Mia Ross - His Two Little Blessings

That was a new one, he thought as he shook off his irritation and stood to motion her to one of the client chairs opposite his desk. “What’s an art emergency?”

“One of my middle schoolers was making a model of Independence Hall and accidentally glued his fingers together. I know, I know,” she added, holding up one hand in a quieting gesture. “It’s crazy, and I didn’t believe him at first, either. But when I realized he was serious, I knew I couldn’t send him home like that. Once I stopped laughing, it took me a good ten minutes to get him unstuck and cleaned up.”

Her charming account chased away the last of his annoyance, and he chuckled. “Boys, huh?”

“And how. If you knew half the scrapes my brothers got into when we were growing up, you’d never believe they survived.”

“Meaning you were the perfect child?” The question sounded perilously close to teasing, which was completely inappropriate given the professional setting they were in, and he gave himself a mental shake. In his defense, it was hard to remain detached from someone as bubbly as Emma Calhoun.

“The most perfect one,” she informed him, mischief twinkling in those crystal-blue eyes. “Just ask my dad.”

Rick had encountered Steve Calhoun a couple of times and had no doubt that the burly mechanic had been wrapped around Emma’s little finger since the time she was old enough to smile at him. Warm and open, she’d quickly broken through Rick’s usual reserve, and he was an expert at keeping his distance. Being the father of two charmers himself, he could only imagine how completely Steve doted on his only daughter.

Eager to move the conversation onto safer footing, he glanced down at the folders she’d dumped onto his formerly empty leather blotter. “So, what have you got here?”

“Ideas for projects, sketches, wish lists from the kids, things like that. You said to bring everything related to the after-school program.”

“When I said everything, I meant all your receipts and invoices,” he explained patiently. He thought he’d been perfectly clear about what he needed, but apparently they had a difference of opinion on what was important.

“Oh, I have those, too.”

Opening one of the unmarked folders, she finger-walked through the pages inside, plucking out a receipt here and there. After about a minute of that he honestly thought he was about to lose his mind. “They’re all mixed in, then?”

“Well, yes,” she replied as if she had no idea that there was a better way to organize her materials. “I keep them connected to the project idea they belong with. That way I know how many kids wanted to do each one, and how much I spent on supplies to get them done.”

Rick grudgingly admitted that her system did make sense. In a convoluted, totally random kind of way. Her free-spirited demeanor reminded him of his daughters, and it occurred to him that the best strategy for getting through this task was to recognize that their minds worked in different ways. Once he accepted that, he could figure out how to meld their vastly dissimilar talents into a cohesive approach.

He could take a shot at it, anyway. Fortunately for him, he liked taking on a new challenge once in a while. It helped to keep his problem-solving chops in shape.

“Tell you what,” he suggested, tapping the stack of folders. “Why don’t we go through these together, sorting and categorizing your records into something that we can present to the board on Wednesday?”

Her forehead puckered in confusion. “I thought we were going to do that now.”

“I didn’t realize how big a job it was,” he confided, feeling more than a little foolish about admitting that to her. “I have a meeting at four, but tomorrow afternoon is clear and we won’t be rushed to get it done.”

For some reason she hesitated. After a moment she said, “That’s very nice, but tomorrow afternoon is supposed to be beautiful. I hate to intrude on time you could be spending with Caitlin and Aubrey.”

Quite honestly, it had never occurred to him that with his schedule clear after one o’clock tomorrow, he could leave the bank and hang out with his girls either in their spacious backyard or at the town playground. His father had instilled in him the importance of always striving for more, working harder than his peers to ensure that his achievements shone the brightest. In any business, having happy customers translated to success, which brought you more income and security for the future. But now that this soft-spoken teacher had pointed out another way for him to use his free afternoon, Rick saw no reason not to take advantage of it.

“I’ll do that,” he agreed with a smile, “and then you can come by my house around five tomorrow after the arts program is over. We’ll be back from the park by then, and I know the girls would love to see you.”

“What a fabulous idea!” Emma approved, eyes sparkling with a childlike enthusiasm that even a pragmatic data hound like him could appreciate. “Maybe they’d like to help me pick out which projects I should include in the slides. I usually do that to show the board some real-life examples of our results and the benefit the kids get from working on their projects.”

She’d called herself a dreamer the other day, and he was pleasantly surprised to discover that she had a practical streak under all that perky sweetness. “That’s a nice touch, for sure. With the fate of the arts program on the line, this presentation is important to you and a lot of other people here in town. If we both put our minds to it, we’ll have a better chance of getting your proposal approved.”

She studied him for a few moments before asking, “What about you?”

“I’m sorry?”

“You made it sound like the program’s not important to you. If that’s the case, I don’t understand why you’d go to all this trouble to save it.”

“I’m a numbers guy,” he explained, leaning back in his chair to put a little more distance between them. “But intellectually, I understand the value of creative things.”

“You liked that landscape painting well enough to pay me a lot of money for it,” she pointed out, clearly baffled by his response. “Or were you just being nice to Caitlin’s new teacher?”

In spite of his resolve to treat her professionally, he smiled as he shook his head. “No, I really do like it. As you can see, this office needs something.”

“It needs a lot of somethings,” she corrected him with a cheeky grin. “All these empty beige walls... This must be what the inside of oatmeal looks like.”

Her comment made him laugh out loud, and through his open door he saw a couple of the other managers stop and stare at him. Their amazed expressions told him they didn’t know he had a sense of humor, and in fairness, he hadn’t given them much reason to think otherwise. As far as his coworkers knew, he was a serious, nose-to-the-grindstone kind of person who worked hard and always got the job done flawlessly and ahead of schedule.

Now that he thought about it, he seldom laughed unless he was with his girls. Why that had suddenly changed was beyond him, but he couldn’t deny that his lovely guest had something to do with it. Although the easing of his usual composure felt good to him, he recognized that the effect would by necessity be short-lived.

Once he was finished with the task he’d volunteered for, he and Emma would return to the uncomplicated relationship they’d had since he’d moved to Liberty Creek. She was his daughter’s teacher, and he was her brother’s banker. Simple, straightforward and pleasant.

The realization should have been comforting to him. But as he helped her scoop up the documents she’d brought with her, there was a sinking feeling in his chest. It only got worse as he walked her to the bank’s main entrance door and said goodbye.