organ for the church and sharing a nice family dinner with her parents, Sunday afternoon was her time to kick back and relax, maybe read a romance novel or watch some television.
But today was a sunny day, and Samantha decided she didn’t want to stay indoors. Problems were plaguing her and she desperately needed some fresh air to clear her head.
Her first inclination was to go find her friends. She was certain that Mary and Alexis had plenty to say about Will. They’d probably already started making plans for landing him a wife here in Serendipity, possibly even tossing a coin as to which one of them would have the honor.
But Samantha didn’t really want to talk about Will. She didn’t even want to think about him, though unfortunately, she couldn’t seem to get him out of her head. She was still mildly resentful of the fact that he’d had been thrust into her life with no notice.
Still, thinking about Will was preferable to thinking about her other issue—the letter from Stay-n-Shop. She still had no idea how she was going to handle that matter.
She sighed. One problem at a time.
Since Will was on her mind anyway, maybe she could do something nice for him and Genevieve. Take them to the park, maybe?
She raised her head and smiled, making a conscious decision to put her fears aside for the day and concentrate on her faith. This was Sunday, after all.
Despite her reservations about her new employee, she didn’t have a heart of stone, and the guy had his plate full trying to take care of his little girl on his own. She had the impression he was determined to do his best despite the reticence she thought she sensed in him.
And Genevieve—the poor sweetheart, losing her mother at such a tender young age. Samantha had had a wonderful childhood with two parents who loved her and each other, and paternal grandparents who’d been married, well, forever, until her grandmother had passed away at age seventy-five last year. She couldn’t imagine what losing a mother must feel like—especially for a four-year-old.
Samantha didn’t know the specifics of how Genevieve’s mother had died, but she knew enough to know that the little girl was both frightened and confused by her new surroundings, and by suddenly having to live with a father she hardly knew.
Yesterday at the shop, Genevieve hadn’t smiled—not even when she was enticed with candy. Not even when her father picked her up in his arms. She’d barely spoken more than a word, though Samantha had encouraged her every way she knew how.
Did the child have some disability, or had recent circumstances and emotional issues just caused her to hide in her shell? She supposed only time would tell.
It didn’t help that Will wasn’t sure of himself as a father. Despite how strong he appeared upon first observation, she’d glimpsed the buck-in-the-headlights look when his eyes alighted on his daughter. That he loved her was evident. That he wasn’t sure what to do with her was equally evident. Samantha didn’t think he was as hopeless as he believed himself to be, but again, only time would tell on that count.
God had laid a lot on her plate in the past day. Will was here to stay, and somehow, she had to find a way to integrate him into her daily life. Like that was going to be easy. There was plenty of work to be done, and in truth Samantha was intrigued by the idea of having help, but not from the large, handsome ex-soldier.
She suspected he would be more of a hindrance than a help. Really, how could he not be? His size alone would be a hindrance—he’d be bumping into things all over the place. Besides, the store could only be described as slow and steady and the work was repetitive, with little beyond the daily routine to break up the monotony. He’d be bored one day into the job, and in her experience, bored men meant trouble.
Like her brother, for example, who couldn’t keep an inventory straight to save his life, not because he couldn’t count, but because he got sidetracked by every pretty girl who entered the store.
She sighed and reminded herself again that this was not a day for problems. She didn’t have the slightest idea what she was going to do with Will, but at least she had some idea of what to do with his daughter.
She walked up to the cottage door where Will and Genevieve were staying and paused a moment to collect herself. It wouldn’t do for Will to see that she was still struggling with her own feelings of frustration and resentment. Those were her issues, not his.
She knew that God would want her to be generous and charitable—but knowing the truth and feeling it were two different things entirely. Sometimes a woman just had to live by faith and wait for her heart to catch up to her.
She took a deep breath and knocked.
No one answered, so after a moment, she knocked again, harder this time.
“Hello,” she called. “Anybody home? It’s Samantha.” She thought about peering in the front window but decided it would be rude and might invade his privacy.
She’d just reached out to knock a third time when the door flew open and she nearly fell into the room. Will stood in the entrance holding Genevieve. The girl was wrapped in a green bath towel with a froggie face on the hood. Wet black curls framed her face and water dripped from her nose.
Will looked as if he’d taken a dunk. He was wearing worn blue jeans and an Army-issue tan T-shirt that was soaked with water, clinging to his chest and muscular arms. She couldn’t help but take a second look.
Samantha held back a chuckle when she realized he had bath bubbles clinging to the spiked blond hair on top of his head.
“You...uh...” she said, pointing awkwardly, “have...”
Instead of finishing her sentence, she reached up on tiptoe and scooped the bubbles into her palm. With a playful grin, she held them out to him so he could see.
“A new fashion statement?” she teased.
She thought that would bring a laugh—or at the very least a smile—but instead his expression darkened.
“I was trying to give Genevieve a bath,” he explained, as if it wasn’t perfectly obvious. “As you can see, my mission was an epic fail.”
Samantha smothered another laugh. Only an Army guy would consider giving his child a bath a mission. And how did one fail a bath, anyway?
Her gaze swept over Genevieve. “She looks clean enough to me.”
Will sighed. “Maybe. But you should see the state of the bathroom.” He gestured at his shirtfront. “Also, I hadn’t intended to give myself a bath in the process.”
Samantha made a final, valiant effort not to laugh at what Will clearly did not consider to be a humorous situation, but this time, a chuckle sputtered from her lips.
He looked at his shirtfront and then back at her, his twinkling chocolate-colored gaze mixing with hers. Her breath hitched.
“This is funny, isn’t it?”
“Well...yeah. Pretty much. Cute, too.”
“Cute?” He choked out the word, clearly appalled by the notion.
“I meant Genevieve,” she assured him, though in all honesty, Will, with his wet clothes and bath
