“ANOTHER APPLICANT,” Jesse told Daniel.

      Daniel blew a breath into the hands-free mouthpiece of his cell phone. “When can I talk to her?”

      “She made an appointment. I told her five—figured that would work.”

      Daniel sighed. “I didn’t realize how much time it would take just to hire a housekeeper. What’s your take on that first one I talked to last night?”

      “She gossips. Everybody knows it.”

      “Hmm. The next one had an excellent reference.”

      “From Shaw’s Supermarket, yes. If you were needing a butcher, then she’d be your woman.”

      Daniel had disliked the other two he’d met after five minutes with each of them. “You’re not much help,” he grumbled.

      “I’m not too excited about this housekeeper idea.”

      “Duh,” Daniel said, and frowned. “Well, okay, I’ll make the decision about the one who’s coming in this afternoon. I’m not even going to let you see her.”

      “Humph,” Jesse said, and hung up.

      It was a busy afternoon. Jesse had caught Daniel on the way to the Dupras farm to check on Maggie, a prizewinning pig who should be delivering her piglets in the next few days. After he’d seen Maggie, he went back to the office to see two cats, a dog, a mynah bird who called him “pond scum” in a radio announcer’s voice and a boa constrictor that kept wrapping itself around Daniel’s arm.

      He was still a little rattled by the snake’s fondness for him when Mildred, his receptionist—actually, she did everything except practice medicine—put her head through his office door and said, “Your five o’clock is here. No pet.” She gave Daniel a quizzical look.

      “Housekeeper applicant,” he said.

      “Hmm,” she murmured. “Can you see her now?”

      “Sure. Whoever she is, she can’t be worse than the snake.”

      Mildred shuddered and went back to the waiting room.

      A minute later, he heard a timid knock on the door. The woman who stepped in wasn’t what he expected, not at all like the other applicants. She couldn’t be more than thirty, but her face looked old with worry. She was tall, or at least not short. Her sedate dress was clean but wrinkled, and her blond hair hung limply around her shoulders…

      Hadn’t he said the same thing to himself about some other woman recently? Yes, she was the woman he’d seen at the church, the one whose little boy had made friends with Nick.

      She hadn’t seen him there, he thought, so he wouldn’t mention it. He stood and held out his hand. “Daniel Foster,” he said.

      “Yes,” she said, shaking his hand, “Lilah Jamison.”

      Her hand was damp, and she was trembling. “Good of you to come by,” Daniel said. “Have a seat. So you’re new in town?”

      “Yes.” Her voice grew firmer. “My husband died, and my son and I needed a fresh start.”

      He nodded. “You have references?”

      She flushed, but she looked him straight in the eye. “I’m afraid not. I’ve never worked as a housekeeper but I’ve always kept a spotless house, even though I worked full-time.” She stared him down as if she expected him to say, Sure you did.

      “What sort of work did you do?”

      When she told him she’d been a nurse doing home care, it occurred to him that it wouldn’t be bad having a nurse in the house to deal with four risk-taking boys. But his attention was distracted by how desperate she looked.

      She wasn’t merely thin, but haggard. The half-moons under her eyes, which were dark blue, indicated sleep deprivation and worry; lusterless hair suggested a poor diet. A modest sundress showed off arms that were too thin. Ivory skin that might once have been beautiful was now dry and lifeless. Her husband’s death must have thrown her a knockout punch. Either he had been much older than she, or he’d died tragically young.

      And she had a little boy. His blood suddenly ran cold. How could she take care of a child in her condition?

      This was hitting him too close to home. The boy—what kind of life was he living? Nick had liked him. Nick was scared of his own shadow, so her son couldn’t be a bully or a troublemaker. But still, Daniel was looking for a housekeeper for his kids and he was taking no chances.

      “Why didn’t you take a nursing job?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle. “The Churchill hospital is—”

      “Filled with nurses already.” He saw her face tighten, but she didn’t sound bitter.

      “I understand,” he said, and he did. “Nepotism” wasn’t in the local vocabulary. It was simply understood that jobs were passed down from generation to generation. “You seem like a pleasant person, which is important to me, since you’d be keeping house for four foster children. But without references—”

      She seemed to sag in her chair.

      “Tell you what,” he said, starting to think that perhaps because this woman needed help so badly he could trust her to do the job well. “Give me your address and phone number and I’ll call you with my final decision. I’ve had several applicants,” dreadful ones, he reminded himself, “and I need to think things over.”

      “As you said, we’re new here. No phone service yet.” He could tell she was trying to be matter-of-fact, but he could also see the pain in her eyes. “I’ll come by the clinic in a few days. You could leave a message with your assistant.”

      She stood up, too, and just as Daniel held out his hand to shake hers again, he heard a familiar sound, one of the boys coming to tell him about some wonderful—or terrible—thing that had just happened.

      “Daniel!”

      “Mom!”

      His job applicant rushed toward the boy who’d yelled, “Mom,” and said, “Honey, you were supposed to stay outside…”

      But Nick drowned her