SUSAN MEIER - Housekeepers Say I Do! - Maid for the Millionaire / Maid for the Single Dad / Maid in Montana

Regret surged through him as he climbed down the ladder. He’d been so caught up in the fact that their talk had allowed him to pierce through the layer of guilt that had held him captive, that he’d nearly forgotten what she’d told him about her dad.

She’d been abused. She’d been raised in poverty. She’d run away, gotten herself educated in spite of her humble beginnings, and then she’d met him.

Their relationship could have gone one of two ways. He could have brought her into his world, shown her his lifestyle and gradually helped her acclimate. Instead, he’d fallen victim to the grief of his brother’s death and missed the obvious.

He wanted to be angry with himself, but he couldn’t. Just as he couldn’t bear the burden of guilt over his brother’s death, he couldn’t blame himself for having missed the obvious. Blaming himself for things he couldn’t change was over. But so was the chance to “fix” their marriage.

Somehow or another, that conversation over his dirty dishes had shown him that he and Liz weren’t destined for a second chance. He could say that without the typical sadness over the loss of what might have been because he’d decided they hadn’t known each other well enough the first time around to have anything to fix. What they really needed to do was start over.

He went through the back door into Amanda’s kitchen, got a drink of water and then headed upstairs to assess what was left to be done, still thinking about him and Liz. The question was…what did start over mean? Start over to become friends? Or start over to become lovers? A couple? A married couple?

He’d been considering them coworkers, learning to get along as friends for the sake of their project. But after the way she’d led him out of his guilt on Wednesday night, his feelings for her had shifted in an unexpected way. He supposed this was the emotion a man experienced when he found a woman who understood him, one he’d consider making his wife. The first time around his idea of a wife had been shallow. He’d wanted a beautiful hostess and someone to warm his bed. He’d never thought he’d need a confidante and friend more.

Now he knew just how wrong he’d been.

And now he saw just how right Liz would have been for him, if they’d only opened up to each other the first time around.

So should he expand his idea from experimenting with getting to know each other in order to become friends, to experimenting with getting to know each other to see if they actually were compatible? Not in the shallow ways, but in the real ways that counted.

Just the thought sent his head reeling. He didn’t want to go back to what they’d had before…but a whole new relationship? The very idea filled him with a funny, fuzzy feeling. Though he didn’t have a lot of experience with this particular emotion…he thought it just might be hope.

They couldn’t fix their past. But what if they could have a future?

Shaking his head at the wonder of it all, Cain ducked into the first bedroom, the room with the most ceiling damage. He pulled a small notebook and pen from his shirt pocket and began making notes of things he would do the next day, Sunday. His crew would have the new roof far enough along that he could fix this ceiling and then the room could be painted. Because Amanda couldn’t be there when any work crew was on site—to keep her identity safe—Liz would paint this room herself. The following weekend he and Billy could get to work on the baseboards and trim.

Proud of himself, Cain left the first room and walked into the second. This room still needed the works: ceiling, paint job, trim. He ducked out and into the bathroom, which was old-fashioned, but in good repair because he had fixed both the commode and shower the first week he’d been here. He dipped out and headed for the biggest bedroom, the one Amanda was using.

He stepped inside, only to find Liz stuffing a pillow into a bright red pillowcase.

“What are you doing here?”

Hand to her heart, she whipped around. “What are you doing down here! You’re supposed to be on the roof.”

“I’m making a list of things that need to be done tomorrow and next weekend.”

“I’m surprising Amanda. I dropped her and her kids off at the beach, telling them I’d be back around six.”

He leaned against the doorjamb. This room hadn’t sustained any damage because of the bad roof. At some point during the week, Liz and Amanda had already painted the ceiling and walls. At the bottom of the bed were packages of new sheets and a red print comforter. Strewn across a mirror vanity were new curtains—red-and-gold striped that matched the colors in the comforter—waiting to be installed.

“By giving her a whole new bedroom?”

“Having a bedroom that’s a comfortable retreat is a simple pleasure.” Shaking a second pillow into a pillowcase, she smiled. “Women like simple pleasures. Bubble baths. A fresh cup of coffee. A good book.”

“And a pretty bedroom.”

She nodded. “And before you ask, Amanda’s favorite color is red. I’m not going overboard.”

“I’m glad because another person might consider this whole system a bit bright.”

“This from a man with a black satin bedspread.”

He laughed. “Point taken.”

“How’s the roof going?”

“It’ll be done tomorrow night. That’s the good thing about these houses. Small, uncomplicated roofs.”

“Good.”

With the pillows now on the bed and the fitted sheet in place, Liz grabbed the flat sheet, unfurling it over the bed.

Cain strode over and caught the side opposite her. “Here. Let me help.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.” He paused then added, “You know I’m really proud of you, right?”

“You don’t have to say that.”

“I think I do. Wednesday night, we sort of skipped from your childhood to my brother’s death and never got back to it.”

“There’s no need.”

“I think there is.” He hesitated. In for a penny, in for a pound. “I’d like to know more.” He shook his head. “No. That’s not right. You said it’s not something you want to talk about.” In three years of living together, he’d bet she’d shown him signs of her troubles, but he’d never seen. He regretted now that he’d never seen her pain. Deeply. Wholeheartedly. If he’d noticed, he could have asked her about it at any time in their marriage. Now he knew she wanted it to be put behind her. If he really wanted a clean slate, he had to accept what she wanted, too.

“What I’m trying to say is that I want you to know that I get it. I understand. And maybe I’m sorry.”

He still wasn’t sure what he intended to do. If he should trust that funny feeling in the pit of his stomach that told him he should pursue this. Mostly because she was so different now that he had to treat her differently. She had goals and dreams. The first time they’d met he’d pulled her away from everything she had and everything she wanted. He wouldn’t do that to her this time.

And maybe that was the real test of whether or not they belonged together. If he could coexist without taking over, and if she could keep her independence without letting him overpower her, then maybe they did belong together.

He nearly snorted with derision. That was a tall order for a man accustomed to being the boss and a woman so obviously eager to please.

“You don’t have to be sorry.”

“Well, I am. I’m sorry I didn’t put two and two together. I’m sorry I made things worse.”

They didn’t speak while finishing the bed. Liz couldn’t have spoken if she’d tried. There was a lump in her throat so thick she couldn’t have gotten words past it.

When the bed was all set up, he said, “I better get back to the roof.”