LITMIR.BIZ

      “Sleepy?”

      Madison Landry started awake, embarrassed at being caught sleeping by her boss at Maison de Jardin. “I’m so sorry,” she stammered out, “I’m just not sleeping well right now.”

      “It’s not a problem for me,” Trinity Hyatt said with one of her trademark gracious smiles, “especially since you’re here on your day off. Want to tell me why that is?”

      Madison tried to shrug off the question with a lame excuse. “There’s always plenty to do around here.” And there was.

      The charity, which provided a safe haven and life skills training for abused women and children, was in a constant state of managed chaos. If it wasn’t laundry that needed doing, it was job applications or fund-raising or any number of things. The desk in front of her in the downstairs office was filled to overflowing with paperwork and records.

      Not for anything would Madison admit she’d come over to Maison de Jardin, which shared a border with her family estate, because she needed a distraction. Not because work needed to be done.

      The last thing she wanted to discuss were the sleepless nights. The memories of her father’s last painful days. Dreams where she could hear him struggle to breathe with the pneumonia clouding his lungs, causing fear to tighten her own chest. Waves of gratitude over the old-fashioned doctor who would still come to the house to treat him after her father’s refusal to be moved to a hospital. The stuff of her nightmares.

      Though the understanding expression in Trinity’s soft gaze said she probably knew already. And her boss wasn’t one to shy away from the hard discussions. “Well, I hate to see you suffering from insomnia. I had the same issue after my mom died. Just couldn’t turn my brain off for anything.”

      “That’s definitely an issue,” Madison agreed, fiddling with her pen as she thought back over so many sleepless nights lately. It was one of the few things Madison felt comfortable discussing. She tried distracting Trinity from any deeper issues. “Besides, it’s hard to retrain yourself to sleep well after having to stay alert during the night for so long.”

      Only her attempt at distraction just gave her boss more fodder for discussion.

      “How many years did you take care of your dad?” Trinity asked, leaning against the doorjamb.

      Her gaze swept over the room with familiarity, giving Madison a momentary reprieve. After all, the office had last been Trinity’s. She’d only moved up to take care of Hyatt Heights, the company started by her late husband. He and his parents had established Maison de Jardin in New Orleans when he’d been a young man. But taking over his company meant Trinity didn’t have time to run the charity, too, especially after her late husband’s relatives had gone to court to fight over his estate.

      Madison just happened to be in the right place at the right time. She’d known Trinity since she was a teenager, coming over to the shelter to help whenever she could. Unfortunately, her dad’s illness had prevented that at times. But when Trinity had to move on, she’d trusted Madison to step into the role despite her age, knowing her life experience went way beyond her years.

      Trinity’s perusal of her old office ended with a look straight at Madison, who squashed the urged to squirm in her seat.

      Madison cleared her throat. “Ten. But the sleeping and mobility issues were only a problem for the last five or so.”

      “Madison,” Trinity said in a voice so gentle it eased Madison’s instinctive panic. “You realize that it’s perfectly normal to not be okay. Right?”

      Madison knew her answers were clipped, but the dread she’d felt for weeks was clawing at the back of her throat with each word.

      Multiple sclerosis was a tough disease. One Madison didn’t wish on anyone after dealing with it up close and personal. The thought of what her dad had gone through always made her sad. He’d lost his business when Madison was young, then been diagnosed with MS before losing the love of his life. But they’d had good times together, too, leaning on each other for comfort and joy.

      Madison could barely respond above a whisper. “I know.” With a hard mental shove, she locked all those roiling emotions away. The more she talked about them, the more power they had. It was better just to move forward. “It’s really okay,” she said, mentally reminding herself that her restlessness and fear and pain could be normalized. “Last night, I spent the time cleaning and reading some more of my mother’s journals.” After all, what else was there to do at three in the morning?

      There was a gentle caution in Trinity’s question. “Are you sure you’re ready to clean out the house, Madison? Your father has only been gone six months.”

      As much as she sometimes wished it didn’t, Madison was well aware that life had to go on. “The house has to go on the market soon. With only me to clean it out…” She shrugged, as if this wasn’t a discussion she’d had with herself a million times over.

      Shuffling the papers on the desk before her didn’t distract her from the ache of knowing she would have to sell the only home she’d ever had. It was falling down around her, even after years of doing the best she could with it, but every one of her lifetime of memories involved that house somehow. Knowing she would have to part with it was only making her grief grow exponentially.

      But who knew how long it would take to clean out the clutter and sort through her parents’ possessions? She discovered new pockets of stuff all the time. Just a couple of months ago she’d found a collection of journals that had belonged to her mother. Reading them had brought her memory back in vivid detail. They brought her a lot of solace as she sorted through more and more stuff.

      And she had no idea how she would afford to do any of the repairs the house would need, much less cosmetic work, before she put it on the market. Her job here paid her substantially better than the odd jobs she’d taken to keep her and her dad afloat after her mother’s accidental death, but years of neglect had led to some significant damage in what had once been the most beautiful, stately home in New Orleans’s Garden District.

      Deep down, Madison just wished it was all over and done with. That the house was fixed, sold and being renovated by someone who could afford to return it to its former glory. It might hurt to rip the bandage off, but at least it would be gone.

      I can only do so much…was the mantra she lived by. All of her life Madison had focused on one task at a time, because she was only one person, usually working without any help. Coming to Maison de Jardin had allowed her to be part of a team. But for much of her life, it had been her…or nobody.

      “I’m so sorry, Madison.”

      “Don’t be,” she replied with a shaky smile. But at least she still remembered how to form one. “Coming to work here has been the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Thank you, Trinity.”

      “Girl, I couldn’t do it without you. Especially right now. I know the women here are in good hands. But—” She grinned. “Enough of all this emotion… I have an exciting surprise for you.”

      “What?” Madison welcomed the change of subject, relief easing her tense muscles.

      “Your dress came in!”

      For most women, the news would be exciting. For Madison, it brought on

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