in Chattanooga or here at my present address?”
“Both.”
“I was born and raised here,” she replied. “But you must already know that. Surely your file of information on me states those mundane facts.”
“I’m trying to make conversation,” Jack said. “You know, just being friendly. Trying to break the ice.”
“This isn’t a date, Mr. Parker.” She cut her eyes in his direction for a brief glower, then returned her gaze to the road ahead. “There’s no need for idle chitchat.”
“Look, hon—Miss Peggy Jo, we’re going to be spending a lot of time together during the next few weeks or longer, so it might be nice for both of us if we tried to get along, if we made an effort to like each other.”
He felt rather than saw her tense. What was it with this gal? Had an abusive husband turned her off so completely that she couldn’t even be civil to a man? She was like a spooked filly who didn’t want any human hands on her.
“So, tell me about him,” Jack said.
“About who?”
“Your ex-husband. All I’ve got in my files is his name, the dates of your marriage and divorce. Stuff like that.”
“What do you want to know?” Her fingers tightened on the steering wheel. “Do you want to know how many times he beat me, how many times he told me what a stupid, ugly, fat, worthless piece of trash I was? Or would you like to hear the gory details of how he nearly killed me? How he did kill our unborn child?” Her voice cracked at this last admission.
Jack’s guts knotted painfully. The very thought that a man would raise a hand to a woman, let alone beat her, enraged Jack. God help him, if he could get his hands on Buck Forbes right this minute, he might kill him. He knew he’d sure like to give the sorry bastard a taste of what he’d given Peggy Jo. The man had actually hit his pregnant wife!
“You lost a child because of—”
“I was four months pregnant. I came home fifteen minutes late from my job as a receptionist, and he accused me of cheating on him with my boss. The accusation was ridiculous, of course, but that didn’t matter. He beat me until I was unconscious. I woke up several hours later in the hospital. I’d suffered a miscarriage.”
“God, honey, I’m sorry.” Jack’s hand reached for her in the semidarkness inside her car, but the moment he touched her, she cringed. He removed his hand instantly. He’d read in his file on her about the miscarriage, but hadn’t known it was a result of her husband’s brutality.
“I had put up with his cruelty for over three years. But after that night, I went to a shelter for abused women and I filed for a divorce.”
“All men aren’t like Buck Forbes.” Jack felt the need to defend his sex, to convince her that most men weren’t savage animals.
“I’m well aware of the fact that there are a lot of good, kind, loyal and loving men in the world. I just didn’t happen to have one of them for a father or a husband.”
Before Jack could respond, she pulled the Chrysler Sebring into the driveway of a large Craftsman-style house. The old house had a real sense of hominess to it, as if it had been built to accommodate a large family. He had noticed that the neighborhood, which was in the Riverview area, was comprised of both large and small houses, some neatly remodeled and others still in need of repair. His information on her residence stated that she lived in an older section of the city that was part of a mass renovation project.
Peggy Jo turned to face Jack. “Before we go inside, we need to go over a few ground rules.”
“Shoot.” Jack studied her face by the soft light of the nearby streetlight. An odd little spasm tightened inside him and he wondered at the cause.
“You’re a guest in my home, a temporary visitor.” She paused as if uncertain how to explain. “You’ll be treated with hospitality, of course, but…don’t try to ingratiate yourself to my housekeeper, Hetty, or to my daughter.”
Jack stared at her, puzzled by her statement. “I’m afraid you’ve lost me. In what way do you want me not to ingratiate myself to your housekeeper or your daughter? Are you saying don’t be charming, don’t make friends?”
“Exactly—don’t make friends. You’re a transitory fixture in our lives, and I don’t want Hetty trying to make something personal out of a relationship that is strictly business. And I certainly don’t want Wendy becoming attached to you in any way.”
Realization dawned. “Ah. I understand. You don’t want me playing daddy to your daughter. And you don’t want the housekeeper trying to play matchmaker for us.” Jack chuckled. Lordy. Lordy. He’d known some uptight women in his life, but Miss Peggy Jo sure did take the cake. Not only was she cautious and afraid for herself, but for her child, too. Poor little girl. And to be honest, he wasn’t sure whether he was referring to Wendy Riley or her mother.
“Just do the job you’ve been hired to do and keep your Southern charm to yourself.” With that said, Peggy Jo opened her car door, got out and rounded the hood.
Jack followed quickly, up the steps and onto the large wraparound porch. Before they reached the front door, it opened to reveal a stout, gray-haired woman standing just inside the foyer.
“Come on in, you two,” the housekeeper said, smiling broadly. “It’s getting cold out there.” She ushered them inside hurriedly, then held out her hand. “Let me take your jacket and hat, Mr. Parker.”
So, this was Hetty, Jack thought. A motherly type. Round and cheerful and fussing over them like a mother hen.
He handed her his denim jacket and black Stetson. “Thank you, ma’am.”
Her smile widened until it reached from ear to ear, deepening the faint lines around her brown eyes and in her rosy cheeks. “You can call me Hetty. I’m the housekeeper and nanny around here, but Peggy Jo will tell you that we’re all family in this house.”
“Nice to meet you, Hetty.” Jack offered her his hand. “You can call me Jack.”
Hetty hung his coat and hat on the ornate oak hall tree, then took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “I’m sure glad to meet you, young fella. We’re glad to have you with us. I’ve been telling Peggy Jo for months now that her crazy admirer wasn’t going away and what we needed—what she needed—was a man around here.”
“Well, Hetty, I’m your man.” Jack winked at her.
Hetty giggled. “My, my, I like you already.”
“If you two are finished with your mutual admiration society meeting…” Peggy Jo said with a look of exasperation.
“Oh, just ignore her,” Hetty said. “Come on in and meet the real boss around here.”
Peggy Jo sighed, then asked, “Where is Wendy?”
“She’s eating supper in the kitchen,” Hetty replied.
“Why is she eating now? She knew I’d be home in time for us to eat together.”
Hetty
