by Barbara Lohr
Maybe this job could give her some breathing room—a chance to figure out her future. Only one child to take care of, or so the ad said. How hard could this be? She was blown away when a request for an interview came back two hours after she’d pushed the send button. Stretched out on her futon, she was watching The Notebook for like the fiftieth time. Even soaking wet, Ryan Gosling still sizzled. Her sobs were interrupted by the ping. She had mail.
One casual glance and she sat bolt upright. Gulping and pausing dear Ryan, she started typing. Sure, ten o’clock Wednesday would be fine. But when she did an Internet search for the address, hot and cold flashes danced across her skin.
The mansion on Victory Drive. Cameron Bennett. Holy cripes. She closed the laptop, only to reopen it fifteen minutes later. The pay was too good to pass up. Time to put on her big girl pants.
Now she squinted up at the building. “Here goes nothing.”
Harper took the brick steps slowly so she wouldn’t get all sweaty. Her stockings felt like sausage casings. Her older sister’s words kept her climbing the dang stairs. “You only have one chance to make a good impression, Harper. Make it count.”
She might not even have one chance if Cameron recognized her.
Her flounced skirt swung around her thighs and her hair was coiled into a demure bun at the nape of her neck. Just a touch of lip gloss and some mascara this morning. One more deep breath from her inhaler before she tucked it in her bag. The tortoise shell bracelets she’d scored at Maisy’s shop jangled on her wrists when she punched the doorbell.
A couple beats and Connie opened one of the heavy black doors.
“I have an appointment at ten o’clock. Harper Kirkpatrick,” she said, as if she’d never seen Connie before in her life. With some effort, she lifted the end of each sentence, just like Mary Ann had told her. “Just a tad, Harper, darlin’. Like you’re lifting the edge of a flapjack?”
No hint of recognition when Connie stepped back. “Please come in.”
“What a lovely foyer.” Diving into a southern accent that clung like syrup to every word, Harper babbled about the marble floor, Oriental rugs and priceless antiques like she’d never seen them before. The same pink tulips flopped from the crystal vase.
Hah, so they were artificial.
Well, so was she. Thinking maybe she’d overdone her Scarlett O’Hara imitation, she zipped her lips.
“Won’t you sit down, Harper?” Connie motioned to an ornately carved bench that sat under a watercolor of the marshes. The library pocket door slid open while Harper tried to get comfortable on the hard surface.
“Thank you so much for coming, Miss Daniels. Connie will get back to you. We expect to make a decision soon.” Immaculate in gray pinstripe slacks and an alabaster shirt, Baby Blues stood in the doorway, his mauve tie a jaunty splash of color. The man had style.
“Then I’ll wait to hear from you.” The gorgeous Miss Daniels smiled with the confidence of a candidate who knew she’d aced her interview. The classic lines of her suit screamed designer and the sand color accented her blonde bob. Mile-long legs ended in nude peep-toe heels.
Harper smoothed one hand over the ruffles of her tiered skirt patterned with purple flowers. Suddenly, her pink jacket seemed too bright, the skirt too girly. She’d drawn the line at wearing the navy “interview suit” her mother had given her as a graduation gift. Navy wasn’t in Harper’s color palette. Now she wondered.
Cameron gave Harper a brief nod before sliding the door closed. Thank God for the mask she’d worn that night.
“I’ll just tell him you’re here,” Connie murmured after she’d shown the girl out.
Right. Like he hadn’t seen her sitting there. Harper expelled a tight breath as the library door slid closed behind Connie. Reaching into her bag, she fingered her inhaler. Touching the plastic ridges eased her anxiety.
While Connie was gone, Harper rehearsed her new inflection, giggling quietly at her whispered, “Yes sir, that is so very sweet of you.” Air circulated in the white marble foyer, so much cooler than the party room downstairs that night. Memories of her performance sent butterflies skittering through her tummy. Studying the Savannah etchings hung along the stairway, she tried to identify each square. Took her mind off how desperately she needed this job.
The library door slid open, the dry sound of wood on wood. Connie padded toward her. “You can go in now.” Bless her heart, the housekeeper shot her an encouraging smile.
Cameron lounged in a wing chair in front of a massive fireplace at the end of the library. He rose with a languid elegance that contrasted with his broad shoulders and a strong nose that spoke of power. She’d seen a lot of that silver spoon entitlement here in Savannah. He was the real deal.
But today he looked just plain tired. “Hello, I’m Cameron Bennett.”
She extended one hand. “Good morning. I’m Harper Kirkpatrick.”
He shook her hand, fingers long and cool. “Thank you for coming. Won’t you have a seat?” Cameron indicated the wing chair facing him and grabbed a folder as he sat down.
Whew. No sign of recognition.
Connie peeked in. “Pardon me, but would you care for coffee, Harper? Tea perhaps?”
She shook her head. “Thank you, no.” Her stomach was having enough trouble while she watched Cameron scan her resume. The only sound in the room was the ticking of the impressive gold clock on the mantel. Sunlight beamed through the heavy burgundy drapes, and she studied the dust motes floating in the ray of light. One shank of blonde hair fell over his forehead and he pushed it back slowly as he read the sad facts of her life and career. Most of them were true.
“You graduated from the design school here in town?” Cameron looked up.
“Yes…probably like every candidate in the city.”
“And your major was…”
“Fashion design.”
His eyebrows peaked. “You didn’t want to continue on that path?”
What he really meant was, why are you here?
How could she explain the grueling internship in New York, a city hopelessly crowded with cut-throat people clawing for work? “Fashion design wasn’t what I pictured.”
“My word, life rarely is.” Was he laughing at her? Tossing her resume onto the table, Cameron fixed her with intense blue eyes. The Inquisition had nothing on this guy. “Why are you interested in this position? Seems like a reach for a fashion major.”
Mentioning money would probably be a bad idea. “I’ve always found children to be fascinating. I come from a large family.”
His eyes brightened. “Lucky girl. So, why didn’t you try primary education?”
“Too many kids at one time?”
Cameron burst into a surprised laugh that made her chuckle too. The tightness loosened in her throat. Then he seemed to remember why she was here and picked up her resume again. His fingertips flicked the edges of the top sheet.
Looking at those fingers with nails cut cleanly across, she tried to quiet the rogue chill chasing up her spine. Harper had a thing about a man’s hands. “How do you deal with responsibilities? Dependable?”
That twinkle in his eyes made her wary.
“Yah, I would say I’m responsible.” Yah? So much for hiding her Midwest accent.
“Always come through?”
Good grief, maybe he did recognize her. Mouth dry, she nodded. “Yah, er, yes, I do.” Her hands tightened on the handles of her peony purse.
“Hmm.” His cheeks sucked in. “Your references would attest to that, of course?”
“Of course.” Thank goodness her legs were already crossed at the ankles.
With a rustle of paper, he flipped to the second page.
A jet of cool air blasted from somewhere, and Harper tilted her chin to lap it up. Why had she worn this hot pink jacket? Oh, right. The rip under the arm of her white blouse.
Baby Blues was back to the first page. “You’ve held several positions since graduation. Most of them waitressing and
one as a …” A grin tweaked one corner of his mouth. “Party planner?”
Oh, Lord save her.
“What exactly is that?”
The first time she opened her mouth, nothing came out. Moistening her lips, Harper took another stab at it. “I help families with their birthday parties. Children, mostly.”
Cameron seemed to study the slow burn working its way up Harper’s neck. A cool drop of perspiration skidded down her spine. Her excitement about this job fizzled like pop left in the hot sun.
Dropping the resume onto the side table again, Cameron tented his fingers in front of his lips. How long had she been here, a year? Was the next candidate waiting in the hall? Harper edged forward, ready to be dismissed.
Puffing out his cheeks, Cameron leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. “Here’s the thing, I have a four year old who won’t eat.” His voice faltered, and he cleared his throat, studying the pattern of the red and blue Oriental rug under his tasseled loafers. “Bella is four years old, and she still eats mostly baby cereal.”
How was this possible? “So, she’s never eaten stuff like applesauce or cinnamon chex?” Some of Harper’s personal favorites.
He shifted his attention to the shelves of books like they might hold some answers. Pain flashed over his face like a lightning strike and disappeared. When he swung his focus back to her, his eyes were shuttered. Cameron Bennett probably never let his guard down.
“And Bella has asthma. At least, the doctors think it’s asthma. She’s on medication, but, well, we have to take every precaution.”
“You have a lot on your plate,” Harper murmured. This position screamed train wreck. As she shifted, the leather chair squeaked. “Aren’t some of these normal issues for growing kids?” She’d have to ask Mark and Malcolm, her brothers. They had children.
“I have no idea.” He blew out a breath. “Would you like to meet her?”
“Sure. Love to.” She wanted to run from the room. The heavy burgundy drapes, dark antique furnishings, and portraits of men with drooping moustaches pressed in on her. This felt all wrong and she wanted out.
But she stayed.
Stepping out into the hall, Cameron called for Connie. “Is Bella home yet?”
“Jack just arrived with her.”
“Would you ask her to join us, please?”
Harper checked the time on the mantel clock. Maybe she could cut this short by mentioning a non-existent dental appointment.
The little girl that tromped in behind Cameron two minutes later kept Harper riveted to her chair. Long dark hair framed enormous blue eyes that wandered the room before settling on Harper. One delicate hand plucked at the fussy flowered dress that probably came from a shop on Bull Street. The fingers of her other hand were tucked in her mouth.
“Bella, I’d like you to meet Miss Kirkpatrick.”
Glowering, Bella sucked harder.
“Be polite and say hello now, darlin’. And take those fingers out of your mouth. Please…” Cameron added almost as an afterthought.
Brushing wet fingers down her dress, she inched forward. “Hello.” She studied Harper’s hot pink slings.
“Hey, Bella. What a pretty dress.” Pretty awful.
Cameron touched his daughter’s back, just one finger.
“Thank you.” The words fell like a brick her dad had pried loose.
Easing himself back into the wing chair, Cameron pulled Bella onto his lap. Her eyes and frown never left Harper. “Why don’t you tell Harper about Sesame Street. Don’t you watch that show every day?”
“Daddy, I like Batman, not Big Bird.” Who knew kids this age could do an eye roll?
But she had a point. “Me too. One Halloween I wore a Batman costume.”
“You did?” The frown had been dislodged.
“Sure did.” Harper smiled, remembering her mother’s horror. Her mom had wanted her to be Cinderella. McKenna helped Harper lobby for a Batman costume, insisting she’d be Robin. Her older sister always came through.
A grin tipped one corner of Cameron’s lips. Bella had his full lips, but that cute, snub tilt to her nose? Must be from her mother. Was Cameron widowed or divorced?
But Harper didn’t want to know any more. Every cell in her body was screaming at her to leave.
“Bet you got lotsa candy.” A nasal whisper, Bella’s voice kept her there. “You know, wearing that Batman costume and all.”
“Yep, lots of candy.”
“Did people like your costume?”
“I liked it. That was all that counted.”
Bella flashed a shy smile and then it was gone. Harper could have cut the tension in this room with a swizzle stick. Her neck ached, and she’d only been here thirty minutes. Something was seriously screwed up. She felt both appalled and drawn to the tyke with adult eyes.
“Any questions for Harper?” Cameron asked.
“Oh, no need. Really I…” Harper began.
Mouth puckering, Bella dropped her eyes, like she knew she was being kicked to the curb. Without a mother to show her the way and Baby Blues for a father, this kid didn’t stand a chance.
Harper’s stubborn Irish nature kicked in. Bella had “hopeless case” stamped all over her. And darn it, Harper couldn’t resist.
“Okay then, why don’t you say goodbye and I’ll get Connie?” Cameron was on his feet and pressing a button on the desk.
Harper almost felt lightheaded. Five minutes ago, she’d been ready to sprint from the room to a dentist appointment she didn’t have. Now she was rooted to the spot by a moody little girl. When the door slid open, Harper could see another candidate in a navy suit sitting in the foyer. The girl looked up expectantly.
Cameron whispered something in Connie’s ear and she nodded. Taking Bella’s hand, Connie stepped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. Cameron settled back, looking pleased.
“Your daughter is very…interesting,” Harper offered cautiously.
“She misses having a mother, I’m afraid.”
No kidding. “Must be hard.” She couldn’t even imagine.
“I’m looking for someone who can live in.” Cameron’s fingers tapped the arms of his chair.
She gulped. Was he offering her the job?
“You can alternate Sundays off with Connie,” Cameron was saying. “And I can certainly handle Saturday.”
She seriously doubted that. Harper wanted to thump the man over the head with one of his red Chinese vases. Looking off in the distance, Cameron seemed to be dictating. He probably did that a lot. “I work long hours, and we have plenty of room.”
Obviously he didn’t expect a refusal. Harper’s fingers were destroying her peony purse.
He turned back to her. “Have I missed anything?”
Yes, a heart. Cameron Bennett needed a little time with Dorothy and the Tin Man.
“Not at all.” A million reasons why she shouldn’t take this job knotted in her throat. She swallowed them in one painful gulp when Cameron threw out a figure that was more than she’d ever made in her life. Live here in this mansion on Victory Drive? She could handle that. The vivid mental picture of her earthly belongings heaped at the curb began to fade. Relief left her light-headed.
Ten minutes later, she was out on the sidewalk. The sun beat down and birds sang from the trees. Taking out her phone, she called Adam to tell him the news.
~.~
As Cameron closed the door behind Harper Kirkpatrick, the gloom that had dogged his steps lately lifted. After interviewing five women who obviously couldn’t handle his daughter, he’d found a keeper.
Harper’s tough Chicago edge might be just what Bella needed. And he liked Harper’s flamboyant style, pink plastic hoops swinging in her ears and bracelets clanking from her arms. Where on earth had she found that pink and purple skirt and those pink heels? No matter. Bella needed some perking up. He had no clue how to go about it. Poor Connie tried but she was getting on, and the last two nannies hadn’t even lasted a we
ek.
“So, what did you think?” he asked Connie when he found her in the kitchen. A yeasty scent filled the air as his housekeeper kneaded a lump of dough. He did so love her homemade bread. Grabbing a grape from the basket on the kitchen table, he bit down.
“I like her. I liked her Saturday night.”
They shared a smile.
“That’s one of the reasons I hired her. The girl has spirit. Bella needs some fun in her life.”
A familiar sadness seeped through him. He grabbed another red grape. Not quite ripe but he ate it anyway, swallowing the tart taste. In the next room, the TV blared. Bella spent way too much time watching her shows. And as she’d set him straight this morning, she preferred super heroes to Sesame Street. Might be too violent for a little girl but what did he know?
“Harper’s young.” Connie gave the dough one more thump.
“So she is.” Was there a double meaning in Connie’s words? He glanced out the kitchen window into the secluded garden that always needed care. “Would you tell Jack that one of the trellises needs attention? The rain made a mess of them.”
“I get him right on it.” Connie gave the dough another punch. “I think Bella will like Harper.”
“I hope so.”
He liked these short talks with Connie. When it came to his daughter, he wanted to do the best thing. The right thing. It helped to talk things over with someone else, and Kimmy, well, he hesitated to bring Bella up with his girlfriend. Kimmy was so busy with her TV show.
“See you, Connie. I’ll probably be late.”
“I’ll be here.” Connie shaped the dough into a bread pan with firm pats.
Taking the steps two at a time on his way upstairs, Cameron decided to shower. He was sweating bullets. A southern gentleman never attended a meeting in a wrinkled shirt. Once in his gray marble shower, he blasted the cold water over his body in a punishing flow. Hiring Harper as Bella’s nanny unfortunately did nothing to dispel the memory of her in the Catwoman suit.
He adjusted the water until it was ice cold.
Chapter 3
Harper studied Cameron Bennett’s mansion Monday morning. This could be a big mistake. Adam put his black pickup in park. “Girl, when you move up, you do it in style.”