged. Forgive me, Lord. It wasn’t just losing the Monroe place, though. He couldn’t help feeling that he was missing out on some sort of opportunity with Jessa and Hunter, too, which was pure nonsense. At any rate, Your will is always best, he prayed on. So that’s all I’m asking, for Your will to be done in every aspect of my life. Besides, we both know You’ve gotten me through much deeper disappointments. You’ll get me through this. In the name of Jesus, thanks.

Feeling a little better, he went back to work. Wouldn’t be long, he told himself, before another place came up, one as good for his purposes as the house and lot on Charter Street. Even if the new place wasn’t as good, he’d make do and be glad. Meanwhile, Jessa would have her shop and Hunter would have a real home.

Smiling to himself, he recalled Jessa’s obvious approval of his greenhouse and plants. He saw her in his mind’s eye, her big dark eyes surveying his little domain with pleasure. The image of her face had not been far from his mind since he’d first laid eyes on it.

He wondered what she was going to do with her day. Maybe he should look in on her and Hunter later. Then again, maybe he should mind his own business.

“Ms. Pagett,” Magnolia said, pausing on the stairway beside Hypatia to acknowledge the young woman and her son.

“Oh, call me Jessa, ma’am.”

“Very well. We’ll all be on a first-name basis, then. Much easier that way.”

Hypatia bent forward slightly and spoke to the boy. “How are you this morning, Hunter?”

“Fine,” he answered softly. His mother gave his hand a waggle, and he added, “Thank you.”

Hypatia smiled. “My, you are a well-mannered young man.”

“Thank you,” he and his mother said at the same time.

Magnolia opened her mouth to ask how they’d slept, but the sound of a buzz saw had her grimacing instead. Tossing a resigned glance upward, she offered Jessa a wan smile. The screech of the buzz saw ceased, leaving abrupt silence. Magnolia offered her apologies.

“It never lasts very long. Mr. Bowen is a most considerate fellow.”

Jessa nodded as she slipped past the two older women, tugging her son behind her. “No problem. Excuse us, please. We have books waiting.”

“Did you find the library, then?” Magnolia asked, pointing to the door below, across the foyer from the front parlor.

“Not yet. I meant our lesson books, ma’am,” Jessa clarified, hurrying Hunter around the curve in the stairs.

Magnolia tilted her head at that, but Hypatia just sighed and resumed her descent. Magnolia fell in beside her sister, trying not to smile at Hypatia’s exasperation.

“What happened to hand saws?” she asked. “I’m sure they were more accurate.”

The things that upset the usually unflappable Hypatia always amused Magnolia. Every flower, tree, shrub and blade of grass on the place could die overnight, and Hypatia wouldn’t blink an eye, but forget one little rule of etiquette or upset her routine, and she groused. Politely, of course. True to form, Hypatia waited until they were safely in the sunroom and out of earshot of anyone who might be offended before she complained.

“Really. Guests while the house is undergoing construction! Not to mention planning two weddings. How are we to be proper hostesses with that racket going on and our focus consumed with getting Ellie and Asher married?”

“Most of the time, we don’t even know Mr. Bowen is around,” Magnolia pointed out.

“Nevertheless, I wish he’d get on with it,” Hypatia grumbled.

“You’re the one who told the Historical Society that we would use materials only from the period when the house was built.”

Hypatia made a face. “I’m not the one who invited the Pagetts to stay without consulting another soul, however.”

“What could I do?” Magnolia asked. “The Pagetts were obviously in dire straits.”

“And you didn’t want them moving into the Monroe house,” Hypatia surmised flatly.

“Much more difficult to evict them than host them,” Magnolia conceded.

“And are you so confident that Garrett will win the day?” Hypatia asked.

Magnolia chose not to answer that. “I’m confident that the hand of God is at work here.”

Hypatia arched an eyebrow, but Magnolia took her time settling onto the chaise longue of her choice. Spreading her dark plaid skirts around her, she lightly asked, “Do you know why Jessa Lynn Pagett wants to lease the Monroe place?”

“It’s a lovely house in which to raise a child, I imagine.”

“It’s also a great site for a florist shop,” Magnolia said. “Garrett told me last night that she’s a florist, and she herself said she was opening a shop there.”

Hypatia let that sink in. “A florist, is she? Well, well.”

“Exactly,” Magnolia said with a satisfied lift of her chin. “A florist and a gardener.”

Hypatia tapped the cleft in her chin with one gleaming fingertip. “It’s something to think about, I must say. We’ve seen matches made of less.”

Magnolia crossed her ankles and folded her hands. “Indeed. Just look at Ellie and Asher.”

“Or Chandler and Bethany.”

“Or Reeves and Anna! Not to mention…” They both laughed, eyes twinkling as they thought of Odelia and Kent coming together again after a half century apart. “So you agree with me that it’s a matter for prayer.”

“Definitely,” Hypatia said.

They smiled in perfect accord. Then Hypatia touched the pearls at her throat.

“About the meeting this afternoon,” she said. “I really can’t abide the idea of another buffet.” She was still miffed that Ellie and Asher had stood firm on a buffet for their wedding reception. Worse, Hilda agreed with them! Personally, it seemed the only sensible solution to Magnolia at this late juncture, but Hypatia would never be entirely happy about the matter. “Surely, we can hire a decent number of wait staff for the June wedding. Don’t you agree?”

Magnolia rolled her eyes. Suggest that to Odelia, and she’d be out scouring the DFW Metroplex for waiters of identical height, weight, complexion and hair color—and rainbow-hued tuxedoes to outfit them. Magnolia chuckled, wondering just how pleased Hypatia would be then.

“At least,” she said hopefully, “God has provided us with a genuine florist.”

“Ah, yes,” Hypatia agreed, nodding. “There is that.”

And, Magnolia hoped, much more.

“Very good,” Jessa praised, watching Hunter practice the last of his letters in his copybook.

“Done now, Mommy?” he asked hopefully.

They’d taken several breaks throughout the day. He’d watched his favorite program on TV and played with the tiny cars that were his personal delight. The remainder of his few toys were stuffed in a box stacked with several others in Abby’s tiny living room. Jessa wondered if she ought to move the boxes here. Chatam House certainly had more space for such things.

She shook her head. Chances were that she and Hunter would be out of here today or tomorrow. Where exactly they’d go, she didn’t know, but surely she could afford a cheap motel for a couple days until they could return to Abby’s. Then what? A knock at the sitting-room door derailed that unhappy speculation.

“Come in.”

A fortyish woman with long, lank, dark blond hair opened the door and peeked into the room. “I’m Carol, the housemaid.”

“Oh, yes. Your sister mentioned you earlier.”

Carol slipped fully into the room. Dressed in polyester pants and a cotton blouse, she did not quite meet Jessa’s image of a maid, but then the cook had worn a flowered muumuu under her apron that morning. “The misses would like you to come down to the library now, if it’s convenient. Miss Ellie and Mr. Asher have arrived.”

Jessa’s heart leapt into her throat. So the moment had come. It was sooner than she’d expected, not even 3:00 p.m. She patted Hunter’s hand comfortingly and rose from the floor in front of the coffee table where they had conducted their lessons. “We’ll be right down.”

“I’ll stay with the boy,” Carol volunteered, “if you like.”

Jessa glanced at Hunter, who gave his head the tiniest of nods. “Thank you, Carol. I’ll try not to be long.”

“Oh, don’t rush on my account,” Carol said, moving across the room to seat herself on the couch. “I like kids. Would a snack be okay? Fruit and maybe a cookie or two? Nothing to ruin the young man’s dinner.” Hunter perked up noticeably.

“That would be fine,” Jessa said with a smile, moving toward the door.

Hunter’s eyes twinkled at Jessa as she backed from the room. She knew that in many ways her little boy was not as mature as others of his age, but he possessed a quiet sense of humor rivaling that of any adult.

Taking down her hair as she traversed the landing, Jessa combed through it with her fingers and twisted it up again, expertly fixing the clip in place. She hadn’t reached the curve in the broad staircase before silky strands drifted down to waft about her face. She blew one out of her eyes with a puff of air from between her lips and wondered if she should have changed her cheap canvas tennis shoes for dressier flats. Then again, if winning the day depended upon her attire, she’d be lost before she’d begun.

The door to which Magnolia had pointed earlier now stood open, and muted voices filtered through it, along with the soft rumble of laughter. Her heart pounding, Jessa paused on the stairs to gather her courage.

Now would be the time, Lord, she found herself praying. If ever You’re going to answer my prayers, now would be the time. For my son’s sake, and in the name of Your Son, please.

Inhaling deeply, she moved on down to the foyer and crossed over to the library door. She’d seen public libraries with less to offer. Bookshelves lined every wall, and a long, interesting table, surrounded by chairs, occupied the center of the densely carpeted floor, with a number of people standing and sitting around it. Hilda dropped into a chair, obviously having just placed an ornate silver tea service on the table. Heads turned in Jessa’s direction, but before she could speak, she felt a presence at her back.

“Hello, everyone,” Garrett called out cheerfully.

A light touch near her waist literally propelled her into the room. Kent Monroe came to his feet, Odelia clinging to his hand. For a moment, Jessa couldn’t tear her eyes from the woman, who wore an aqua turban, chandelier earrings hung with multicolored stones, and a shocking pink caftan trimmed with rainbow fringe.

“We’re meeting early today,” Garrett said to no one in particular.

A slender man in an expensive suit turned from a private conversation with Ellie Monroe and smiled. A rosy gray painted the temples of his chestnut hair and called attention to his glittering amber eyes. If they were not enough to mark him as a Chatam, the cleft chin certainly was.

“It’s an early release day at the school,” he said. He came around the end of the table, his hand outstretched. “Ms. Pagett, I presume. I’m Asher Chatam.”

Jessa shook his hand, and said, “Nice to meet you.”

Ellie came to offer an apologetic hug. “Jessa, I’m so sorry about what’s happened. I had no idea Grandpa had spoken to Garrett about the house.”

“We’ll sort it out, sweetheart,” Asher told Ellie, sliding his arm around her to cup his hand over her shoulder. She wrapped her arm around his waist, smiling up at him as if he’d hung the moon.

Jessa felt a stab of envy. She’d seen that look before. In her wedding photos. Unfortunately it hadn’t lasted a month.

At Hypatia’s urging, they all gathered around the table, the Chatam triplets, Kent and Ellie Monroe, Asher, the cook Hilda, Garrett and Jessa. After pulling out a chair for Jessa, Garrett managed to find himself a seat opposite her next to Magnolia. Asher took the spot at the head of the table, Ellie on his right, while Kent remained at the foot with Odelia next to him.

Hypatia began passing out tea, starting with Jessa.

“Thank you,” she began, “but—”

Garrett cleared his throat loudly then declared, “This is nice. One benefit of meeting early. A cup of tea is always nice. Especially around here.”

Jessa blinked. Had he just sent her a message? She caught the expectant expression on Hypatia Chatam’s face, took the hint and reached for the teacup. Eyeing the three sugar cubes on the accompanying saucer, Jessa carefully amended her comment.

“I—I really don’t need sugar.”

Smiling, Hypatia quickly switched saucers, confiding, “I take my own tea black, but nearly everyone else sweetens theirs.”

“Some of us more than others,” Kent acknowledged, plunking four of the cubes into his own cup and then reaching for a small plate of finger sandwiches.

Jessa carefully tasted the tea and found it surprisingly pleasant. Hypatia’s demeanor told her that she’d just passed a kind of test. Jessa glanced at Garrett with gratitude in her eyes. He acknowledged it with a slight dip of his head, and she quickly looked away again.

Oh, it would not do to like him. Gratitude was one thing, but liking was something else altogether, the first step on a dangerous path that could only lead to heartbreak. He was her adversary, not her friend. If only he weren’t so breathtakingly handsome....

Chapter Four

“So,” Asher Chatam said, effortlessly taking command of the meeting, “here’s what I gather so far. Ellie spoke with Jessa at the school about nine-thirty yesterday morning, Wednesday. They made an agreement for Jessa to lease the house on Charter Street and Ellie received a check, which she has not deposited.”

“Yes,” Ellie said.

“Ellie then told Jessa that she could go ahead and move into the house.” He looked pointedly to Ellie, adding, “Even though I hadn’t yet had a chance to draw up papers.” Ellie gave a little shrug, smiling wanly. Clearly, Jessa noted, she was not troubled by his thinly veiled scold.

“At about the same time as Ellie was talking to Jessa,” Asher went on, “Kent spoke to Garrett here at Chatam House about a lease/purchase agreement. They agreed on a monthly consideration, and funds were deposited with Kent to seal the deal.”

“Uh, no,” Garrett interrupted. “That’s not correct. No money changed hands on our end.”

Kent cleared his throat, and Magnolia sighed. “Actually,” she muttered, “money did change hands, so to speak.”

“She had the money transferred into my bank account,” Kent clarified.

Garrett closed his eyes and shook his head. “And you were going to tell me this when?”

“When you needed to know,” Magnolia answered primly.

He clamped his jaw, looking away. An uncomfortable silence ensued, broken moments later by Asher. “Well,” he said, “there you have it. One property. Two legally identical transactions.”

“Quite the coincidence,” Jessa mumbled.

“Oh, my dear,” Hypatia said with a chuckle that proved the acuity of her hearing, “we don’t believe in coincidences around here, not for God’s children.”

“Indeed, not,” Magnolia commented.

“A coincidence is just God at work,” Odelia tittered.

“That’s good,” Asher said, “because we’re going to need some divine guidance to resolve this. Unless....” He looked from Garrett, who appeared to be brooding, to Jessa who, admittedly, was doing a bit of the same. Unless what? she wondered, but before she could ask for clarification, Magnolia spoke up again.

“I propose that we put this issue aside until after Ellie and Asher’s wedding.” Jessa bit her lip in dismay, but Magnolia hurried on. “Of course, Jessa and Hunter will remain here with us as our guests in the meantime.”

“But the wedding’s a month away, isn’t it?” Jessa spoke up quickly. “We couldn’t impose that long.”

“It’s no imposition,” Magnolia insisted, sitting forward. “More like a blessing.” She glanced around the table, adding pointedly, “Jessa just happens to be a florist.”

“That’s true,” Ellie chimed in, “and I admit that when she told me about wanting to open her own shop at the house on Charter Street, I immediately thought about asking her to help out with the wedding.” She looked to Jessa, saying, “I meant to let you get settled first.”

“Well, I’m happy to be of assistance, of course,” Jessa said, brightening, “especially if it will help cover our room and board here.”

“Now, now,” Hypatia interrupted. “None of that. Our guests do not worry about room and board. We will pay you for your help, of course.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Asher commented, sitting back in his chair.

“Me, too!” Ellie declared.

Jessa beamed. This could all work out in her favor, after all. She already had most of the material she would need, other than the flowers, and she could find many of those in the greenhouse. More importantly, if she did a good job for them, Ellie and Asher just might start to argue on her behalf in regard to the Monroe place. Staying here wasn’t the same as Hunter and her having their own home, of course, but it wasn’t exactly slumming, either, and they wouldn’t have to impose on Abby, at least not for a good while.

“Now that that’s settled,” Hilda said, “could we finalize the menu? This May wedding isn’t exactly a small family affair. Not that there’s any such thing with the Chatams.”

Conversation shifted to food and then to the guest list, which was considerable. Finally, Hilda rose to depart, saying that she had to start dinner.

“And I have another meeting,” Asher said apologetically, already on his feet.

“Thanks for working around my schedule,” Ellie told him, turning her face up to receive his kiss.

“I’m happy to work around your schedule, sweetheart,” he told her.

They murmured between themselves for several seconds before he left the room. Jessa tried not to watch, only to have her gaze land on Garrett. He seemed troubled, caught in his own thoughts, until Asher left, at which point he roused himself and turned to Ellie.

“About the violets…”

“I think they’ll be perfect on the cake,” she gushed. “Don’t you?”

“Those are candied violets,” Garrett pointed out. “That’s not my department, but I have several dozen potted violets that we can use for decoration. I’m just not sure they’ll be enough to strike a real theme, you know?”

“I think you’re right,” Jessa interjected quickly. “I suggest going with mixed bouquets with as many purples as we can find.”

Ellie clapped her hands. “Excellent. Why don’t you meet with Garrett and figure out what we can use, then maybe put together something I can look at?”

“I’ve already seen the greenhouse, so I can go ahead and draw up some designs,” Jessa told her.

“What a blessing you are!” Ellie exclaimed, coming around the table to hug her again. “And after all the mix-up, too! Don’t you worry, though, it’ll all work out. Right, Garrett?”

“Right.” He nodded, smiling wanly. “Wedding, property issues, all of it.”

Beaming, Ellie danced away, her hopes and dreams secure. Jessa wished that she could be so sure about her own life, but she had never been among the blessed, not like these people.

No matter. Things had been worse, much worse. Maybe her life wasn’t what she’d hoped it would be at this moment, but it was a far cry from what it had been, and her son would never, never again, live with fear. She would uphold that vow, whatever it took.

Right now, that would have to be enough.

As Jessa excused herself and hurried from the room, Garrett looked around for Magnolia. Knowing that she would be eager to avoid him, he didn’t bother looking in her chair. He found her speaking to Odelia and Kent. She skirted the balding, portly old gent, making a beeline for Ellie.

Garrett trailed her, arriving in time to hear Ellie say, “I think you’re right. I’m sure she’ll be a great help. Frankly, I’m a little concerned about the boy, though.”

“What about the boy?” Garrett couldn’t help asking.

“Well, Jessa’s homeschooling,” Ellie said, “and while I’m not against homeschooling on principle, I do wonder if Hunter is being socialized enough. He seems unusually timid and quiet.”

Given Ellie’s occupation as a kindergarten teacher, Garrett wasn’t surprised at her conclusion. He’d made a similar judgment himself earlier, but something compelled him to defend the boy.

“That might not have anything to do with his schooling. He could just be naturally shy.”

“That’s true,” Ellie conceded, “but he would still need large-group experience to help him overcome his natural tendency to fade into the background.”

“Couldn’t he get that, say, at church?” Garrett pressed.

“Possibly.”

“He’s certainly well-mannered,” Magnolia observed, “but he does stick close to his mother. You don’t suppose he was bullied in the past, do you? I’ve heard of that happening to quiet children.”

Bullied, Garrett thought, his heart sinking, or, more likely, abused. He fervently hoped that was not the case, but he’d already recognized the signs. Maybe he’d find out the truth while he and Jessa worked on the flowers for the wedding.

He certainly didn’t mind the idea of working with her. She seemed to have a good eye and even if her skills turned out to be only mediocre, they would be better than his or Magnolia’s when it came to bouquets and such. Besides, he didn’t exactly find her repulsive. Prickly, yes, but somehow that only added to her appeal. That didn’t really explain why he’d kept his mouth shut about backing out of his deal with Kent, though.

He’d intended to do it, and Asher had clearly expected it of him or Jessa. In his defense, Garrett had been momentarily blindsided by Magnolia’s admission concerning the money. When they’d talked, Kent had detailed the kind of investment that would be expected in order to finalize the deal, but he hadn’t asked for the money then. Garrett had assumed that it would be expected at the signing of the papers. He’d never dreamed that Magnolia would take it upon herself to pay the funds herself. That reminded him why he was standing there.

Tugging at her sleeve, he cleared his throat. “I need a word with you, please.”

Ellie split an amused look between them. “I promised to spend a few minutes with Grandpa,” she said, pirouetting off in Kent’s direction. “You’d think we were never going to see each other again after I move into Asher’s house.”

“Now, Garrett,” Magnolia began immediately.

“It was very generous of you to give Kent cash out of your own account, but you know I can’t accept your money,” Garrett said.

“I only wanted—”

“I have money,” he went on firmly, “and I would have paid Kent what he needed when we signed the papers.”

“But I have so much more than—”

“It goes back into your account, Magnolia. Every penny.”

“Why do you have to be so stubborn?” she grumbled.

Grinning, he bent and smacked a kiss on her leathery cheek. “Why do you?”

She folded her arms, fighting a smile. Garrett left her there, wondering yet again why he hadn’t just ended the whole debacle earlier by dropping his claim to the Charter Street site. As he hurried back to his duties, Garrett admitted the truth. He didn’t drop his claim because then Jessa Lynn Pagett and her too-quiet son would leave Chatam House for good. Before he knew them better. Before he knew her better. Before he knew the truth about them.

Before he knew why he couldn’t stop thinking about her or looking forward to their next encounter.

Garrett stayed busy that evening. He ignored Magnolia’s summons to the dinner table, knowing that if he let her turn him up sweet now, she’d harass him about accepting her money. Instead, he made a little space in the greenhouse by moving some of the topiaries outside to the patio, something he should have done a week or so earlier. After that, he gathered up all of the containers scattered around the building. After a late supper in the kitchen, he stopped by the family parlor in hopes of arranging to meet with Jessa and Magnolia the next day.

Jessa was nowhere to be seen, however. She and Hunter had declined to join the family for dinner, too. Garrett told himself that they were not avoiding him, just still settling in, but then Hilda reported the next morning that not only had they elected to take dinner in their suite the night before, but also breakfast. Garrett nursed a secret emotional bruise while demolishing a bowl of Hilda’s grits with stewed pears, then headed out to the greenhouse to seek out every purple flower he could find and some ferns he’d had in mind.

The instant he stepped through the door, he knew someone was there. Glancing around, he eased through the front space and into the next, slipping through the heavy plastic curtain. Surprised at whom he found there among the flowers, he took a moment to make certain that his voice remained calm and level.

“Hello.”

The boy whirled away from the rose bush to face Garrett, tension in every line of the small body inside his oversize clothes. “I didn’t touch it,” he said.

“Okay.” Hunter’s hands trembled at his sides, so Garrett casually bent to shift a container and clear the pathway a bit. “It won’t hurt if you touch it, though. Just be careful you don’t get scratched by a thorn. That variety has some big ones.”

“It does?”

He heard the curiosity in the boy’s voice and smiled to himself. “Yeah, it does. Check it out.” Moving closer, Garrett carefully parted the heavy, rust-colored blossoms. “See? That’s a nasty thorn right there.”