one of the boys, Thomas, let out a yelp, she had to wonder if she’d just put herself into an even more challenging situation than the one she was desperate to leave.
He was crazy to even consider it, Mitch told himself firmly as he followed Polly and Frank back to the parsonage, where Frank insisted they would be more comfortable discussing the issue. The children skipped on ahead, gleeful at having gotten rid of yet another nanny. And, he was certain, already plotting ways of getting rid of Polly.
Mitch kept stealing glances at the girl, who suddenly seemed so young. Too young, but probably the same age Hattie had been when they’d married. Perhaps even older.
Hattie’s dreams had not included marriage or family either. But Mitch hadn’t understood that when she’d accepted his proposal. Nor had he realized it when the baby, Louisa, had come too soon. He’d been forced to accept that reality when he’d been left alone too many nights with the squalling baby as Hattie pursued her career on stage.
At least Polly had the maturity to realize that she wasn’t meant to be a wife and mother. She wouldn’t leave behind a brokenhearted husband and children who didn’t understand why their darling mummy didn’t want to be with them. That had been years ago, of course. Mitch’s heart had healed, and the children understood that Mummy had to travel a lot for work and they lived for the moments when she could be with them.
Well, that’s how it had worked while Hattie was alive. With her gone, Mitch didn’t know what hope the children clung to, or how he was supposed to make up for a lack of a mother. Even one as inattentive as Hattie.
They arrived at the parsonage, a cheerful yellow house that looked like it had been tacked on to several times over the years. Frank escorted them to the parlor, then excused himself briefly to get the rest of the family to make introductions.
Polly sat on the sofa, smiling at Mitch’s children, who now regarded her with a great deal of suspicion.
A short robust woman entered the room, wiping her hands on her apron. “What is this nonsense I hear about Polly becoming a nanny? And going off to be a teacher?”
“Maddie, stop.” Another woman, an older, stouter version of Polly, entered the room and looked at her. “But you should have told us.”
“Ma, I...” Polly looked up helplessly, as though she hadn’t quite thought through her plan.
Before Polly could finish, Frank reentered the room, several children following him.
“I realize this isn’t a standard part of employment negotiations, but since our families will be connected in the coming months, I wanted you to meet everyone. Besides, I’m sure your children could use some friends.”
Frank introduced the children, and Mitch’s head spun from all the names. From what he gathered, Frank’s son-in-law, Joseph, had recently built a house next door. Joseph was raising his orphaned siblings, and while the eldest, Mary, had recently married, the Stone children rivaled Mitch’s own in number. Additionally, when Polly and her mother, Gertie, came to stay with Frank to help with the Stone children, they’d brought along Gertie’s youngest daughter, Caitlin. Polly’s older brothers and father remained in the mining camp, running the Stone mine. And, apparently, the folks at the parsonage also cared for several other children as well.
All told, Mitch counted a dozen children, in the age ranges of his own. A little girl about the same age as Thomas stepped forward and said, “Hi, my name’s Nugget. Want to go play bandits with us?”
His own children looked at him expectantly.
No one had ever asked them to play before. Usually, they would approach other children, ask them to play, and the children’s mothers would take them by the hand and usher them away with warnings about “those people.”
Polly smiled at him. “It’s all right. They’ll stay in the backyard.” Then she looked over at a little girl standing next to Nugget. “Right, Caitlin?”
“Yes, Polly.” The little girl sighed and looked like she was about to whisper something to Nugget.
“And no ropes!”
The two girls sighed like Polly had accurately predicted what they had up their sleeves.
“Or water,” Maddie said. “Or you’ll all be doing the washing, then sent to bed with only bread and milk for supper.”
“And do leave the rocks on the ground,” Gertie said, looking pointedly at a boy who appeared to be of similar age to Rory.
Gertie smiled at him as the children went outside. “And now that we’ve probably frightened you with all the warnings we’ve given the children about their behavior, let me assure you that—”
“Don’t bother,” Polly said, pointing at her soiled dress. “His children can take it. I have this courtesy of a flour fight over rapped knuckles and tattle tales.”
“More laundry,” Maddie sighed. “I do so hate laundry.”
“Maddie is our housekeeper,” Frank said, patting the other woman on the arm. “And she does a fine job. However, I was thinking that Alan Forester’s widow is in need of extra money, and she’s been taking in washing. I’m sure she’d be happy for the work.”
“What use would I be, then?” Maddie glared at him. “I’ll be thanking you to not be giving my work to someone else to do. You just tell those rascals to stop getting so dirty, and we’ll be fine. I’ll get tea for everyone.”
Maddie stomped off, and the other adults laughed.
“Please, sit.” Gertie gestured to an empty chair. “I apologize for the craziness, but you should know right off that chaos is something Polly does very well with. The children truly aren’t bad, but they are lively. If yours are as lively as ours, you’ll need all the help you can get.”
Her words were meant in solidarity, that he could tell by her smile. And for the first time in a long time, Mitch didn’t feel quite so alone.
“Which is why I offered my services,” Polly said, looking at him with a ferocity that surprised him. “Your children are quite a handful, but I know how to handle them.”
Mitch let out a long sigh. Polly’s offer was probably the best he was going to get, considering he’d gone through every nanny agency in Denver. He’d have to send to New York, or perhaps even London, to find someone willing to take on his children. No one wanted to take care of the Taylor Terrors.
But that wasn’t the only reason people didn’t want to work for him.
He cleared his throat. “Perhaps. But I feel compelled to share some of our family’s circumstances with you before you make a decision.”
Then he looked around the room. Could he trust them with his secrets? Some of them perhaps. “I hope we can all keep this information confidential.”
“Of course,” they all said at once, looking aghast that he’d even suggest it.
Mitch debated about what information to share—most of it could be confirmed by reading the papers, and there were certainly
