she’s gone.”
“That doesn’t explain why you didn’t tell me the truth when I asked.”
“Look, I just didn’t want you to think the children would interfere with my work.” She hated saying it, hated sounding as if he had the right to disapprove of anything she did. “They won’t. I have plenty of people to take care of them when I’m working.”
“Your system didn’t seem to work too well when the boy decided to take my furnace apart.”
“Joey. His name is Joey.” She took a breath. He had a point, unfortunately. “I’m sorry about that. He’s interested in how things work. Do you need me to come over and fix it?”
“I can manage.” There was a note to his voice that she didn’t like. “But I don’t want to work with someone I can’t trust.”
She wanted to lash out at him, tell him she didn’t want to work with him, either. Tell him to take his changeable eyes and his chiseled profile and go right back to Baltimore where he belonged.
But she couldn’t. Like it or not, she was stuck with him.
Chapter Two
Maybe he shouldn’t have been that rough on her. Maggie’s face looked pale and stiff, her promise delivered through set lips. They’d definitely gotten off on the wrong foot, mostly her fault, but he didn’t need to contribute to it.
Not being told the truth was a flashpoint with him, maybe because his parents had spent so much of their time either avoiding the truth or prettying it up until it became palatable to them.
Still, he had to work with the woman for the next month, and he was the temporary, not she. He needed to establish normal business relations with her, or his time here would be even more difficult.
He forced a smile. “Look, we’ve had a rocky beginning. What do you say we start over?”
Emotions flitted rapidly across her face. Maggie wasn’t as impassive as she probably liked to believe. He could see her questioning his motives and wondering whether he meant what he said. He could see her distaste at the thought of cooperating with him. And then he saw her reluctant acceptance.
Why reluctant? What made her tick? His own curiosity surprised him.
She tilted her head, considering. “Maybe that would be best.” She took a deep breath, as if preparing to plunge into cold water. “Welcome to Button Gap, Dr. Hardesty.” She extended her hand.
He took it. Her hand was small, but firm and capable in his.
“Call me Grant. After all, we’re going to be working closely for the next month.”
“Fine.” The reservation was still there in her dark brown eyes. “Grant.”
He’d held her hand a little longer than necessary. He released it and glanced around, looking for some topic that would ease the tension between them.
“This is a lot nicer than the temporary doc’s quarters.”
The big square kitchen had exposed beams in the corners and crossing the ceiling, with rough white plaster between them. Old-fashioned dish cabinets with multipaned glass fronts lined one of the walls, and a wood-burning stove took up floor space on the worn linoleum. In the corner nearest the door, she had a square oak table, its surface worn with the scars of countless meals.
Maggie managed a more genuine smile. “You should have seen it when I moved in.”
“I can imagine.” He saw the work she must have put in, now that he looked for it. The faded linoleum was spotless and brightened by rag rugs in bright colors. Someone, presumably Maggie, had polished the wood-burner to a black gloss. Red-and-white-checked curtains dressed the three small windows, and each windowsill sported a red geranium.
“No one had lived here for a lot of years. I had to fight the mice for control of the kitchen.” Satisfaction laced her words, and she glanced around possessively.
“I suppose the cat helped.”
“Callie?” Her face softened as she glanced at the white-orange-and-black ball of fur. “Callie’s way too old for much mouse-catching, but we get along okay.”
“How long have you been here?” He leaned his hip against the counter, wondering if she’d ask him to sit. Or if she was just waiting for him to leave.
“Five years.”
Something shadowed her face when she said that—some emotion he couldn’t quite decipher.
“You’ve made a nice nest here.” He sniffed the aroma filling the kitchen—apples and cinnamon, he thought. “Is that the pie I smell?”
She nodded. “Aunt Elly always claims I’m her one failure in teaching the fine art of crust-making.”
“If that means she bakes for you, failure might be worthwhile.”
“Don’t you dare tell her that.”
Her smile was the first genuine one he’d seen directed at him. It lit the face he’d been thinking plain, brightening her cheeks and making her eyes sparkle. He realized he was leaning toward her without meaning to.
“I promise,” he said solemnly.
“Well.” She glanced toward the pot on the stove, her color still heightened. “Supper’s almost ready. Aunt Elly left us stew and biscuits. Why don’t you stay and eat with us? I know you can’t have gotten any food in yet.”
He hadn’t even thought that far. “Thanks, but I can just go out and grab a bite.”
“Not unless you want to make do with a sandwich from the general store. The café doesn’t serve supper except on weekends.”
He really was in the boonies. “In that case, I’ll set the table.”
“You don’t have to do that.” She lifted a stack of plates and bowls from the cabinet.
He took them from her hands. “My pleasure.”
It only took minutes to set the scarred table. Maggie poured milk from a mottled enamel pitcher and scooped stew into bowls, then called the children.
Joey gave him a sidelong look as Grant slid onto a chair. “He staying for supper?”
“Yes.” Maggie’s return gaze was cautionary. “You be polite, you hear?”
“We’ll get along fine, as long as Joey doesn’t try to repair my furnace again.” Grant studied what he could see of the kid’s averted face. “What made you decide to work on the furnace, anyway?”
Thin shoulders shrugged. “I dunno.”
He wanted to pursue it, but Maggie held out her hand to him. Startled, he took it, then realized they were all holding hands around the table. Joey frowned at him, ducking his chin. Apparently they were going to pray.
“Father,
