be completely convinced. “Then why are her eyes closed?”
“'Cause she’s sleeping.” Meghan emphasized the last word with feeling. She looked at her sister as if Madelyn should have known that.
“That’s not a bad explanation,” Simon observed, surprised with his younger daughter’s assessment. Meghan took it as praise and preened before her sister.
Other than a few words of greeting each day, Simon hadn’t been accustomed to actually talking with his daughters. That had been a domain reserved for Nancy. Since her death, he’d found himself in a whole new world with little to no clue on how to navigate in it. Children were for the most part a mysterious breed to him.
Aware that both his daughters were looking at him expectantly, he explained, “Edna fainted. She hasn’t been feeling well these last couple of days and she probably just turned too quickly.” He’d been too busy getting ready this morning to notice, but now that he reflected, Edna had been coughing and sneezing a great deal more today than yesterday.
Madelyn still didn’t look convinced, or at ease. Her eyes still wide, she asked her father in a halting voice, “Is she—Is Edna going to be all right?” She stood there, nervously waiting for an answer. “She’s not going to—well, you know.” She lifted her small shoulders, as if the word on her tongue was too heavy to bear or utter. “Like Mama,” she finally whispered, trusting her father to make the connection.
He’d been desperately trying to put a lid on his grief this past year, but he hadn’t been oblivious. He had noticed that of his two daughters, Nancy’s death seemed to have affected Madelyn more than it had Meghan. The latter had cried when she’d been told, but she also recovered a great deal sooner than Madelyn had, transferring her affection and loyalty to Edna almost effortlessly.
But then, Meghan was only six and she hadn’t realized yet just how hard life could knock you down when you were least expecting it.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” the soft voice behind him asked.
Simon realized that he’d all but forgotten about the decorator. Probably the first man who ever had, he judged, given how attractive she was.
“Yes, you can hold the girls back,” he instructed. He didn’t want either of them getting underfoot, even if it was eagerness to help that propelled them.
Scooping the unconscious nanny up into his arms, Simon struggled to his feet.
Edna was a decidedly solid woman, he thought, as his arms strained and a rather odd pain cut across the tops of his thighs. The woman was strong for her age. The downside of that was she was also heavy.
As she heard him take a deep breath that suggested he was glad he’d risen without embarrassing himself, Kennon watched the man in silent amazement. Not many men could have done that so smoothly. Ordinarily, they would have either left the woman on the floor until she regained consciousness or asked for help in getting her up and onto a more comfortable surface. He’d just squatted and had done what amounted to a dead lift, an exercise favored by dedicated bodybuilders.
Kennon continued to keep a light but restraining hand on each of the girls’ shoulders, holding them back until their father began to walk. And then, still resting a hand on each of their shoulders, she gently guided Madelyn and Meghan into the living room, behind their father.
It was then that she noticed that the doctor actually did have one piece of furniture downstairs—a sofa that appeared completely out of place in the wide, cathedral-ceilinged room. The maroon, oversize sofa was sagging in a number of places and definitely did not look as if it belonged in the house.
A loaner?
She remembered that on occasion her aunt would make use of one of those companies that rented furniture out by the month. She did it to give the property she was showing a warmer look. Obviously that hadn’t been the goal here. Rather than bright and cheery, the sofa just looked worn and ready to be retired.
Still, it had to be more comfortable than the floor, she reasoned. And the object here was Edna’s comfort, even if she was still unconscious.
Troubled, shifting from foot to foot, Madelyn gave no indication that she’d been placated by her father’s answer. “Are you sure she’s not dead?” the eight-year-old asked anxiously.
Kennon smiled into Madelyn’s face, fielding the question for him. “Your father’s a doctor, honey. I’m sure he knows the difference between someone being dead or alive. Besides—” she leaned in closer to the girl “—if you look very carefully, you can see Edna’s chest rising and falling. That means she’s breathing. Breathing is a very good indication that your nanny’s alive.”
With a sniff that told Kennon Madelyn was doing her best not to cry, the little girl solemnly nodded her head. “Okay,” she said, accepting the explanation. Even so, her eyes were shining with unshed tears. “It’s just that Mama—”
“Never mind,” her father said, cutting her off briskly. He had no desire to have his personal life spread out before a total stranger. Turning from the sofa, he looked at the decorator his Realtor had sent. She seemed at ease, standing between his daughters like that, he noted. Something he hadn’t quite been able to manage yet. “Miss—” He stopped short, realizing that he was missing a crucial piece of information. “What did you say your name was?”
“Cassidy. Kennon,” she added, supplying her first name without being asked. She smiled at the girls. “I know it’s not the easiest name to remember.”
The doctor frowned slightly, or was that his normal expression, Kennon wondered. If it was, it was a shame, because he was too good-looking a man to detract from his features by perpetually frowning.
“Ease is not always of tantamount importance,” the doctor told her. “But manners are.”
He was a disciplinarian, Kennon guessed. She wondered if he realized how hard that could be on his daughters.
Her own father had been a Marine colonel who lived and breathed the service long after he retired from it. He was quite possibly the most distant man she’d ever known. Growing up with him had been like growing up with a disapproving stranger. Maybe it was her need for acceptance and affection that had made her pick the wrong man to love in the first place.
She heard Simon sigh in obvious exasperation.
Kennon’s attention was immediately drawn to the woman on the sofa. “Is something wrong?”
Simon’s frown deepened. “You mean other than the fact that I need to be at a meeting at the hospital with the chief of surgery in less than half an hour, my girls are due in school and my housekeeper is ill and presently unconscious?” he asked with barely suppressed sarcasm. “No, nothing’s wrong.”
Well, that tongue of his wasn’t about to melt butter anytime soon, Kennon thought. Still, with all that on his plate, she supposed she couldn’t really fault his less than sunny disposition. A lot of men were lost without their wives and he was one of them. She found that oddly appealing.
“You wouldn’t happen to know where I could find a capable young woman to take my daughters to school and then come back to keep an eye on my housekeeper until I can come home, would you?” His tone indicated that he wasn’t actually expecting an answer. He was just blowing off a little steam as he searched for a solution to his overwhelming dilemma.
