occupy. The house was being sold, along with the majority of its contents. Only photos and sentimental items were being boxed up for storage. All of Jimmy’s life, all of his memories. The thought dried her throat, stung her eyes. But Jimmy didn’t need sympathy. He needed someone strong to lean on. If that wasn’t going to be Evan Mitchell, that left only her. Despite being solely responsible for her mother’s care, Chloe couldn’t abandon this boy. Even if it meant taking on a forceful, obstinate man like Evan Mitchell.
Dinner was more formal and somber than Chloe expected. Thelma served them in the dining room, then retreated to the kitchen to eat dinner with her husband. And Evan Mitchell wasn’t a very entertaining host. He sat at the head of the table, while she and Jimmy faced each other across the long, banquet-sized table.
Thelma had served them each generous helpings of stew, along with freshly baked biscuits.
“Thelma’s oven must stay busy,” Chloe ventured. “She was making pies and now these biscuits.”
“Umm,” Evan replied so sparsely, he might not have even spoken.
Chloe smiled encouragingly at Jimmy, then tried again. “I understood that your father lived here with you.”
“It’s the family home. We share it.”
“Isn’t he joining us?”
Evan looked annoyed by her questions. “He’s hunting quail with friends out near the Markham ranch. They make a day and night of it.”
Chloe dipped her spoon into the savory stew. “This is delicious. Don’t you think so, Jimmy?”
He scrunched his narrow shoulders together, the sweep of his dark hair hiding his eyes. “Guess so.”
Trying to lighten the glum atmosphere, Chloe took some butter for her biscuit. “Have Thelma and her husband been with you long?”
“Curious, aren’t you?” Evan replied. Then he glanced over at Jimmy. “They’ve been here as long as I can remember.”
“Came with the house?” she questioned, hoping to infuse some cheer into the conversation.
Evan looked at her as though she’d suggested swallowing a bucket of mud.
“Just kidding, of course,” she tried to remedy. “I haven’t had any experience with household employees.”
“They’re not just employees,” he replied sharply. “They’re family.”
Chastened, Chloe stirred her spoon aimlessly. “Of course.” If not for Jimmy, she would have fervently wished for a hole to appear in the floor so she could vanish.
Silence reigned, interrupted only by the scrape of spoons against the bowls. The clinking of china when a coffee cup was returned to its saucer. The last time Chloe had felt this uncomfortable at a dinner table, she’d been twelve years old and painfully aware of the boy sitting across from her. He was fourteen and she had a terrible crush on him. In turn, he considered her a complete nuisance. Seemed she hadn’t progressed much from then.
Thelma eventually cleared their dishes and then brought in dessert plates. “Lemon meringue,” she announced. “Had some good help making this one. Wasn’t hard to decide which one to keep for dessert.”
Jimmy glanced at the housekeeper, a furtive, slightly pleased look.
Thelma winked back at him.
Chloe wished the width of the table weren’t so broad. She would have liked to squeeze his hand in encouragement. Instead, she smiled at him. Lifting her gaze she caught Evan studying them.
He didn’t blink. The woman didn’t act like a mere estate representative. Which made him that much more distrustful. Evidently, she stood to profit if she convinced him to accept the guardianship. Wainwright had the funds.
And the old guy had always held a soft spot for Spencer. After the explosion in their newly refurbished factory, Spencer’s wishes had been presented. And Wainwright had pled his case as though Spencer were a son rather than the son of a friend.
Committed to placing Jimmy in the Mitchell home, Wainwright may have offered Chloe quite a sum to succeed. Why else would the woman have traveled across the country with no guarantee of how she would be received?
Thelma rustled around the large bedroom as Chloe stared first at the tall ceilings, then the intricate moldings and charming bay window. She gently touched the delicate lace curtains as she admired the four-poster bed and marble-topped dresser. “The room’s lovely,” she murmured. “It’s really a guest room?”
“Evan’s mother decorated every room on this floor. The men didn’t want her changing the rustic stuff in the den and the parlor’s stayed pretty much the same for generations.”
“She’s passed away, hasn’t she? Evan’s mother?”
Thelma stopped plumping the pillow she held. “Adele died… several years ago, now. And…” She stopped abruptly.
Chloe knew that Evan was single. Mr. Wainwright had given her a brief sketch about him. Evan ran the family business, in fact, devoted all of his time to it. Could that be why he was so insistent about not taking on Jimmy?
Thelma laid the pillow at the head of the bed, then checked the growing flames in the fireplace. “Gets chilly this time of year. Family had central heat installed back when Mr. Gordon, Evan’s father, was a boy. But when the wind’s howling, it’s awful nice to have a fire.”
Standing next to a wide chaise that was angled by the fireplace, Chloe agreed. “I love a good fire and I haven’t had a fireplace of my own in… well, a long time.” Not since the family home had to be sold.
Thelma crossed the room to an archway containing a door. “This opens into Jimmy’s room. It used to be the nursery.”
Chloe peeked inside, seeing that he was still fascinated by the interesting little room with its slanted ceiling, nooks, arches and cushioned window seat that overlooked the widow’s walk surrounding the upper story. “He may have trouble sleeping tonight. He’s had a lot of… changes.”
“Mr. Gordon told me all about Jimmy when the lawyer wrote. Poor little tyke. We all hoped Evan…” Thelma sighed. “Mr. Gordon’s too old to take on raising the boy himself. Wouldn’t be right for Jimmy if…well, if Mr. Gordon couldn’t see him all the way through ’til he’s old enough to be on his own.”
Chloe thought she heard a thread of worry in the woman’s voice. “Is Mr. Mitchell ill?”
Thelma shook her head. “He wouldn’t retire until a few years ago. Worked hard all his life. Too hard. A boy needs parents who can keep up with him.”
“That’s how Mr. Wainwright feels, too. When I’m taking care of Jimmy, I have to stay on top speed myself.”
A knowing smile lit Thelma’s eyes. “I’m guessing you don’t mind that too much.”
“He’s a wonderful little boy.” So much so that Chloe knew she would have to rein in her feelings. A huge part of her wished she could just take him back to Milwaukee, raise him as her own. And that was impossible. “Thelma,
