by Lisa Jordan
“Sounds good.”
For the first time in several days, Tucker started to relax. Maybe, just maybe, things would work out after all.
Chapter Three
His family was going to think he’d lost his mind, but Tucker knew without a doubt he could trust Bella, even if he hadn’t seen much of her in the past decade.
Joe had kept him posted on her accomplishments, and the pride in the older man’s face had told Tucker all he needed to know. And after spending the afternoon with her, he was sure of his decision.
As he climbed the steps to the farmhouse to pick up Livie and Landon, the sweet scent of cooking apples mixed with cinnamon drifted through the open windows on either side of the front door.
Tucker reached for the handle, then hesitated. Until a couple of months ago, he’d come and gone as he pleased. The farmhouse had been the only home he’d known until he married Rayne soon after graduation and they’d settled in the ranch-style brick house down the road.
Then, after her death, he and the kids had moved back to the farmhouse temporarily.
For over two years.
Since Dad married Claudia nearly three months ago, though, Tucker hadn’t felt comfortable just walking in unannounced, raiding the fridge or even leaving the kids at a moment’s notice if he got called into work. No matter how much he loved Claudia, whom he’d always considered his second mom anyway, things were different now. And the newlyweds deserved their privacy.
But she’d also have his head if he rang the doorbell or knocked.
Country music blaring from the kitchen mingled with laughter as he stepped inside.
Claudia’s laughter.
The woman had brought joy back to the farmhouse after years of grief from the tornado that had nearly destroyed their dairy farm and killed his mother. And for that, he’d always be grateful.
He palmed the kitchen doorjamb.
Two large stainless-steel stockpots full of apples bubbled and steamed on the five-burner stove. Dozens of sanitized jars sat on the kitchen table glistening in the late-afternoon sunshine streaming through the open window and casting rainbows across the cherry finish.
“Applesauce making. I knew I’d come at the right time. I’m surprised you have the energy after today’s activities.”
“Just in time to give us a hand filling those jars.” Dad nodded toward the table as he picked up the metal potato masher and pressed it through the softened fruit.
“Hey, Tuck.” Claudia paused coring apples long enough to stand on tiptoe to kiss his cheek. “I heard you had the largest bid at the auction today.”
“Isabella Bradley saved me from an afternoon of small talk.” He reached for an apple and tossed it from hand to hand. “Got a moment? I just wanted to let you know something.”
Dad shot a quick glance at Claudia, and Tucker didn’t miss the look of concern that shadowed his eyes before he turned back to the stove.
Yeah, their family had gotten too good at sharing bad news over the past few years.
Dad turned down the heat under the pot, then leaned against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “Sure, what’s up?”
Suddenly feeling drained after the busy day, Tucker dragged a hand through his hair. “Well, the thing is—”
The back door to the kitchen opened, cutting off Tucker’s words. Jake and Tori entered with another basket of apples. Over their shoulder, Tucker saw Olivia and Landon holding flashlights they’d won at one of the games today and playing tag on the back deck with Meno on their heels.
“Hey, man.” Jake dumped the apples in the sink, then looked at Claudia. “That’s the last batch for this evening. It’s getting too dark to pick.”
“Hey, Tuck.” Tori stood beside her fiancé and started washing the apples.
“Hi, guys. Thanks for keeping the kids today. Stellar job on partnering with the Dinner with a Hero event, City.”
Tori grinned at his nickname for her due to lack of rural upbringing. “Thanks, Country Mouse.” She returned her focus on the sink.
Jake grabbed a towel and dried his hands, shifting his eyes between his brother and his parents. “Did we interrupt something?”
Tucker picked up a long-handled metal spoon and stirred the bubbling sauce. “No, I was about to share some news with Dad and Claudia, and now that you two are here, it saves me from repeating it.”
Jake leaned against the sink with his arms folded over his chest. “What’s up?”
Tucker returned the spoon to the plate on the counter, pulled in a deep breath then exhaled slowly to gather his scattered thoughts. “Mandy quit, and Isabella Bradley’s going to be caring for Olivia and Landon until Willow moves back home.”
Claudia frowned, then picked up an apple and her paring knife. “You know that’s not necessary. We can keep them until you can find someone more permanent.”
“I appreciate that, C. I do. But you and Dad need your time together. And aren’t you heading to Nashville this week for a few days? And Tori’s returning to Pittsburgh for work this weekend.”
“We can postpone. Family helps out one another. That’s just what we do.” Dad’s voice, quiet and controlled, jerked Tucker’s attention away from his stepmom.
“And lose out on the money for flights and hotel? No way.”
Jake pushed away from the sink. “I thought Isabella was a chef at a high-end resort or something. What’s she doing back in Shelby Lake? And didn’t you two date in high school?”
“No, we were just good friends who worked together at Joe’s. I’m not sure about her current job situation, but she and I talked earlier today. She’s going to care for the kids until Willow returns, and I’m going to help her revamp her father’s diner. Joe’s been having a tough time lately, and she’s home to lend him a hand.”
Dad ran an open hand over his chin, then raised an eyebrow. “And when are you going to find time for that?”
“I’ll make the time. Besides, it’s only for a week.”
Dad placed a hand on Tucker’s shoulder. “I respect your noble heart, son, but you can’t rescue everyone just because they need help.”
“This is different. After the tornado, Joe organized cleanup crews and fed us, remember? And saved my life. It’s the least I can do.”
Claudia curled her hand around his elbow. “I admire what you’re doing, but are you sure this is the best solution?”
“This is only for a couple of weeks. I’m not asking her to marry me or anything. I’ve known Bella nearly my whole life.”
He’d expected his family to go in protective mode, which they’d done since he moved back to his house and hired someone outside the family to care for his kids, but, man, could they at least trust he had some common sense? He made split-second lifesaving decisions on a daily basis, so why couldn’t they see he’d thought this through?
Dad moved to the stove, gave the applesauce a final stir, then flicked off the heat. “Okay, then. What about the twins? Have you told them yet?”
Tucker shook his head. “Bella’s coming for lunch tomorrow after church so they can all get to know each other. Honestly, Dad, I don’t expect any problems.”
Claudia set the fruit bowl on the counter, laid out a towel, then carried the jars one by one closer to the stove, where Dad seated a green canning funnel in place and ladled hot applesauce into them.
They worked together seamlessly without a word but in continual sync with each other’s movements. That’s what marriage was all about. And for a moment, Tucker’s heart panged. He wanted that kind of in-sync partnership again. That unspoken ability to sense what the other needed without being voiced.
Claudia placed lids on the hot jars and screwed on the rings. Then she took a damp cloth and wiped away applesauce dripping down the sides. “Tucker, you have a good head on your shoulders, and you know what you’re doing. J
ust remember—we’re here to help in any way we can. Like your dad said—that’s what family’s all about, right?”
“Holland strong.” Tucker made a fist and raised it, then glanced at the inside of his left forearm, where a tattoo of a heavy tree with tangled roots inked his tanned skin to symbolize that their family was strong and deep rooted enough to weather any storm together. He and his brothers had gotten matching tats after their mother’s death.
Dad rested his hands on Claudia’s shoulders. “We may bend, but we don’t break.”
He’d heard their family mantra all his life, and for so many years, he’d believed it. But man, the past few had tested his strength nearly to the breaking point. The weight of grief pressed on him so heavily at times that had it not been for his family’s support, he wasn’t so sure he would have been able to function.
But now he was holding on to hope for the next few weeks to go well, so when Willow moved back home to give him a hand, he could figure out what he needed to do to streamline his life so his supervisor would relax a bit.
* * *
Agreeing to trade services with Tucker was a mistake.
What did Isabella know about caring for children?
What if Tucker’s kids didn’t like her? Then he’d be back to square one with his childcare problem, and she’d be without a helper and would have to handle the diner updates on her own. Scary thought.
She wielded a chef’s knife better than a paintbrush. She had the paint-dipped-ponytail pictures to prove it.
Plus, she’d be letting Tucker down, and he didn’t deserve that. The poor guy had it tough enough as it was.
Enough with the self-doubt already.
Like everything else, she’d make this work, too.
Isabella pulled in the gravel driveway and took in the ranch-style brick home with the wide covered front porch, attached garage and hedges lining the front of the house. A basket of red geraniums swung from a wrought iron shepherd’s hook next to the steps.
Two small bikes—one purple with tassels and one red with black racing stripes—lay on their sides in the grass next to a soccer ball and a single pink-and-white polka-dotted boot.
She stepped out of her car, retrieved a foil-covered baking dish and her purse, then forced her nerves to settle as she headed for the front door and rang the doorbell.
Barking and the pounding of feet sounded from inside the house. The red front door flew open, and she looked down into a miniature Tucker as a fluffy golden dog barked by his side.
She didn’t need a photo album to remind her what Tucker had looked like as a child. The little boy sported the same dark blond hair that curled at the ends, blue eyes and impish grin as his father.
The dog stepped onto the porch and sniffed her. Seemingly satisfied, the animal turned and headed back into the house.
She returned her gaze at the child and smiled. “You must be Landon.”
He nodded and cocked his head. “How do you know my name?”
“I know your dad, and he talks about you.”
“Who are you?”
“I’m Isabella. I’m here to talk to your dad.”
Still holding on to the doorknob, he turned and yelled, “Dad!”
Isabella bit back a smile. A moment later, a bleary-eyed Tucker appeared at the door, a crease in his cheek as if he’d fallen asleep. He stifled a yawn, then scrubbed a hand over his face. “Hey, Bella. Come on in.”
She looked at him, then glanced at her car in the driveway. “Is this a bad time? I could come back.”
He waved her inside, closing the door behind her. “No, it’s fine. I was trying to do some studying, and I must’ve dozed off.”
“Sounds like riveting material.” She stepped inside, and the dog barked once again, wagging its tail.
“Meno, it’s okay. Bella’s harmless.”
“Meno?”
“Livie and Landon named him after the clownfish in Finding Nemo, but they kept switching the consonants, and Meno stuck. Anyway, he belongs to my sister-in-law, Willow. We’re dog-sitting while she’s away.”
“Beautiful dog.”
“He’s a goldendoodle—a cross between a golden retriever and a poodle.”
Isabella held her hand out for Meno to inspect, then thrust the casserole dish at Tucker. “I made this for you.”
He peeled back a corner of the foil and inhaled. “Smells fantastic. The twins ate right after church, so maybe we could save it for a bit.”
His words loosened the cinched knot in her stomach. “Whenever. It even freezes well if you don’t want it today. It’s nothing fancy—baked herbed chicken tenderloin with rotini and vegetables in a creamy sauce. I tried to keep it simple and figured the kids would like the twirly pasta and cheese.”
“As long as it doesn’t contain mushrooms, we’re good.” He carried the pan through the open dining room and into the kitchen, setting it on the stove.
She followed. “You don’t like them?”
“I love them, but Landon’s terribly allergic to them. And after what happened to Rayne, I don’t even bring them into the house.”
Isabella wanted to ask more, but she didn’t want to make him uncomfortable. Or sad.
He snitched a noodle from the corner of the dish and popped it in his mouth. Closing his eyes, he groaned. “It’s perfect. I want to dig in.”
“Go for it.”
“I’ll give you a tour, then maybe you will join us?”
The earnestness in his eyes had her nodding before her brain could fire off a warning. Tucker was the one person who could get her to say yes to anything, which was why she was going to be caring for his children. Thankfully, he was a pretty upstanding guy.
“Great. Well, obviously, this is the kitchen.” He waved a hand over the cream-colored cabinets, stainless appliances and gray-marbled countertops. He moved to a louvered door and opened it. “This is the laundry room and back door to the garage. We usually use this door when we’re coming in or heading out. It’s a two-stall garage, so feel free to park in there and come in through here.”
They left the kitchen, headed down a short hall and stood in the doorway of a large room flooded with light from the bay window overlooking the backyard, which held a colorful swing set and hard plastic climb ‘n slide. The dove-gray walls with white trim and a dark gray microfiber sectional sitting in front of a stone fireplace nestled between two built-in bookcases gave the room a homey feel. Textbooks, papers and a closed laptop lay on a square coffee table in front of the sectional. A large TV hung above the mantel lined with family photos of Tucker and Rayne and Tucker, Rayne, Olivia and Landon.
Behind the couch, a pink-and-mint-colored play kitchen, a plastic workbench, a child-size table with two chairs, and shelves holding colored bins of toys and books had been arranged for a play area. Meno jumped up on the couch, his tail thumping against the cushion.
Tucker motioned for her to follow him down another hall off the dining room. He jerked his thumb at one of the closed doors. “That’s my room.”
He nodded toward two open doors across the hall. “These are the twins’ rooms, and the door at the end of the hall leads to the bathroom. There’s a trundle bed in Livie’s room, where our previous nannies slept. If that won’t work for you, let me know.”
“I’m sure it will be fine.” Isabella peeked into Landon’s blue-and-red room and Livie’s purple-and-green room, then turned back to Tucker. “You go in this evening and work until Tuesday at noon, right?”
Tucker nodded. “Yes, usually. Sometimes I’ll get asked to stay over to cover other shifts. When that happens, though, it’s usually spur of the moment and Dad keeps the twins. Which is why I don’t want to ask him to care for them until Willow gets back. So, you’re really helping me out.”
“Sounds like we’re helping each other out.” They headed back to the di
ning room. “So, what are your expectations of me?”
“Keep my kids safe.” He grinned, but there was an element of truth in his words.
He pulled out a dining room chair and gestured for her to sit. He sat across from her and folded his hands on the table. “If you could arrive by six thirty, that would give us a couple of minutes for debrief, then I’ll head to work. Despite their insistence, the twins will need baths. No screen time, but they are allowed to play for a bit and read stories. They need to be in bed by eight thirty, even though they’ll try to weasel more time. Then you’re free to do whatever. Meno curls up on Landon’s bed. In the morning, they need to be dressed, fed and ready to walk out the door by seven fifteen. I walk them to the end of the driveway and wait until they get on the bus. On my workdays, sometimes I’m able to make it home to see them for a couple of minutes before they leave. Once they’re off to school, make sure Meno has fresh water and dry food, then lock the door and you’re free to go. Oh, that reminds me...”
He dug in his pocket, pulled out his keys and twisted one off the ring and handed it to her. “Here’s a house key for the side door leading into the garage. You think this will work for you?”
Taking it, she looked at it, the weight of his trust pressing into her skin. Forcing away any lingering doubts, she folded her fingers around the key. “As long as you’re not expecting Mary Poppins.”
“Nah, I’ve heard your British accent.” He winked, then reached for her hand. “I’ve known you my whole life, and like I told you yesterday—I trust you.”
Holding on to his words, she smiled. “This schedule will give me time to get things done at the diner before Dad gets back. Hopefully, once we reopen, he’ll be back to his old self again and we can move forward.”
“Still discouraged?” Tucker headed into the kitchen and pulled four plates out of the dishwasher.
Isabella took them and set the table. “And grumpy and frustrated. I’m hoping his new medicine will help stabilize his blood sugar and improve the moodiness.”
“Give it time. Diabetes isn’t something to mess around with, so I’m glad he has you looking out for him.” Tucker left the kitchen and called the kids in from the backyard and directed them to the bathroom to wash their grubby hands.