his daughter and his expression had softened.
Up to that point, she would have guessed he was a perfectionist who didn’t allow room for error. The kind of man who made sure the people in his life had been carefully mitered to fit there. Then he’d totally blown her theory by showing an unexpected—and humorous—knowledge of Mary Poppins. Which just happened to be one of her favorite movies.
“Miss Paxson? Would a month’s trial period be agreeable to you?” Ben prompted.
“That would be fine.” She noticed that the humor had faded from his eyes. He already looked like he regretted his decision.
“Why don’t you come by this evening to meet Olivia,” Ben suggested, his tone once again distant and professional. “If you can start tomorrow, I’ll arrange for your things to be moved over.”
Leah thought of the meager possessions she had in her apartment. “Tender Care has always arranged those details for me,” she told him, even as she silently admitted that it was her pride that didn’t want him to know how little she actually owned.
She watched as Ben, still obviously lost in thought, picked up a photo on his desk, framed with painted craft sticks.
“Is that a picture of Olivia?” Leah leaned forward in anticipation as Ben handed her the photograph….
And felt like she’d been kicked in the stomach.
The little girl grinning at her from the photo looked achingly familiar. From the soft, wispy autumn curls to the wide, velvety brown eyes, the girl in the photo was a seven-year-old replica of Leah’s mother, Sara Paxson, when she’d been a child.
“She’s beautiful,” Leah stammered, realizing that Ben was waiting for her to say something. “She looks like you.”
It was only half-true. Olivia Cavanaugh may have inherited her father’s coloring, but the heart-shaped face that gave her an almost pixieish look had come from someone else. Leah continued to stare at the photo, mesmerized.
“You aren’t the first person to say that,” Ben said slowly. “But my wife, Julia, and I adopted Olivia right after she was born.”
Leah swallowed. Hard. It had to be a coincidence. A coincidence that Olivia Cavanaugh looked so much like the pictures taken of her mother when she was a little girl.
“We adopted her from Tiny Blessings Adoption Agency,” Ben continued. “I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”
Leah tried to maintain her composure even as an energy-draining numbness began to seep into every pore. Of course she’d heard of Tiny Blessings. When she’d gotten pregnant at sixteen, she’d made a sacrifice that had ripped out her heart, while at the same time it had given her child what she’d never had—two loving parents. And Tiny Blessings had placed her child with those loving parents.
Concentrate, Leah, she told herself. The photo started to get fuzzy and she blinked, focusing on the colorful plastic lei around Olivia’s neck and the jeweled tiara on her head. “Was this taken at her birthday party?”
“Yes.” Ben had a distracted, faraway look in his eyes. Leah could see the pain that shadowed them and somehow knew he was remembering his wife. “Olivia turned seven in May.”
Now her mouth was completely dry. “May?”
He nodded. “May fifth.”
Leah laced her fingers together to keep them from shaking. It didn’t work. Fine tremors began to course through her body. She prayed that Ben wouldn’t notice.
“I don’t want to cut our interview short, Miss Paxson.” Ben rose to his feet, signaling the fact that he was about to do just that. “When you come over tonight to meet Olivia, we can talk specifics about your job. That way there will be no surprises for either of us.”
From his tone, it was obvious that he didn’t like surprises. Leah rose to her feet, resisting the urge to wipe her damp hands on her cargo pants. “That will be fine.”
“Miss Paxson?” Ben looked slightly uncomfortable.
Leah waited, her breath catching in her throat. Maybe he’d already changed his mind…
“Is what you’re wearing, ah, the standard issue uniform for all the nannies at Tender Care?” He was staring down at her boots.
“Of course,” Leah said, her sense of humor surfacing despite her agitation. It was one of the things that she’d learned over the years—to look for the joy in every situation. She deliberately widened her eyes. “You mean Mrs. Baker didn’t wear hers?”
Ben stared at her. She knew he was intelligent, but somewhere along the way his sense of humor had definitely slipped its track.
“That was a joke, Mr. Cavanaugh.”
“Oh.” He forced a smile.
“This is my confidence outfit.” He was still looking rather uncertain, so Leah realized she needed to explain. “Last summer I lived with a family whose oldest daughter was thirteen and very shy. I encouraged her to try out for a summer play at the high school and we went shopping before the tryouts for a confidence outfit. She let me pick it out. When the time came for me to leave and I had to interview with a new family, Christine took me shopping. Only that time, she picked out my confidence outfit. I promised her I’d wear it every time I had a new interview.”
“So the boots…”
“You’ll never see them again.” The truth was she loved them. But if she had to choose between her favorite footwear and the chance to meet Olivia Cavanaugh, the boots would be banished to the back of the closet.
“Not that there’s anything wrong with them,” he said quickly. Too quickly.
“Is there anything else, Mr. Cavanaugh?” She really needed to find a quiet place to fall apart. At least she’d just discovered a hidden benefit of her boots—they prevented her ankles from shaking. “Did you want to check my umbrella to make sure there’s not a talking parrot on the end of it?”
At the look on Ben Cavanaugh’s face, Leah wished she had a rewind button on her lips. People told her she had a rather offbeat sense of humor and even though Ben had started the whole Mary Poppins thing to begin with…
“A joke, right, Miss Paxson?” he ventured quietly.
She nodded, not trusting herself to say another word.
“We’ll see you tonight.”
She ducked toward the door.
“Miss Paxson?”
Leah paused.
“Bring your umbrella.”
Ben knew the exact moment when Leah’s honeydew-on-wheels pulled into the driveway. Olivia, who had had her face pressed to the window for almost an hour, gave an excited shriek.
“Daddy, she’s here! Miss Paxson is here!”
He plucked the dishcloth off his shoulder, triple-folded it and hung
