Daddy and Daughters. Barbara McMahon

      Find what? Oh, the suitcases for the children. Cassandra pressed her hands against her cheeks, feeling the heat. She was acting like an idiot. She was here to take care of his children, nothing else. And she had better remember that every minute!

      She trailed after Jared and found him in what must have been his wife’s bedroom. MaryEllen’s things still lay strewn about. The bed was unmade, as if she’d risen only that morning to head for the hospital. A pang hit her. MaryEllen had been alone at the end. If his trip to Bangkok had been postponed, if the typhoon hadn’t struck, Jared could have been with her.

      “I’m sorry you didn’t make it back in time,” she said softly, watching the bleak look in his eyes.

      “I didn’t even know she was sick. She should have told me.”

      “Maybe she didn’t think it was serious until too late. Maybe she didn’t know how serious.”

      “I would have insisted the doctors try everything in their power to keep her alive.”

      “I’m sure they did all they could.” She longed to offer comfort, but was unsure what to say. Did he want to talk about it? Knowing human touch could help, she reached out and clasped his hand, squeezing a bit, just to let him know he wasn’t alone.

      “I don’t know a thing about taking care of babies,” he said, looking around the room. But the tight grip of his hand let Cassandra know he didn’t want to be alone.

      “You’ll learn what you need to know. And you can afford competent help to take care of a lot of the routine things.”

      A shriek of laughter came from the twins’ room.

      “I guess I’d better check on them,” Cassandra said, squeezing his hand one last time before she slowly let go. For a moment he held on, then released her.

      “I’ll hunt up those suitcases.”

      Jared opened the closet door. Clothes filled the space. In the back, to the left, sat a matching set of expensive leather luggage. He drew the suitcases out, brushing against the clothes. He realized they still carried the faint scent of MaryEllen’s perfume. He couldn’t believe he wouldn’t see her again, wouldn’t go toe-to-toe with her over some business decision. Wouldn’t hear her wild dreams, most of which had a basic, strong concept they usually implemented. Wouldn’t argue about the rate of expansion and the cost-cutting measures he always demanded.

      Shaking his head, dispelling memories, Jared returned to the children’s room.

      “The water is too cold to swim in. When you walk outside it will be windy some days, cool from the bay, but that’s good for flying kites.” Cassandra chatted with the children as she stacked clothes on one of the cribs.

      “What are you telling them?” Jared asked, looking for a place to put the suitcases.

      “About their new home. I think they’ll feel more comfortable knowing about the change,” she said. “Just put them on the floor. There’s no room anywhere else.”

      “Here, Ashley, you put this in the suitcase.” Cassandra handed the toddler two folded shirts. Ashley walked to the suitcase and dumped them in.

      “Great technique, kid,” Jared muttered.

      Cassandra laughed. “It doesn’t matter. They just want to help,” she said as she handed a similar stack to Brittany.

      “Why not just dump the drawers into the case if you’re not going to have them neatly folded?” he asked, watching the jumble of shirts steadily growing in the suitcase.

      “When they nap, I’ll fold everything. Right now this keeps them occupied and gives them the feeling they are helping, that they’re participating in this move.”

      “Psychology, too?” He raised an eyebrow, studying her.

      “Practical, actually. You could help.”

      “You’ve got a system going. I think I’ll check out MaryEllen’s things. See if I can find her personal papers and pack them. I’ll have to get someone in to close up this place.”

      “Find some things of their mother’s that the children can have when they are older,” Cassandra suggested. “They won’t remember her, poor babies, but it will be nice for them when they’re grown to have something of their mother.”

      He heard the wistful note in her voice.

      “Do you?” he asked softly. Knowing he was treading on personal ground, he still had to know.

      She shook her head. “That’s why I know they’ll appreciate it. We had so little. I don’t know what happened to our things. Social Services came for me, we packed my clothes, and I got to take one doll. That was all.”

      “That’s tough.” He remembered his grandfather’s complaining, when his parents died, about having to store furniture and boxes in that shed in the back. Most of it was still there—a link to parents he scarcely remembered.

      “It was a long time ago.” She smiled at him, her head tilted slightly.

      “I’ll find a few things for the girls. I could have everything shipped to the West Coast,” Jared said, his heart skipping a beat at her smile.

      “You’re the boss. But they may not want this furniture. Just mementos.”

      Jared shrugged out of his suit jacket, slung it over one shoulder and headed for the living room. He tossed the jacket on the back of the sofa and looked around. The art on the walls was good quality. The figurines and vases would make nice mementos. Had they held special meaning for MaryEllen, or had she chosen them to complement the decor? Odd he knew so little about a woman to whom he’d been married for so long. He crossed the room, then paused by a small antique desk. The drawers contained MaryEllen’s papers—most recent bills, bank statements, address book and other items.