Mending The Widow's Heart. Mia Ross

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of it. He’d been so great all day, a little trampoline time seemed like a good reward. At least he’d taken his shoes off before climbing on it, she noted proudly.

      Leaving him to his fun, she opened the other bedroom door for Sam, and what she saw inside made her smile. Daphne had always kept a special guest room for Holly to use during visits to Beverly Hills, and she’d duplicated it in her new house. The walls were painted a cloudy blue, and white trim around the windows framed lush green scenery that promised to be beautiful when the sun finally came out. From the four-poster bed to the chair in front of the small desk, it was all here, and Holly immediately felt like she belonged.

      Strolling in behind her, Sam set her bags inside the walk-in closet. “From the way you’re smiling, I take it I got everything right.”

      “Perfect. It feels like home.”

      “That’s what she was after, so I’m glad you approve. Have a look around while I get the rest of your stuff.”

      While he was gone, she went to the other window to see if her room looked out on more than the quiet landscape. She pulled aside a lacy curtain and discovered that she had a distant peekaboo view of the historic bridge. Now that she was finally here, she couldn’t shake the feeling that the centuries-old structure had guided her toward a better place than the one she’d recently left. Wondering what lay ahead for Chase and her, she stared out at it until she heard Sam’s boots coming up the stairs again.

      The time for daydreaming was over. Aunt Daphne was coming home soon, and Holly had a lot of work to do before then.

      * * *

      Turning away from the foggy view, Holly asked, “So, is there a tour?”

      “Sure.”

      Since he didn’t know what else to say, Sam motioned her out the door. Fortunately for him, she was the bubbly, curious type, which meant he didn’t have to do much more than answer her questions. While he took her through the house, she pressed him for all sorts of details about the rehab that was under way. The roof, the porches, the architectural touches—she was interested in it all, and Sam was only too happy to keep her talking. That accent of hers was downright hypnotizing.

      In the kitchen, she turned to him with amazement lighting those incredible eyes. “I can’t believe you’re doing this all by yourself.”

      “Actually, a couple friends come and help out when I need extra hands.” Sensing that it was time to come clean, he paused to clear his throat. “I think you should know Daphne hurt her back when she tripped on something that got left on the main stairway. It was an accident, but I feel awful about it. We all do.”

      That it had been a part-timer who’d carelessly left his toolbox where it didn’t belong didn’t matter to Sam. That he’d fired the guy on the spot was beside the point. Sam was in charge of this project, and to him that meant he was responsible for Daphne’s injury. He wasn’t crazy about having to apologize for other people’s mistakes, but he wouldn’t shirk the blame, either. Someday it might not be necessary for him to work within such a tight budget, and he’d be able to hire a skilled full-time crew. But right now he didn’t have a choice. Running a small business was tough in the best of times, and with the local economy still reeling from all kinds of setbacks, he couldn’t afford to pay the rates professional subcontractors charged.

      He held his breath, waiting to see how she’d react to the news, but Holly gave him a reassuring look. “She told me all about it. She doesn’t blame you even the tiniest bit, and neither do I. Things like that happen, and she’s going to be fine.”

      “Thanks for saying that. I appreciate it.” Now that he’d fessed up, Sam felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and he relaxed enough to be friendlier. “Come on, and I’ll show you the room we set up for Daphne to use while she’s on the mend. It has a full bath next to it, so I think it’ll work well for her. I just finished painting the trim yesterday, so it might still be tacky in spots.”

      The large back parlor had a wide bank of windows, and he’d already moved Daphne’s bedroom furniture down from the master bedroom. A huge TV was mounted over the fireplace, in clear view of the bed set up on the opposite wall. Trailing a hand over the hand-carved rosewood mantel, Holly peered out the windows that overlooked the backyard. “Wow, it’s even worse than the front. I think I saw Tarzan up in one of those trees.”

      “That’s why she got such a good deal on this place. Well, that and the termites.”

      Holly typed something on her phone and backtracked into the kitchen. Sam watched her throw open one cupboard after another, then both sides of the shiny new French door–style fridge. When she glanced up, she asked, “Why are there two bowls up there?”

      “Pandora likes to eat there. That way, she can keep an eye on everything.”

      “Seriously?” He nodded, and she laughed. “This is one spoiled cat, but I guess I better go along with it, since that’s what she’s used to.”

      When she finally reached the last cupboard, the amused look on her face told him that she’d found what she was hunting for on a bare shelf. Taking out another of Daphne’s personalized envelopes, she read the note out loud. “Get whatever you think we should have, Peaches.”

      Holly opened it, and inside were more hundred-dollar bills than Sam had ever seen in one place. “She left you money already.”

      “That was for Chase and me, in case we need something. This—” she held up an impressive fan of Benjamins “—is for food. Totally different.”

      “Okay,” he replied, still unable to believe how much cash Daphne kept on hand. “While I’m thinking of it, you gotta tell me why she calls you Peaches.”

      Holly laughed. “It’s an old nickname. When I was little, I wouldn’t eat anything other than peaches. If Mom wanted me to try something new, she had to mix some of them in or I wouldn’t touch it. Dad started calling me Peaches, and it stuck.”

      Looking at the nearly empty shelves, he said, “Looks like you’ve got some shopping to do. Daphne mostly eats out, either on her own or with friends. She told me she can hardly work the microwave, but I figured she was kidding.”

      “No, she was totally serious. She’s a people person, and machines confound her. But we can’t take her to a restaurant for every meal in her condition, so when we spoke on the phone last week, I warned her that we’d need some groceries.”

      “I can help with that, if you want,” he blurted without thinking. Despite his earlier wariness, something about this spunky single mom made him want to step up and give her a hand. It wasn’t a date or anything, he assured himself, and he could catch up on his lengthy to-do list tomorrow. The work wasn’t going anywhere. “I’ll put away those supplies I brought and meet you out at my truck.”

      She didn’t say anything to that, and he wondered what he might have said wrong. Then it hit him that she might not be inclined to get into a stranger’s car with her son, and he amended his offer. “You can follow me out there if you’d rather do it that way.”

      Gazing up at him, she studied him for several long, uncomfortable moments. Then, to his great relief, she smiled. “Auntie D trusts you. That’s good enough for me.”

      Sam felt as if he’d just scored a touchdown, but the swift connection he’d made with this engaging woman was unsettling, so

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