growing daily. Miss Ellis had been so efficient he hadn’t completely grasped how much work she took on. He rubbed his temples, wishing the headache away. He didn’t want to take more aspirin. They did little to help any longer. Get rid of the stress. Words his doctor repeated, his parents advised, his friends cautioned. As though he could wrap up the stress and mail it away like a package.
“Daddy!” Poppy called out as she skipped through the doorway.
His expression softened. “Right here.” Reaching out, he picked her up and settled her in his lap.
“Guess what?” she asked in her most dramatic four-year-old voice.
He infused his response with interest. “What?”
She leaned close, as though imparting a state secret. “There’s a pretty lady in the back hall.”
“Really?” he asked, managing to sound puzzled. “I have always thought Miss Dorothy was pretty.”
“No, silly! Another lady!” Poppy’s big blue eyes widened.
“Did you meet her?” he questioned, loving the joy Poppy found in everything.
“Nope. I hid behind the drapes. In case she wasn’t ’posed to be in our house. She’s all dressed up like she’s going to church, the way Dorothy does.”
Morgan flinched. Church wasn’t a subject he ever wanted to dwell on again. “Ladies dress that way to go to work, as well.”
“Miss Ellis didn’t,” Poppy pointed out.
No, Miss Ellis was the last of a dying breed. She had worn shirtwaist dresses to work each and every day. Unlike Tessa, who sported a chic contemporary silk suit. He guessed her dark hair was long but she had swept it up, so he couldn’t be sure. Went well with her aquamarine eyes that seemed to lighten and darken at will.
Morgan pulled himself back to the child he adored. “Miss Dorothy should have your lunch ready pretty soon.”
“She said I could have chocolate milk if I eat my little trees.”
Morgan hid his smile. Broccoli. Dorothy cooked it at least once a week for him, as well. He didn’t set a very good example, pushing it around his plate without eating a single stalk. Dorothy, being Dorothy, never gave up.
He couldn’t have made it without Dorothy. His parents were already retired when Poppy’s mother, Lucy, died. They had rushed home from their latest journey and had been there for him and his infant daughter. For the first three years, they had put their own dreams and plans on the back burner so they could help him care for Poppy. But he knew they longed to pursue the travels his father couldn’t make when he had been running Harper Petroleum. Morgan didn’t intend to let them postpone their adventures a day longer.
After they returned to their travels, he, Dorothy, her husband, Alvin, and Miss Ellis had pulled together to care for Poppy. He had tried hiring a nanny, but that had felt too impersonal. Not really knowing the woman, Morgan wasn’t comfortable having her as Poppy’s primary daytime caretaker. Not that his parents needed to know he’d let the nanny go. They would no doubt feel compelled to come home.
“Who is the lady?” Poppy questioned.
“She’s taking Miss Ellis’s job.”
Poppy frowned. “Miss Ellis was real old.”
And she hadn’t possessed Tessa’s beauty. The thought flew into his mind from left field. He hadn’t cared what any woman looked like since Lucy. “That’s because Miss Ellis had the job for a long time.”
“Is the new lady going to get old here?”
Morgan smiled. “I don’t think so.”
Poppy digested this. “Can we fly my kite?”
He glanced at the pile of work on his desk. “It’s almost your lunchtime, short stuff.”
“Dorothy said it’s in thirty hours.”
Morgan did a quick mental translation. “Thirty minutes to an hour?”
She nodded, an emphatic up and down of her head. “And Dorothy said you have to come eat, too.”
Considering he’d known Dorothy since she had changed his diapers, their roles of employee and employer blurred, but never in a way he minded. He hugged Poppy, then set her down. “Now, you’d better scoot.”
She blew him kisses, which he caught in an upraised hand. If only all of life could be so sweet.
* * *
Tessa trailed Dorothy around the compact cottage. She hadn’t expected much by Morgan’s description. Pleasantly surprised by gently worn French country furniture and the terrazzo patio, she sighed.
“Something you don’t like?” Dorothy asked.
“Just the opposite.” Tessa turned in a semicircle. “It’s so inviting. The soft colors and materials...”
“Miss Ellis wanted to redecorate. Well, back before her arthritis got so bad. Said this looked old.”
Tessa lifted one shoulder. “That’s part of why I like it.” She touched the edge of a cabbage-rose drape. “The history. It could have been this way a century ago.”
Dorothy cocked her head, indicating Tessa’s slick suit, one that had fit in perfectly in downtown Houston and definitely in the twenty-first century. “And you like that it looks old?”
“How I dress and how I like to live don’t exactly match, do they?” Tessa smiled, a small smile. “I’ve lived with hard-edged, supermodern furniture before.” Because Karl liked it. “Seemed...brittle.”
Nodding, Dorothy plucked an invisible speck from a plump pillow. “When I put my feet up at night, I want them resting on something comfy. My husband, Alvin, would have a fit with glass tables and whatnot.”
“I agree with Alvin.” She paused. “Do you mind me asking where you and your husband live?”
“In the big house. On the main floor, past the kitchen and the butler’s pantry. We have our own set of rooms. There are two other cottages on the property, but it’s a lot easier on us to live in the main house. Taking care of a family isn’t an eight-to-five kind of job.” Dorothy plopped her hands on her hips. “Say, did you bring your overnight things?”
“I packed a small bag. I’ll be sending for my clothes.”
“Well, if there’s anything you need, that you maybe forgot, I’m bound to have it or know how to get hold of it.”
“Thank you, Dorothy.”
“New job and new place to live all in one day.” Dorothy shook her head. “That’s a lot to take on.”
Tessa firmed her chin so her lips wouldn’t tremble and give her away. “It’s all good.”
“Even so.” She hesitated. “If Morgan’s a little gruff, don’t let it get to
