been rich in love and faith. It was the kind of family she’d always hoped to create for herself.
And she’d succeeded. Up until two years ago. Then her own selfishness had destroyed both of those precious gifts—faith and family.
Clare swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat. She wasn’t going to cry. She didn’t believe in such indulgences. She’d made a tragic mistake, and now she’d have to live with the results. Her family was gone. And her faith…it wasn’t gone, exactly. It was too deeply ingrained to just disappear. But it had languished to the point that she no longer found any comfort in it or felt any connection to God.
Of course, she still had A.J. and Morgan. She wasn’t sure what she would have done without their moral support these past two years. But while they were close emotionally, geographically they were scattered. Besides, her sisters had their own lives, their own challenges to deal with. Clare didn’t want to unduly burden them with her problems. Especially her financial ones.
She hadn’t communicated the sad state of her finances to Aunt Jo, either. Though she’d written to her great-aunt on a regular basis, she’d always tried to be upbeat. Aunt Jo knew that Clare and Dennis had always lived a good life, enjoying the best of everything. When Clare had moved from a lavish home to an apartment after the accident, she’d simply said she needed a change of scenery. And when she’d reentered the teaching world, she’d explained that she just needed to fill her time. So Aunt Jo had had no idea how precarious her situation was. Otherwise, Clare was sure her aunt would have made some income provision for the six months of the nanny stipulation in her will.
That reminded her—Dr. Wright still hadn’t returned her call from yesterday. Clare frowned and glanced again at the figures on the sheet in front of her. It was time for another call to the good doctor.
“Adam, I’ve got Clare Randall on the phone again. She says it’s urgent, and she’s willing to hold until you have a few minutes.”
Adam stopped writing on the chart in front of him and glanced distractedly at Janice. “Clare Randall?”
“She called yesterday. I left the message on your desk.”
Adam frowned. “That was the one marked personal, right?”
“Bingo.”
“Do you have any idea who she is?”
“Not a clue.”
Adam glanced at his watch. “Do I have a few minutes?”
“Mr. Sanders is in room one, but he’s telling Mary Beth about his fishing trip, so I expect he wouldn’t mind if you take a couple of minutes. I can’t speak for Mary Beth, though. Last time I went by, her eyes were starting to glaze over and she was trying to edge out the door,” Janice said with a grin.
Adam chuckled. “You could relieve her.”
“No way. Last time he cornered me I had to listen to a twenty-minute soliloquy about the newest hand-tied trout flies he’d discovered.”
Adam chuckled again. “Okay. We’ll let Mary Beth handle him this time. Go ahead and put the call through.”
Adam made a few more notes on the chart, then set it aside as the phone on his desk rang. “This is Adam Wright.”
“Dr. Wright, this is Clare Randall. I’m Jo Williams’s great-niece. I believe you and my aunt were friends?”
“That’s right.”
“Well, I’m very sorry to tell you that my aunt passed away two weeks ago.”
Adam felt a shock wave pass through him. He and Jo had met at church when he’d first arrived in St. Louis to do his residency, and they’d been friends ever since. Even after his move to North Carolina, they’d kept in touch. In many ways, she had become a mother figure for him, and he had always been grateful for her support and sympathetic ear. He’d had no idea she was even ill. But then, that didn’t surprise him. Jo had never been one to burden others with her problems.
“Dr. Wright? Are you still there?”
He cleared his throat, but when he spoke there was a husky quality to his voice. “Yes. I’m just…shocked. I’m so sorry for your loss. Jo was a great lady.”
She could hear the emotion in his voice, and her tone softened in response. “Yes, she was.”
“What happened?”
She told him of the fast-acting cancer that had taken Jo’s life, and then offered her own condolences. It was obvious that Adam Wright had great affection for her aunt. “Did you know her well?”
“We met more than fifteen years ago, and she became a good friend. We attended the same church when I lived in St. Louis. She was a woman of deep faith. And great generosity.”
Clare took a deep breath. “As a matter of fact, her generosity is the reason I’m calling you today. As you may know, Aunt Jo didn’t have much family. Just me and my two sisters. And she was very generous to us in her will. However, there is a rather unusual stipulation attached to my bequest.”
When Clare hesitated, Adam frowned and glanced at his watch. He had no idea what this had to do with him, and he couldn’t keep Mr. Sanders waiting much longer. He pulled the man’s chart toward him and flipped it open, his attention already shifting to his next patient.
“So how can I be of assistance?” he asked.
“I understand that you have a daughter named Nicole?”
Adam’s frown deepened. “Yes. What is this all about, Ms. Randall?”
“In order to claim my bequest, my aunt required that I act as nanny to your daughter for six months, at no charge to you.”
There was a momentary pause. “Excuse me?”
Clare’s hand tightened on the phone. “I know this sounds crazy, Dr. Wright. Trust me, I was shocked, too.”
“But…why would Jo do such a thing?”
“I have no idea.”
Adam tried to sort through the information Jo’s great-niece had just given him. None of it made any sense—the stipulation, or this woman’s willingness to go to such lengths to claim what couldn’t be a large bequest. As far as he knew, Jo wasn’t a wealthy woman. With her generous heart, she’d given away far more than seemed prudent to him sometimes. But maybe she’d had more assets than he knew.
Adam glanced up to find Mary Beth standing in the doorway. She nodded her head toward room one, pointed at her watch and rolled her eyes. He got the message.
“Look, Ms. Randall, I’ve got to go. I have patients waiting. Give me your number and I’ll get back to you.”
Clare did as he asked, then suggested he call Seth Mitchell. “I’m not sure he can explain Aunt Jo’s reasoning any better than I can, but at least he can verify that my offer is legitimate,” she said.
“Thanks. I’ll do that. I’ll be back in touch shortly.”
When the line went dead, Clare slowly replaced the receiver. Dr. Wright hadn’t exactly been receptive to her offer, she reflected. But she couldn’t really blame him. She would have reacted the same way. After all, he was a doctor. He probably made more than enough money to hire any nanny he wanted. In fact, he might have one already. So why should he let a woman he didn’t know help raise his daughter, even if it was for only six months?
Logically speaking, there were all kinds of reasons why Adam Wright could—maybe even should—turn her down. So she needed to put together a strategy in case he declined to cooperate.
Because Clare needed Aunt Jo’s legacy.
And she didn’t intend to take no for an answer.
Adam looked across the kitchen table at Nicole. Tonight she was eating the meat loaf he’d brought home