are a better aspect to focus on. I have quite a few I designed, you know.”
Sam hadn’t a clue how to market her sister’s quilts. But she could find out. This was the first time Charlene had sounded like she was serious, rather than simply indulging in wishful thinking, so Sam would be as supportive as possible.
“And you should date,” Charlene said. “You still have weekends.”
Sam blinked at that. “What? Where did that come from?”
“You haven’t gone out on a date since the hurricane. You don’t have to stay home with me all the time,” her sister said candidly.
“Charlene, you know I only have the weekends to catch up on chores and get some rest. Besides, I don’t have anyone in mind right now. Jason at work asked me, but I don’t see myself and him having anything in common except the Beale Foundation, and I don’t want to talk business on a date.”
Charlene bit her lip. “Well, once things turn around.”
“I can’t conjure up dates,” Sam said, her mind instantly bringing Mac’s face to the forefront. He’d be the last person she’d date. What if he found out about the ticket? How embarrassing that would be!
“But if you go places where men are, you could meet some interesting ones and get asked out.”
Sam had met a very interesting man last night. Only circumstances conspired to make sure they never met again. She wasn’t sure whether she wished she’d never used the ticket or not.
“Okay, the next time a presentable man asks me, I’ll go out.” The chances of that happening were slim to none, so she felt safe making the commitment.
“Until then, you can help me sort through my stuff and see which quilt would be the best to start marketing,” Charlene said.
Mac and Tommy stood on the porch waving Louise farewell. The little boy still didn’t grasp the full extent of the departure. He would begin to get it when Louise wasn’t there to prepare dinner or tuck him in. And again when a new nanny arrived.
Tommy had his arm around Mac’s neck and waved with his other hand. “Bye-bye,” he said.
Mac waited until the car was out of sight before heading back inside. It was cold, but the rain had stopped during the night.
“Want to go to the park later?” he asked as he put Tommy down.
“Yes!” The little boy raced around in excitement. An hour or so at the park would burn off some of that energy.
Louise had left a casserole for dinner, so that left only lunch to prepare—something Mac could handle. But the next few weeks were going to see a lot of changes.
He went to his room to get his keys. He’d emptied his pockets last night, placing the contents on the dresser. Keys, billfold, tickets. Both his and Sam’s. He picked them up to drop them in the trash when he noticed the numbers were sequential.
For a moment he stared at them. One was crumpled as if someone had balled it up and tossed it into the trash. From where it had been retrieved and used?
Was this the ticket he’d bought for Teresa and tossed away when he decided to break it off with her? For a long moment he stared at them, trying to come up with another scenario. How had Sam gotten hold of his discarded ticket?
Mac McAlheny arrived late at work on Monday—an unheard-of event. The new nanny had shown up on time, but Tommy had taken an instant dislike to her. Mac had stayed with his son until he had calmed down and agreed to give Mrs. Horton a chance. The woman wasn’t precisely warm and loving, but was competent, as Mac knew having interviewed her twice and checked her references. She had also come highly recommended. Mac hoped she and Tommy would get along until he could sort out a more permanent solution.
“Good morning, boss,” Janice said. His secretary had been with him from the beginning and knew as much about the business as he did. “Late isn’t your style,” she commented, following him into his corner office.
“Domestic problems, I’m afraid. Tommy didn’t take to Mrs. Horton.”
“Poor kid. It has to be hard on him changing like that,” she said. Placing two folders on the desk, she leaned one hip against the edge. “Anything I should know before the day starts?”
They often began the day going over his appointments and reviewing updates on projects.
“Who does the cleaning of our offices?” Mac asked, glancing at the folders.
“Whoa, where did that come from?” She glanced around at the immaculate room. “Are you unhappy with the standard of work?” she asked.
“Just curious about something,” Mac said. The more he considered the idea, the more he began to think it held merit. Sam had somehow obtained the invitation he’d thrown away. The only way he could picture it was if someone from the cleaning staff had taken it. Had he or she then sold it? Or had that been Sam herself? He’d realized how little he knew about her when he tried to figure out how she’d obtained the ticket.
“The building owners arrange for that. It’s in our lease they’ll take care of it. If you want, I can find out who they hire.”
“Please do. And then call the two employment agencies looking for a housekeeper for me and find out why there isn’t one qualified woman in all of Atlanta who would like to have a live-in job keeping house and watching one small boy.”
“Got it, boss.” Janice headed for her desk.
Mac glanced at the phone messages, and began to return some calls. As soon as Janice had the information he needed, he’d put work on hold and track down Samantha-my-friends-call-me-Sam.
While he didn’t want to think about people going through his trash, he suspected that’s what had happened. Did Sam work as a cleaner? Employment these days was difficult to find, even for skilled workers.
He tossed aside the paper he was reading and leaned back in his chair. He’d been intrigued by her the entire evening. She was one of the few women under forty who hadn’t tried to flirt, hadn’t hinted she’d be available if he ever called. Hadn’t made a big deal out of a New Year’s kiss. Hadn’t practically invited herself back to his place.
He remembered at the table when she’d turned from him to talk with the man on her other side. It was an unusual experience for Mac in recent years. Ever since Chris died and the company had taken off, he felt he’d become prey for determined single women. He’d shared everything with Chris—hopes, dreams, pet peeves. Now it seemed his unexpected wealth had become the most important part of his personality.
Except to Sam.
Even when he’d held her while dancing, she had not flirted. He could tell she truly enjoyed herself. Unself-consciously. Her smile had been genuine, lighting up her dark eyes. Her hair was also dark, so unlike Chris’s blond mane.
He frowned. He wasn’t comparing his wife with other women. There would never be anyone to take her place in his heart or his life.
The phone buzzed; it was Janice.
“Jordan Maintenance keeps this
