met hers, and held, for one long second. “Thank you.”
The praise made her shift in her seat. “I haven’t even done my job yet. Why are you thanking me?”
“Because...” Sam’s face clouded and his eyes filled, and his voice grew rough. “Because you got Henry to talk. I haven’t heard his voice in a long, long time.” Then, as if the emotion was too much, Sam got to his feet and grabbed a piece of paper and a pen from the middle of the table. He cleared his throat and dropped his gaze to the paper. “I’m going to write down my cell number. Call or text me if you have any problems. I’ll be back after the interview, and Charity will be here any second, so you should be fine. Libby has a folder of practice sheets in her backpack that her teacher needs her to work on. If you and Libby get along, and this works for you, we’ll talk about a schedule for the next week when I get home. Sound good?”
She rose, too, and closed the gap between them to take the paper, adding it to the one from Libby’s teacher. “Sounds good.”
His gaze dropped to her lips, then to her eyes. “And...thank you.”
She was close. Too close to him. But she couldn’t seem to make her feet move in reverse. “You...you said that already.”
“I’m sorry. I’m just...distracted.”
She wanted to ask him if that was because of her or the job interview or something else, but the doorbell rang just then. The dog started barking, the kids started shouting, and a second later, a sullen twenty-year-old was in the kitchen, and the moment was gone. Charity looked about as happy to be there as a grandparent at a death metal concert.
Sam made the introductions and filled Charity in on Katie’s role. “Call me or text me if either of you have any problems at all. I’ll be back before you know it.”
A few minutes later, Sam was gone. Charity leaned against the counter, her arms crossed over her slim frame. “Good luck,” she said.
“Thanks, but I’m sure I’ll be fine. It’s just third grade math and reading.”
Charity scoffed. “Yup. And with Libby, that’s about as much fun as negotiating a nuclear war. So I say again, good luck.”
Charity stalked out of the room, scooped up Henry and took him into the backyard to play on the swing set. Katie turned and saw Libby standing in the doorway, arms crossed, defiance in her eyes.
Good luck.
“Welcome to the team, Sam.” Hank Osborn got to his feet and put his hand out. “We look forward to working with you.”
Relief filled Sam. He had a job again. Thank God. If there was one worry that had consumed his every thought, it was how he was going to provide for his family. There was no wife to fall back on for an additional income, no partner to help pick up the slack. It was all on Sam’s shoulders, a weight that damned near seemed to kill him some days. The house, the kids, the bills, the...the loneliness. That was a place in his mind he didn’t dare dwell upon. That hole in his world, that empty spot in his bedroom, his bathroom. The way he missed Wendy’s chirpy good mornings and her sweet, whispered good nights.
Sam pushed those thoughts away. One thing at a time—right now, he had the job. That alone made him want to shout from the rooftops. Instead he settled for a professional smile and a nod of gratitude.
“When I looked back over some of your deals, I was really impressed,” Hank went on. “You did a great job negotiating that multi-property deal in Raleigh. One of my guys was trying to win that battle, but you had that creative idea to find tenants before the negotiations started, and we were out of the running before the race even started. That was one hell of a deal, son.”
“Thank you.”
“And I expect the same kind of ingenious thinking while you’re working for me. I like a man who thinks outside the box. Sound good?”
“Definitely, sir.” Sam was glad to find Hank was a lot like him when it came to getting the deal done. It was part of the reason he had liked the gregarious older man immediately. Hank had owned Osborn Properties for thirty years, and brought it from a small one-man operation up to a three-office company with two dozen brokers, serving all of North Carolina and parts of the rest of the South. It was a big step for Sam, going from the small company he’d been at before to this one. The opportunities and support structure would be better, but the performance expectations were also going to be higher.
“I’ll put you on the Midway Mall project right away,” Hank said, handing Sam a file folder. “We have five open spaces in there, and want to get them filled before the mall opens in two months. One hundred percent capacity by opening day. Nothing less. Think you can do that?”
A huge task. It would mean working a lot of hours, and he still had a shaky child care solution. But the last thing he wanted to say to his new boss was no. “Yes, sir.”
“One more thing,” Hank said as he came around the desk. He put a hand on Sam’s shoulder and walked with him to the door. “Don’t call me sir. That’s for my dad or my grandpa. Around here, I’m just Hank.”
“Sounds good... Hank.” Sam shook hands with the other man one more time, then said goodbye and headed out the door. It wasn’t until he got in his car that he allowed himself a giant exhalation of relief.
The loss of his job had weighed on him like a ten-ton Mack truck. But now, with Hank’s offer—even if it came wrapped up in some pretty high expectations—that weight had been lifted. He had a job, Libby had a tutor—a beautiful and capable tutor at that—and life was finally improving, a little at a time.
He wound his way through the bucolic, hilly roads of Stone Gap, mentally running through a list of potential clients to call for the mall project. If he could talk to Charity and convince her to sign on long-term for babysitting, then achieving Hank’s goal was doable. Plus, if things had gone well with Katie today, then all the better—it would get Libby back on track in math and reading, and reduce the number of arguments he had with his daughter.
Not to mention how Katie had transformed his little family in the space of a morning. Sam could still hear the echoes of Henry’s voice in his head. His son had turned a corner today, thanks to Katie Williams, and it was one that Sam hoped spelled good changes ahead.
Such a small thing, one that too many people took for granted, but oh, how he never would again. He owed Katie something huge—something impossible to grasp—for bringing his little boy back from the world of silence. Even if it was only a tiny step forward, and lasted only a moment, Sam would be eternally grateful.
For the first time in a long time, Sam allowed himself an emotion he thought had died in that car accident with Wendy—
Hope.
He pulled into the driveway, parked the car, then got out and paused a moment in the driveway. The sound of children laughing, of Bandit barking, filled the air.
Life was good. In this moment, in this space. It was something he’d been trying to work on—learning to appreciate the small moments. After the dark days he and the kids had gone through, every small moment seemed like a miracle.
Sam allowed himself another smile, then circled around through the side gate to the backyard. “Sounds like you guys are having a great—”
His step faltered. For several long seconds, he was sure he was seeing things. But no, there was Katie, mud-spattered, her hair a wild jumble around her head, trying to clean up a spilled pot of red finger paint on the patio, while Henry and Libby ran barefoot through the grass, taking turns aiming the hose at each other and the dog.
“You’re home!” Katie got to her feet, and brushed at her hair with the back of her hand, but all that did was smear a long streak of red paint across her temple. “That’s so...great.”
He