Читать книгу Daddy For Hire - Joey Light - Страница 9

The doorbell rang. Abby stopped in her tracks and groaned. She couldn’t go through with it. She’d changed her mind. It was, after all, a woman’s prerogative.

Sliding the cookie sheet into the oven, she popped the door shut. Pausing to twist the timer to nine minutes, she blew a wisp of hair from her eyes. He was here. The final applicant. Abby brushed cookie dough from her hands with the rooster-adorned dish towel. Untying her apron, she whipped it off and flung it over a chair back and headed toward the front of the house. Thank goodness this silly business could finally come to an end.

A thoughtful, careful woman, Abigail Margaret Roberts was not used to complying with an impulse, in this case a search for a “manny,” or male nanny. She had no idea why she had followed through with this crazy idea.

Desperation, she laughed to herself. Pure and simple. With her two boys, life had become such a patchwork when it should all have been so uncomplicated. She had grabbed at straws. And now the last straw was about to enter her house.

Abby had tried to call this applicant twice to cancel, but there had been no answer either time. Who in this day and age didn’t own an answering machine? She would much rather have canceled this over the phone than in person.

As was her habit, she stopped in the hallway to check her appearance in the full-length mirror. Unruly hair escaped her ponytail. Her cheeks were flushed due to the heat in the kitchen. She looked a mess. Too late to fix that now.

Each and every previous interview had been a disaster for one reason or another. The applicants were simply weird, or her boys had acted up like little devils. One man had even scared the daylights out of her. Gaunt and dark, he looked like something out of a Dracula movie. She was ruing the day she had ever decided to entertain such a foolhardy thought.

Yet it had all started so simply. A day off. A beautiful, sunshiny day just for herself. The boys were in school, and it had just seemed like a great time to putter in her flower garden or lounge around on the porch.

Back then it was just a tiny seed of an idea when she happened to turn on the television that afternoon and catch a talk show all about men, from many different walks of life, who were turning out to be wonderful nannies. And since there was no longer a man in this house…the idea had blossomed into something more.

The door chime sounded again. Abby looked from her disorderly reflection to her watch. Well, he was prompt if maybe a bit impatient. Turning toward the door, pulling in a determined breath, she took hold of the knob and yanked the heavy oak door open.

Instantly she was looking straight into the dark abyss of the wide-open mouth of the Tasmanian Devil. It adorned a blindingly white T-shirt that clung to a very broad chest. She looked up to the extrawide shoulders that stretched the fabric of the T-shirt.

Tilting her head back even farther, she finally caught sight of the face of the man wearing the cartoon shirt. She felt a jolt akin to touching the wrong thingamajig in the fuse box while standing in a tub of ice-cold water. Up to her knees.

He literally took her breath away.

Towering a good foot over her five-foot-four frame, he was lean, dark and handsome. Like something straight out of a fortune-teller’s best conjuration.

He couldn’t be the manny applicant. More like this gorgeously tanned guy was peddling leftover blacktop from a road job nearby. Abby looked past him to the street. No big, red construction truck idled at the curb.

Totally confused now, she looked back at him. His wavy mop of hair was the color of rich walnut. His cheekbones slashed across his face toward a nose that probably had been broken once. Twice maybe. Shadowy brown eyes were flecked with gold torchlight. Her gaze fell to his mouth, and when it curved into a slightly crooked smile, she felt her hormone level quickly bubble up and spill over like some unidentifiable potion in a mad scientist’s beaker set over an open flame.

His mouth quirked down at one corner when he grinned. His upper lip was all but hidden by a thick mustache. Longish sideburns completed the picture of a desperado. All he needed was a cowboy hat on his head and a big black horse hitched to a rail.

“Hi.” His voice was lazy. Deep and gravelly like a. hundred-foot waterfall hidden way back in a canyon.

She shut her mouth with a snap and then opened it again. “Hello.”

Abby was two clicks away from telling him she didn’t need anything he was selling, but he could simply stand there and let her look at him as if he had a surplus of time on his hands.

And then the splendid hunk moved, holding out his huge hand. “I’m Jack Murdock. My appointment’s at one with Mrs. Roberts.”

No way was this guy a manny prospect. Absolutely no way! A rodeo champion. A race-car driver. A marauder, maybe. But definitely not a male nanny.

She laid her hand in his, and it was lost inside rockhard, confident fingers. She swallowed hard, moistening her dry tongue.

“I’m Abigail Roberts.” She didn’t know whether to be thankful or sorry.

Her heartbeat did a ridiculous hop, skip, jump and cartwheel in her chest. At that cold realization, she nearly laughed out loud. She wasn’t a teenager anymore. Why was she reacting to this man this way? She’d been around good-looking men before. Her body should show a little more decorum.

She squared her shoulders. Her good-mother sense kicked into gear. This was business. What kind of a man would show up for a job interview in a cartoon shirt and jeans?

She hesitated, but only for a moment. Best to get this over with as soon as possible.

“Come on in, Mr. Murdock.” When he stepped forward, Abby’s attention was drawn downward to a short shadow at his side. A dark-haired little girl in tiny bib overalls was clinging to his leg.

Jack Murdock bent down and took the child’s hand. “This is my daughter, Katie. We come as a pair.”

Abby’s heart did another roll. The child was beautiful. She had curly, shiny hair with a crooked bow clipped above one ear. And his long, tall body made her short, round one seem even more fragile. The little girl’s plump fingers were wrapped around one of his slender ones. She was so cute with those little round cheeks, huge eyes and that inquisitive look.

While Katie was satisfied to stay pressed against her daddy’s faded denims, he reached down like a jolly giant and plucked her up into his arms to settle her on his hip. This brought an instant smile to the child’s face. The beautiful little girl couldn’t be more than two. Katie eyed Abby, sizing her up from under long lashes, her head tucked under her father’s chin.

For a flash, Abby saw the little girl she had yearned for year after year and thought she had gotten over. Obviously she hadn’t. The tug was strong as ever. Abby mentally reined in her unruly emotions.

“Hello, Katie. Right this way, Mr. Murdock.” Abby led them to the bright, airy living room and motioned for them to have a seat.

Abby watched as he scanned the room for the sturdiest piece of furniture. Everything seemed dollhouse size next to him. He chose the sofa and sat cautiously as if his weight would crush the flowers in the linen pattern.

* * *

Jack Murdock balked inwardly. This whole idea went against the grain. And he hadn’t expected his potential boss would be so beautiful. Hadn’t anticipated her having the same effect on him that boiling water would have on ice cubes. But here she was. Big blue eyes, dark brown, almost auburn hair and lots of it. A face like an angel’s, but with a stubborn chin that belied her soft expression.

And she was looking at him with doubt and something else he couldn’t define. It had already been difficult enough applying for the job, hat in hand. Jack was used to taking care of himself, getting things done his way. He never had to ask for anything.

But he had to remember his number-one priority now. And she was sitting in his lap. After months of coping with his new situation, he had finally admitted to himself that he couldn’t be everything she needed. And that alone was a hard thing for a man like Jack to admit to himself. He couldn’t be all his daughter required. Katie was missing a woman in her life. Not one merely paid to see to her basic needs. And Mrs. Roberts, whatever her situation was, had advertised for someone to run around-the-clock surveillance on her boys. So here he was, wishing he were anywhere else.

A man not used to justifying his actions or trying to make anyone understand him, he mentally recoiled at this entire scenario. Bending was new to him. Bargaining was completely unfamiliar. Relinquishing some independence was totally foreign. Yet when once he would have simply stood up and called this a mistake and headed for the door, now he waited.

An aroma wafted into the room to mix with the light floral scent of her perfume. Peanut-butter cookies. The combination made his mouth water, which helped his mood.

Jack forced his attention back to the issue. “I came dressed casually because I wanted your kids to feel at home around me right away. My size alone is intimidating enough sometimes. I hope it doesn’t give you the wrong impression.”

Well, it had, Abby admitted to herself, but not for long. There was something definitely endearing about the way he held his daughter and the way she so confidently clung to him, her tiny fingers fanned out over his muscled forearm. It was very clear they had spent a lot of time together. Each taking care of the other.

There was something very charming about the way he sat so guardedly on her flowered sofa, as if his weight threatened to collapse the supports. It proved he was a thoughtful man. Not an overbearing male who let things fall apart around him.

“Good idea, I suppose. The boys are out back.” Abby folded her hands in her lap.

For some strange reason, she didn’t want to disappoint this man. That realization didn’t help her comportment any. “Mr. Murdock, I tried to reach you several times to save you a trip over here. I’ve changed my mind.” She noticed him stiffen automatically then seem to force himself to relax once again.

She watched him, found herself wondering what his hair felt like. It looked so thick and curly. If they stood real close, would her head come just under his chin? Lordy, what the heck was happening to her? She had to get her wayward, unexpected thoughts under control and focus on business.

“The truth is I hadn’t thought the matter through enough when I set up the interviews. I was acting on a whim, which really isn’t like me at all. I just think the manny situation is a little too radical for me.”

His silence unnerved her. She felt foolish and embarrassed.

He began to stand, swinging Katie into his arms.

Words tumbled out. She wondered, only briefly, why she was so rattled. “A strange man around the house. Trusting my boys to—But of course, that was the idea wasn’t it, to have someone here for them twenty-four hours a day, every day…and—”

“I wouldn’t be a stranger in another five minutes or so.” Jack waited while a few tense seconds slipped by and then figured he’d called in a bad bet. So be it. “But I can see you’re reluctant to give it a shot. Too bad, though. I think it would have benefited all the kids. Katie gets a mother figure, and your boys get a…how did you put it? A male influence.”

Abby focused her attention on Katie. What a precious little child. And no mom? Abby leaned forward and took one of the girl’s hands. Her little fingers grabbed Abby’s and held on. Life was totally unbalanced. She had always wanted a little girl, and she and Jim had tried hard for one more child. Now here was one not much more than a baby who needed a female presence in her life.

The little girl pointed to the life-size statue of a colorfully painted beagle that sat on the hearth. “Barney?”

Her dad chuckled. “No, that’s not Barney, baby. It just looks like him.”

Katie shook her head in denial and wiggled her fingers toward the statue. She tried to slip from her dad’s grip. “’Mere, Barney. ’Mere!”

As naturally as if Katie was her own child, Abby reached for her and took her from her father’s arms, her fingers brushing across his hard muscles, and set the child’s little feet on the floor.

“Let me show you.” Taking her hand, Abby led the child to the statue and hovered as Katie petted the cool, smooth glass and gently poked and inspected the animal until she understood. Abby hadn’t realized until now how much she missed those discovery years when every day the child would uncover something new and exciting.

Smiling her gratefulness to Abby, Katie leaned over and gave the pooch a juicy smooch and then held her arms up for Abby to lift her. Taking her was Abby’s first real mistake of the day.

It was like having her arms full of sunshine. Abby waited for the strong pull on her heart to subside. It didn’t. The little girl was soft and smelled of powder. One small arm snaked around her neck as the other toyed with a button on her shirt, and Abby felt herself mentally sway. She had thought the old yearning had died off with so many other things. Now she knew it had only been hiding.

Jack Murdock was obviously disappointed about the withdrawal of the manny position, but he didn’t discuss it further. Abby was glad he made it easy for her. He took his daughter when Abby offered her and shifted the child to a comfortable position on his hip. He turned to go.

Another chance for Abby to have a little girl around was walking out the door. His hand was on the doorknob. And she really needed to get some sort of routine for her boys set up before school was out.

He was pulling the door open.

Before she was fully aware of what she was doing, Abby’s hand was on Jack Murdock’s arm. “I’ll tell you what. Let’s talk about this some more. This is the end of May. School will be ending in two weeks. I really do have to have some sort of arrangement by then. If my contract goes through for the flower shop, I’ll need someone to be here all the time. Please, sit back down and tell me some more about yourself, Mr. Murdock.”

“Jack.” His grin was guarded as he walked back to his seat on the couch and balanced Katie on one knee. Abby watched as his huge fingers fought to tie a bow in the tiny strings of her loose shoelaces. He had nice hands. A shiver rode her spine.

“I’m Abby. So…Jack, what do you do for a living?”

“I’m a contractor.” He slid a folded envelope from his hip pocket and handed it to her. It was warm from his body. She set it on the end table. “Those are character references. I once owned a very profitable construction company. I’m thirty-five, divorced and have custody of Katie.”

That he had custody spoke highly of the man. Courts just didn’t hand over children to the father for no reason. “Just what do you know about raising boys?” Abby asked.

His smile came easily as he crossed his booted foot over his knee and adjusted Katie to a better balance. “Not much, other than that I just happened to have been one not too long ago.”

“Why did you answer my ad?”

“It seemed like the idea fell right into my lap. I was setting up finger paints for Katie-girl, and there it was in black and white. The classifieds staring right up at me while I spread the morning paper over the table.”

An image immediately formed in Abby’s mind. This rough-and-tumble man down on his knees unfolding the newspaper and smoothing it across a miniature table. Placing the brightly colored pots of paint in a row along the edge next to the bowl of water. Red. Orange. Blue. Green. Yellow. Did he dive into the colors with her? Were they both laughing and covered with all shades by the end of the hour?

She cleared her brain. “So the thought of taking care of kids never occurred to you before then?”

He laughed. “Not hardly. But things change. I have to make sure that Katie has all she needs. You think your boys need a man around. I feel she needs a woman around her. A positive role model, some would call it. You can see that Katie is in one piece. She gets food when she’s hungry, washed when she’s dirty. That’s the easy part. It’s the day-to-day stuff that takes time and care. I try to be both mom and dad but, as you know, it’s a stretch.”

“May I ask where her mother is?”

“Out of state, last I heard. She has visitation but has never exercised that right, nor do I expect she will anytime soon.”

“That’s too bad.”

“Not really. Most women become mothers the day their children are born. It never happened to my ex-wife.”

“So you’ve been taking care of Katie all on your own? What about when you’re working?”

“There hasn’t been much of that. My attention was drawn elsewhere when my family started disintegrating.” He wouldn’t tell her he’d become a brooding, isolated recluse. And by the time he’d realized it, his business was almost in ashes. He’d pulled himself out of it and was now ready to get things back on track.

“My crew disbanded. I’ve been doing odd jobs here and there. A neighbor has been caring for Katie sometimes. I don’t like this arrangement. She needs stability and consistency. And a woman’s loving touch.”

He sneered to himself. Something he, personally, would never need again in his lifetime.

Abby considered what he’d said. How bad could a man be with that line of thinking? He would probably be very good for the boys. And they definitely needed a gentle yet immovable force in their lives. Lately she’d found herself giving in too easily to their demands because she felt she had to make up for them not having a father.

“Do you drink or smoke?”

Again his grin was quick, his look one of toleration. Without hesitation, he answered easily. “I’ve been known to suck down a cold beer or two after mowing the grass and light up a good Havana late at night when I’m sitting on the porch or to keep the gnats away. But I also can grill a heck of a stackburger, toss hoops till I drop and I know all the secrets of successful fishing. I’ve pulled some good eating out of Molly’s Hole over in Sharpsburg.”

He winked at her, and Abby found the intimacy of the gesture sweep clear through her. She brushed the back of her warming neck, pushing damp curls back into the ponytail.

“Okay, this is a quiz.” She smiled at him and sat back. “If one of the boys came home from school with a black eye, given to him by the school bully, how would you handle it?”

Once more, his answer was instantaneous and without doubt. And delivered with a sparkle in his eye. “I’d explain that talking is sometimes better than fighting. Then I’d take him into the backyard and teach him the good ol’ sucker punch—just in case the words didn’t work.”

Abigail hid a smile. “Your views on homework? TV before or after?”

Jack pulled his daughter back on his lap after she slid to the floor and reached out for a china doll that sat on the coffee table.

“Television? Kids should be outside doing things. It’s probably best they get their homework over with so the evening is free.”

“Would you help them with their homework or expect them to figure it out on their own?”

His gaze met hers directly. “I hate homework, but I’d help to a point. I’m sure you do.” He waited patiently for her to deny it. She couldn’t.

“I hope this never happens, but what if you all come home from the store together and you find that one of the kids hasn’t paid for something?”

“Lifted it? Easy. They take it back, apologize. All that Opie Taylor stuff. I’m an honest man, Mrs. Roberts, and I plan on raising honest kids.”

If she had met this man at a party—before her bitter experience with her deceased husband, that is—she would have been fascinated by him immediately. Humor lurked in his eyes, and his easy good nature and confidence were nice to be around.

Little Katie sighed, yawned and leaned back against her dad, her eyes drifting closed. Jack shifted her so she was in a more prone position and added a little bounce with his knee. Abby didn’t miss how natural the movement came to him.

Abigail let the offer roll off her tongue before she could stop it. “I have a couple of spare rooms. You could put her down on one of the beds if you like.”

“Thanks.” He stood up and picked up the dozing child.

Abby led the way, pausing as he headed into one of the spare rooms. Watching from the doorway, she became absorbed in the way this huge man bent, laid the little sleep-limp body down and pulled her shoes off. He glanced around the room and, finding a chair, pulled it over and jammed it against the side of the bed to keep her from rolling off. He pulled a corner of the bedspread over her.

He glanced up just in time to catch Abby staring at him. She couldn’t pull her gaze from his quickly enough. What was this awareness that danced between them? Something so bright…like some bright orange sunspot. Perhaps it was simply a level of understanding about what the other was going through. A familiarity. That was all. Wasn’t it?

The timer went off in the kitchen. Saved by the bell. Abby had forgotten all about the cookies. She scooted toward the back of the house, glad something had jerked her attention back to the here and now.

Jack caught up to her and wound his way through the huge house behind her, recognizing expensive Oriental rugs and Queen Anne furniture. The house smelled of lemon-scented polish and wildflowers.

He liked the way she was dressed. A white sleeveless top was tucked into her well-worn jeans. She wore white sandals that accented her tanned tiny feet. He thought those feet might just fit right in the palm of his hand. Her reddish brown hair swung in a long ponytail that reached to her belt and was tied off with a green ribbon, teasing him to touch it. He wondered what all that gorgeous hair would look like swinging free, falling around her shoulders. She smelled of honeysuckle. Jack Murdock breathed deeply.

The kitchen was bright and spacious, and Jack found himself looking around with genuine interest. There were pictures drawn by the kids pressed to the refrigerator with cartoon-character magnets. Two lunch boxes waited on the countertop to be filled. A tennis racket leaned against the wall, a few strings curled loose. A broken remote-control car was in numerous pieces on one end of the long table that sat in the center of the room. A lone daisy drooped from its perch in a jelly glass converted to vase. An apple, with one small bite taken out of it, teetered near the edge of the countertop.

Home. The word shouted at him.

Jack watched as she bent down to pull the cookie sheet from the oven. She picked up the fresh, hot cookies with a spatula and transferred them from the aluminum onto a piece of wax paper to cool. The aroma made Jack’s mouth water. Her movements made his mind wander.

He appreciated the room. Like a page from Good Housekeeping, it was a lived-in space. Oak furniture. A long, rectangular table with claw feet was surrounded by eight ladder-back chairs. Gleaming copper pots hung in a circle over the bright orange island center. Dark green ivy grew in shiny brass pots suspended from the dark-stained wood beams overhead. The glint of silver, the glisten of china and the sparkle of crystal winked at him from the grand antique mahogany sideboard.

He had never been poor but he knew what kind of money it took to build and maintain a home like this. And what kind of care.

A glass wall looked out over the backyard. He moved to it and watched as three kids and a woman splashed around in the Olympic-sized swimming pool. Lucky kids. There was abundance in this house. And love. He could almost feel it, hanging in the air like mist after a rain. Whatever Abigail Roberts was doing, she was obviously doing it right.

When they had discussed the interview on the phone, she had revealed it was a single-parent home. Widow. But unlike his daughter, the brothers had each other.

Abby sensed a harmony. A strange addition. A man in her kitchen. It was a split thing; part of it was uncomfortable and part of it was like the scattered pieces of a puzzle falling right smack into place. His simple presence added something to the formula here. Assurance. Safety. Consistency.

Anticipation?

She cleared her throat. “Iced tea?”

“Thanks. Nice house.”

She moved about the kitchen filling two tall glasses with ice. He took a chair near the end of the table, flipped it around and straddled it. When he wasn’t watching her, he fiddled with the parts of the broken remote-control car.

How long had it been since he had sat in a kitchen while a woman waited on him? Or he on her? Forever, he answered his own question, silently. Absolutely forever. His ex-wife had made sure he was soured on everything that had to do with marriage and family before she fled. And up until this very minute, he hadn’t missed it one bit.

Abby placed a frosty glass in front of him. He noted the extra touch of the quartered lemon wedge on the rim. Some women just had a way of doing things that made a man feel special, he decided.

Brows knit together, up to his elbows in parts now, Jack held one up. “These batteries still good?”

“I think so.” She arched a brow. “It’s more like the fall it took from the garage roof that caused it to stop working.”

“Roof?” he questioned without looking up.

She slid into a chair opposite him. “Yeah, I know. What was it doing on the roof? It only took Nick a second to scamper up the ladder the painter left against the garage while he went to eat lunch.”

Jack shook his head. Abby jumped to her own defense. “I’ve tried being bilocational, but it doesn’t work. I was in the bathroom with Ben playing nurse to his bloody knee. Nick knew better, but he used to get on the roof with his dad from time to time, you know, cleaning rainspouts and retrieving tossed teddy bears. It’s a relatively flat roof….”

“Hey, relax, no one is accusing you of anything.” He chuckled and continued to toy with the loose parts. “A little glue and time might just fix this right up.”

The sight of a man sitting at her kitchen table repairing something warmed her. “Nick would like that. It’s his favorite toy.”

Jack took a few long gulps of his tea. “That’s cyclical. In a few weeks, it’ll be something else.”

She grinned. So he knew about those things. “Katie loses interest quickly, too, huh?”

He nodded as he held two broken pieces of red plastic together. “My folks sent her one of those newfangled play-tripod things. For an entire week, she seemed glued to it. Now—” he motioned a hand in the air “—nothing.” The two pieces he’d been holding together fell apart.

Small talk with a man. How long had it been? How much had she simply missed the company a man brings to a woman’s kitchen? No, she had purposely forgotten that. After what Jim had done to her…she would never want another man in her life again. At least not her very own personal life. She pushed those specific thoughts away and let her mind wander to less painful topics.

“Do your parents live nearby?” she asked.

“No. They would be able to help me out some if they did. West Coast. Retired. They want me to come out there to live—and I might have to if things don’t work out here—but I know a lot of people in this area. My reputation is already built. And I like Maryland. Where else can you find an ocean, mountains, flatland, big cities and small? The seasons are great here. When it’s summer it’s hot and muggy, when it’s winter it’s cold and icy.”

She agreed. “I like Williamstown. Old, small and quiet. Yet right on the edge of several large cities. Good place to raise kids.”

Restful. Eased. Feelings that Abby seldom enjoyed anymore sneaked up on her. She listened to the sound of his deep voice override the yelps and squeals and the occasional shout at the kids from her friend who was swimming with them.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Do you have any tools close by?”

“In the drawer behind you. Bottom one.”

He set a screwdriver, electrical tape and pair of pliers on the tabletop. He talked as he worked. “I let my carpentry business fade over the last year. I went through a time of…well, never mind. I’m going to need a chance to build it back up again. Right now I can be making my contacts by phone and running out to the job site off and on, whenever you’re home for the kids. I have a friend who’ll be foreman on the site for me till I get things going.”

She nodded. She could see his reasoning. As a manny, he would have a salary, a place to stay and meals for both him and his daughter. He would have the benefit of an almost-wife and mother without the reality of it. Katie would never know the difference. Not for a long time anyway. Ben and Nick were a different story. Yet, she thought, maybe having him move in wasn’t such a far-fetched idea after all. But could she really contend with having an almosthusband around? She hunched her shoulders. He’d never be that. Just a helper.

Jack caught her staring at him. He grinned. She warmed beneath it. It did feel as if the arrangement might work. She had hatched this flighty plan for exactly that reason, with the best interest of her boys in mind. Granted, it was a little more than Big Brothers of America, but it was no real big deal. Was it?

After catching the first few words about it from the TV talk show, she had sat down and listened. It was working. Men were proving themselves very adept at the nanny role. Retired football players were doing it. Preppies putting themselves through college were doing it. Single men not wanting to get into the office grind were doing it.

And it was successful. In many different instances, it was the answer to single or distant parenting. A different kind of family was better than no family at all. In distant parenting, it was a relief to the estranged father or mother who only had certain visitation rights to know that there was a male or female influence in the house, someone to take care of what needed tending to.

Her thoughts were moving too quickly. She got up from the table and went back to the countertop. Snagging two cookies, handing him one, she walked to the wall of glass to watch the kids.

“Mr. Murdock, those two kids out there are the most important thing in the world to me. They’re my life. I’m sure you understand that with your daughter. I’d be handing you my whole being, putting it in your hands, if I were to proceed with this. It’s why I have to be so careful before I make a decision. The television show made it all seem so simple, but it’s far from that, I assure you.”

“True enough. You placed the ad. I just answered it. I don’t eat little kids for lunch, and the last time I got caught slinging one of them off the steeple of the closest church, they burned me at the stake. I’ll even get a note from my mother.”

She laughed. “Sometimes I wonder how we find ourselves in the situations we’re in. There isn’t enough of me to go around.” She heard metal against metal as he continued to tinker with the broken toy.

He stated matter-of-factly, “Even between the two of us, I suspect we’d be hard put to do all, see all. I don’t know anyone who does.”

“What are you hoping to get out of all this, Mr. Murdock?”

He sat back in the chair and examined her. Drawing some sort of conclusion, he answered. “The same thing you are, I expect. Help. More love for the kids. They can’t have too much of that, you know. Someone to share the laughs and help me wipe away the tears.” He scratched his back with the screwdriver. “I don’t talk like this. Don’t make me talk like this.”

She couldn’t help but laugh at him. The twinkle in his eye, the sure way he was planted at the table.

“I’ll call the boys in to meet you.”