stood in front of the refrigerator, putting away the milk. Sam waited until she turned and looked at him, but he didn’t like the expression on her face. He knew that look. Her stubborn I’m-your-older-and-wiser-sister look.
“You put me in charge of hiring a new receptionist and I want to hire Rachel,” Gladys insisted. “She doesn’t have much experience, but she’ll do better than Tiffany.”
He almost groaned. Did she have to bring up Tiffany? The girl had been down on her luck, just like Rachel. Two months after he hired her, the girl absconded with all the money in his safe. Now he had a bad feeling about Rachel. Like knowing you were about to get hit in the jaw, but your hands were tied behind your back so you couldn’t protect yourself. “What are Rachel’s skills? Can she even type?”
Tiffany had used the hunt-and-peck method, typing with her two index fingers. Sam’s busy office needed a receptionist who could take charge and help out.
“Of course,” Gladys said. “And she knows word processing and spreadsheet programs. If I can learn, so can she.”
“What are her references?”
“Frank and Myra Duarte, two of the finest people I ever knew,” Gladys insisted. “I’ve always been a good judge of character, and that gal will do just fine for us.”
He took a deep breath, wondering if he’d ever find a way to tell his sister no. The fact was, he loved Gladys very much, but this was pushing him near the edge. Something about Rachel Walker tore at the deepest recesses of his heart. He’d noticed her pink-painted toenails, so feminine and attractive they made him crazy. He couldn’t explain it and didn’t want to try. If she were working in his office every day, always underfoot, always smelling like springtime, he sensed he’d have an internal fight on his hands before long. And he’d promised himself he’d never care for another woman again. His heart couldn’t take it.
He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension there. “I don’t feel good about this, Glad.”
“What have you got against her?” Gladys brushed past him and reached for the laundry basket. He stared after her in a daze, watching dumbly as she folded towels and piled them neatly on the clean kitchen table.
“For one thing, she’s a complete stranger,” he offered lamely.
Gladys spoke without looking up, her fingers working nimbly as she matched pairs of socks. “She comes from good people, Samuel Nathan.”
Samuel Nathan. The name Gladys called him when she disapproved of something he’d said or done.
“But we don’t know anything about her,” he argued. “Her work ethic, her reliability, her integrity.”
“She needs a job. She needs our help. Do you want to just throw her out on the street?”
“Of course not, but I don’t want to take in strays and give her a job just because you feel sorry for her.”
Gladys pursed her lips. “She’s sweet as can be. Don’t you think it’s time you got over Melanie? That was years ago. You need to move on with your life.”
“This has nothing to do with Melanie.” A swell of anger washed over him. Even as he said the words, he knew it was a lie. His voice sounded strained as he spoke through gritted teeth.
“Oh, doesn’t it? You haven’t looked at another woman since. Not until last night.”
He snorted. “Stop matchmaking. I’m too old for Rachel.”
“Oh, pooh! She’s a widow and six years age difference between you doesn’t matter much.”
“Closer to nine,” he snarled. “Did she tell you she’s a widow?”
“Yep, and from the look in her eyes, she loved the man.”
Well. He felt sorry for her, then. He knew the pain of losing someone he loved and it never left his heart for one single minute. “She’s not working for us. Period.”
“Now, Sam—”
“I said no.” His soft words resonated through the kitchen like a shout. He rarely put his foot down with Gladys, but when he did, he meant it.
Gladys clamped her mouth shut, her lips pursed with disapproval. In her eyes, he saw disappointment and hurt, but he wouldn’t budge on this decision. He couldn’t take the chance.
Brooding silence followed.
The rattling of the bathroom door announced Rachel’s presence before she stepped into the kitchen. Sam stood at the door wearing his coat, hat and gloves. He held the doorknob in a choking grip, desperate to escape. He couldn’t help feeling as though he’d just ruined something beautiful. Like a delicate flower crushed beneath the heels of his work boots.
Rachel met his gaze with a challenging lift of her chin, and he hoped she hadn’t heard his conversation with Gladys. He felt ashamed for his lack of charity toward this woman. No doubt God would be disappointed in him again. But it was just one more notch on his conscience. Surely God couldn’t be any more disappointed in him than He already was. And yet, Sam couldn’t look away from Rachel. Something in her eyes held him captive. A sense of quiet strength he didn’t fully understand. She was vulnerable, he knew that. Even frightened. Yet, he could see in her eyes that she would do what had to be done, no matter what. For that reason alone, his respect for her grew.
“Ready to go?” she asked.
He exchanged a glance with Gladys. “Yeah.”
So much for not getting involved. He turned away, confused to his bones. One minute, he found himself attracted to this woman in ways he couldn’t explain. The next minute, he wanted to strangle her and she hadn’t done a single thing to him…except walk into his life and make him start to feel again. Old emotions he thought he’d suffocated twelve years earlier. He must set some boundaries.
“I’ll be waiting outside.” Sam picked up the box of groceries and juggled it as he pushed the screen door wide with his shoulder. It slapped closed behind him as he stepped out onto the back porch. Gladys closed the kitchen door, shutting out the frigid air.
Shutting out him.
Chapter Four
Rachel took a deep breath as she pulled on her coat and followed Sam outside onto the back porch of Gladys’s house. Strays! She tensed when she thought of the conversation she’d overheard between the doctor and his sister. She was tempted to tell Dr. Thorne what he could do with his precious receptionist job.
Obviously Sam had been dumped by a woman named Melanie and hadn’t gotten over her yet. Now, he seemed to hold a grudge against Rachel.
She wrapped her scarf around her neck and jerked on the thick leather gloves Gladys had loaned her.
She didn’t want anyone’s help. But she would need it if she was going to make it here in Finley. The thought of accepting anything from Sam Thorne almost frosted her garters, as Grammy was fond of saying.
Thinking of her grandmother and the funny adages she used brought a smile to Rachel’s face. And that was when she saw her small travel trailer. Someone had parked it beside the garage. Probably Sam, who currently stood over the front hitch, hooking it to his truck.
She gravitated toward the back, her gaze searching for damage. As she rounded the corner, she gave a sharp exhale. One side of the trailer had been bashed in, no doubt struck by the oncoming truck she had hit last night. She groaned, wondering how severe the damage might be inside. Every possession she owned was inside this trailer.
She joined Sam, wishing she didn’t need to speak to him. Her pride still stung from being called a stray. As she drew deep drafts of cold air into her lungs, her nerves settled. “Will it make it out to Grammy’s place okay?”
“Sure, the tires are sound,” he said without looking up.
She