Unexpected

by Karen Tuft

  “It appears that, once again, I have caught you in an odd moment.” He pulled a hand from his pocket and extended it to Natalie.

  In that split second, she knew. It was the grizzly-bear attorney from her near-death experience that morning. She stiffened, speechless, and cautiously extended her hand.

  He shook it briefly, let go, then glanced down and began to brush the flour off of his hands. He looked back at her and smiled politely. Natalie watched his eyes take in every inch of her. She glanced down and groaned inwardly. She was wearing her old faded apron that read “Kiss the Cook” over her hokey pokey T-shirt. Both were generously dusted with flour. When she looked up, she realized he was trying to keep his expression bland, but his mouth was quivering like he would burst out laughing at her at any second.

  He cleared his throat. “Apparently, I am your employer, of sorts—Ross McConnell. And you must be the Mrs. Forrester Esther Johnson told me about—on the voice mail I just listened to this afternoon.” His smile broadened a little, and he looked entirely confident and in control.

  Natalie smiled faintly back. “Not Mrs. Forrester. Just—”

  “Bob!” Kate yelled as she and Emma ran back into the kitchen; then both girls skidded and froze in their tracks.

  Mr. McConnell got a funny look on his face, then asked, “Just—Bob?”

  All eyes were on Natalie—five pairs of female eyes staring out of what seemed to be statues and one pair of rich brown male eyes under eyebrows raised in question. “No, that would be Natalie. Not Mrs. Forrester, please. And Bob is what my girls and their friends call me. Little family joke.” She noticed he didn’t offer to let her call him Ross in return. Still feeling like a glaring spotlight had focused in on her, she nervously reached for a plate of frosted cookies. They were perfectly edible, but the letters had turned out funny. “Would you care for a cookie?”

  Ross reached for one, then paused, his hand hovering over the plate. “Were any of these cookies facial appendages at any time this evening?”

  Heather’s false nose chose that minute to sag.

  “I can honestly say the answer to that is no. They are quite safe,” Natalie answered gravely.

  He nodded and took a bite of a cookie that was supposed to say A but looked like a wobbly arrowhead instead. “Mmm, very good.”

  Natalie pulled a glass from the cabinet and opened the refrigerator door. “Let me get you some milk to go with that. The girls are making cookies to ask some boys to the girls’-choice dance. Your cookie happens to be an artistic casualty.” She was babbling a little, and she knew it; she was having difficulty getting her nerves totally in check.

  Ross took the glass of milk. Cookies and milk were generally irresistible to human beings of any age, and that undoubtedly included him, Natalie thought a little grumpily. She didn’t know what to say to him. How was she supposed to play hostess to the man who had very abruptly thrown her out of his house that morning? Well, he had his cookie and milk; that was a lot more than she had received. She turned back to the counter and poured a glass of milk for Callie.

  Since her mouth had gone dry, Natalie took a swig of milk from Callie’s glass before handing it to her and then looked around. The girls were still standing quite still, all staring at this tall, good-looking man as he chewed his cookie and swallowed as though women watched the way he ate every day. She wondered what to say next. Did he expect her to apologize to him? He obviously knew who she was now. She knew she shouldn’t have been tap dancing in his house, really, but he hadn’t even given her an opportunity to explain. He’d ordered her out as though she were some kind of criminal. Although, to be honest, her tap-dancing ability did border on criminal. Well, she’d been wrong, but he’d overreacted. It wasn’t as though she’d been loading the trunk of her car with his valuables. But she didn’t want to say the wrong thing and jeopardize the job cleaning his home.

  Buying herself some time, she returned to removing cookies from the cookie sheet and placing them on the cooling rack. She heard him clear his throat, and she turned back around. The girls were still transfixed. Natalie mentally rolled her eyes. He was handsome, and Natalie would be lying to herself if part of the reason he made her nervous—aside from this morning’s debacle—was that men in general still intimidated her, but attractive men paralyzed her.

  “I thought I would come by and introduce myself. Mrs. Johnson explained her husband’s situation to me, and I appreciated that she located a substitute to take her place. I would like to go over your references, however, before we set up anything of a permanent nature—assuming, of course, that either of us might be interested in a permanent arrangement.”

  Natalie’s mind took an unexpected jump from the words permanent arrangement to the two failed permanent arrangements, otherwise known as marriage, that she’d already had in her life. They had been extremely painful and life changing. Her hands were suddenly clammy, and she wiped them on her apron, shaking loose a fresh cloud of flour.

  Ordering herself to get a grip, Natalie said, “I have a list of references I can give you.” Turning deliberately to Emma to give herself a moment to regroup her thoughts, she said, “Em, will you go get one of my reference sheets? They’re in the top drawer of my—”

  Natalie’s words shook Emma out of her stupor, and before she could finish her sentence, Emma dashed from the kitchen and returned momentarily with the paper in her hands. Emma handed it to Ross, smiling meltingly at him like he was a rock star. Natalie inwardly groaned. She was going to have to sit down with her girls and explain carefully about men and trust and using their brains practically, not romantically.

  Suddenly, she felt unreasonably angry. Why did women, even young teenage women, lose all of their brain cells when a man walked into the room? Natalie had certainly lost her brain cells as a teen, when Aaron, aka “Buck,” Jacobsen had been anywhere nearby, at least for a while. Until he’d gotten what he’d wanted and left her life in shambles.

  “Mr. McConnell,” she said politely but formally, “even if my references check out to your satisfaction, perhaps we should just agree to a trial period, see if we each think the arrangement will ultimately work.”

  Ross pulled his checkbook and pen out of his back pocket and began to write. “This should cover any work you have done so far, according to the information I got from Mrs. Johnson. Let me go over your references, and I’ll be in touch with you in a couple of days. I presume you will continue what you’ve been doing until then?”

  When she nodded, he reached for her hand again. Gripping it firmly, he gave her a long, solid handshake and looked squarely into her eyes. She held his look as long as she could and felt all of her righteous indignation begin to dissolve. Was there something familiar about him? The question nagged at her and made her nervous. Dropping her gaze, she retreated by pulling her hand away in an instinctive act of self-preservation.

  He shoved his hands back into his pocket and headed to the door. As he turned the knob and opened the door slightly, he looked over his shoulder at Natalie. “Just one question—where did you get the nickname Bob?” He smiled slightly, a bit of humor showing in his eyes.

  “Maybe I’ll tell you sometime,” she replied and bit into her cookie.

  He nodded briefly, gave the dreamy-eyed teens a brief salute, and let himself out the door.

  * * *

  Ross pulled away from the curb and headed away from Mrs. Forrester’s small house. No, not Mrs. Forrester—Natalie, he corrected himself. Then he chuckled. No, make that Bob. He briefly wondered again what that was all about. She and her posse of young females had provided a few entertaining moments this evening. Walking in on some sort of flour explosion had surprised him. He’d never encountered anything like that before. Finding out the cookies were intended as treats for boys had knotted his stomach for a moment. It had given him, as a frequent recipient of such “treats,” a sense of déjà vu—like once again the female species was using domestic skills to lure in the unsuspecting male—and
it had dawned on him that there, before his very eyes, he’d been watching a future generation of desperate females learn the art of male bribery through baking. It was after this realization that he’d noticed the bowls of chicken noodle soup—homemade chicken noodle soup with homemade noodles.

  His mystery was solved, and his conclusions about females were once again reinforced, as was his cynicism. So he’d casually watched Mrs. Forrester—Natalie—Bob—to see if she was checking out his reaction to her cookie offering, but she’d been pouring milk for the youngest girl, not looking at him at all. He admitted to himself now that it wasn’t the way he’d expected her to behave.

  When they had begun to discuss regular employment, Ross had watched the emotions change in her face with curiosity and interest. Over the years, he had sat across the bargaining table from the most expert lawyers and CEOs. He had dealt with their poker faces handily, and as a result, Natalie Forrester was like reading an open book. She’d been marginally friendly and hospitable, although nervous and edgy. After suggesting they set up realistic working terms, she had suddenly become tense, even slightly hostile. Afterward, she had seemed distant. And it had been more than obvious that she had been ready to bolt.

  He cocked a half grin. That bunny image came to mind again—not the bunny he’d stomped flat earlier that morning but a jittery bunny fleeing a predator. When he’d shaken her hand he was sure he’d felt every cell in her body jumping like she was holding hands with the big bad wolf. He was sure she was relieved when he finally took his leave.

  He wondered why. He acknowledged he’d been fairly rude that morning, but he’d been intentionally friendly tonight as a result. Did it offend her for him to say he wanted to review her references? He didn’t think reviewing references was an unreasonable request, and obviously she didn’t either; she’d had them readily available. Maybe his own suspicions and cynicism about her having romantic ulterior motives had come across to her. He wasn’t sure. Surprisingly, her mood change had disappointed him. He’d found the whole cookie thing, not to mention the earlier tap-dancing episode, especially now that he’d recovered his health, somewhat amusing.

  While shaking her hand, he’d intentionally maintained eye contact with her, a tactic he had learned staring over the table at all of those poker faces during settlement negotiations. She’d held his gaze longer than he’d thought a bunny would, and he had watched, intrigued, as her countenance had begun to soften in a most compelling way. Then she’d lost her nerve and looked down. Her eyes were green—not the light gold-green of hazel eyes but a deep emerald green.

  He was suddenly hungry. He wished he’d asked Natalie if he could have a few of those reject cookies to take home.

  Chapter 10

  Allen poked his head in the doorway of Ross’s office. He held up his left arm and dramatically tapped the face of his watch with his right forefinger. He and Ross were due in court any minute.

  Ross had been nearly out the door when his office phone had rung. He’d looked at the ID and taken the call. He’d known he shouldn’t have answered it, hadn’t had time to answer it. But it was Jackie. He’d promised his sisters he’d help them with this birthday thing, but he’d been working twelve-hour days since returning from New York and hadn’t found a minute to get to them.

  Jackie, in her soft, peaceable way, began the conversation by letting him know he had fallen short of the mark. Susan, impatient, had simply gone ahead and invited half the county, and their mother had stopped sleeping at nights, thinking about all of the people coming to her house. Jackie had spent the mornings helping but was tied up afternoons chauffeuring her kids to and from their afterschool activities. And Ross had done nothing. Susan and she could not do it all; they needed help. And fast.

  Ross looked up at Allen and shrugged his shoulders helplessly. “I’ll be right there,” he mouthed.

  Allen gave him a brief wave and walked away.

  “Why did you call me on my office line, you little pest of a sister?”

  “You know why, you big pain of a brother. You’re not answering your home phone or your cell or returning our calls. I figured if you didn’t answer your office phone, I could at least get your secretary to pin you down. Knowing you, I imagine you have a similar history of avoidance with her, and she’d be on our side.”

  Despite himself and the hurry he was in, Ross chuckled. “Listen, Jack, things piled up while I was out of town. Sorry.” He was glad it was Jackie who had called. Susan would have given him an endless stream of hysterical exaggerations, and his mother would have made him feel even guiltier than Jackie was. “Things will settle down next week, and I’ll be sure to do my part.” A sudden idea came to him. “Jackie, I’m due in court, so I have to go. But I have this housekeeper who might be looking to pick up more work.” He wasn’t sure why he thought that, other than she looked like she could use more money.

  He gave her Mrs. Forrester’s number. “You can give her a call and see if she can help get the house ready. I don’t know—she may even be talked into helping decorate or something.” He hadn’t called any of Mrs. Forrester’s references yet, but if Jackie talked to her and liked her enough to hire her, that would be one less thing for him to have to deal with. He trusted Jackie’s judgment.

  When Jackie hung up, Ross was only partially convinced he’d pacified her by suggesting Mrs. Forrester as a possible solution. At least she’d said she was willing to call the woman. Hopefully she’d be able to help, and Ross would redeem himself as the hero of the hour. Besides, there wasn’t time to be wasted. The party was a week from Saturday, and today was Thursday.

  * * *

  Natalie showed up on Mrs. McConnell’s doorstep at nine on Saturday morning with cleaning tools in hand.

  “It’s so nice to meet you,” Mr. McConnell’s mother said. She was a trim, lovely older woman with beautiful dark hair shot through with silver.

  “Please, call me Natalie. I’m not really Mrs. Forrester anymore anyway,” she said.

  “Oh. All right, then, dear. And you must call me Dorothy. You can’t imagine what a relief it was for Ross to suggest you may be able to help,” his mother said. “What was supposed to be a simple birthday party has gotten out of hand.”

  “I’m glad Mr. McConnell thought to suggest me,” Natalie said. It was especially true considering their only encounters up to this point wouldn’t have left him with much confidence in her abilities—or her sanity, in Natalie’s opinion.

  Dorothy gave her a list, and Natalie spent the next few hours washing walls, floorboards, and windowsills, then set about on the last chore on the list, going over the drapes in the spacious family room with her small tank vacuum.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Dorothy enter the room, followed by a woman close to Natalie’s age. The woman was tall and slender, with dark, cropped hair.

  “Natalie, I’d like you to meet one of Ross’s sisters, Jacqueline. Jackie, this is Natalie Forrester, Ross’s housekeeper.”

  “Nice to meet you, Natalie,” Jackie said. “I have to admit, the way Ross has talked about his housekeeper these last few months since he’s been back, I expected to meet a much older person. He commented that she was always mothering him, bringing him meals.”

  “That’s true,” Dorothy replied. “You know, Natalie, as his real mother, I was feeling a little jealous.”

  “Oh,” Natalie said, “that was Esther Johnson, not me. She had a family emergency, so I’ve been filling in for her the past couple of weeks. Although I did take him some soup when I first started. I wouldn’t exactly call that mothering—at least not any mothering you’d need to feel jealous of.”

  “Oh, honey,” Dorothy said. “If a cute, young thing like you were the one mothering him, I wouldn’t be jealous at all. I’d be thrilled.”

  Natalie was not expecting a remark like that from Ross McConnell’s mother, of all people, and it made her face, already flushed from working hard, heat up even more.

  “Well, Natalie,” J
ackie spoke up quickly and smiled at her with what Natalie interpreted as sympathy. “We’ll leave you now and let you get back to work. Mom, let’s go plan the menu, okay?” She grabbed her mother’s arm and guided her out of the room.

  Natalie turned the vacuum back on and resumed cleaning the drapes. How ironic was it, she thought, that Mrs. McConnell had said she’d be thrilled if someone like Natalie were to take care of her son. She knew what Mrs. McConnell had been implying, and the idea was almost painfully ludicrous. Natalie and Ross McConnell couldn’t be more different, in education, in experience, in all the ways that mattered, really. They were from completely different worlds.

  Someone like Ross would never look twice at someone like her, she thought as she finished cleaning the drapes. And she wasn’t sure she’d know what to do if he did.

  She walked into the kitchen and found Dorothy and Jackie sitting at the table, working on what she assumed was the refreshment list. She smiled at them as she ran her forearm across her brow to wipe beads of perspiration away. “The jobs on the list you gave me are done, Dorothy. What would you like me to do next?”

  Dorothy smiled appreciatively at her. “You can join Jackie and me at the table, have a nice glass of lemonade, and tell us what you think of our menu for the party.”

  Jackie immediately rose and removed a tall pitcher of lemonade from the refrigerator and three glass tumblers from the cabinet. Then she poured and passed a glass to her mother and to Natalie. Sipping slowly, Dorothy murmured her approval and said, “Take a quick look at this, would you? And give us your honest impression.” She pushed a sheet of paper across the table toward Natalie. Natalie set her glass down and picked up the sheet.