LITMIR.BIZ

       Chapter Three

      Katie wasn’t so sure she’d heard Sam right. She was hired? Just like that?

      And did she even really want the job?

      She’d be with these two kids for at least an hour at a time if she became Libby’s tutor. Small children with winsome faces and those little-kid voices. The very thing she had been looking forward to, before—

      Could she do it? Or would it be too painful?

      Katie was still kneeling on the floor between Henry and Libby, holding the tattered remains of George the teddy bear. Libby, who seemed ten times older than her age, came over and stood in front of her. She propped her fists on her tiny hips and cocked her brown curls to one side. “Are you gonna stay?” Libby’s eyes, so like her father’s, clouded. “Just ’cuz, you know, ’cuz our mommy died and...and... I really wanna fix George.”

      The naked honesty and pain in Libby’s face was almost too much to bear. Katie could see the yearning for a mother, the way that loss had impacted the little girl in a thousand ways, in the empty shadows in Libby’s eyes. Katie’s heart broke for Libby, and for little Henry, standing there silently, his thumb in his mouth, just watching her. Katie had no doubt Sam loved his kids, but he was clearly overwhelmed, and these two little ones needed someone. Being a tutor wouldn’t be all that tough, she figured, and she could help people who clearly needed help.

      And given the way the two kids were staring at her, with a mix of hope and wary trust in their faces, she knew they wanted that someone to be her. It felt nice to be needed, even if only for this little while. Katie knew what it was like to crave a parent who engaged. Who cared. Katie wasn’t going to be their parent, but maybe she could help fill some of the gaps.

      “Okay,” Katie said to Libby. “I’ll stay. We can fix George, if you have some thread and a needle?”

      Sam put out his hands. “If we do, I have no idea where.”

      “No problem. I’ll pick some up this week.” She bent down to Henry’s level again. “George is gonna need some special thread to be fixed. Can you wait for me to bring that over?”

      Henry gave her a reluctant nod.

      Libby ran into the other room, then hurried back. She thrust a stuffed dog into Henry’s arms. “Here. You can play with Puppy until then. But don’t break him.”

      Henry grinned, then clutched the stuffed animal close to his chest.

      “That was very nice, Libby,” Katie said.

      “Thanks.” A slow smile spread across Libby’s face, then she turned and grabbed Henry’s hand. “Come on, Henry. Let’s watch SpongeBob.” The two of them plopped on the sofa, with Libby working the remote to switch to the underwater cartoon.

      Katie rose and turned toward Sam. She’d accepted a job she wasn’t sure she wanted, without knowing a single thing about the hours, the pay, anything. That was as far outside the realm of how she normally operated as she could get. “So, maybe we should discuss the details.”

      He grinned. She liked his smile. It was warm, friendly, like the way brownies made you feel when you first pulled them out of the oven. He was a handsome man, six foot two, trim and muscular, with close-cropped medium brown hair and dark brown eyes. He was wearing a T-shirt that seemed molded to his chest—not that she was complaining—and a pair of jeans that hung low on his hips. His feet were bare, and there was just something about the intimacy of that that made Katie feel like she was intruding in his space. From the moment she’d seen him, standing at the door, annoyed and flustered, she’d felt this warmth in her gut that rippled through her veins.

      His phone buzzed and he glanced down. “My appointment was just moved to nine thirty, which means I have time to finally have a cup of coffee. Do you want one?”

      “Coffee would be great.” And maybe with a mug in her hands she’d stop staring at the hot widower’s body. She followed him out to the kitchen, which looked pretty much like the tornado from The Wizard of Oz had just blown through. Dirty dishes teetered in the sink, a stack of newspapers lay scattered across the counter, crumbs littered the floor and the space around the toaster, and there was a pile of dirty laundry bulging out from the laundry room door like an impending avalanche.

      Yup, Sam was clearly stressed. A lot stressed.

      “Uh, sorry, I think I have a second clean cup here.” He opened a cabinet door, another, then finally unearthed two mugs from the back of the third cabinet he looked in. Sam poured her a cup of coffee, then held it out. “I don’t have any cream, but I do have milk and sugar.”

      “Black is fine. Thank you.” She sipped the coffee, a surprisingly rich and good brew, and kept her back to the counter rather than taking the only free chair at the kitchen table. The others had stacks of mail and toys piled on them, as if the rest of the house was coming for lunch.

      “Uh, sorry.” Sam rushed forward and scooped a pile of things off one of the chairs. He started to put it on the table, then thought better of that and pivoted to the left, depositing the toys and books onto the floor by a drooping and browning potted plant. “It’s, uh, been hard to work and watch the kids and...well, my last nanny quit a few weeks ago and the new one isn’t as good as the other one, and...” He let out a breath. “Mostly, I’m just not good at this juggling thing.”

      She laughed. “It’s fine, really. And made all that much better by a man who admits he can’t do it all.”

      “I definitely can’t do it all.” Sam gestured toward the empty seat and waited for her to take it before he sat opposite her. “At work, I can juggle multiple clients and deals, but here, I’m bested regularly by a three-year-old and a third-grader.”

      “You seem to be doing fine.” Okay, so maybe she was generously stretching the definition of the word fine.

      He ran a hand through his hair, a move that made him seem more vulnerable somehow. “I’m not, but thanks for saying that. I really need some help, at least until Libby gets caught up. It’s a short-term job, if that’s okay. Feel free to say no. You are incredibly overqualified to teach math to a third-grader.”

      She didn’t want to get into the reasons why an overqualified CPA would take on a tutoring job. “That works for me. I wasn’t really looking for anything permanent, so I’m flexible with whatever schedule you want.” It shouldn’t be too hard, right? Though the thirtyish man across from her didn’t seem to have it under control, so why would she think she could do it better?

      “Aren’t you here on vacation?” Sam asked. “I’d hate to take up whatever free time you have. You said two weeks, which, if you can work with Libby regularly, should give her a good head start on getting caught up. I’ll worry about a more permanent solution once I find one.” He sighed. “Anyway, I really don’t want to monopolize your time off.”

      “It’s only sort of a vacation.” How did she begin to explain the meltdown in the office, the clear signs that she needed to get away, to leave town, to start over? How once she’d arrived here and had more than five minutes of quiet, all those thoughts and memories and emotions she’d been avoiding

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