Small-Town Nanny (10 page)

“Those are
my
finger paints,” Mindy said, looking ready to blow.

Susan was arm-deep in the refrigerator. “I know there are some hot dogs in here somewhere,” she was saying.

What a disaster!

The doorbell rang. “Mindy, could you or your daddy get that?” Susan called, obviously glad to have found Mindy a distraction.

Sam started to follow Mindy, but when he saw who'd arrived, he went back to the kitchen to give himself time to take a deep breath.

He needed it.

His daughter came in a moment later with Sam's father, who'd started Hinton Enterprises as a small agricultural real estate firm fifty years ago. “It's Grandpa!” she announced.

Sam felt a rush of the inadequacy he'd grown up with. His father was hard to please and, since he'd met Bill earlier in the day, he knew this dinner should be impressive. Sam was making a mess of things.

“Boys!” Bill scolded, frowning at his own wife.

“What on earth is going on?” Mr. Hinton asked.

Sam blew out a breath, looked around and realized he was going to have to take charge.

But there was a touch on his arm, one that tingled. Susan. “Sorry,” she mouthed to him.

And then she proceeded to take charge herself. “Boys!” she said in a firm, quiet voice accompanied by a hand-clap. “Finger paints are for after dinner. Mindy, please show your new friends how to wash their hands at the kitchen sink.”

“Marie never would have allowed that,” Mr. Hinton said in a voice that was meant to be quiet but wasn't.

Sam saw a muscle twitch in Susan's face. She was no dummy. She knew she was being compared.

She drew in a breath. “Mr. Hinton, here.” She put two packages of hot dogs into his hands. “You're in charge of grilling these. Sam.” She handed him two packages of buns. “Take these outside, along with your clients. Socialize. Do your thing.”

She turned to the children, who stood quietly watching her, obviously recognizing that teacher voice. In fact, Sam thought, even his father seemed to recognize that voice. “Kids, you can play outside with Mindy's toys until dinner. After you eat your hot dogs...” She tapped a finger on her lips. “I think we've got some of Xavier's clothes here. You can put on swimsuits or shorts, and finger-paint for a bit, and then jump in the pool to clean up. If that's okay with Mom?” She looked questioningly at Emily.

“Of course. Thank you.”

“Yay!” cried the boys, and all three kids rushed outside.

So the men bonded over how to re-cook half-frozen, half-burnt burgers with ketchup already on them, and they grilled up a bunch of hot dogs. The kids played while Susan talked with Emily, who gradually became more animated. Dinner was eaten half at the table and half by the pool, and Sam's father actually stayed to eat three of the hot dogs he'd cooked and then to sit on a chaise lounge by the pool, watching the kids play.

The sun peeked through the clouds on its way toward the horizon, turning the sky rosy and sending beams of golden light that, as a kid, he'd always thought seemed to come directly from God. Salted caramel ice cream topped with chocolate syrup from a squirt bottle made a fine dessert, to his surprise. As the evening grew chilly, Susan brought out a heap of old sweatshirts from the front closet, and everyone put them on and stayed outside, talking and laughing.

Gradually, Sam relaxed. It wasn't exactly orthodox, but the prospective employee's family seemed to be having a good time.

When darkness fell and the kids climbed out of the pool, shivering, Susan wrapped them in towels and took all of them inside to dress, accompanied by the mother.

“I tell you what,” Bill said as he and Sam stood on the front porch. “When I saw this big house, I thought, oh, man, too rich for our blood. We like to keep it simple. But this has been great.” He pumped Sam's hand as his wife and tired children came out onto the porch. “I've made my decision. I like this town and this lifestyle. If you still want me after the way my kids have behaved, I'd like to come work for Hinton Enterprises.”

Fifteen minutes later, Sam stood with his father, watching the family drive away. “That's the wackiest business dinner I ever witnessed,” Mr. Hinton said, clapping Sam on the shoulder. “But whatever works, son.” He gave Sam a squinty-eyed glare. “You're not thinking about marrying that Japanese girl, are you?”

“Her name's Susan,” Sam said. “And no. Nothing like that. I have other plans for that side of my life.”

His father nodded. “Best to get moving on them. That little girl of yours isn't getting any younger. Seems to me she needs some brothers and sisters to play with.”

“Yes, sir, I'm aware of that.” He knew the clock was ticking. And every minute he spent noticing the appeal of an unconventional schoolteacher with a knack for causing disasters, even if they did usually turn out just fine, was a minute he wasn't finding the proper sort of mother for his daughter.

Was a minute he spent
not
fulfilling his promise to Marie.

* * *

The next Friday, July Fourth, Susan helped Mindy dress in her new red, white and blue shorts and shirt to go to the country club picnic. The day had dawned bright and hot, perfect weather for a picnic.

She was
not
looking forward to this.

She didn't need to spend the time with Sam, who'd been surprisingly kind about her disastrous efforts to cook dinner for his job candidate's family. He hadn't had a lot to say over the past few days, but she sensed that his attitude toward her had softened.

Which made him even more appealing. But she had to guard her heart. She didn't need to fall for a guy who wanted something altogether different in a woman. She wasn't going to put herself through that again.

“I'm bored,” Mindy announced.

There was still an hour until it was time to leave, so Susan took her charge downstairs and looked around for something to occupy her. They'd spent enough time in the playroom, and the formal living room had too many breakables to be a good play area.

“Let's check our seedlings,” she suggested, and they went to the kitchen window. To Mindy's delight, tiny, bent plants were appearing in the soil they'd put in an egg carton.

“They're not very green,” Mindy said, poking at one with her finger.

“They need more light. Let's find another window to put them in.”

They each took an egg carton and wandered around the mansion's downstairs, looking for the perfect spot. It occurred to Susan that she'd never been inside the sunroom. Even though she'd seen it from outside, the blinds had always been drawn. “Come on, Mindy,” she said. “Let's try in here.”

Mindy emerged from the formal dining room, saw Susan's hand on the doorknob of the sunroom. “No!” she shrieked, dropping her egg carton. “Don't go in there!”

Susan spun back toward the little girl, less concerned with the dirt and seedlings now soiling the cream-colored carpet than about Mindy's frantic expression. “Hey,” she said, putting down her egg carton and kneeling in front of Mindy. “What's wrong?”

“Don't go in there, don't go in there,” the child said anxiously, her eyes round.

“Okay, I won't,” Susan promised. “But why?”

Mindy's face reddened and her eyes filled with tears. “I don't like that room.”

“Okay, okay. Shh.” She pulled Mindy into her arms and hugged her until some of the tension left her body. “Come on, we'd better save our plants.”

Mindy looked down, only now realizing that she'd dropped her egg-carton planter. “Oh, no, they're gonna be broken.”

“I think we can save them,” Susan said. “And I have a good idea about how. Come on, you can help.”

Forty-five minutes later, the little plants were replanted in some old cartoon character mugs Susan had discovered in the back of a cupboard. The mess was cleaned up, though Susan was going to have to tell the cleaning service to give that area of the rug a little extra attention. And Mindy was calm again, paging quietly through a library book about plants.

As for Susan, she had to get ready. In a weak moment, she'd agreed to go to the club herself, at Daisy and Sam's insistence, so she put on her own faded “Proud to be an American” T-shirt to pair with her standard denim capris and sandals. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and added a little mascara and blush, and at Mindy's insistence, tied a red, white and blue ribbon into her hair.

But as Sam backed the car out of the driveway, Susan couldn't help looking toward the sunroom that was visible from the side of the house.

Why was the door always closed? Why was Mindy afraid of the sunroom?

When they reached the country club, Mindy tugged Susan along, chattering a mile a minute, while Sam gathered blankets and lawn chairs for the fireworks later. “C'mon, Miss Susan! We all sit at one big long table. The grown-ups on one end and the kids on the other.”

Susan decided instantly on her strategy. “Can I sit with the kids?”

Mindy slowed down a minute to consider. “I guess you could,” she said doubtfully. “Xavier likes you, and he's the biggest cousin, so he's kind of the boss.”

Susan smiled at the thought of a soon-to-be-second-grader running the show. She adored Xavier, had been his first-grade teacher last year, had helped him catch up and cheered him on in his struggle with leukemia, a struggle he'd now won.

“And there's gonna be Mercedes!”

“I know! She's great.” Susan was so happy for Fern and Carlo, Mercedes's foster mother and biological father, who'd fallen in love during a snowstorm over the winter and who were planning to get married soon.

“Put your stuff down here,” Mindy ordered, gesturing to the promised long table on one side of the busy dining area, “and then we can go play. Look, there's Mercy!”

Susan waved at Fern, who was sitting at the table chatting with Angelica, Xavier's mom. Behind her, she heard Sam's deep voice, greeting people.

She glanced back to see that he'd paused to talk to a group of men clad in golf shirts. The preppy crowd. Of course. “I'll keep an eye on the kids,” she said to Fern and Angelica, and followed the small pack of cousins before either woman could protest.

Staying with the kids would keep her from spending too much time with handsome Sam.

She watched them jump through the inflatables and play in the ball pit, all under Xavier's leadership. When he'd gotten them all onto a little train that circled the club's giant field, she sat down on a long bench under a tree to wait for the train's return.

A slight breeze rustled the leaves overhead, cooling Susan's heated face. From the bandstand, patriotic songs rang out over the chatter of families. The aroma of roasting corn and hot dogs tickled her nose, reminding her of holidays in the park in her California hometown.

Self-pity nudged at her. Holidays were meant to be experienced with family, and a lot of people here in Rescue River had a whole long tableful of relatives.

She missed her mom and brother, Aunt Sakura and Uncle Ren, and her cousins, Missy and Cameron and Ryan. They hadn't gathered often, but when they did, they'd always had a good time.

Now Uncle Ren had passed away and her cousins were scattered all over the country. She bit her lip and forced herself to concentrate on the buzz of a nearby bee, the beauty of Queen Ann's lace blooming beside the bench, the sight of Miss Lou Ann Miller carrying a tray of decorated cupcakes to the church's booth.

And of course, she wasn't alone long. No one ever was in Rescue River. There was a tap on her shoulder, and Gramps Camden, her buddy from the Senior Towers, sat down heavily beside her on the bench. With him was a weathered-looking man whom she'd occasionally seen around town but didn't know.

And that, too, never lasted long in Rescue River.

“Bob, meet Susan Hayashi. Susan, Bob Eakin. World War II Gliderman.”

The thin old man held out a hand and gave her a surprisingly strong handshake. “And present-day librarian,” he added with a wink. “Don't ever stop working. That's what'll kill you.”

Since the man had to be in his nineties, if he'd fought in World War II, he must know what he was talking about. Susan shook his hand with both of her own. “I'm glad to meet you.”

“He runs the library at the Towers,” Gramps explained. “Don't worry, he was in Europe in the war, so he's not gonna have any problem with your people.”

Susan smiled at the elderly man. “Thank you for your service, and I don't just mean that as a cliché,” she said. “One of my great-grandfathers fought for Japan, but another was in an internment camp and eventually fought for the United States.”

“Oh, in the 442nd?” His eyes lit up. “I was just reading about them. My buddy Fern brought me a new book about the various regiments.”

“I can't believe you know about that! I'd love to borrow it sometime,” she said. “I like history, but I don't know much about that period.”

“Shame what we did to Japanese Americans back then,” Mr. Eakin said. “We've learned better since. Is Rescue River treating you well?”

Susan nodded, her feeling of loneliness gone. “You're nice to ask. It's a great town. I love it here.”

Gramps Camden studied her approvingly. “You fit right in. But how's your summer job with that Sam Hinton? Is he being fair to you?”

“I'm doing my best, Mr. Camden,” came a deep voice behind them.

Susan spun around at the sound of it, her heart rate accelerating.

“Don't creep up on people, Hinton,” Gramps complained. “We're having a nice conversation. You just leave well enough alone.”

Sam ignored the older man. “Brought you some appetizers,” he said to Susan. “I didn't mean for you to get stuck watching the kids all day. Come on back and sit with the family.”