LITMIR.BIZ

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swept a hand across the low, wooden panels framing the room and his expression took on a reverent cast. “The mahogany wainscoting. The gingerbread-trimmed second story. The wraparound porch. The turret on the north front corner.”

      “I love the turret.” Meredith moved to the left and bent low. “The minute we saw this, we knew it would be perfect.”

      “Your husband and you?”

      She grimaced at something resembling mice droppings. Closer inspection proved her right. “Mom, Grandma and me. I’m not married.”

      She tossed the personal info into the conversation easily because he was married, so her single state was immaterial. And that was good.

      “Ah.” He snapped his tape measure open, measured quickly, then closed it as he continued through to the expansive kitchen. “Do you hear the girls?”

      “No.”

      He made a U-turn for the stairs. “Nine years of fatherhood has taught me that silence is rarely golden.”

      “Oops.”

      “Soph! Rachel! Where are you?”

      He took the steps at a quick clip, then called their names again on the top landing.

      Silence answered him. He turned toward Meredith. “Attic?”

      “This way.” She started toward the equally ornate attic staircase at the end of the hall, but a giggle from the turret room halted their progress.

      “Yes, m’lady?” Rachel’s little voice had taken on a seven-year-old’s rendition of peasant Scotland.

      “I need proper biscuits, Higgins. These are quite stale.” Sophie’s tone embraced a more haughty British aristocracy.

      “But cook just made them,” Rachel protested, indignant.

      “Cook’s a fool.”

      “And the butter is fresh, mum.”

      Cam and Meredith stepped in as Sophie pirouetted, backlit by the bank of windows lining the rounded wall of the turret room. The higher angle of the March sun glared with little remorse through smoggy windows, lighting streams of dancing dust motes, but the sight of two little girls made Meredith remember another little girl playing dress-up. Pretending to be fancy and special. Above reproach.

      That was a long time ago. When she was Daddy’s little girl. Before the world saw Neal Brennan’s true colors. And before she made the very same mistakes she’d abhorred in him.

      “Daddy, do you see this?” Rachel spun about, arms out, a little girl twirl of gladness. “I just love it so much!”

      “It’s beautiful, Rach.” Cam moved forward, palmed her head and leaned down. “And it’s a perfect space for dancing.”

      “Kitchen help isn’t allowed to dance,” announced Sophie. She glided across the floor as if extending a dress out to the side, then curtsied toward her father. “Perhaps on her day off.”

      “Since you have an orthodontist appointment in twenty minutes, her dancing debut must wait anyway. Come on, ladies.”

      The girls didn’t argue, but Sophie sent a wistful look back toward the light-filled, dusty turret. “It’s like a princess dream room, Daddy.”

      “You don’t like princesses, Soph.”

      Sophie made a face her father didn’t see.

      But Meredith saw it, and wondered why a little girl would pretend not to like princesses.

      Not her business, she decided as she followed them down the stairs. Cam was obviously in as big a hurry to leave as she was to have him gone. He’d go, give her an estimate she’d politely decline, then go back to his wife and perfect family while she hunted up another remodeler to do the work.

      He reached the side porch door and turned. “I’ll get back to you with a rough idea. Best I can do with my time frame today.”

      Meredith nodded, playing along. “Of course. Thanks, Cam.”

      He herded the girls across the porch. At the outer porch door, Rachel slipped from his grip and raced back to Meredith, surprising her with a hug that felt delightful. “Thank you for letting us play in your pretty house. I love it,” she whispered, head back, her gaze trained upward.

      “I’m so glad, honey. Come again, okay?”

      “I’d like that.”

      “Rach. Gotta go,” Cam said.

      “I know, I’m coming. Bye, Miss…”

      “Meredith.”

      “Brennan,” Cam corrected. “Her name is Miss Brennan.”

      “They can call me Meredith, Cam. It’s all right.”

      “It’s not, but thanks. I’ll be in touch.” He opened the side door, let the girls precede him and then shut it quietly without so much as a backward glance.

      Not that she wanted him to glance back. She hadn’t wanted him to come around in the first place—that was all Matt’s doing—and seeing Cam’s reluctance made her realize gut instincts were best followed. His and hers.

      Chapter Two

      Fifty-two hundred dollars.

      Cam added the hard knot of financial anxiety alongside five years of guilt and figured he deserved both. If he’d been more careful, more devoted, a better husband, he might still have a wife and the girls would have a mother.

      Somewhere along the way of being father and provider, he’d forgotten to treat life’s blessings with the care they deserved. That carelessness cost his wife her life, made him a single parent, and left his girls with no mother to guide them or explain things to them.

      The thought of more than five thousand dollars he didn’t have raised hairs along the back of his neck, but he signed the contract for Sophie’s braces and wished he could pray help into reality.

      God helps those who help themselves.

      His mother’s tart voice rankled. He ignored it and counted his blessings. He loved his teaching job, the chance to show high school kids usable trades. Woodworking. Plastering. Plumbing. Basic electricity. He taught valuable, lasting skills to kids who might never make it into a four-year college but could do well in a trade-school environment. And to kids who simply wanted to learn how to take care of themselves with skilled hands.

      He had a home. It needed work, but it was clean and bright, a safe and open environment for the girls.

      And he had his girls, precious gifts from God, the two lights in an otherwise shadowed life.

      Cam slipped the dental estimate into his jacket pocket, waited while the girls adjusted their seat belts in the backseat, and racked his brain.

      The dental office offered a payment plan.

      Cam hated payment plans.

      He pulled into his mother’s driveway as the girls started squabbling. His right brain knew they were tired and hungry and needed to run off built-up energy. Sitting in a dental office for nearly ninety minutes hadn’t added to Rachel’s humor or Sophie’s patience.

      His left brain didn’t give a hoot and wanted peace and quiet.

      “Stop. Now.” He got out of the car and hoisted a small white bag. “I’m dropping off Grandma’s medicine, then we’re going home. Stay in the car. Got it?”

      Sophie gave him a “whatever” look.

      Rachel smiled sweetly. “Yes, Daddy.”

      Cam refused to sigh as he took his mother’s back steps two at a time. Sophie might make her feelings known, but she’d most likely be sitting there with her belt on, reading a book or daydreaming

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