Joey Light - Daddy For Hire

He appreciated the room. Like a page from Good Housekeeping, it was a lived-in space. Oak furniture. A long, rectangular table with claw feet was surrounded by eight ladder-back chairs. Gleaming copper pots hung in a circle over the bright orange island center. Dark green ivy grew in shiny brass pots suspended from the dark-stained wood beams overhead. The glint of silver, the glisten of china and the sparkle of crystal winked at him from the grand antique mahogany sideboard.

He had never been poor but he knew what kind of money it took to build and maintain a home like this. And what kind of care.

A glass wall looked out over the backyard. He moved to it and watched as three kids and a woman splashed around in the Olympic-sized swimming pool. Lucky kids. There was abundance in this house. And love. He could almost feel it, hanging in the air like mist after a rain. Whatever Abigail Roberts was doing, she was obviously doing it right.

When they had discussed the interview on the phone, she had revealed it was a single-parent home. Widow. But unlike his daughter, the brothers had each other.

Abby sensed a harmony. A strange addition. A man in her kitchen. It was a split thing; part of it was uncomfortable and part of it was like the scattered pieces of a puzzle falling right smack into place. His simple presence added something to the formula here. Assurance. Safety. Consistency.

Anticipation?

She cleared her throat. “Iced tea?”

“Thanks. Nice house.”

She moved about the kitchen filling two tall glasses with ice. He took a chair near the end of the table, flipped it around and straddled it. When he wasn’t watching her, he fiddled with the parts of the broken remote-control car.

How long had it been since he had sat in a kitchen while a woman waited on him? Or he on her? Forever, he answered his own question, silently. Absolutely forever. His ex-wife had made sure he was soured on everything that had to do with marriage and family before she fled. And up until this very minute, he hadn’t missed it one bit.

Abby placed a frosty glass in front of him. He noted the extra touch of the quartered lemon wedge on the rim. Some women just had a way of doing things that made a man feel special, he decided.

Brows knit together, up to his elbows in parts now, Jack held one up. “These batteries still good?”

“I think so.” She arched a brow. “It’s more like the fall it took from the garage roof that caused it to stop working.”

“Roof?” he questioned without looking up.

She slid into a chair opposite him. “Yeah, I know. What was it doing on the roof? It only took Nick a second to scamper up the ladder the painter left against the garage while he went to eat lunch.”

Jack shook his head. Abby jumped to her own defense. “I’ve tried being bilocational, but it doesn’t work. I was in the bathroom with Ben playing nurse to his bloody knee. Nick knew better, but he used to get on the roof with his dad from time to time, you know, cleaning rainspouts and retrieving tossed teddy bears. It’s a relatively flat roof….”

“Hey, relax, no one is accusing you of anything.” He chuckled and continued to toy with the loose parts. “A little glue and time might just fix this right up.”

The sight of a man sitting at her kitchen table repairing something warmed her. “Nick would like that. It’s his favorite toy.”

Jack took a few long gulps of his tea. “That’s cyclical. In a few weeks, it’ll be something else.”

She grinned. So he knew about those things. “Katie loses interest quickly, too, huh?”

He nodded as he held two broken pieces of red plastic together. “My folks sent her one of those newfangled play-tripod things. For an entire week, she seemed glued to it. Now—” he motioned a hand in the air “—nothing.” The two pieces he’d been holding together fell apart.

Small talk with a man. How long had it been? How much had she simply missed the company a man brings to a woman’s kitchen? No, she had purposely forgotten that. After what Jim had done to her…she would never want another man in her life again. At least not her very own personal life. She pushed those specific thoughts away and let her mind wander to less painful topics.

“Do your parents live nearby?” she asked.

“No. They would be able to help me out some if they did. West Coast. Retired. They want me to come out there to live—and I might have to if things don’t work out here—but I know a lot of people in this area. My reputation is already built. And I like Maryland. Where else can you find an ocean, mountains, flatland, big cities and small? The seasons are great here. When it’s summer it’s hot and muggy, when it’s winter it’s cold and icy.”

She agreed. “I like Williamstown. Old, small and quiet. Yet right on the edge of several large cities. Good place to raise kids.”

Restful. Eased. Feelings that Abby seldom enjoyed anymore sneaked up on her. She listened to the sound of his deep voice override the yelps and squeals and the occasional shout at the kids from her friend who was swimming with them.

He wiped his hands on his jeans. “Do you have any tools close by?”

“In the drawer behind you. Bottom one.”

He set a screwdriver, electrical tape and pair of pliers on the tabletop. He talked as he worked. “I let my carpentry business fade over the last year. I went through a time of…well, never mind. I’m going to need a chance to build it back up again. Right now I can be making my contacts by phone and running out to the job site off and on, whenever you’re home for the kids. I have a friend who’ll be foreman on the site for me till I get things going.”

She nodded. She could see his reasoning. As a manny, he would have a salary, a place to stay and meals for both him and his daughter. He would have the benefit of an almost-wife and mother without the reality of it. Katie would never know the difference. Not for a long time anyway. Ben and Nick were a different story. Yet, she thought, maybe having him move in wasn’t such a far-fetched idea after all. But could she really contend with having an almosthusband around? She hunched her shoulders. He’d never be that. Just a helper.

Jack caught her staring at him. He grinned. She warmed beneath it. It did feel as if the arrangement might work. She had hatched this flighty plan for exactly that reason, with the best interest of her boys in mind. Granted, it was a little more than Big Brothers of America, but it was no real big deal. Was it?

After catching the first few words about it from the TV talk show, she had sat down and listened. It was working. Men were proving themselves very adept at the nanny role. Retired football players were doing it. Preppies putting themselves through college were doing it. Single men not wanting to get into the office grind were doing it.

And it was successful. In many different instances, it was the answer to single or distant parenting. A different kind of family was better than no family at all. In distant parenting, it was a relief to the estranged father or mother who only had certain visitation rights to know that there was a male or female influence in the house, someone to take care of what needed tending to.

Her thoughts were moving too quickly. She got up from the table and went back to the countertop. Snagging two cookies, handing him one, she walked to the wall of glass to watch the kids.

“Mr. Murdock, those two kids out there are the most important thing in the world to me. They’re my life. I’m sure you understand that with your daughter. I’d be handing you my whole being, putting it in your hands, if I were to proceed with this. It’s why I have to be so careful before I make a decision. The television show made it all seem so simple, but it’s far from that, I assure you.”