have a feeling you’re rarely intemperate, Mrs. James,” Evan said, setting his spoon on a napkin, then helping himself to one of her cookies.
“Call me Hannah, please,” she insisted, then added after a moment’s thought, “And you’re right—I’m not really the intemperate type. What about you, Mr. Graham?”
“Evan, please, and no, I don’t tend to be intemperate, either, although I’m definitely having another one of these cookies. They’re delicious.”
“Thanks.”
Hannah smiled graciously, inwardly pleased with his praise. Then she shifted her gaze back to his hands again. She had expected them to be work-roughened, but they were unmarked by either scars or calluses. His nails were clean and neatly trimmed, as well, not soil-stained or ragged.
“You’re looking rather pensive all of a sudden,” he said, startling her just a little with the depth of his perception.
Though, to be honest, she had never been all that good at hiding her thoughts, more often than not causing herself a great deal of embarrassment as a result. She didn’t blush or stammer now, however. Her concern was completely legitimate.
“You’re not used to working with your hands, are you?” she asked, meeting his gaze.
For a moment, he looked startled, then smiled sheepishly.
“It’s that obvious?”
“Yes, it is.”
She touched a finger to the back of her hand for just a moment by way of explanation.
“I haven’t done much gardening lately, or any other type of manual labor,” he admitted. “But that doesn’t mean I have a problem with it.”
“What have you been doing lately…Evan?” Hannah asked, giving in to her growing curiosity about him.
“Working for a computer software company in Charlotte that was bought out by a larger company. I was downsized out the door with a moderate compensation package about a month ago.” He reached into the pocket of his plaid flannel shirt and pulled out a neatly folded square of paper. “I have a list of references, personal and professional. You’re more than welcome to call them.”
Hannah took the square of paper from him, unfolded it and glanced at the names, addresses and telephone numbers neatly typed on it. Not that the list alone offered verification—she didn’t recognize any of the names on it. Still, the offer of references that she could call added to her inclination to trust in him.
Yet she couldn’t help continuing to wonder why he’d chosen to leave the city—not to mention give up the possibility of securing another lucrative white-collar job in computer technology—to work as a low-paid gardener and handyman on a farm in the mountains of North Carolina.
“So what brings you here, of all places?”
She met his gaze again, making no effort to hide her puzzlement.
“I’ve been wanting a change of pace and a change of place the past couple of years. Being downsized has given me the opportunity to make those changes. I’d really like to find out if I’m any happier working at a different kind of job in a different kind of place than I was putting in twelve-and fourteen-hour days in an office in Charlotte,” he replied without hesitation.
“But you won’t be making nearly as much money working for me,” Hannah pointed out.
“I don’t need a lot of money right now. I do, however, need a place to live in the area, at least temporarily, and your ad did say room and board was included.”
“I can offer you that,” Hannah agreed. “You’d have the room on the second floor all to yourself. It’s furnished, of course, and there’s a bathroom with a shower stall up there, too. It was my room when I was growing up, then my husband used it as his study after Will was born so we could put Will in the spare bedroom downstairs. I can also provide three meals a day as part of the package.”
“Having sampled your chocolate chip cookies, I’d say that sounds very good to me.”
He shot a wry grin her way as he took a third cookie from the can on the table.
“I am a pretty good cook,” Hannah admitted, allowing the slightest hint of pride to edge her words as she smiled, too.
“I’d like to sign on with you, then, Hannah…if you’ll have me.”
“I appreciate your interest, but in all fairness I really should take you for a walk around the property first so you’ll know exactly what you have ahead of you. Do you have any rain gear with you?”
“A jacket in the Jeep. I’ll get it and meet you on the porch, okay?”
“Sounds good to me,” Hannah replied as she pushed away from the table and stood.
Evan stood, as well, picked up his mug and carried it to the sink, then started toward the door. Hannah put the lid on the cookie tin, then followed after him to collect her own rain jacket from the row of pegs on the wall.
“Can me and Nellie go with you, too?” Will asked as he scrambled to his feet along with the dog, his blocks forgotten.
“Nellie and I,” Hannah corrected gently. “And yes, you can go with us. But first get a towel from the bathroom cabinet to dry Nellie when we’re ready to come inside again.”
“Okay.”
As Will scampered off, Nellie galloping after him, Hannah turned back to Evan. She saw him watching her son, his gaze intent. The vaguely bemused look in his eyes gave her pause all over again.
Was he as honest and as decent as she wanted to believe he was? Or was he hiding something unsavory about himself and his reason for being there behind a careful facade meant to give her a false sense of security?
“Is something wrong?” she asked him, her voice wavering with sudden uncertainly.
Immediately, Evan Graham focused his attention on her once again, his expression shifting smoothly, softening in the merest blink of an eye.
“Not at all, Mrs. James. I was just thinking how lucky you are to have such a happy, healthy son.”
His friendly, open manner made it easy to shake off her doubts about him. Too easy, perhaps, but the condition of her greenhouses and gardens had turned her into a beggar who couldn’t afford to be a chooser. She wanted—needed—him to check out okay for the sake of her business. It didn’t have anything to do with the way his presence made her feel.
“Yes, I’m very lucky to have such a happy, healthy son,” she said.
Evan Graham nodded once, seeming to confirm something in his own mind. Then he opened the door and stepped out onto the porch.
“Guess I’d better get my jacket so you can give me the grand tour.”
“You’ll get wet otherwise.”
“I wouldn’t want that to happen,” he said, closing the door behind him.
Hannah
