life that had been cut short.
“Oh, Sam.” Daisy rubbed a hand up and down his back. “It’s understandable. It was a horrible loss for you and Mindy. For all of us, really. I loved Marie, too.”
Reassured, Sam could focus on the rest of what Daisy had said. “You think I need to be worshipped?”
“I think you’re uncomfortable when women question your views, but c’mon, Sam. You’re Mensa-level smart, you’re practically a billionaire and you’ve built Hinton Enterprises into the most successful corporation in Rescue River, if not all of Ohio. It’s not like you need reassurance about your masculinity. Why don’t you try dating women who pose a little bit of a challenge?”
“I get plenty of challenge from my family, primarily you.” He squeezed her shoulders, trying not to get defensive about her words. “My immediate problem is finding a nanny, not a girlfriend. And someone like Susan has values too different from mine. She’d have Mindy taming pit bulls and playing with hoodlums.”
“She’d let Mindy out of the glass bubble you’ve put her in!” Daisy spun away to glare at him. “Look, she’s the one with coursework in special ed, not you. She’s not going to put your daughter at risk. She’d be great for Mindy, even if she does make you a little uncomfortable. And you did kind of contribute indirectly to her getting fired from her waitressing job.”
A hard lump of guilt settled in his stomach. He didn’t want to be the cause of someone losing their livelihood. He’d always prided himself on finding ways to keep from laying off employees, even in this tough economy.
She raised her eyebrows. “Think about it, bro. Are you man enough to handle a nanny like Susan, if it would be the best thing for Mindy?”
* * *
Susan sat at the kitchen table with Angelica and the new baby while Daisy warmed up the side dishes she’d brought and ordered her brothers outside to grill burgers.
“Do you want to hold her?” Angelica asked, looking down at the dark-haired baby as if she’d rather do anything than let her go.
“Me?” Susan squeaked. “No thanks. I mean, she’s beautiful, but I’m a disaster with babies. At a minimum, I always make them cry.”
Of course, Sam came back into the kitchen in time to hear that remark. She seemed to have a genius for not impressing him.
“I used to feel that way, too,” Daisy said, “but I’m great with little Emmie. Here, you can stir this while I hold her.” She put down her spoon and confidently scooped the baby out of Angelica’s arms.
Susan walked over to the stove and looked doubtfully at the pan of something white and creamy. “You want me to help cook? Really?”
“Oh, never mind, I forgot. Sam, stir the white sauce for a minute, would you?”
“You don’t cook?” he asked Susan as he took over at the stove, competently stirring with one hand while he reached for a pepper grinder with the other.
In for a penny, in for a pound. “Nope. Not domestic.”
“You’ll learn,” Angelica said, stretching and twisting her back. “When you find someone you want to cook for.”
“Not happening. I’m the single type.”
“She is,” Daisy laughed. “She won’t even date. But we’re going to change all that.”
“No, we’re not.” Susan sat back down at the table.
“Yes, we are. The group at church has big plans for you.”
“My singles group? Who would run it if I somehow got involved with a guy?” Susan pulled her legs up and wrapped her arms around them, taking in the large, comfortable kitchen with appreciation. Old woodwork and gingham curtains blended with the latest appliances, and there was even a couch in the corner. Perfect.
She enjoyed Daisy and enjoyed being here with her family because she’d never had anything like this. Her family had been small and a little bit isolated, and while Donny was great in his way, you couldn’t joke around with him.
She watched Sam stir the sauce, taste it, season it some more. This was another side of the impatient businessman. Really, was there anything the man wasn’t good at?
He probably saw her as a bumbling incompetent. She couldn’t succeed at waitressing, at cooking, at holding a baby. He thought she’d be bad for his daughter, that much had been obvious.
Too bad, because she needed the money, and Mindy was adorable. Kids were never the problem; it was the adults who always did her in.
Suddenly, the door burst open and Xavier rushed through, followed closely by Mindy. “Give it back. Give it back!” she was yelling as she grabbed at something in his hands.
“No, Mindy, it’s mine!”
Mindy stopped, saw all the adults staring at her, and threw herself to the floor, holding her breath, legs kicking.
Sam dropped the spoon with a clatter and went to her side. “Mindy, Mindy honey, it’s okay.”
The child ignored him, lost in her own rapidly escalating emotional reaction.
“Mindy!” He scolded her. “Sit up right now.” He tried to urge her into an upright position, but she went as rigid as a board, her ear-splitting screams making everyone cringe.
Sam was focused on her with love and concern, but at this point that wasn’t enough. Susan knew that interfering wasn’t wise, but for better or worse, she had a gift. She understood special-needs kids, and she had a hunch she could calm Mindy down.
She sank to her knees beside the pair. “Shhhh,” she whispered ever so softly into Mindy’s ear. “Shhhh.” Gently, she slid closer in behind the little girl and raised her eyebrows at Sam, tacitly asking permission.
He shrugged, giving it.
She wrapped her arms around Mindy from behind, whispering soothing sounds into her ear, sounds without words. Sounds that always soothed Donny, actually. She rubbed one hand up and down Mindy’s arm, gently coercing her to be calm. While she wasn’t a strict proponent of holding therapy, she knew that sometimes physical contact worked when nothing else could reach a kid.
“Leave me ’lone!” Mindy cried with a little further struggle, but Susan just kept up her gentle hold and her wordless sounds, and Mindy slowly relaxed.
“He has a picture frame that says...” She drew in a gasping breath. “It says, Mom. M-O-M, Mom. I want it!”
Sam went pale, and Susan’s heart ached with sympathy for the pair. Losing a parent was about the worst thing that could happen to a kid. And losing a wife was horrible, but it had to be even more painful to watch your child suffer and not know how to help.
To his credit, Sam regrouped quickly. “Honey, you can’t take Xavier’s picture frame. But we can get you one, okay?”
“It might even be fun to make one yourself,” Susan suggested, paying attention to the way the child’s body relaxed at the sound of her father’s
