A Home for Adam

by Gina Ferris Wilkins

  And yeah, all right. He admired her courage, her self-sufficiency, even her stubborn independence. She took chances, admitted her mistakes, picked herself up and kept right on going. Other than a few perfectly understandable hormone-driven lapses, she hadn’t whined or panicked or begged for assistance.

  She had every intention of making her own way in the world, raising her baby. All very admirable, if a bit misguided.

  She considered herself his housekeeper. Nothing more.

  He considered her a friend. Nothing more.

  Time would tell which description—if either—best described the tentative bond between them.

  * * *

  Adam parked in front of an impressive, redbrick and white-trim Georgian house in an exclusive west Little Rock neighborhood. “Welcome to your new home,” he said.

  “Temporary new home,” Jenny murmured, whether to remind him or herself, she couldn’t have said. She studied the dignified, formally symmetrical structure with hidden awe. Though it was almost modest in comparison to some of the mansions they’d passed, it was still a bigger house than Jenny had ever lived in before.

  This was where she and Melissa would be living for the next few months? This was the house she would be responsible for keeping?

  Oh, heavens.

  “It’s—very nice,” she said inanely.

  Adam didn’t seem particularly bothered by her lack of enthusiasm. “Let’s get you and the baby inside and then I’ll start bringing in your things,” he said, reaching for his door handle.

  Jenny had a sudden, insane urge to run. As fast and as far as she could go. She felt almost as though her life would change forever, in some dramatic, potentially dangerous way, the moment she stepped through that stately, wood-and-leaded-glass front door.

  She took a deep breath and told herself to stop being ridiculous. It was only a job, she reminded herself, and Adam only an employer.

  She could handle this.

  She hoped.

  * * *

  Cody didn’t linger after he helped Adam carry in all the bags. He explained that he had to get back to Percy, to tend to his own business there. His partner, he added, was probably more than ready for Cody’s help by now.

  Cody kissed Melissa’s little cheek, and then did the same with Jenny

  “We’ll be seeing each other again,” he promised. “Soon.”

  She smiled. “Good. I’d like that.”

  Adam cleared his throat and motioned toward the door. “Come on, Cody. I’ll see you out.”

  They left Jenny standing alone in Adam’s house.

  The place had obviously been professionally decorated. Colors, patterns, fabrics, materials—all blended into a soothing harmony of terra-cotta and cream—elegant, without being overly feminine. Equally lovely and restful paintings hung on the walls. Jenny was sure each was worth a great deal, though she wasn’t familiar with the artists. What few baubles and knickknacks there were had obviously been chosen for aesthetic, rather than sentimental value.

  The overall effect was expensive, but a bit cold.

  It was a gorgeous house. Jenny just wasn’t at all sure she would call it a home.

  She held her baby and stood very still in the middle of a huge, sunny, high-ceilinged gathering room that should have been warm and comfort inspiring, but somehow wasn’t. She’d never seen a house that looked less welcoming for a newborn.

  Adam had silently rejoined her and was watching her closely. “What’s wrong?”

  She quickly shook her head. “Nothing.”

  He frowned. “Jenny. I know you well enough by now that I can tell when you’re trying to hide something from me.”

  She didn’t much like the sound of that.

  If he knew her this well after only a few days, would he be able to read her mind after another couple of weeks? That didn’t seem fair, since she could so rarely even guess what Adam was thinking.

  Telling herself that her nerves were making her fanciful, she cleared her throat. “Actually I was wondering if you’re sure you know what you’re doing bringing a baby into this lovely house,” she said candidly.

  He shrugged. “Melissa’s no trouble. And, as I’ve explained, I’m not here much. Don’t you think the two of you will be comfortable here?”

  Comfortable? She doubted it.

  Safe? Maybe.

  She supposed she would settle for that.

  * * *

  As Adam had already explained, the master suite was on the ground floor, at the back of the house. The other four bedrooms were upstairs. As Jenny and the baby followed Adam through the upstairs hallway, she had the impression that it had been quite a while since anyone had climbed the stairs at all, except, perhaps to dust and vacuum.

  “Did Mrs. Handy stay up here?” she asked curiously.

  “Actually, Mrs. Handy lived in her own house across town. She was here from nine to five on weekdays, off on weekends.”

  Jenny’s eyes widened. “You led me to believe she was a live-in housekeeper,” she accused him.

  He shrugged. “Practically. What’s the difference?”

  “Aren’t you worried about what people will say about me living here?”

  “No,” he answered bluntly. “I never worry about what people will say.”

  He opened a raised-panel door. “This is the largest of the upstairs bedrooms. Perhaps you’d like this one.”

  Jenny glanced past him, noting the four-poster bed, the delicate little vanity, the paintings and crystal accoutrements. A little sitting area with a real fireplace. Even a rocker. “It’s lovely,” she said. “But—”

  “Fine. It’s yours. I’ll go get your things.”

  “But Adam—”

  “Make yourself at home. You can either pick one of the other bedrooms for Melissa, or we can set up a crib in here with you until she’s older. Look around and think about it while I’m downstairs. Take your time.”

  He was gone before she could respond. He had a bad habit of doing that—making pronouncements and disappearing.

  Jenny would have to work on correcting that if they were going to be living together—er, working together—well, whatever it was they would be doing.

  * * *

  Jenny was fully prepared to make dinner that evening, getting an immediate start on earning her salary, but Adam refused to allow her to do so.

  “One more night of rest won’t hurt you,” he said. “We’re finally back in civilization, so let’s take advantage of it. I’ll call for takeout. Do you like Chinese food?”

  “I love it,” she replied. “But—”

  He was already heading for a telephone. “I’ll just order an assortment of dishes. That way there will certainly be something you like.”

  “But, Adam—”

  He was gone.

  Jenny sighed, the soft sound seeming to echo through the big den, and looked down at Melissa, who was watching her as though to see what her mother planned to do next. “The man is impossible,” Jenny grumbled. “Utterly impossible.”

  Melissa crossed her eyes as though in complete agreement. And then she yawned.

  Jenny couldn’t help smiling. At least Melissa was accepting their new surroundings easily enough, she thought ruefully. She really should take a cue from her daughter.

  Chapter Ten

  They ate in the breakfast room just off the kitchen, deciding that Chinese takeout was a bit too casual for the formal dining room with its glittering chandelier and glossy table for twelve.

  The kitchen was actually Jenny’s favorite room in the house. The cabinets were natural oak, the countertops cream-colored Corian, the appliances big and functional. The window over the ceramic sink held thriving herbs in small matching pots, and there was a rack over the island cook top for copper-bottomed pans.

  “Mrs. Handy decorated in here,” Adam admitted. “She wouldn’t let my decorator through the kitchen doorway.”

  “Good for her,” Jenny murmured.

  “Don’t you li
ke the rest of the house?”

  She nodded, not wanting to hurt his feelings—if, of course, that were possible. “It’s very nice. But this room is my favorite,” she added.

  Adam glanced around and smiled a little. “Yeah,” he admitted. “Mine, too.”

  “Did your mother have a kitchen like this when you were growing up?” Jenny asked, spearing a grilled shrimp with her fork.

  Adam laughed. “If you knew my mother, you’d realize what a silly question that was. As far as I know, my mother never stepped foot in a kitchen after she married my father. Dad came from a wealthy family, so their first household—a veritable mansion, of course—included a cook, a full-time housekeeper and a gardener.”

  He was still smiling faintly when he added, “Mother adapted to a life of leisure very naturally, though Granny Fran has always claimed all that money ruined the hard work she’d done to raise Mother to do for herself.”

  “So you were raised in luxury,” Jenny said, permitting herself to tease him a bit, just to see how he reacted.

  “Yes, I was,” Adam answered unselfconsciously. “But, to be honest, I was never happier than when I stayed at Granny Fran’s little house in Malvern. I liked sleeping over at my aunt and uncle’s house, too. With their three kids, it was usually a bit chaotic there, but always fun. It was quiet at my house, especially after my father died when I was eight.”

  Jenny was touched by the hint of wistfulness in his deep voice. She wondered if he realized how much he’d just revealed to her, all with one word.

  Quiet.

  It must have been quite lonely for a little boy growing up with a difficult, embittered mother in an elegant, “quiet” mansion.

  She suspected that Adam had never really gotten over that loneliness. He was still living in all-too-quiet luxury.

  “I’m leaving early for the hospital tomorrow morning,” Adam told her after dinner. “You’ll probably have the house to yourself most of the day. I’ll leave the number of my answering service. If you need me at any time, all you have to do is have me paged. I don’t want you doing any heavy cleaning, definitely no vacuuming or heavy lifting—it will be a few weeks before you’re up to that yet.”

  “You aren’t paying me to be a houseguest, Adam,” Jenny retorted. And then she wondered if his former housekeeper had addressed him so casually. “Maybe I should call you Dr. Stone.”

  “You do and I won’t answer. You’ll call me Adam.”

  His no-nonsense tone informed her that, to him, that issue was settled.

  “As for your duties,” he continued. “Light housekeeping is all you should be doing for the next few weeks, and that’s all the place needs right now, anyway. I’ll do the vacuuming for a while—I’ve been doing it for the past couple of months, anyway. That leaves dusting and straightening to you, as well as laundry and cooking. Between those responsibilities and taking care of the baby, I’m sure you’ll be more than busy enough.”

  “I still don’t feel right about taking full pay from you unless I’m earning it,” Jenny said fretfully.

  “Trust me, you’ll earn it,” he assured her, breaking into one of those rare, full grins that made her insides feel all funny and quivery. “Some would say putting up with me was a full-time job in itself.”

  Her mind temporarily emptied, Jenny couldn’t think of anything clever to say in return. She settled for “mmm.”

  Sitting in her infant seat at one end of the table, Melissa began to squirm and fuss softly, her tiny fist going to her mouth.

  “Looks like she’s getting hungry again,” Jenny said with a shake of her head. “She certainly has a healthy appetite.”

  “You go feed her. I’ll clear this stuff away,” Adam said.

  She didn’t argue, since she knew it wouldn’t do any good. Instead she nodded and glanced at her watch. “I think I’ll turn in early after I feed her. I’m sure she’ll be awake several times during the night.”

  “I’m sure you’re right. You’ll call me if you need anything?”

  She nodded and stood. “Good night, Adam.”

  He rose when she did. “Good night, Jenny. Sleep well.”

  He glanced at the baby, then grimaced humorously. “As well as can be expected, anyway.”

  Jenny chuckled and gathered Melissa into her arms. She felt Adam watching her as she left the room.

  She was enclosed in her own beautiful room, nursing her baby and rocking in front of the empty fireplace, when she thought wistfully that she rather missed the tiny cabin in the woods, a cozy fire for warmth and Adam sleeping on the floor close beside her.

  * * *

  “...and what if something had happened to me while you were gone, hmm? You know my health isn’t good. And you leaving me here alone with my heater out in the middle of a winter storm, and...”

  Adam closed his eyes, pinched the skin above his nose between his right thumb and forefinger and tried not to let his mother’s droning telephone lecture get to him.

  He’d waited until late afternoon to call her, since he knew he would only be hearing a continuation of the complaining monologue he’d already heard several times. It took all the patience he had not to snap at her and hang up the phone.

  He sat in his office, behind his uncharacteristically clear desk. Since he hadn’t been expected in for a few days yet, and had no appointments scheduled for the rest of the week, there wasn’t that much for him to do.

  For the past hour, he’d been fighting an urge to leave early and go home to check on Jenny and Melissa. He didn’t know exactly why he hadn’t; he’d had a vague idea that maybe Jenny needed time alone to settle in and get comfortable in his house.

  He hadn’t stopped thinking about her all day. He’d told himself repeatedly that he was simply concerned about her—as anyone would be. Nothing more to it, of course.

  “I still just can’t understand why you didn’t at least leave me a telephone number where you could be reached,” Arlene finished in a near whine.

  “You know why, Mother,” Adam said bluntly. “You would have called it several times a day, and I needed a break. Granny Fran would have let me know if you’d really needed me.”

  “Granny Fran,” Arlene repeated in a huff. “I told Mother several times that I needed your help with my heater, and she refused to even call you for me. I all but begged her for your number, and she wouldn’t give it to me.”

  “I asked her not to,” Adam reminded her. “Sorry, Mother, but that’s the way it was. You were perfectly capable of taking care of the heater problem yourself, and you did so. So give it a rest, all right?”

  Arlene sighed gustily. “Sometimes you can be very difficult, Adam.”

  So can you, Mother. So can you. But Adam kept the words to himself.

  “At least come have dinner with me this evening,” Arlene said, the invitation issued as more of an order than a request. “Grace is preparing trout almondine. I know it’s one of your favorites.”

  Adam winced. “Thanks, Mother, but I’d better not tonight. I’ve hired a new housekeeper and I’m sure she’s preparing dinner. Give me a bit more notice next time, okay?”

  “A new housekeeper?” Arlene pounced on that announcement. “Who is it? Why didn’t you tell me you were replacing Mrs. Handy? I’m sure I could have helped you locate someone suitable. How did you find this woman? I hope you didn’t go to one of those domestic employment agencies, Adam. You never know about the people you find off the streets that way.”

  If he’d thought it would do any good, Adam would have beaten his head against his desk in sheer frustration at his mother’s constant faultfinding. He knew it wouldn’t help, however. He’d tried it.

  “I’m perfectly capable of hiring my own housekeepers, Mother.”

  “Who is she? How much are you paying her?”

  “Her name is Jennifer Newcomb and it’s none of your business how much I’m paying her,” Adam replied.

  Arlene was too accustomed to Adam’s occasional curtness with her
to take offense this time. “Jennifer Newcomb? Is that Mrs. or Miss?”

  “Ms.” Adam corrected her, having no intention of telling his mother the personal details of Jenny’s life. “She’s a single mother and she has experience with housekeeping. I’m sure she’ll work out quite nicely.”

  “A single mother? Adam, this doesn’t sound promising. Where does she live? How did you find her?”

  Adam wished he could evade the subject of where Jenny would be living, but he knew his mother would find out eventually. “She’s going to be staying in one of the upstairs bedrooms,” he said lightly, ignoring her latter question. “I’ve explained to her that I’m rarely home, so she and her daughter will have plenty of privacy. She’s going to clean house, cook meals, do the laundry and marketing, run errands when necessary. You said yourself that I needed to replace Mrs. Handy, Mother, and I’ve decided you were right. I do need help with the house.”

  Torn between gratification that he’d admitted she was right about something, and concern at everything else he’d said, Arlene stammered for a moment. “But, Adam—a live-in? With a child? Oh, dear, I’m sure you’ve made a mistake,” she finally concluded.

  “Well, that remains to be seen, doesn’t it?” Adam said with forced cheerfulness. “If it doesn’t work out, I’ll take care of it, Mother. Don’t worry about it.”

  “But—”

  “Look, I really have to go. I have a lot of calls to make before I can leave the office this evening.”

  “But, Adam—”

  “Goodbye, Mother. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Adam cradled the receiver before she could protest any further.

  * * *

  It was just before six when Adam returned home. Jenny was waiting at the door for him, her hands on her hips, temper flashing in her eyes.

  He suspected he knew what had set her off this time. “I take it the delivery truck arrived?”

  “The delivery truck arrived,” she agreed grimly. “Adam, how could you order all those things? There’s no way I can afford all this stuff now!”

  “Jenny, be reasonable,” he said wearily, without much optimism that she would easily comply. “The baby can’t keep sleeping in a dresser drawer—or in your bed. She needed a crib.”