“Okay, better get that bug snug again.” He dutifully laid back down and she tucked him in. “If it wouldn’t keep you awake, I’d kind of like to keep the little light on.”
“It’s okay,” he agreed gratefully.
She smoothed his hair once more. “Thanks.”
Climbing into the bed she guessed once belonged to a nanny, Chloe actually did feel better. She had been worried about Jimmy being alone, frightened in the strange house. She smoothed the blanket in place, leaving her arms out. Now, if she could just get Evan Mitchell out of her thoughts. Sighing, she realized that wouldn’t be nearly as easy.
Early morning sunlight invaded Chloe’s face. Scrunching her eyes, she reached for the sheet to cover them. Awareness hit at the same instant. Immediately, she looked at Jimmy’s bed. It was empty. Fear filled her chest. Surely he hadn’t run away. He didn’t know anyone in Rosewood.
Blinking, she focused again and saw his pajamas thrown across the bed. Next to them was his stuffed dog, Elbert. Jimmy wouldn’t have left his treasured friend behind.
Although reassured, she dressed quickly so she could look for him. Evan Mitchell wouldn’t welcome a curious, roaming child in his house.
Once downstairs, she headed toward the kitchen, but paused when she heard voices in the dining room. Walking slowly, she approached the group.
“You must be Chloe,” a gray-haired man boomed in a deep voice. He stood up, keeping Jimmy close to his side.
“I’m Gordon Mitchell, Evan’s father. Sure pleased to have you here.”
Surreptitiously glancing around, she didn’t see Evan, and relaxed. “Thank you.”
Thelma poured another mug of coffee and handed it to Chloe. “Morning. How’d you sleep?”
“Very well, thanks. It’s a beautiful room.” She glanced at Gordon. “A beautiful house.”
“Too empty, though.” He patted Jimmy’s shoulder. “Need some young energy to fill it up again.”
Unwilling to discuss Evan’s refusal in front of Jimmy, Chloe sipped the bracing brew.
Jimmy knelt down. “Did you see the dog, Chloe?”
A calm golden retriever seemed delighted by Jimmy’s attention, waving a beautifully plumed tail and pushing his muzzle into Jimmy’s hand.
“I don’t remember seeing him yesterday,” she mused.
“Bailey was with me,” Gordon explained. “Hunting. But he pined for Evan the whole time.”
“He’s Evan’s dog?” Chloe asked in surprise.
“Bailey’s usually camped out by Evan’s side, clinging like thistle. Jimmy’s pretty special to have tempted him away.”
“French toast this morning.” Thelma winked at Jimmy.
“Thought I might find somebody who’d like it.”
“Sounds great.” Chloe slipped into a chair. “How did your hunting trip go, Mr. Mitchell?”
“Best part of it is the guys. We tell the same stories we’ve told each other for the last fifty years, and now that we’re getting on, some of ’em even sound new again.” His dark eyes crinkled with kindness.
Although she could see the resemblance between the two generations of men, Gordon exuded warmth, friendliness. Chloe wanted to relax, but she was still facing a major confrontation.
The thought apparently conjured up the man in question. Evan stalked into the room, crossing over to the sideboard to pour a mug of coffee. Bailey jumped up and ran to his side. Evan rubbed the dog’s head. As he did, Evan turned, his gaze narrowing first on Chloe, then Jimmy and finally his father.
Thelma pushed open the door from the kitchen, holding a large platter. She placed the French toast in the middle of the table. “Eat it while it’s hot.”
Chloe turned to Jimmy. “Looks good, doesn’t it?” Hoping Evan wouldn’t open with an argument, she speared one piece.
Gordon passed the pitcher of warm syrup. “Thelma dusts the toast in powdered sugar, but I still like my maple syrup. How ’bout you, Jimmy?”
“I like syrup,” he replied in a tiny voice.
Knowing Jimmy was nervous, she patted his leg. “Me, too.”
Evan continued to stare at his father.
Gordon met his son’s gaze, his voice deceptively casual. “I was just about to invite Chloe and Jimmy to stay for a while. Won’t be long ’til Thanksgiving. Holidays are always better with children, more family.”
A vein in Evan’s muscular neck bulged, while his lips thinned into an angry line. He pushed back his chair, scraping it loudly over the wide planked floor as he rose. “I have to get to work.”
His boots rang loudly as he left, and the sound of the door slamming echoed through the house. Bailey whined, then laid down next to the front door, apparently waiting for his master.
“Did I make him mad?” Jimmy asked in an even smaller voice.
“Of course not!” Chloe rushed to reassure him. “He probably has problems at work that are on his mind, that’s all.” She glanced at Gordon. “It’s a family business, isn’t it?”
Gordon nodded. “Mitchell Stone. My great-grandfather started the quarry with not much more than a land claim and a box of dynamite. A few men agreed to work with him in exchange for shares in the company. A lot of their descendants are fourth-generation employees now.”
Chloe glanced upward at the elegant chandelier, just one of the impressive fixtures in the obviously expensive home. “So your family built all this up themselves?”
He chuckled softly. “First house wasn’t much more than a tar shack. The way I heard it, my great-grandmother threatened to dig enough stone out of the quarry herself to build a decent house. But in time, they built a small wood cottage—it’s the carriage house we use for a garage now.”
“I think Thelma mentioned that you’re retired?”
“Yep. Evan’s in charge now.”
Chloe swallowed, hating to pry, but needing to know as much as possible about Evan. “Is that a good thing?”
“He lives and breathes work. Since the recession, Evan’s done everything he can to keep the place together so no one loses their jobs. It’s a Mitchell trait, I suppose.” Gordon absently tapped his fingers against the tabletop. “Feeling responsible. Can’t let go when…”
Chloe waited quietly.
But Gordon glanced up, reined in his memories and lifted a mug of coffee. “So, it’s settled. You and Jimmy will stay here. I’d like to show you around town. See the school, the church. People are friendly in Rosewood. Not much like
