The Nanny Bargain. Glynna Kaye
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he moved around to the front of the desk and sat on the edge of it. “What other questions do you have?”
If he wasn’t mistaken, he needed to come across as open and approachable, especially considering her reservations about the possibility of being involved in a custody battle. He honestly didn’t want to be part of anything like that any more than she did. No way. What would he do with two little kids underfoot? Children were time-consuming. Demanded attention. With him being next in line for legal guardianship, per the wishes of the boys’ parents, he hoped with all his heart that Therese and Ray were perfectly capable of raising his little brothers. If investing a few extra bucks in hired help increased that likelihood and kept him out of direct oversight of the twins, it would be money well spent. And if that hired help provided him an inside line to the household dynamics, all the better.
A crease formed between Tori’s brows as she looked around his office, then toward the door that led to the main room of the business he’d inherited from his grandfather right out of college. Hunting, fishing, camping and hiking paraphernalia packed the rustic interior of a building that faced the winding, pine-lined main road through town.
“This other part-time job you mentioned,” she said, focusing again on him. “The one here. What would that entail? I’m not sure I’m the right fit for clerking in a place like this. I don’t know anything about hunting or fishing and not much more about camping, although I’ve hiked.”
“There you go. And you’ve rung up a sale on a cash register before?”
“In shops that I worked at in Jerome, yes. But—”
“You wouldn’t have to advise someone on purchases. Les, Diego or I’ll be around to do that.” He hesitated, then brushed back the hair from his eyes and gave her an apologetic look. “It’s not glamorous, but in addition to stocking, inventory and general office work, I could use assistance with upkeep.”
“You mean housekeeping, right? Not toolbox types of stuff, but dusting and cleaning and that kind of thing?”
“Right.”
To his relief she merely shrugged, unfazed. Hopes mounting, he hurried on. “Depending on the schedule you arrange with the Selbys, you can work your hours in around here as you find most convenient.”
She tilted her head slightly. “That’s assuming, of course, that I get the childcare job. If I decide to apply, I mean.”
His rising spirits faltered. “Right.”
“How many hours a week are we talking about?”
“That depends on what you agree to with Ray and Therese. Assuming it’s at least twenty hours a week there, I could probably make up the difference on this end to bring it up to a total of thirty-five or forty.”
That sounded plenty generous to him and probably more than he could afford right now. But he caught uncertainty in her eyes. “Is there a problem?”
“Well, I do have a business of my own that I’d hoped to get off the ground after a too-long sabbatical.”
“I wasn’t aware of that.”
“Not that I’m not looking for a job,” she said quickly. “I am. But I’m also trying to use the months before summer to prepare a body of work for the Hunter Ridge Artists’ Cooperative.”
He knew from Sunshine that Tori hailed from Jerome, Arizona, an old mining town turned artists’ colony and tourist attraction. So last night he’d touched base with the mother of a friend who lived there. She’d mentioned—among other things—Tori’s involvement in the arts. Although one reported incident from Tori’s teen years might make the Selbys leery of hiring her, nothing about it alarmed him. She was still a top-notch candidate.
“I’m a quilter.” She met his gaze almost cautiously, as if watching for his reaction. “Not only bedspreads and comforters, but wall hangings and other home and office decorations. Pillows, purses and tote bags, too.”
That sounded practical enough. Unpretentious. “My mom always wanted to quilt. Never had time, though, with three rambunctious boys.”
He didn’t miss the curiosity that flickered through her eyes, but he wasn’t wading into the past today. Then he glanced down at the photo of the twins, a professional picture taken not too long before their parents died. Maybe it was his imagination, but the boys seemed increasingly subdued lately, not as lively and laughter-filled as they’d once been. Was that to be expected with the loss of their folks—or was it related to something in their current living environment?
He had his suspicions. And since they’d still be living happily with their parents if he’d have taken care of business, his mission now was to see to their welfare. But time was running out on this particular opportunity. He’d learned yesterday that Ray and Therese had placed a want ad in surrounding-area church newsletters two weeks ago and were embarking on a search for a part-time live-in helper.
He motioned to the photo. “So, are you interested in the childcare position? Interviews are under way, and although I don’t anticipate a quick decision on their part, timing is critical to get your application in. If filling in here also is too much to take on, we can figure something out.”
He’d intended it, though, to serve as a perfect means of discreetly keeping in touch concerning the boys.
She stood, then reached for her coat and a colorful quilted handbag—one she’d no doubt made. Expressive eyes met his, and he held his breath.
Come on, say yes.
“Thanks for your time—Sawyer.” She offered an apologetic smile. “But I’ll need to think about it. Give me twenty-four hours.”
* * *
“I guess tomorrow night is Sunshine and Grady’s big event.” Benton Mason, a bearded silversmith, held the door open for Tori to exit the Hunter Ridge Artists’ Cooperative, where he, like other members of the co-op, worked part-time.
Hopefully she’d be joining those artists in the not-too-distant future. As soon, that is, as she could pull together the best sampling of her work for submission to the co-op’s jury for evaluation and, if given the nod, complete a probationary period. Which made it all the more important that she focus on bringing her skills back up to speed so she wouldn’t miss out on the summer tourist-season shoppers.
“Theirs is a match made in Heaven, for sure,” she chimed in cheerfully enough. But if there was anything she could do without today, it was a reminder that her best friend would wed on Valentine’s Day in an intimate family-and-close-friends ceremony. And also the related reminder that she had barely two weeks before she had to be out of the apartment above the Hunter Ridge Artists’ Cooperative, where she’d resided with Sunshine and her daughter since early last autumn.
While Tori’s friend would be moving to Grady’s cabin at Hunter’s Hideaway, his family’s enterprise catering to outdoor enthusiasts, Sunshine had hoped to hang on to the apartment awhile longer so Tori would have a roof over her head until at least summer. But co-op members voted to lease the space starting next month and, unfortunately, a jobless Tori couldn’t afford the apartment.
“Any employment nibbles, Tori?” With sympathetic eyes, Benton stood in the open doorway.
“A few.” None, unfortunately, looked half as promising as what Sawyer Banks had proposed yesterday afternoon, which happened to include an apartment at the Selbys’ place.
But the thought of being Sawyer’s undercover operative still left a bad taste in her mouth. Although she’d prayed about it nonstop, she still didn’t have an answer. She’d told him, though, that she’d give him a response within twenty-four hours.
Two hours to go.
“Lizzie and I can let you stay at our place for a while.” Benton gave her a reassuring smile. “Things would be tight with five kids under our roof, but we could manage.”
“Thanks, but