He turned to Sara and said, “If I can get help, I’ll reschedule another job, hand one off to Art and do the work for you. Even Steven trade for day care.”
“Oh, no, that trade isn’t even. I’ll pay you something,” she insisted. “Maybe for materials?”
He held up a hand. “We’ll settle up those details later.” Pulling his cell phone out of his pocket, he continued on. “Let me try and rustle up some help.”
Some of the worry lines smoothed out, and she tipped him a small smile. “Oh, thank you, thank you so much. You’re really helping me out of a bind.”
With his eyes lingering on her brilliant smile just a little too long, he nodded an answer. Then, to distract himself, he found Art’s number in his cell’s directory and pressed the dial button.
And hoped he didn’t regret tomorrow his decision to come to Sara Kincaid’s rescue today.
Chapter Two
As the sound of pounding on the roof echoed overhead, Sara pulled the chicken pot pies she’d made for dinner from the oven.
She was truly grateful Owen had decided to fit her repair in and that Jeff had been able to assist. Though she preferred to do things on her own, she knew when to let the experts take over. And the truth was, she’d had no choice but to rely on Owen’s and Jeff’s roofing expertise to fix her problem.
Setting the fragrant main course on the counter, she put the potholders down and headed to the room she shared with Mia to check on the girls.
Sara peeped around the doorjamb, smiling when she saw Mia and Jane having a tea party on the bed with several of Mia’s stuffed animals. They were still dressed in their princess costumes. At this rate, they’d wear out Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella and Sara would have to get the sewing machine out and make some fresh girly dress-up costumes.
Her heart squeezed with satisfaction. Janey was an absolutely darling girl, and having a playmate for Mia was a real blessing. Things had turned out very nicely since Owen had come by yesterday to give Sara an estimate. He’d handed off a job to Art and returned that very day to start repairing her roof with Jeff. They’d worked until dark then, and were well into another long day of work.
Satisfied everything was well with the girls, she went back in the kitchen and grabbed the plates and utensils to set the table in the dining room. She set four places, hoping Owen took her up on the offer she intended to make to have him stay for dinner. It was the least she could do for him given that he was insisting they make their deal an even trade, despite the fact that his roofing work was worth much more monetarily than a few days of day care.
He’d refused anything less, and desperation had forced her to agree. She was still thinking about ways to pay him at least something for his work. If he were staying in Snowglobe, she’d offer free day care for as long as he needed it. Since that wasn’t possible, she’d come up with something else for sure. Even three meals a day wasn’t going to compensate him adequately.
As she tossed the salad, she sent up thanks to the Lord for sending Owen to her just when she needed him the most. Despite the hard times Josh had brought on by walking out on her when she’d been almost nine months pregnant, Sara still believed God would provide, and that had been proven when He’d provided a kind, caring, skilled contractor like Owen.
Good-looking was on the list, too, but she wasn’t thinking about that.
The pounding from overhead stopped abruptly, and Sara cast her gaze out the kitchen window. Dark was falling fast, which undoubtedly had forced Owen and Jeff to stop work.
Time to round up the girls for dinner. Owen would have a hard time refusing if they were all sitting around the table, ready to eat, when he came in to get Jane, and Sara was determined to present him with a hot meal after a long day of work.
And Jeff, too, for that matter, she thought, then hurriedly set another place at the table. They were working hard in cold, snowy weather, and would probably be starving. A warm meal would do them both good.
Besides, Owen was a single dad—everyone in town had been shocked and saddened when his wife had died of cancer a year or so ago—and would probably welcome a home-cooked meal he didn’t have to make himself after a grueling day’s work.
Though Sara hadn’t personally known Kristy Larsen, given that Sara had generally kept to herself since she’d moved back to Snowglobe, by all accounts Kristy had been a lovely person, loving wife and wonderful mother. Sara’s heart broke for Owen and Janey; losing someone you loved was always hard, as Sara well knew. But having to stand by and watch your spouse die? She couldn’t even imagine. Her heart broke for the Larsen family.
Five minutes later, she had the girls sitting in booster seats at the dining room table, their sippy cups in hand. The meal she’d prepared was spread out on the large, round antique dining table Sara had refinished, a literal smorgasbord of yumminess. What could she say? She loved having someone to cook for, especially someone who would undoubtedly appreciate good comfort food.
She heard the front door open and then close.
“In the dining room,” she called out.
A few seconds later, Owen appeared in the arched opening separating the parlor and dining room. His dark eyebrows rose as he took in the cozy dinner scene before him.
“Daddy!” Jane waved. “You eat dinner wif us?”
He moved into the room and took off his knit hat, exposing his short, slightly wavy dark hair. How he didn’t have a terrible case of hat-hair was beyond Sara. His dark blue eyes roamed over the spread on the table, which included the pot pies, homemade dinner rolls and Waldorf salad, one of Sara’s favorites, mainly because her mom had made it often when Sara was growing up.
“Uh...I don’t know,” he said, blinking, clearly taken off guard by the ready-and-waiting meal.
“You can ask Jeff to stay, too,” Sara said. “There’s enough for everyone.”
“Jeff had to get home for some kind of family dinner,” Owen said, his eyes snagging on the pot pies sitting front and center. “Is that pot pie?”
“Yes, it is. My aunt’s recipe.”
“It smells delicious,” he said. “And I am hungry...”
“Oh, trust me.” Sara grinned, nodding. “It’s out of this world.”
“Please, Daddy. We stay.” Jane held up her sippy cup. “I have milk!”
Owen regarded Sara. “You sure it isn’t an imposition? Because I have a gourmet frozen macaroni and cheese waiting to go into the oven when I get home, and, hey, that’s hard to pass up.”
“I’m sure,” she replied, liking his sense of humor.
He paused, then said, “All right.” Shucking off his coat, he set it over the back of his chair and cast his gaze around. “Is it okay if I go wash up?”
“Of course.”
“Be right back.”
On his way, he dropped a kiss on Jane’s head and waved at Mia. Sara did her best not to notice how good he looked in his jeans and long-sleeved waffle weave T-shirt...but the guy was in some shape from swinging a hammer and carrying building materials around all day long. And he was a really nice guy. A nice single guy...
Horrified, she veered away from that thought as if it were an angry porcupine. Her dad and Josh walking out on her was enough to last a lifetime. Or two. She’d never willingly set herself up to be dependent on anyone ever again. For anything.
And even if she were willing, Owen was leaving town soon. Why ask for trouble? He would fix her roof. She’d take care of Jane for a few days. They’d maintain a friendly relationship, and then they’d both go on their merry way, no worse for the wear. Easy.
Determined to keep her thoughts of Owen in check, she started filling the girls’ plates, giving them each a small portion of everything, hoping they’d eat a bit of all of it.
Just as she set each plate in front of Mia and Jane, Owen returned. His
hair was damp around his face; he’d obviously really freshened up. “Wow. You outdid yourself,” he said, sitting and spreading his napkin on his lap. “This is quite the meal.”
A glow of pride spread through her. “I like to cook, and I’m used to making food for a group.” She held out a hand for his plate.
He handed it to her. “Ah. Of course, hence the ‘breakfast’ in Snowglobe Bed-and-Breakfast.”
“Correct.” She filled his plate with generous portions of each dish and two rolls and gave it back to him. “I also include dinner in my rates and often pack picnic lunches for my guests.”
“Do you also do all the housework and upkeep around here?” he asked as he buttered his roll.
“Sure do.”
“And you take care of a three-year-old all day?” He picked up his fork. “That’s a lot of work for one person.”
“Yes, it is.” Sometimes it was overwhelming to be on her own, with so much responsibility. But she’d take that reality any day over letting someone else be in control of her future. She’d done that with Josh, only to have him leave her high and dry when he’d decided late in her unplanned pregnancy that he didn’t want to be tied down to a child. It was a heartbreaking pattern established when her dad had done the same thing to her mom when Sara was ten. “But it allows me to be with Mia and to be my own boss.”
“Still, it’s gotta be hard to keep this place going by yourself.” He took a bite of pot pie and nodded, clearly appreciating the dish.
“It is, and sometimes I need help and I call people like you.” She served herself a more modest portion of pot pie, salad and a roll. “Unfortunately, with a house this old, I have to do that more often than I’d like. Just last month, I had to have a plumber come and fix some leaky pipes, which is why I’m short on funds to take care of the roof.” She pursed her lips. “Speaking of which, I’d really like to talk about some kind of payment plan.”
“We already figured that out,” he said.
“No, you generously offered to trade some work for daycare, which, believe me, I appreciate.” She leaned over and cut Jane’s pot pie into smaller pieces. “But it’s obvious that deal isn’t really equitable, and I’d like to find some way to pay you in full eventually.”
He chewed for a moment, then set his fork down and wiped his mouth with his napkin. “Look, I’ve been working all day, and I’d rather not talk business. Can we just table this discussion for now and enjoy this great meal with our daughters?”
“Yes, of course we can,” she said, realizing he was right. “As long as we don’t put it off permanently.”
He paused, peering intently at her. “You’re not going to let this drop, are you?” he asked, smiling crookedly.
“No, I’m not.” She took a sip of water. “I don’t like being beholden to people.” As long as she relied only upon herself, she’d be fine, and her heart would stay intact.
“Beholden?” He frowned, then leaned back in his chair. “Is that the way you view this situation?”
She pushed her pot pie around her plate. “Well, yes.” Guess that’s what happened when the one person you trusted most in the world kicked you in the teeth and then left you there, bleeding. She was extra vigilant now against making the same mistake.
“Really?”
“Is that weird?” she asked, wondering if she was coming across as a bit off her rocker.
“Not weird, exactly, but maybe a bit...leery?”
“Maybe.” She tapped a finger on the table. “Let’s just say I have my reasons for wanting to shoulder my fair share.”
“Such as?” he asked.
“Oh...various things,” she said, raising her brow and glancing at Mia and Jane with a slight tilt of her head. Sometimes adults had to have in-depth conversations when little ears weren’t open wide. And, of course, she was sure Owen wouldn’t be interested in her tale of woe. He had a more heart-wrenching story for sure; hers would seem petty in comparison.
He paused briefly, then nodded, obviously understanding. “Oh. Okay. Gotcha.”
They finished the meal—Owen had seconds of everything—and then they cleaned up the girls and cleared the table. He insisted on helping with the dishes, and no amount of shooing would get him to change his mind, so Sara relented. He washed and she dried, and they worked there side by side in the glow of the muted kitchen lighting, with the steam from the hot water in the sink rising around them, all warm and comforting.
The girls played happily at the small table in the kitchen, barking as they pretended two stuffed dogs were real, and best puppy friends to boot.
It occurred to her then that she couldn’t remember when she’d enjoyed an evening more, and that perhaps she might be a bit lonely for social company; she was a busy single mom running a business, and she had virtually no time to herself. That thought of liking spending time with Owen had uneasiness blossoming inside of her, and she sagged back on the counter for just a moment.
Then she drew herself up, chiding herself for overthinking the situation. This work trade arrangement was just temporary. As long as she didn’t get used to having Owen around—and she wouldn’t let herself, she vowed—she’d be fine.
When the dishes were done and put away, Owen took out the trash and Sara finished wiping off the counters. She lit a kitchen candle to freshen up the room after an afternoon of cooking, and when Owen came back in, everything was clean and put away, ready for the next meal.
“We’d better go,” he said, looking at his watch. “It’s getting late.”
She looked at the clock on the wall. Only seven o’clock. “For a three-year-old,” she said, quirking a rueful smile.
“Right,” he said, returning her smile.
She found her gaze lingering on that appealing lift of his lips. “Although, these days, I’m pretty tired myself by this time of night.”
“Me, too. Parenting is exhausting, isn’t it?” he asked. “Especially for single parents like you and me.”
She nodded. Those softly uttered words hung in the air, somehow signifying a silent yet unmistakable kinship that burned like a banked fire in Sara’s chest. He understood the challenges of her life, she thought. Better than a lot of people....
They gathered up Jane’s things, and despite the girls’ pleas that they wanted to play tea party “just one more time,” everyone headed to the front door.
Sara handed him Jane’s pink parka. “She’ll need this tonight. It’s cold out there.”
He took it from her. “No kidding.” He bundled Jane up and flipped the fur-trimmed hood onto her head, then looked out the stained-glass windows by the door. “I think it’s snowing again.”
“It’s supposed to snow all night,” Sara replied. She’d need to shovel the stairs and walkway again in the morning.
“Snow!” Jane exclaimed. “Pretty!”
Mia giggled and jumped in the air. “Pretty snow!”
“Maybe I’ll take them out to play in it tomorrow,” Sara said. “We can make snow angels.”
The girls cheered and danced around the foyer, flapping their arms like angels.
“Speaking of tomorrow,” he said, grinning at the jubilant three-year-olds, “I’d like to get an early start again since daylight is so limited this time of year. Okay if I’m here as soon as it’s light, around eight?” He bent down to put Jane’s boots on.
“No problem,” Sara said. “We’re early risers.” Mia rarely slept past six.
“Great.”
An idea occurred to her. “In fact, why don’t you guys come for breakfast? I have a new cinnamon roll recipe I want to try, and it makes a ton.”
He straightened. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“You won’t be. Really. Actually, you’ll be helping me.”
He blinked and stared at her.
; “I need taste testers,” she said.
He cleared his throat, then crouched and put on Jane’s other boot. “Who am I to deny you use of a taste tester?”
“Great. Then I’ll see you in the morning.”
“Right,” he replied, zipping up his coat. “I’ll look forward to those cinnamon rolls.”
As he and Jane walked outside and down the stairs, Sara noticed that someone had shoveled all of the snow off them, and the walkway, too.
“Owen,” she called, holding up a hand.
He turned around as he put on his hat.
“Did you shovel the stairs and the walkway?”
“Yup.”
How had she not heard him? Maybe he’d done it when she was vacuuming? Her heart glowed warm. “Well...thank you,” she said. One less thing for her to do tomorrow. Good, right?
“You’re welcome.”
With Mia by her side, Sara stood on the wide front porch and watched Owen and Jane make their way to his truck parked at the curb, their boots squeaking in the snow. Fat flakes continued to silently drift down, floating to earth in the glow of the porch light.
Owen loaded Jane into a car seat in the cab of his truck, then with a wave, went around the vehicle and got in. The ignition started and they drove away, the red taillights of the truck glowing like Christmas lights in the dark street until they disappeared from view.
Her breath forming fog in the wintry air around her, Sara stood for a moment, her hand pressed to her chest, still taken aback by his thoughtfulness; having someone else looking out for her was a foreign occurrence for sure.
Foreign, yet somehow comforting, knowing her load had been lessened by some small yet still significant amount. She had someone else to rely on, even if just for a little while.
As she hustled Mia into the house and closed the door against the cold, Sara cut off those warm and fuzzy thoughts with a quick yet effective mental slap. She depended on nobody but herself. With that reality echoing in her head, she sternly told herself to appreciate Owen’s gesture, but not to get used to having him do things for her, or to count on him for much. He would remain nothing more than her roofing contractor and temporary taste tester. No matter what, she had to remember that to protect herself. And her heart.
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