couldn’t ask his sister for help. Lauren had enough on her plate being pregnant and still putting in fifty hours a week managing a department store in Bellingham. Taking them to the day-care center in town wasn’t a viable option because his hours often extended beyond theirs. If the week before Labor Day hadn’t been one of the busiest times of the year for his business, he might have been able to cut back on his flight time and stayed with them himself until he found another housekeeper. But he and his partner were shorthanded even with the other two pilots in their hire.
It wasn’t helping matters that he hadn’t had a single useful response to any of the ads he’d placed under Domestic Help Wanted in either the local or the mainland newspapers.
The haunting hoot of an owl filtered toward him from the forest of pine trees behind the house. Crickets chirped from the bushes in response.
Preferring to drown out the melancholy sounds, he picked up the hammer he’d used to repair a loose board and tossed it with a clank into his toolbox. With the thud of his boots on now-sturdy planks, he headed for the door before he could think too much more about why he’d put off going inside.
It took him all of a minute to return the toolbox to its place under the workbench in the basement. Less than that to climb back up the stairs, head through the big country kitchen and find himself back in his living room.
The spacious area was bright with the glow from the massive brass lamps on the pine end tables. Noisy audio from the big-screen TV filled the room with canned laughter. But the vitality in the comfortable, once-inviting space was only an illusion.
No matter how bright the lights, how loud the television, radio or CD player, there was still something—someone—missing. He noticed her absence even when the children were there.
Hating the emptiness, wondering if it would ever go away, he picked up the portable telephone from the table by the butterscotch-colored leather sofa. He needed to call his kids and say good-night. But he had another call to make first.
He’d paced two laps around the braided burgundy throw rug when his sister answered on the third ring.
“Hey, sis.”
“Sam.” Lauren Edwards McKendrick sounded as if she were smiling. “We were just talking about you.”
“You and Zach?”
“Me and Mom. We just hung up a couple of minutes ago.”
Two women discussing a man was seldom good news for the latter. Especially when they were all related.
“Are the kids okay?” he asked, not about to ask for details of that conversation. Picking up a red thread from the rug, he balled it between his fingers. “I tried to call them about an hour ago, but there was no answer.”
“They went out for pizza. And she said the kids are fine. I’m sure Jason will tell you, but he has a loose tooth. He wants a dollar for it. Mom says the Tooth Fairy won’t go past a quarter.”
He frowned, wondering which tooth it was. “She needs to account for inflation. She’s still thinking of when we were kids.”
“Probably. So,” Lauren said, her tone softening, “how are you doing over there?”
The piece of lint went sailing into the dark fireplace. Lousy, he thought. “Fine,” he replied. “I just need some background on someone. Do you know T.J. Walker?”
“T.J.? Sure. Everybody does.”
“I mean really know her. I’ve seen her before myself when she’s brought packages in to ship, but I need something more than nodding acquaintance information. She offered to watch the kids for me until I can find a live-in.”
Puzzlement entered his sister’s voice. “I thought she was going to talk to you about flying lessons.”
“She did. The other just sort of came up.”
“How do you get from flying lessons to baby-sitting?”
“Does it matter?”
“No, but it does sound a little odd.”
He couldn’t tell if it was a smile or curiosity in his sister’s tone. Either way, he wasn’t interested in explaining how T.J.’s proposition had come about. He wasn’t completely sure himself, other than that the woman had simply refused to take no for an answer.
“It probably does,” he agreed, letting it go at that. “So is she someone I can trust with my kids?”
“I don’t know why you couldn’t,” came her thoughtful reply. “From what I understand, she’s lived most of her life on the island, and you know everyone around here knows, or knows of, everyone else. You even know her mother,” she reminded him. “I’ll admit Crystal is a little…different,” she said, diplomatically describing T.J.’s mom, “but I’ve never heard anything negative about either her or her daughter. If there were reasons not to trust T.J., someone would have mentioned them by now.”
Sam continued pacing as he weighed his sister’s logic. In summer, tourists and summer residents overran the island, and most of the faces were unfamiliar. The permanent population of Harbor was just over 1,200 and spread out at that. But the locals did tend to keep track of those who truly belonged there.
Thinking about it, even he knew people who knew T.J. His sister, for one. And, as his sister had just mentioned, T.J.’s mother. But, then, there wasn’t anyone on Harbor who owned a VCR who didn’t know the outgoing, middle-aged hippie who still wore love beads and tie-dye with her flowing gauze skirts. Her store was probably the only one in the San Juans where a person could get a free astrological reading along with the latest video release and an herbal cure for whatever ailed him.
“Oh, and I saw T.J. once myself with children during story hour at the bookstore,” Lauren continued helpfully. “She seemed great with them. Nurturing, I guess you’d say. Anyway, the place I usually run into her is at her mom’s shop. All we’ve ever really talked about is books, videos and herbs. But as far as I’m concerned, she’s one of the nicest people in town. Very sweet. Very generous.” She paused. “I heard she does something with animals, too.”
The wary feeling Sam had experienced when his sister’s name had first come up with T.J. slithered up his back again. His sibling’s description of the woman was beginning to sound like a sales pitch.
“Sam? Are you still there? You’re not saying anything.”
He paced to a stop in the middle of the deserted room. “You’re not trying to set me up with her, are you?”
A choke of disbelief filtered across the line. “You asked what I know about her. All I did was tell you what I’d heard and give you my impressions.”
“Yeah, but you were the one who suggested she talk to me about flying lessons. And Mom’s latest solution to my life is for me to find myself someone to marry so I’ll have help raising the kids.”
“Oh, good grief,” Lauren muttered. “I suggested you because I think you’d be a good teacher. And our mother is making you paranoid. I know as well as you do that you don’t just go out and find someone to spend the rest of your life with. Besides,” she continued, ever so reasonably, “if I were to set you up with someone, it wouldn’t be T.J. From what I’ve heard from Maddy, she’s far too independent for marriage. Maddy should know, too. She told me she’s tried to fix T.J. up for years. She even tried to get her and Zach together before I met him.” A shrug entered her voice. “T.J.’s not interested in a relationship.”
For a moment Sam said nothing. Maddy O’Toole owned the Road’s End Café, which happened to be the place for gossip on Harbor Island. Sam didn’t frequent the establishment himself. Between his work and his children, he took little time for socializing, and any meals out were usually at Hamburger Heaven, Jason’s favorite. He remembered his wife talking about Maddy, though. And he knew from Zach that anything that happened on Harbor usually filtered through the Road’s