Adam followed Clare down the steps.

Her head was bent as she navigated the narrow stairs, exposing the delicate nape of her neck. It made her seem vulnerable. And fragile. And awakened a protective instinct in him. He’d experienced a similar feeling about his late wife. But it had been long absent from his life. Nor did it make any sense now.

For so many years, the only woman in his life had been his daughter, Nicole. Worrying about her had consumed his thoughts and energies. He’d rarely given any other female more than a passing glance.

Now Clare would be living in his backyard. As she’d noted, it was a business arrangement, nothing more. And he would do well to remember that. Even if he was inclined to consider her in a more personal light, it would be a mistake. It was a mistake he’d made once before, and he didn’t intend to repeat it. It wouldn’t be fair to any woman.

Because he just wasn’t husband material….

IRENE HANNON

is an award-winning author who has been a writer for as long as she can remember. She “officially” launched her career at the age of ten, when she was one of the winners in a “complete-the-story” contest conducted by a national children’s magazine. More recently, Irene won the coveted RITA® Award for her 2002 Love Inspired book Never Say Goodbye. Irene, who spent many years in an executive corporate communications position with a Fortune 500 company, now devotes herself full-time to her writing career. In her “spare” time, she enjoys performing in community musical theater productions, singing in the church choir, gardening, cooking and spending time with family and friends. She and her husband, Tom—whom she describes as “my own romantic hero”—make their home in Missouri.

Gift from the Heart
Irene Hannon

For You have tested us, O God! You have tried us as silver is tried by fire; You have brought us into a snare; You laid a heavy burden on our back. You let men ride over our heads; we went through fire and water, but You have led us out to refreshment.

—Psalms 66:10–12

To my wonderful husband, Tom, who supported my decision to leave the corporate world and follow my dream. Thank you—always—for your gifts of love and encouragement.

Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Epilogue

Letter to Reader

Prologue

Clare Randall drew a shaky breath and reached up with trembling fingers to tuck a stray strand of honey-gold hair back into her elegant chignon. With a sigh, she transferred her gaze from the brilliant St. Louis late-October sky outside the window to the interior of the legal offices of Mitchell and Montgomery. Normally, the hushed, elegant setting would have calmed her. As it was, the tranquil ambiance created by the dove-gray carpeting, rich mahogany wainscoting and subdued lighting did little to settle her turbulent emotions.

Still, she couldn’t help noticing that Seth Mitchell, Aunt Jo’s attorney, had good taste. Or at least his decorator did. The Lladro figurine displayed on a lighted shelf was exquisite, the Waterford bowl beside it stunning. Yet the beautiful items left her feeling only sad and melancholy, for they reminded her of another time, another life, when her world had been filled with such expensive objects. A life that now seemed only a distant memory as she struggled just to eke out a living.

Suddenly the door to the inner office opened, and three heads swiveled in unison toward the attorney.

Please, Lord, let this be the answer to my prayers! Clare pleaded in fervent silence as her fingers tightened convulsively on the tissue in her lap.

But the distinguished, gray-haired man who paused on the threshold didn’t appear to be in any hurry to disclose the contents of Jo Warren’s last will and testament as he gave each of her great-nieces a slow, discerning appraisal.

Clare wondered how they fared as she, too, turned to contemplate her sisters. A.J., the youngest, was tall and lean, with long, naturally curly strawberry-blond hair too unruly to be tamed even by strategically placed combs. Her calf-length skirt and long tunic top, cinched at the waist with an unusual metal belt, were somewhat eclectic, but the attire suited her free-spirited personality. She seemed curious and interested as she gazed back at Seth Mitchell.

Clare looked toward Morgan. Her middle sister wore her dark copper-colored hair in a sleek, shoulder-length style, and her chic business attire screamed big city and success. She was looking at the attorney with a bored, impatient, let’s-get-on-with-this-because-I-have-better-things-to-do look.

And how did Seth Mitchell view her? Clare wondered, as she turned back to him. Did he see the deep, lingering sadness in the depths of her eyes? Or did he only notice her designer suit and Gucci purse—remnants of a life that had vanished one fateful day two years ago.

She had no time to ponder those questions, because suddenly her great-aunt’s attorney moved toward them. “Good morning, ladies. I’m Seth Mitchell. I recognize you from Jo’s description—A.J., Morgan, Clare,” he said, correctly identifying the sisters as he extended his hand to each in turn. “Please accept my condolences on the loss of your aunt. She was a great lady.”

They murmured polite responses, and he motioned toward his office. “If you’re ready, we can proceed with the reading of the will.”

Clare paused to reach for her purse, glancing at her sisters as they passed by. Morgan was looking at her watch, clearly anxious to get to the airport in plenty of time for her flight back to Boston and the high-stakes advertising world she inhabited. A.J. had slowed her step to take another look at the flame-red maples outside the window.

Clare shook her head and an affectionate smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. No two sisters could be more different. A.J. always took time to smell the flowers; Morgan didn’t even notice them. And their personalities had clashed in other ways, too. As the oldest, Clare had spent much of her youth acting as mediator between the two of them. Yet the three sisters shared an enduring bond, one that had only been strengthened as they’d clung together through A.J.’s tragedy.

And her own.

As Clare followed her sisters into the attorney’s office, her spirits nosedived. The past two years had tested her faith—and her finances—to the breaking point. Her work as a substitute teacher barely kept her solvent, and loneliness—especially during the endless, dark nights when sleep was elusive—was her constant companion. With A.J. living in Chicago, Morgan in Boston and Clare in Kansas City, their contact was largely confined to periodic telephone chats. Which was better than nothing. But not enough. For the past couple of days, as they’d come together to mourn and pay tribute to their great-aunt, Clare had felt a sense of comfort, of love, of warmth that had long been absent from her life. She would miss them when they all returned to their own lives.

Tears pricked her eyelids again, and she blinked them back fiercely, fighting to maintain control. Crying didn’t help anything. It was just a selfish exercise in self-indulgence. Especially when she had no one to blame for her situation except herself. Focus on the present, she told herself resolutely as she took a steadying breath. Just concentrate on what Aunt Jo’s attorney has to say and put regrets aside for a few minutes.

Seth Mitchell waited until the three women were seated, then picked up a hefty document. “I’ll give each of you a copy of your great-aunt’s will to take with you, so I don’t think there’s any reason to go through this whole document now. A lot of it is legalese, and there are some charitable bequests that you can review at your leisure. I thought we could restrict the formal reading to the section that affects each of you directly, if that’s agreeable.”

Morgan quickly replied in the affirmative, making it clear that she was in a hurry. Then, as if realizing she may have overstepped, she sent her older sister a questioning look. Clare nodded her assent, struck as always by Morgan’s focus on her job. Clare had enjoyed her teaching career, but she hadn’t built her life around it. Nor had A.J. put success—in a worldly sense—at the top of her priority list. Clare wasn’t sure why Morgan had become so focused on making the big bucks. But maybe she should take a lesson from her middle sister, she acknowledged with a sigh. Because she could use some big bucks about now. Or even some small bucks, for that matter. That’s why Aunt Jo’s bequest seemed the answer to a prayer.

As Seth flipped through the document to a marked page and began to read, Clare forced herself to pay attention.

“Insofar as I have no living relatives other than my three great-nieces—the daughters of my sole nephew, Jonathan Williams, now deceased—I bequeath the bulk of my estate to them in the following manner and with the following stipulations and conditions.

“To Abigail Jeanette Williams, I bequeath half ownership of my bookstore in St. Louis, Turning Leaves, with the stipulation that she retain ownership for a minimum of six months and work full-time in the store during this period. The remaining half ownership I bequeath to the present manager, Blake Sullivan, with the same stipulation.

“To Morgan Williams, I bequeath half ownership of Serenity Point, my cottage in Seaside, Maine, providing that she retains her ownership for a six-month period following my death and that she spends a total of four weeks in residence at the cottage. During this time she is also to provide advertising and promotional assistance for Good Shepherd Camp and attend board meetings as an advisory member. The remaining half ownership of the cottage I bequeath to Grant Kincaid of Seaside, Maine.

“To Clare Randall, I bequeath my remaining financial assets, except for those designated to be given to the charities specified in this document, with the stipulation that she serve as nanny for Nicole Wright, daughter of Dr. Adam Wright of Hope Creek, North Carolina, for a period of six months, at no charge to Dr. Wright.

“Should the stipulations and conditions for the aforementioned bequests not be fulfilled, the specified assets will be disposed of according to directions given to my attorney, Seth Mitchell. He will also designate the date on which the clock will begin ticking on the six-month period specified in my will.”

Seth lowered the document to his desk and looked at the women across from him.

“There you have it, ladies. I can provide more details on your bequests to each of you individually, but are there any general questions that I can answer?”

Clare vaguely heard the disgust in Morgan’s voice as she made some comment about the impossibility of getting away from the office for four days, let alone four weeks. A.J., on her other hand, sounded excited about the bookshop and eager to tackle a new challenge. But Clare was too caught up in her own bequest to pay much attention to her sisters’ questions.

“Who is this Dr. Wright?” Clare asked with a frown. “And what makes Aunt Jo think he would want me as a nanny?”

“Dr. Wright is an old friend of Jo’s from St. Louis. I believe she met him through her church, and even when he moved to North Carolina, they remained close friends,” Seth told Clare. “He’s a widower with an eleven-year-old daughter who apparently needs guidance and closer supervision. As to why Jo thought Dr. Wright would be interested in having you as a nanny, I can’t say.”

He paused and glanced at his desk calendar. “Let’s officially start the clock for the six-month period on December first. That will give you about a month to make plans. Now, are there any more general questions?”

When no one responded, he nodded. “Very well.” He handed them each a manila envelope. “But do feel free to call if any come up as you review the will more thoroughly.” He rose and extended his hand to each sister in turn. “Again, my condolences on the death of your great-aunt. Jo had a positive impact on countless lives and will be missed by many people. I know she loved each of you very much, and that she wanted you to succeed in claiming your bequests. Good luck, ladies.”

The three sisters exited Seth Mitchell’s office silently, each lost in her own thoughts. When Clare had been notified that she’d been named as a beneficiary in Aunt Jo’s will, she’d just assumed that her great aunt had left her a small amount of cash—enough, she hoped, to tide her over until she got her teaching career reestablished. She certainly hadn’t expected a six-figure bequest. Or one that came with strings.

None of them had.

She glanced at her sisters. A.J. looked enthusiastic and energized. But then, she was always up for some new adventure, and she had no real ties to Chicago. It would be easy for her to move and start a new life. Morgan, on the other hand, looked put out. To claim her inheritance, she’d have to find a way to juggle the demands of her career with the stipulations in the will. And that wouldn’t be easy.

As for Clare—she was just confused. She’d never been to North Carolina, had no experience as a nanny and had never heard of this Dr. Wright. It wasn’t that she minded moving; she had nothing to hold her in Kansas City now. Yet wouldn’t this man think it odd if she just showed up on his doorstep and offered to be his daughter’s nanny?

But Clare needed Aunt Jo’s inheritance. She had to find a way to make this work.

As the sisters paused outside Seth Mitchell’s office, each preparing to go her own way, Clare’s eyes teared up once more. It might be a long time before they were together again. And different as they were, they’d always been like the Three Musketeers—one for all, and all for one.

A.J. also looked misty-eyed as she reached over to give each of her sisters a hug. “Keep in touch, okay?”

“Have fun with the bookshop,” Clare told her. Then she turned to Morgan. “I hope you can work things out with the cottage.”

Morgan returned her hug. “I’m not holding my breath,” she said dryly.

“I’ll pray for all of us,” A.J. promised.

That was a good thing, Clare thought, as they parted. Because they would need all the prayers they could get.

Along with a whole lot of luck.

Chapter One

Hope Creek, North Carolina

Dr. Adam Wright wearily reached for the stack of messages on his desk and glanced at the clock, then to the early November darkness outside his window. He was already late picking up Nicole, and he knew he’d hear about it. Neither his wife nor his daughter had ever had much patience with the demands of his family practice. And things had gone from bad to worse with Nicole since she’d come to live with him a year ago. Toss awakening hormones into the mix, and it was a recipe for disaster. Which just about described his relationship with his eleven-year-old daughter, he thought with a sigh.

Adam rapidly scanned the messages. Janice had taken care of all but the most urgent in her usual efficient manner, he noted gratefully. Those that remained were from patients who really did need to speak with him. Except for the last one.

Adam frowned at the unfamiliar name and the out-of-state area code. The message was from a woman named Clare Randall and contained just one word—Personal. His frown deepened. Janice usually intercepted sales-people, so he assumed this Clare Randall had convinced Janice that she had a legitimate reason for wanting to speak with him. But the message wasn’t marked urgent, so it could wait until tomorrow, he decided. The other calls he’d return from home, after he picked up Nicole.

It would help pass the long evening ahead, in which he assumed his daughter would once again give him the silent treatment for his latest transgression of tardiness.

Nicole was out the door of Mrs. Scott’s house even before Adam’s car came to a stop. The older woman appeared a moment later, and even from a distance Adam could see her frown. Not a good sign. He summoned up a smile and waved to his temporary babysitter, then steeled himself for the coming encounter with his daughter. His stomach clenched, and he forced himself to take a deep breath as she climbed into the car and slammed the door.

“Did you thank Mrs. Scott?” he asked.

Nicole didn’t look at him, and when she spoke her voice was surly—and accusatory. “Why should I? You pay her to watch me. And you’re late. Again.”

A muscle clenched in his jaw even as he told himself to cut his daughter some slack. She’d lost her mother just over a year ago, been forced to live with a father she’d never quite connected with, then been uprooted from her home and friends in St. Louis and plopped down in this small North Carolina town. At the time, Adam had thought the move back to his home state was for the best. He didn’t like the crowd of friends Nicole hung out with, nor the fact that she often seemed to be eleven going on thirty. Day by day he’d felt his authority slipping away as his daughter spun out of control. So when he’d heard of the need for a doctor in Hope Creek, it had seemed like the answer to his prayers. He’d hoped that the wholesome atmosphere of small-town living would straighten Nicole out and help them bond.

Unfortunately, things hadn’t worked out that way. If anything, Nicole resented him more than ever, and the gulf between them had widened. She had also become a master at evading questions and putting him on the defensive, he realized. But the ploy wasn’t going to work tonight.

“The issue isn’t whether or not I pay Mrs. Scott. The issue is politeness,” he said firmly.

She ignored his comment. “So why were you late?”

He wasn’t going to be sidetracked. He’d already been through half a dozen sitters. He was grateful that Mrs. Scott from church had taken pity on him and offered to watch Nicole until he found someone on a more permanent basis. But he hadn’t had any luck on that score yet. So he couldn’t afford to alienate his Good Samaritan.

“Did you thank Mrs. Scott?” he repeated more firmly.

Her jaw settled into a stubborn line, and she glared at him defiantly. “Yes.”

He knew she was lying. And she knew he knew it. She was calling his bluff. And he couldn’t back down. “That’s good. I think I’ll just go have a word with Mrs. Scott myself,” he said evenly as he reached for the door handle. He was halfway out of the car before she spoke.

“Okay, so I didn’t thank her,” Nicole said sullenly.

Adam paused, then settled back in the car. “There’s still time. She hasn’t gone in yet.”

Nicole gave him a venomous look, then rolled down her window. “Thanks,” she called unenthusiastically. The woman acknowledged the comment with a wave, then closed the door. Nicole rolled her window back up, folded her arms across her chest and stared straight ahead.

Adam stifled a sigh. Nicole’s response had hardly been gracious. But at least she had complied with his instruction. He supposed that was something.

“So why were you late again?” Nicole asked as they made the short drive to the house Adam had purchased the year before.

“A couple of last-minute emergencies came up.” Adam had done his best to maintain a more moderate workload than he had in St. Louis, but he still rarely got out of the office before five-thirty or six. “Do you want to stop and pick up dinner at the Bluebird? It’s meat loaf night.” The Bluebird Café’s offerings had become a staple of their diet, and meat loaf was one of Nicole’s favorites. Adam’s culinary skills were marginal at best, and while he could manage breakfast and lunch, dinner stretched his abilities to the limit. So they frequented the Bluebird or resorted to microwave dinners. Only rarely did he indulge Nicole’s preference for fast food.

“Whatever.”

He cast a sideways glance in her direction. She was sitting as far away from him as the seat belt would allow, hugging her books to her chest, her posture stiff and unyielding. As distant and unreachable as the stars that were beginning to appear in the night sky. Just like Elaine had been by the time their marriage fell apart four years ago. Now, as then, he felt isolated. And utterly alone. He didn’t blame Elaine for his feelings. Or Nicole. His loneliness was a consequence of his own failings. Of his inability to connect emotionally to the people he loved. That was the legacy his own father had left him.

Adam made a quick stop at the Bluebird, and a few minutes later pulled into the detached garage next to his two-story frame house, ending the silent ride home. Nicole got out of the car immediately, leaving him alone in the dark. The savory aroma of their meal filled the car, but even though he’d skipped lunch, he had no appetite. Because he knew what was ahead.

He and Nicole would eat mostly in silence. Any questions he asked would be met with one-word answers. Then she would disappear to her room on the pretense of doing homework. A few minutes later he’d hear the music from a CD. Though they shared a house, they’d each spend the evening alone, in solitary pursuits.

Adam desperately wished he knew how to connect with his daughter, who was as lonely as he was, according to the school counselor. Apparently she’d made virtually no friends in the year they’d been in Hope Creek. Standoffish and prickly were the words the counselor had used to describe his daughter. At the woman’s suggestion, they’d actually gone for a few sessions of joint counseling. But Nicole had been so unresponsive that it had seemed a waste of time.

He rested his forearms on the steering wheel and lowered his forehead to his hands, struggling to ward off the despair that threatened to overwhelm him. And, as always in these dark moments, he turned to God for comfort and assistance.

Dear Lord, I need your help, he prayed silently. I know I’m not doing a good job as a father. And I know Nicole is unhappy. But I don’t know how to get past the wall she’s built between us. She hates me, and she shuts me out every time I try to reach out to her. I know I failed with Elaine. I don’t want to fail with Nicole, too. Please give me strength to carry on and guidance on how to proceed. I can’t do this on my own. I’m so afraid that time is running out for us. I love my daughter, Lord. Please help me find a way to make her understand that before it’s too late.

Slowly Adam raised his head, then tiredly reached for their dinner. But when he stepped into the kitchen a few moments later, Nicole was already nuking a frozen dinner. She turned to him defiantly, daring him to comment.

Adam said nothing. He just set the food he no longer wanted on the table, put her meat loaf in the refrigerator and prepared for another silent, strained dinner.

It was going to be a very long night.

Clare added the column of figures again and frowned. Not good. Even with scrupulous budgeting, six months with no income would be rough. But she could make it. She had to. Because she needed Aunt Jo’s legacy.

Clare rose and set a kettle to boil on the stove in her tiny efficiency apartment. She could use the microwave, but she preferred boiling water the old-fashioned way. There was something about a whistling kettle that she found comforting. It brought back happy memories of growing up on the farm in Ohio with her parents and two sisters. Though they hadn’t been wealthy in a material sense, they’d been rich in love and faith. It was the kind of family she’d always hoped to create for herself.

And she’d succeeded. Up until two years ago. Then her own selfishness had destroyed both of those precious gifts—faith and family.

Clare swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. She wasn’t going to cry. She didn’t believe in such indulgences. She’d made a tragic mistake, and now she’d have to live with the results. Her family was gone. And her faith…it wasn’t gone, exactly. It was too deeply ingrained to just disappear. But it had languished to the point that she no longer found any comfort in it or felt any connection to God.

Of course, she still had A.J. and Morgan. She wasn’t sure what she would have done without their moral support these past two years. But while they were close emotionally, geographically they were scattered. Besides, her sisters had their own lives, their own challenges to deal with. Clare didn’t want to unduly burden them with her problems. Especially her financial ones.

She hadn’t communicated the sad state of her finances to Aunt Jo, either. Though she’d written to her great-aunt on a regular basis, she’d always tried to be upbeat. Aunt Jo knew that Clare and Dennis had always lived a good life, enjoying the best of everything. When Clare had moved from a lavish home to an apartment after the accident, she’d simply said she needed a change of scenery. And when she’d reentered the teaching world, she’d explained that she just needed to fill her time. So Aunt Jo had had no idea how precarious her situation was. Otherwise, Clare was sure her aunt would have made some income provision for the six months of the nanny stipulation in her will.

That reminded her—Dr. Wright still hadn’t returned her call from yesterday. Clare frowned and glanced again at the figures on the sheet in front of her. It was time for another call to the good doctor.

“Adam, I’ve got Clare Randall on the phone again. She says it’s urgent, and she’s willing to hold until you have a few minutes.”

Adam stopped writing on the chart in front of him and glanced distractedly at Janice. “Clare Randall?”

“She called yesterday. I left the message on your desk.”

Adam frowned. “That was the one marked personal, right?”

“Bingo.”

“Do you have any idea who she is?”

“Not a clue.”

Adam glanced at his watch. “Do I have a few minutes?”

“Mr. Sanders is in room one, but he’s telling Mary Beth about his fishing trip, so I expect he wouldn’t mind if you take a couple of minutes. I can’t speak for Mary Beth, though. Last time I went by, her eyes were starting to glaze over and she was trying to edge out the door,” Janice said with a grin.

Adam chuckled. “You could relieve her.”

“No way. Last time he cornered me I had to listen to a twenty-minute soliloquy about the newest hand-tied trout flies he’d discovered.”

Adam chuckled again. “Okay. We’ll let Mary Beth handle him this time. Go ahead and put the call through.”

Adam made a few more notes on the chart, then set it aside as the phone on his desk rang. “This is Adam Wright.”

“Dr. Wright, this is Clare Randall. I’m Jo Williams’s great-niece. I believe you and my aunt were friends?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, I’m very sorry to tell you that my aunt passed away two weeks ago.”

Adam felt a shock wave pass through him. He and Jo had met at church when he’d first arrived in St. Louis to do his residency, and they’d been friends ever since. Even after his move to North Carolina, they’d kept in touch. In many ways, she had become a mother figure for him, and he had always been grateful for her support and sympathetic ear. He’d had no idea she was even ill. But then, that didn’t surprise him. Jo had never been one to burden others with her problems.

“Dr. Wright? Are you still there?”

He cleared his throat, but when he spoke there was a husky quality to his voice. “Yes. I’m just…shocked. I’m so sorry for your loss. Jo was a great lady.”

She could hear the emotion in his voice, and her tone softened in response. “Yes, she was.”

“What happened?”

She told him of the fast-acting cancer that had taken Jo’s life, and then offered her own condolences. It was obvious that Adam Wright had great affection for her aunt. “Did you know her well?”

“We met more than fifteen years ago, and she became a good friend. We attended the same church when I lived in St. Louis. She was a woman of deep faith. And great generosity.”

Clare took a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, her generosity is the reason I’m calling you today. As you may know, Aunt Jo didn’t have much family. Just me and my two sisters. And she was very generous to us in her will. However, there is a rather unusual stipulation attached to my bequest.”

When Clare hesitated, Adam frowned and glanced at his watch. He had no idea what this had to do with him, and he couldn’t keep Mr. Sanders waiting much longer. He pulled the man’s chart toward him and flipped it open, his attention already shifting to his next patient.

“So how can I be of assistance?” he asked.

“I understand that you have a daughter named Nicole?”

Adam’s frown deepened. “Yes. What is this all about, Ms. Randall?”

“In order to claim my bequest, my aunt required that I act as nanny to your daughter for six months, at no charge to you.”

There was a momentary pause. “Excuse me?”

Clare’s hand tightened on the phone. “I know this sounds crazy, Dr. Wright. Trust me, I was shocked, too.”

“But…why would Jo do such a thing?”

“I have no idea.”

Adam tried to sort through the information Jo’s great-niece had just given him. None of it made any sense—the stipulation, or this woman’s willingness to go to such lengths to claim what couldn’t be a large bequest. As far as he knew, Jo wasn’t a wealthy woman. With her generous heart, she’d given away far more than seemed prudent to him sometimes. But maybe she’d had more assets than he knew.

Adam glanced up to find Mary Beth standing in the doorway. She nodded her head toward room one, pointed at her watch and rolled her eyes. He got the message.

“Look, Ms. Randall, I’ve got to go. I have patients waiting. Give me your number and I’ll get back to you.”

Clare did as he asked, then suggested he call Seth Mitchell. “I’m not sure he can explain Aunt Jo’s reasoning any better than I can, but at least he can verify that my offer is legitimate,” she said.

“Thanks. I’ll do that. I’ll be back in touch shortly.”

When the line went dead, Clare slowly replaced the receiver. Dr. Wright hadn’t exactly been receptive to her offer, she reflected. But she couldn’t really blame him. She would have reacted the same way. After all, he was a doctor. He probably made more than enough money to hire any nanny he wanted. In fact, he might have one already. So why should he let a woman he didn’t know help raise his daughter, even if it was for only six months?

Logically speaking, there were all kinds of reasons why Adam Wright could—maybe even should—turn her down. So she needed to put together a strategy in case he declined to cooperate.

Because Clare needed Aunt Jo’s legacy.

And she didn’t intend to take no for an answer.

Adam looked across the kitchen table at Nicole. Tonight she was eating the meat loaf he’d brought home last night, while he ate a frozen dinner. As usual, they were out of sync. He speared a forkful of broccoli and searched for something to say, anything that might generate a little conversation.

“So…anything interesting happen at school today?”

She gave him the look he’d come to clearly recognize over the past year. It was a look that let him know how pathetic she thought his overtures were. And even after all these months, it hurt. But he made himself try again.

“Come on, Nicole. Tell me about your day.”

With a long-suffering sigh, she lowered her gaze and picked at her food. “There’s nothing to tell. It’s just a dumb, hick school. Everything and everybody there is boring.”

It was the same refrain he’d heard over and over again. So he changed subjects. “I had some bad news today.”

She looked over at him. “Yeah?”

“Do you remember Mrs. Williams, from St. Louis? She ran the bookshop and went to our church.”

“Yeah. She was nice.”

“I found out today that she passed away a couple of weeks ago.”

Nicole looked down at her meat loaf. “Why do people you care about always have to die?”

Adam knew she was thinking of Elaine and the tragic boating accident that had taken her mother’s life a little over a year ago. Nicole and Elaine had been close, and though Adam had thought Elaine was too liberal in her child-rearing practices—a frequent point of contention between them—he knew that his wife had deeply loved her daughter. And that Nicole was still grieving for her.

“It was just their time, Nicole,” he said gently. “God has His reasons.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think God is very nice. He lets bad things happen that just make people sad. I don’t know why people are always praying to Him. He never listens anyway.”

Adam frowned. Over the past couple of years, he’d been having a harder and harder time getting Nicole to go to church with him on Sunday. And it had become a weekly battle since they had moved to North Carolina. She and Elaine hadn’t gone to church regularly, and he knew that the lapse in church attendance had come at a critical stage in Nicole’s life, shaking her still-developing faith. It was another change he didn’t like in his daughter.

Nicole put her fork down. “May I be excused?”

Adam glanced at her plate. She’d barely touched her food. “Are you feeling all right?”

Nicole glared at him. “Can’t you stop being a doctor even for a minute? I feel fine. I’m just not hungry anymore. So may I be excused?”

Adam’s gut clenched. His question had been prompted out of fatherly concern, not medical interest. But clearly Nicole hadn’t seen it that way. She saw him as a doctor, not a father. Which only served to underscore the problems in their relationship.

“Yes, you may be excused.”

Disheartened, he watched her walk away, then reached into his pocket and pulled out the slip of paper containing Seth Mitchell’s phone number. Last night he’d prayed for help with his daughter. Today Clare Randall had called with her offer. That wasn’t exactly the kind of help he’d had in mind, but then, God’s ways weren’t always our ways. Maybe Clare was the answer to his prayer. Since he wasn’t getting anywhere with Nicole on his own, and he was rapidly running out of possible babysitters in Hope Creek, he’d be a fool not to at least consider Clare’s offer.

He’d been too busy to call Seth Mitchell today. But he’d make that the first order of business tomorrow morning.

Adam slowly replaced the receiver and leaned back thoughtfully in his desk chair. Seth Mitchell had just confirmed Clare’s story, though he’d been unable to offer any further insight into Jo’s offer. Nor much additional information about Clare herself, except that she was a widow with teaching credentials. When Adam had seemed skeptical about Jo’s unusual stipulation, the attorney had assured him that it was completely aboveboard and verified that Clare Randall would expect no payment for her services.

Despite that reassurance, Adam had a hard time accepting the offer. Getting something for nothing was outside the realm of his experience. And it had been ever since he was twelve years old and asked his father for a new bicycle. To this day he vividly recalled his father’s gruff response.

“There’s no such thing as a free lunch, boy. You have to work for what you want.”

So Adam had done just that, doing odd jobs around the neighborhood until he’d earned enough money for his bike. And that was generally the way life had worked for him ever since. Which was why he found it hard to believe that this woman’s offer came without any strings attached. Despite what the attorney had said.

Still…he did need help with Nicole. And financially he wasn’t in a position to hire a full-time nanny. So wasn’t Clare Randall’s offer at least worth exploring?

Before he could change his mind, Adam reached for the phone and punched in her number. She answered on the first ring, almost as if she’d been sitting by the phone.

“Ms. Randall? This is Adam Wright. I wanted to follow up on our conversation yesterday. I took your advice and spoke with Seth Mitchell, and he verified that your offer is legitimate.”

He paused, and when Clare spoke he could hear the trepidation in her voice. “I sense a ‘but’ coming,” she said cautiously.

“Listen, I’m sorry if I seem a little suspicious, but frankly I keep wondering, what’s the catch?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, if I accept your offer, it will totally disrupt your life for six months. I just can’t understand why you’d go through that.”

“I’m not going to inherit a million dollars, or anything close to it, if that’s what you’re asking,” Clare said stiffly. “This isn’t a TV reality show, Dr. Wright.”

She seemed insulted by his question, but Adam didn’t think it was completely out of line. She was a total stranger, and he wasn’t entirely sure about her motivations. Something just didn’t feel quite right to him. Then again, maybe it was his problem, he acknowledged. He was so used to paying his own way that maybe he was just uncomfortable accepting anything as a gift.

“Look, Dr. Wright, would it make you more comfortable if we met face to face?” Clare offered when Adam didn’t respond.

He could hear a touch of impatience—or was it desperation?—in her voice. “Maybe,” he conceded slowly.

“Then why don’t I come down?”

He glanced again at the area code. “Where do you live?”

“Kansas City.”

“That’s a long trip. And I can’t make any promises.”

“I’m not asking you to.”

If she was willing to make the effort to come down, how could he refuse to meet with her? And what did he have to lose, except an hour or two of his time?

“Okay. Let’s try that.”

Clare had a couple of substitute teaching assignments to fulfill, so they agreed to meet on a Saturday in mid-November.

“I’ll see you then,” Clare said as she hung up, already making a mental list of all the things she needed to do to prepare for a six-month absence from Kansas City.

Because even though Adam Wright seemed to have some qualms about accepting her offer, she knew one thing with absolute certainty: One way or another, she would find a way to convince the good doctor that she was exactly what he needed.

Chapter Two

Clare let her car slowly roll to a stop, set the brake and peered through the passenger’s-side window at Adam Wright’s house. Located at the edge of town, on the side of a hill near the end of a country lane, it was just as he’d described it—a two-story white clapboard with forest-green shutters and a large front porch. It was set on a spacious lot shaded by large trees, and a detached garage was just visible to the right, about fifty feet behind the house. When she turned to look out the driver’s-side window, she saw a valley filled with fields and patches of woodland. Blue-hazed mountains were visible in the distance, their wooded slopes ablaze with fall color. It was a lovely, peaceful setting—and completely at odds with her emotional state.

Clare nervously withdrew her compact from her purse and studied her face. Despite her best efforts to artfully apply some blush, she still seemed pale. She also looked tired, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. She’d driven straight through from Kansas City, arriving last night about ten. Though she’d been exhausted from the long journey, jitters about today’s meeting had kept sleep at bay. She’d tossed and turned most of the night, then risen at dawn in anticipation of her nine o’clock meeting with Dr. Wright. The stress and lack of sleep had clearly taken their toll on her appearance.

After one final, dismayed look, she dropped the compact back in her purse and opened her door. This was as good as it was going to get, she acknowledged with a sigh. Maybe Adam Wright wasn’t the observant type, she thought as she made her way toward the front porch.

All such hopes quickly vanished, however, when the front door opened in response to the doorbell. In the seconds before he greeted her, the blue-jean-clad man gave her a swift but thorough perusal that was insightful, assessing—and unnerving. She saw surprise in his eyes—and caution. And even before he said a word, she sensed that something about her appearance had raised a red flag. Nervously she smoothed a nonexistent wrinkle out of her skirt and adjusted the strap on her shoulder purse.

As Adam scrutinized his visitor, he struggled to keep his face impassive. Seth Mitchell had described Clare Randall as a widowed schoolteacher. But the elegant, fashionably clad woman on his doorstep was far from the older, matronly type he’d somehow expected. His prospective nanny couldn’t possibly be even forty. And she was small. At five foot ten, he didn’t consider himself to be especially tall, but she seemed petite beside him. It wasn’t that she was short. She had to be about five foot five. But she was very slender; so slender that the fine, classic bone structure of her face was startlingly evident. She was also lovely. Her honey-gold hair was pulled back into a chignon, and her slightly parted lips looked soft. Despite her beauty, he caught a glimpse of a haunting sadness in the depths of her large, azure-blue eyes that stirred something deep in his heart.

She was dressed beautifully, as well. While he wasn’t too knowledgeable about clothes, he did know quality when he saw it. His wife had always bought expensive things, so he recognized the designer touch in Clare Randall’s attire. Especially the discreet Gucci logo on her handbag.

The woman obviously had money. Which made her willingness to go along with Jo’s stipulation even more suspicious.

While Adam assessed her, Clare looked him over, as well. The doctor appeared to be about forty, with dark-brown hair that was touched with silver at the temples. Even though she wore two-inch heels, he was still several inches taller than her. And obviously in good shape. His worn jeans hugged his lean hips, and his sweatshirt couldn’t disguise his broad shoulders or the solid expanse of his chest.

She completed her rapid scan at his eyes. They were deep brown—and they’d narrowed imperceptibly since he’d opened the door. A slight frown had also appeared on his face. Not good signs. Clare felt the knot in her stomach tighten.

“Clare Randall, I presume?” He had a deep, well-modulated voice that Clare would have found appealing under other circumstances. Now she was all too conscious of the subtle note of caution in his tone.

“Yes. Dr. Wright?”

He held out his hand, and Clare’s delicate fingers were swallowed in his firm grip. “Guilty. Please come in.” He stepped aside for her to enter, then nodded to his right. “We can talk in the living room.”

As he led the way, Clare looked around the spacious room with an appreciative eye. It was a lovely space, with high ceilings, tall windows and a large fireplace. It had great possibilities…but unfortunately, none of its potential had been realized. While the living room was meticulously clean, it was sparsely furnished. The leather couch and chair were completely out of sync with the character of the house, and the contemporary coffee table was bare. So were the walls. There were shades at the windows, but no window treatments to soften the austerity.

“Make yourself comfortable.”

Adam took the chair as Clare perched on the edge of the couch. From her rigid posture, he could only assume that she was as uncomfortable with this whole situation as he was.

“May I get you some coffee?”

“No, thanks. That’s not one of my vices.” She tried to smile, but couldn’t quite get her stiff lips to cooperate.

Clare’s obvious tension reminded Adam of patients with white-coat syndrome. The minute they stepped inside his office their blood pressure skyrocketed and they got the shakes. There was no medical explanation for it. But that didn’t make it any less real. Through the years he’d worked hard to put such patients at ease, finding that casual small talk sometimes helped. So it was worth a try with his visitor. He purposely leaned back in his chair and crossed an ankle over a knee, keeping his posture relaxed and open.

“Did you have a good trip?”

“Yes. It took a little longer than I thought, but the scenery is lovely.”

“When did you leave?”

“About six yesterday morning.”

He frowned. “Did you drive straight through?”

“Yes. As I said, it took a little longer than I thought.”

“You must be exhausted.”

She shrugged. “I’ve been more tired.”

He studied her for a moment. The light from the window was falling directly on her face, and he could see the faint shadows under her eyes—which he suspected she’d carefully tried to conceal. And despite her obviously fair complexion, she seemed pale.

“Did you have breakfast?”

She shook her head. She’d been way too nervous to face food. “Not yet. I’ll get something a little later.”

His gaze swept her slender figure. Make that too slender, he corrected himself. “You don’t look as though you can afford to skip too many meals, Ms. Randall.”

“Please call me Clare. And I’ve always been slender. But I’m very strong, Doctor, and certainly capable of tackling the nanny job.”

He hadn’t brought up her weight because of concerns about her capabilities, but clearly the job was on her mind. His attempt at small talk wasn’t working. So they might as well dive right in. “First of all, my name is Adam, not Doctor. Second, I have to tell you I’ve never hired a nanny before.”

“And I’ve never been one. So we’re even. But I’m sure I can handle the job. I’m a teacher, so I’m used to being around children.”

Adam raked his fingers through his hair and sighed. “Nicole isn’t exactly a typical child. My wife, Elaine, and I separated several years ago, and Nicole spent most of her time with her mother. When Elaine died a little over a year ago, Nicole came to live with me full-time. It quickly became apparent to me that she had less-than-desirable friends in St. Louis and seemed to be heading down the wrong path. I’m originally from North Carolina, and I thought moving away from the big city might help. But it hasn’t worked out as I’d hoped. She may have had the wrong friends in St. Louis, but she has no friends here. She barely tolerates me. And she hates life in a small town. So she can be very difficult to deal with. Frankly, I haven’t been able to keep a sitter for more than a few weeks.”

Clare frowned. The situation sounded a lot more complicated than she’d expected. But surely, at age eleven, there was still time for Nicole to turn her life around. “I’m certainly willing to do whatever I can to help.”

Adam leaned forward and clasped his hands between his knees. “I guess the real question is why. Why do you want to put yourself into this situation? This isn’t a happy household, Clare.”

Clare swallowed. It might not be happy, but there was time to make things right. Time for a second chance. Which was something she hadn’t had with her own family. Clare realized that Adam was studying her intently, and shifted uncomfortably. This wasn’t the time to dwell on the past. She needed to convince Adam that she would make a capable and competent nanny. She took a deep breath and looked back at him.

“I appreciate your honesty. But from everything you’ve told me, it sounds like you need a nanny even more than you realize,” she said.

“Maybe. But you haven’t answered my question. Why are you willing to do this?”

“I need the money.”

His gaze swept over her attire again, lingering on the logo on her handbag. When he looked up, she saw the skepticism in his eyes.

“Don’t let my clothes fool you, Doctor,” she said quietly. “This suit is several years old. The purse is even older. At one time I was in a position to buy expensive things. That’s no longer the case. Aunt Jo’s legacy will help me pay off some debts and get a new start. And I will do my best to earn it. I promise you that I will do everything I can to help you with your daughter. If it will make you feel more comfortable, I can supply some character references.”

Adam studied the woman across from him. He had no reason to doubt Clare’s story that she’d fallen on hard times. And as for a character reference, he couldn’t ask for anyone better than Jo—the very person who had sent Clare to his door. But the whole thing still struck him as odd. And somehow unfair to the woman across from him. Despite his thumbnail sketch of the situation, she had no idea what a mess she was stepping into. And he had a feeling she’d already seen enough trauma in her life. The echoes of it were still visible in the depths of her eyes. Which, for some odd reason, troubled him, even though she was a stranger.

“That’s not necessary,” he said. “But I’d like to…”

“Who are you?”

The two adults turned in unison toward the foyer. Nicole stood in the archway at the entrance to the living room, dressed in hip-hugging jeans and an abbreviated crop top. Her brown hair, worn parted in the middle, hung past her shoulders, the ragged blond ends suggesting that it had once been dyed. She was barefoot, and her toenails were painted iridescent purple.

“It’s not polite to interrupt a conversation,” Adam said with a frown.

Nicole shrugged insolently. “Whatever. We’re out of cereal. Again.”

The tension between father and daughter was apparent to Clare even in such a short exchange. Before Adam could respond, she smiled and addressed the young girl. “You must be Nicole.”

“Yeah. So why are you here? We never have company.”

“I had some business to discuss with your father.”

“Are you sick or something?”

Clare looked startled for a moment, then grinned. “I’m not a patient, if that’s what you mean.”

“Too bad. That’s the only thing he cares about.”

The remark was meant to cut, and if the sudden clenching of muscles in Adam’s jaw was any indication, his daughter had hit the mark. But Clare knew it was also a cry for help. And her heart went out to the lonely little girl.

“Oh, I don’t know. We weren’t discussing medicine,” she said, keeping her tone casual.

Nicole tilted her head and gave Clare an appraising glance. “So are you his girlfriend or something?”

“That’s enough, Nicole.”

Clare could hear anger in Adam’s voice. And frustration. Her heart went out to him, too. He was clearly in over his head with Nicole and clueless about how to control a prepubescent daughter.

“Actually, we just met,” Clare said mildly.

Nicole studied Clare for a moment. “I like your hair.”

“Thanks. But I was just admiring yours. It’s so long and full. You could do some really cool things with it.”

“Really? Like what?”

Clare considered Nicole for a moment. “Well, I think you’d look terrific in a French braid.”

Nicole stuck her hands in her pockets. “I don’t know how to do that.”

“It’s not hard. But it is easier if someone does it for you. Of course, you’d have to even out the ends a little first.”

“I haven’t cut my hair in a long time,” Nicole said skeptically.

“Well, you wouldn’t want to lose any length. Just cut it enough to smooth things out.” And get rid of the dyed ends, Clare added silently.

“Do you know how to do a French braid?”

“Mm-hm. I used to do them for my sister, A.J., when we were younger. I’m sure there’s a salon in town that could do one for you so you could see if you liked it.”

“Maybe.” Nicole tucked a lock of hair behind one ear. “So…do you live here?”

“No.”

“I didn’t think so. Everybody here is such a hick. I bet you’re from a big city.”

“I live in Kansas City now. But I grew up on a farm in Ohio, out in the middle of nowhere. Hope Creek would have been a big city to us,” she said with a smile. “What I’ve found, though, is that most people are pretty nice anywhere you live if you give them a chance.”

Nicole grunted. “Not the kids at my school. They all…”

The sudden ringing of the phone interrupted her, and she turned to Adam with a long-suffering sigh. “It’s going to be for you.”

“Would you grab it and just take a message, please?”

She gave him a hostile look, then disappeared down the hall.

Clare turned to find Adam studying her. “Is something wrong?”

Slowly he shook his head. “I’m just trying to figure out how you managed to do that.”

“What?”

“Have a longer conversation with my daughter than I’ve had in more than a year.”

Clare shrugged. “I came without baggage. She obviously resents you, but she doesn’t have any feelings for me one way or the other. Sometimes it’s easier to talk to strangers.”

He dropped his voice. “So what do you think now that you’ve met her?”

Clare frowned. “She needs friends. And she needs her father.”

“The friends part I agree with. The father part… I’m not so sure. She pushes me away every time I try to get close to her.”

“She’s still grieving for her mother. And dealing with a lot of anger…about a lot of things. She’s probably mad at her mother for dying. Maybe she’s mad at God. She might be mad at life in general because it seems unfair. You’re convenient, so you get the brunt of her anger. And you’re an easy target, because you’re the authority figure. I’m sure she fights you every step of the way. But you know, even if kids don’t like rules, they need them.”

Adam sighed. “I guess it helps to have a teaching background. You’re probably used to dealing with kids. I never had much…”

“I told you it was for you.”

They glanced toward Nicole, who was back in the archway.

“Did you take a message?”

She walked toward Adam and thrust a slip of paper at him. Then she turned to Clare. “So will you be here for a while?”

“At least for a few days.”

“Maybe I’ll see you again.”

“That would be nice.”

“Yeah.” She shoved her hands in her pockets. “Well. See ya around.”

Clare watched Nicole walk away, then looked back toward Adam. He was frowning at the paper in his hand.

“Trouble?” she asked.

He glanced up. “One of my patients. I need to get back to him.” He took a deep breath. “You said you planned to be here for a few days?”

Actually, she planned to stay for six months. But she simply nodded in reply.

“Let me sleep on this whole nanny thing, okay? Can I get back to you on Monday?”

“Of course.”

“How can I reach you?”

“I’m staying at the Evergreen Motel.” She rummaged around in her purse and handed him a card. “You can just call me there.”

Adam had driven by the Evergreen Motel many times. It was a nondescript one-story building that had obviously seen better days, on the other side of town. Somehow it didn’t fit with this woman’s designer clothes and Gucci purse. Nor with the woman herself. Whatever her financial situation now, everything about her spelled class. She was the type who belonged at the Ritz, not the Evergreen.

As he walked Clare to the door and they said their goodbyes, he glanced toward the street. Her car—a modest, older-model compact—was yet another confirmation that she’d fallen on tough times. But why? She didn’t strike him as the frivolous type. Was her late husband to blame for her current predicament? he wondered, as she made her way toward the street. If so, he had done a great disservice to his wife. Even after only a brief encounter, he sensed that Clare was a kind, intelligent, empathetic woman, who deserved far more than she currently seemed to have. The thought of her at the Evergreen Motel actually made him feel a bit sick.

Clare reached the car and paused to shift her purse higher on her shoulder, then shaded her eyes with one hand and gazed at the distant mountains. He found himself admiring the natural grace of her movements, as well as her quiet dignity. And he wondered what she was thinking as she looked toward the mist-shrouded peaks.

When she glanced back toward the house, she seemed surprised to find him still standing at the door. And for a moment, he had a sudden, compelling urge to call her back, to offer her a place to stay. Which was very out of character. Because he was not an impulsive guy. And she was a stranger. A moment later, the fleeting impulse disappeared when she slid into the driver’s seat.

Adam waited until the car was out of sight, then slowly shut the front door. Even though he’d told Clare he wanted to think about her proposal, he was already pretty sure that he would accept. Because he desperately needed help with Nicole.

And in his heart he had a feeling that Clare was the answer to his prayer.

The water stain on the ceiling in her cramped motel room was the first thing Clare saw when she opened her eyes the next morning, and she quickly averted her gaze. She didn’t need luxury, but neither was she used to these kinds of conditions. Tears welled up behind her eyelids, but she refused to give in to them, focusing her thoughts instead on the good, home-cooked meal she’d had yesterday in a quaint little place called the Bluebird Café, and the long, invigorating walk she’d taken through the town. The fresh air, cloudless blue sky and vibrant trees in their autumn finery had done wonders to renew her spirits. She’d arrived back at her room so tired that, despite the lumpy bed, she’d slept soundly. So, physically, she felt better today. And even though Adam hadn’t given her a definitive answer to her proposal, she was hopeful that in the end he would say yes.

In the old days, Clare would have taken a moment upon waking to speak to the Lord about her situation. But even though she still tried to pray on occasion, the words were dry and did nothing to quench the thirst in her soul. So her talks with the Lord had become infrequent at best. She wished she had A.J.’s solid faith. Tragedy had only strengthened her sister’s relationship with the Lord. Of course, Clare supposed she was better off than Morgan, who seemed to have completely abandoned the faith of her youth in her pursuit of worldly success. Still, Clare felt an emptiness that could only be filled by reconnecting with the Lord. She just didn’t know how to go about it.

An image flashed through her mind of the small white church in town that had caught her eye yesterday. Set in a grove of trees, its tall steeple rising toward Heaven, it had called out to her, offering peace and solace. She’d gone so far as to try the door, but of course it was locked in the middle of a Saturday afternoon. However, Clare had made a note of the times for Sunday worship.

She glanced at her watch. If she hurried, she could just make the second service. Since she didn’t have anything else planned for the day, and she wasn’t inclined to spend any more time than necessary at the Evergreen, she figured it couldn’t hurt to go. Maybe worshipping in a new place might give her some fresh insights that would help get her back on track in her faith journey.

When Clare pulled up in front of the church forty-five minutes later, the small lot was already full. By the time she found a parking spot half a block away and stepped inside, the service was just beginning. She had planned to simply slip inconspicuously into a pew in the back, but unfortunately, there were no empty seats in the rear. An usher motioned to her, and before she could decline he was leading the way toward an empty spot near the front. Short of ignoring his hospitality, she had no choice but to follow him.

Clare was aware of the curious glances of the congregation as she traversed the main aisle. She supposed that in a small town like Hope Creek, visitors were big news. But she’d never liked being the center of attention, so she kept her eyes looking straight ahead. Only when she murmured a thank-you to the usher did she glance at the pew across the aisle—and found Adam and Nicole watching her. Adam gave her a brief smile and nod, and Nicole peeked around him and waved. Clare smiled in response, then turned her attention to the service. Or at least tried to. But she found herself casting frequent, surreptitious glances at the doctor and his daughter.

Nicole sat on the other side of Adam, so she couldn’t see the young girl very well. But she caught enough glimpses to know that Nicole was dressed in tight black hip-hugger jeans. Her top seemed to be a bit more discreet than the one she’d worn yesterday, but it was not attire Clare would have deemed appropriate for church.

Adam, on the other hand, was well dressed. His broad shoulders filled out his dark suit, and a gold tie lay against his starched white shirt. He’d looked great yesterday in jeans, and was equally handsome in today’s more impressive formal attire, which gave him a distinguished air.

Clare did her best to sing the hymns and listen to the sermon, but the elderly minister was a bit dry, and she found her attention—and her gaze—frequently wandering over to the doctor and his daughter…until she found Adam staring back. For a moment they’d both seemed startled, then Clare quickly looked away as hot color stole on to her cheeks. Served her right, she thought in chagrin. She was in the house of God. That’s where her thoughts should be, too. For the rest of the service she made a concerted effort to be more focused.

As the last hymn ended, however, her thoughts returned to Adam and Nicole. She was so preoccupied formulating a greeting in her head that it took her a moment to realize the woman next to her had spoken.

“I’m sorry. Were you speaking to me?”

The older woman smiled at her. “I’m the one who should apologize. You must have been deep in prayer. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

Prayer had been the furthest thing from her mind, Clare thought with a pang of guilt. “No reason to apologize. I must admit that I was thinking about something I need to do after the service. But I should have been praying.”

The woman chuckled. She had short, stylish gray hair that established her senior status, but her blue eyes twinkled with the enthusiasm of a youngster. “That’s something we’re all guilty of on occasion, I suspect.” She held out her hand. “I’m Adele Malone.”

Clare returned the woman’s firm handshake. “Clare Randall.”

“You’re new in town.”

“A visitor, actually. I’m here on…business.”

“Well, I’m glad you joined us this morning. Why, Nicole…”

Clare turned. Adam and Nicole had moved out of their pew, and stood only a few steps away.

“Your hair looks lovely today!” Adele said.

For the first time Clare noticed that Nicole’s hair was done in a neat French braid.

“Thank you. It was Clare’s idea.”

“We had to find a salon that would take Nicole yesterday afternoon without an appointment. But it was worth the effort. The style suits her.” Adam’s remark was directed at Clare, and she could read the gratitude in his eyes.

Adele looked with interest at Clare, then at Adam. “You two know each other?”

“We just met yesterday. On a business matter,” Adam replied.

“How nice. Well, I was just going to invite our visitor to stay and have coffee in the church hall. I hope you can join us, too.”

“Not today, I’m afraid. Nicole has quite a bit of homework, and I have to return a couple of pages that I received during the service.”

Was there regret in his voice? Or was it just her imagination, Clare wondered.

“Another time, then. I do hope you’ll stay, my dear,” Adele said, turning back to Clare.

Clare almost refused. But she really didn’t have anything else to do today. And if Adele knew Adam, perhaps the woman could offer a few more insights about the good doctor that would help Clare persuade him. “Thank you. I’d like that.”

“Good to see you, Adele,” Adam said. Then he turned to Clare. “I’ll be in touch.”

She nodded, and both she and Adele watched as Adam and Nicole made their way out.

“Such a nice man. And a wonderful doctor,” Adele said. “Hope Creek was lucky to get him when Doc Evans retired last year. And he certainly tries hard with Nicole. But it’s such a challenge raising children these days. Especially alone.” She glanced down at the ring on Clare’s left hand. “Do you have children, my dear?”

Clare’s throat tightened. Maybe someday that question would be easier to answer. But not yet. It still hurt as much as it had two years before. “No. I’m a widow.”

The older woman reached over and spoke softly as she touched Clare’s hand. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thank you.”

“I don’t suppose that’s something one ever gets over. I know I’d be completely lost without my Ralph. He’s home today with a cold, and it just didn’t feel quite right sitting in church without him. But you have your faith to sustain you. That’s such a great blessing in times of trial.” She tucked her arm through Clare’s. “Now come along and let’s get some coffee and a doughnut. Adam’s forever after me to lose twenty pounds, but honestly, I don’t think one doughnut on Sunday is going to hurt, do you?”

The woman chatted amiably as they made their way to the church hall, where she took pains to introduce Clare to several members of the congregation. It became clear that Adele was quite prominent in the town, obviously active in both church and civic pursuits. When they finally found themselves alone for a moment, Clare glanced at her watch and set down her cup of tea.

“I think I’ve taken up far too much of your time,” she apologized.

“Not at all. I enjoy meeting new people. Will you be in town long?”

“At least for a few days.”

“Do you have any friends or family nearby?”

“No.”

“So what are your plans for Thanksgiving?”

Clare hadn’t really thought much about the holiday, even though it was only four days away. A.J. had just arrived in St. Louis, so she wasn’t in a position to leave the bookstore. And the last she’d heard, Morgan intended to work most of the holiday weekend. So Clare had planned to just grab a bite somewhere by herself. Which was a far cry from how she preferred to celebrate holidays, she thought wistfully. Special days should be festive occasions filled with fun and family. But both of those things were now absent from her life. Treating Thanksgiving like any other day seemed the best way to cope without falling apart.

“I really don’t have any plans,” she told the older woman.

“Then you must join us for dinner.”

Clare stared at her, surprised by the impromptu invitation. “But…I wouldn’t want to intrude on a family celebration.”

Adele waved her concern aside. “You won’t be. My husband and I don’t have children, or any close family. So we’ve always invited others to join us for Thanksgiving. The associate pastor and his wife will be there. And Adam and Nicole are coming, too. Adam’s only brother lives in Charlotte, and they go to his wife’s house for Thanksgiving. So Adam and Nicole will be on their own for the holiday. There will be a few others, as well. You’d be more than welcome.”

Clare considered the invitation. It was certainly preferable to eating at the Bluebird, charming as it was. Besides, the café might not even be open on that day. And it would give her a chance to press her case with Adam. But more than anything, she was touched by the older woman’s generosity in opening her home to a stranger on a holiday. Her invitation was truly Christian charity in action.

“Thank you,” Clare said with a smile. “I’d love to come. May I bring something?”

“Just yourself.” Adele opened her handbag and withdrew a small notepad and pen. “I’ll jot down my address and phone number. We usually begin to gather about four.”

Clare took the slip of paper a moment later and tucked it in her purse. “Thank you, Mrs. Malone.”

“Adele, my dear. We aren’t that formal in Hope Creek. And it’s my pleasure. No one should spend the holiday alone. Or lonely.”

As Clare said her goodbyes, she reflected on Adele’s parting words. The woman was right, of course. And she’d apparently taken care of the “alone” part for a number of Hope Creek residents. But the loneliness was harder to deal with. Because it went deeper. And wasn’t always as visible.

Adam and Nicole came to mind. They lived in the same house. They shared meals. They went to church together. So they weren’t alone. Yet Clare knew they were lonely. And sometimes that kind of loneliness was worse than being physically alone. There was something especially tragic about two people living in close proximity who were unable to connect.

Her work would be cut out for her with Nicole, Clare reflected. The young girl desperately needed guidance. But in her mind, there was a whole lot more to this nanny job than simply helping Nicole get her act together.

Bottom line, Adam and Nicole needed to establish a bond. And they needed an intermediary, a catalyst—maybe even a referee—to help them do that.

It would be a challenging role, Clare knew. But she wanted to play it. Because in the short time they’d spent together, she’d felt their pain. And she wanted to help them salvage their relationship before it was too late.

For Nicole’s sake, of course.

But also for Nicole’s father.

Chapter Three

“Thanks for coming by on such short notice.”

Clare nodded. She hadn’t expected to hear back from Adam so soon, but when she’d returned to the Evergreen after church and a quick breakfast she’d found a message waiting, asking her to stop by his house at four o’clock that afternoon. She’d called back, confirming the appointment.

“Would you mind if we talked in the kitchen?” Adam asked. “I had to make an emergency run to the grocery store and I just got back. I need to put a few things away.”

“Of course.”

Clare followed him down a hallway toward the back of the house. At least the sunny kitchen had a little more personality than the living room. It was painted a pale blue, and a border of trailing morning glory vines had been stenciled along the top of the walls. A weathered oak table and four chairs stood beside a bay window that afforded a lovely view of the pine woods on the hillside behind the house.

“Have a seat and I’ll be with you in just a minute,” Adam said.

She chose a chair that gave her a view of the restful scene out the window. But instead Clare turned her attention to Adam, watching as he rapidly took items out of the plastic grocery bags—eggs, canned soup, bread, lunch meat, crackers, milk, cereal, microwave dinners. She caught a glimpse of his nearly empty refrigerator when he opened the door to put the milk inside.

“Sorry about this,” he apologized. “I try not to shop on Sunday, but sometimes the week just gets away from me. Then it becomes an emergency. I thought I’d have everything put away before you got here, but it always takes me longer at the grocery store than I expect.”

“Don’t worry about it. I didn’t have any plans today, anyway.”

He glanced at the counter. “I think that takes care of all the perishables. Can I offer you something to drink?”

When she declined, he filled a coffee cup and joined her at the table. “I know I said I’d call you tomorrow, but frankly, I didn’t see any reason to wait. Seth Mitchell has confirmed your story. You seem sincere. I trust Jo’s judgment, and I desperately need help with Nicole.” And you need Jo’s legacy. He didn’t voice that reason. But it had been a definite factor in his decision.

Coils of tension deep in the pit of Clare’s stomach began to unwind. “Then you’re willing to take me on as nanny?”

He took a sip of his coffee and looked at her steadily. “To be honest, I’m still not entirely comfortable with this. It doesn’t seem right for me to accept your services at no cost.”

“That was the stipulation in Aunt Jo’s will. So there’s no choice. And I’m fine with it.”

Adam put his mug on the table and wrapped his long, lean fingers around it. “I talked to Nicole about this. Well, I tried to, anyway,” he amended. “I didn’t get much more than a few grunts, but at least she didn’t throw a fit. So I took that as a good sign. I don’t think she’ll fight you the way she has every other sitter I hired. But I could be wrong. It could be miserable. For everyone. So what I’d like to propose is that we try this for a month. If everything works out, we can commit to the remaining five months. But this will give us both a chance to test the waters and back out if things don’t go well. How does that sound?”

Clare had no intention of backing out. She was determined to make this work. So she had no qualms agreeing to Adam’s terms. “It seems like a sensible plan.”

“Good. As for your duties, I’m open to suggestions since I’ve never had a nanny before. I thought you could just make sure Nicole gets ready for school on time so she doesn’t miss the bus, and be here when she gets home. During the school day your time would be your own. Nicole could also use some help with her schoolwork. Even though her standardized test scores are always high, her grades have been marginal at best since she came to live with me. With your teaching background, I’d appreciate any help you could provide. Most of your weekends should be free, other than Saturday mornings if I have patients in the hospital and need to do rounds. Ellen James, our housekeeper, comes on Thursdays. She has a key and doesn’t need any supervision. Mostly I just need you to keep an eye on Nicole. Does that sound reasonable?”

“Very. And I’ll be happy to do some tutoring.”

“That would be great. So when can you start?”

“As soon as I find a place to live and get settled in. I hope within a few days.”

Suddenly an idea began to take shape in Adam’s mind. Considering Clare’s current accommodations at the Evergreen Motel, her finances probably wouldn’t allow her to upgrade very much when it came to a more permanent place to live. And he had a small, furnished apartment above his garage. Maybe he couldn’t pay her, but there was nothing in Jo’s will that would prevent her from accepting housing.

“As a matter of fact, I may be able to help,” he said. “There’s a furnished apartment above my garage that I always planned to fix up and rent out, but I’ve never gotten around to it. You’re welcome to live there. It’s the least I can do, considering you’re providing your services free of charge.”

Clare looked at him in surprise. “Well, that would certainly be convenient.” And easy on her tight budget, she silently added.

“Would you like to take a look?”

“Sure.”

After retrieving the key from his office, Adam led the way out the back door and down a cobblestone path toward the garage. When they reached the door, his first couple of attempts to pull it open failed. Finally, after he exerted a bit more force, the door swung out.

“I’ve only been up here a couple of times since I bought the place,” he apologized. “The door probably needs to be sanded.”

He preceded her up a narrow set of stairs to a small landing where he inserted the key in another door. This one opened easily, and since there wasn’t room on the landing for both of them, he stepped inside first. He switched on the harsh overhead light—and immediately regretted his offer.

He’d known the apartment wasn’t in great shape, but it was even worse than he remembered. The walls were painted a dingy, muddy beige. The green shag carpeting had seen better days. The garishly upholstered sofa sagged in the middle, and the shade on the lamp beside it was ripped. Even from the front door, he could see that the countertop in the tiny galley kitchen was badly chipped at the edges. A small wooden table and chairs in the tiny eating area were nicked and worn. And he didn’t even want to look at the bathroom or bedroom. As near as he could recall, the furnishings in the bedroom included a lumpy bed and a nondescript dresser with a cracked mirror. There was no way he could offer this space to anyone in its present condition. Especially to Clare, with her obvious elegance and breeding.

“Adam?”

He knew he was blocking the door, but he didn’t budge. “Listen, this wasn’t such a good idea after all. I forgot that this place was in such bad shape.”

“Can I at least look around?”

He hesitated. “I’m not sure you want to. This apartment makes the Evergreen Motel look good.”

He heard her laugh—a musical sound that he found extraordinarily appealing.

“That bad, huh?”

At least she had a sense of humor. And she was certainly going to need it, considering what she was walking into, literally and figuratively, with him and Nicole. “Let’s just say that I think a four-legged creature would be more at home here than a two-legged one.”

“Okay, now I have to see it.”

“Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“You won’t quit before you even start.”

She laughed again. “There’s no chance of that.”

Hands planted on his hips, Adam surveyed the room once more, then shook his head and moved aside. “Okay. But trust me, you won’t hurt my feelings if you take one look and run right back down the stairs.”

Clare stepped into the apartment, walked slowly to the middle of the room, then pivoted, making every effort to keep her face impassive. Okay, so it was bad. But it was free. And she was pretty handy with a hammer and a paint brush. She completed her perusal of the living room and kitchen area, then peeked into the bathroom. At least it was serviceable. The bedroom, however, didn’t fare as well. She would definitely take the lumpy mattress at the Evergreen over this one, which seemed to have a crater in the middle. She returned to the kitchen, opened a few cabinets, checked out the small refrigerator, silent all the while.

Adam watched Clare as she went from room to room, admiring her natural grace even as he berated himself for showing her the apartment. In her slim, black wool skirt and elegant blue silk blouse she looked completely out of place in the run-down apartment. He couldn’t possibly let her live here.

“Look, this was a bad idea and I’m sorry for even suggesting it,” he apologized as the silence lengthened.

“Actually, this isn’t so bad,” she said gamely.

He looked at her incredulously. “You’ve got to be kidding.”

“No. I’m serious. Mostly what it needs is a cosmetic makeover. I assume the appliances and heat work?”

“Last time I checked.”

She shrugged. “Why don’t you let me tackle it? I think I can make this livable.”

He raked his fingers through his hair as he skeptically eyed the room again. “I’m not sure it’s even salvageable, let alone livable.”

“At least let me try.”

When he looked into her eyes, he saw determination—and spirit. He suspected she was prepared to argue the case if he withdrew his offer. She must really be strapped for cash if she was willing to take this on, he realized. He thought about just offering to pay for housing somewhere rather than let her deal with this mess, but he knew she’d refuse to take his money. It seemed he’d been backed into a corner. “All right. And I’ll send Ellen over to help with the cleaning. But if things don’t come together, we’ll work something else out, okay?”

“Okay.”

“I’ll order a new mattress, too. The one in the bedroom seems pretty pathetic.”

She looked relieved. “That would be great. Thanks.”

“Well, do whatever you need to do. Just save the bills and I’ll take care of them. I assume you’ll be judicious.” He tacked on that last admonition out of habit. He’d always used it with his wife, though it had never worked. That was one of the reasons he hadn’t been able to save much money during their marriage. But he was immediately sorry he’d said it to Clare. Luckily, she didn’t seem to take offense.

“Of course. I’ll get started first thing tomorrow. If all goes well, I should be able to take on my duties as Nicole’s nanny in a week. If that’s okay.”

“Absolutely. I’ll have the mattress delivered and the door sanded. Let me know if I can do anything else to help in the meantime.”

“Thank you, but I’ll be fine. I’ve gotten used to handling things on my own.”

After flipping off the light, Adam followed Clare down the steps. Her head was bent as she navigated the narrow stairs, exposing the delicate nape of her neck below her upswept hair. It made her seem vulnerable. And fragile. And it awakened a protective instinct in him. He recalled experiencing a similar feeling about Elaine early in their marriage. But it had been long absent from his life. Nor did it make any sense now, especially in relation to a virtual stranger who, he suspected, would not appreciate being thought of as either delicate or fragile.

For so many years, the only woman in Adam’s life had been Nicole. Worrying about her and their rocky relationship had consumed his thoughts and energies when he was away from work. He’d rarely given any other female more than a passing glance, avoiding well-meant setups by friends and keeping all women at arm’s length.

Now Clare would literally be living in his backyard. But as she’d noted moments before, it was a business arrangement, nothing more. And he would do well to remember that. Because even if he was inclined to consider her in a more personal light, that would be a tragic mistake. It was a mistake he’d made once before, with Elaine. And it was one he didn’t intend to repeat. It wouldn’t be fair to any woman.

Because he just wasn’t husband material.

Adam glanced up at Clare’s apartment as he hit the electric garage-door opener. As usual, the lights were on. She’d surprised him by moving in right away, even though he’d considered the place unlivable. And no matter what time he looked toward the garage—early in the morning as he grabbed a cup of coffee before leaving for the hospital, or late at night before he went to bed—the lights were on. A pile of debris had begun to accumulate next to the driveway—including the shag carpeting. His work schedule before holidays was always crazy, so he hadn’t had a chance to stop in. But he wanted to check on her progress and thank her for assuming some of her duties early. When Clare had found out that Mrs. Scott was going away on vacation during the holiday, she’d offered to watch Nicole after school even though she hadn’t officially assumed her position yet.

Adam glanced at his watch. Since Thanksgiving was tomorrow, he’d closed the office early. It was the first time he’d been home before six o’clock in weeks. And there was plenty of time to pay his new nanny a visit before dinner.

The ground-level door to the apartment opened without a problem; the carpenter he’d called had obviously paid a visit. He stepped inside, noting that the stairwell had been cleaned up, as well. The bare light bulbs at the bottom and top of the stairs had been hidden under shades that softly diffused the light. The walls were brighter, too, he noted as he made his ascent. They’d been painted in a soft eggshell color. And the wooden steps had been thoroughly cleaned.

Raising his hand to knock on the door, Adam paused at an unfamiliar sound. His daughter’s laughter. His throat tightened with emotion, and he sent a silent prayer of thanks heavenward. He had known it would take a major miracle to get his daughter back on track. But if Clare could get her to laugh, she’d already worked a minor one. He hoped this was just the beginning.

His knock was answered almost immediately, and his words of greeting died on his lips as he stared at the woman looking back at him. Clare’s honey-gold hair was carelessly pulled back into a ponytail, and her paint-spattered jeans and sweatshirt were a far cry from her usual designer clothes. She didn’t seem to be wearing any makeup, either—unless you counted the specks of paint dotting her porcelain complexion. She looked far younger and less sophisticated than in any of their previous encounters. She also looked very, very appealing.