Naturally he’d want to read her references. These were his children, his own flesh and blood, his very reason for living. He’d need to be sure he wasn’t entrusting the twins to the care of a serial murderer.
Mrs. Merkle? Naw. A woman who could cook up a chicken pot pie that good was a gift from God. And who was he to question a miracle? Oh, he’d make a few basic inquiries, listen to her answers, but it would all be for show. The employment agency routinely screened their applicants. They would have already completed a background check and handled the necessary paperwork. Besides, any questions he might have about the suitability of a housekeeper concerned that old biddy Hampston. He never had cared for the woman, and it was all too apparent she’d been similarly inclined to dislike him. Although her leaving had been an inconvenience, it was for the best.
Seth dozed off while reading the sports section and woke to the sound of giggles and laughter. With his eyes closed he tried to picture what his life would have been like had Pamela lived. Surely he would feel this contented, this relaxed. Resting after a long day at the office, his stomach full, his wife at his side, with the sound of his children’s laughter echoing through the house.
The picture was almost complete, except that he felt so desperately alone. Pamela was forever gone. His mother-in-law was right: it had beentime to send the children back to him. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed the twins. For four years he’d buried his grief and his loss in his job and reaped large financial rewards. The time had come for him to break out of his shell, if not for his own sake, then for those of his children.
Seth straightened, shocked to see that the laundry fiasco had disappeared. Other than the newspaper, which had slipped out of his hands and onto the carpet while he napped, the area resembled a furniture showroom. Inviting, cozy, tempting.
How Emily Merkle and his two rambunctious children had managed to clear away a truckload of clothes without him hearing was short of another supernatural event. Either that or he was more tired than he’d realized.
His interlude was interrupted by the sound of footsteps racing down the hallway. Seth lowered the footrest and stood. He found Jason, cheeks rosy red from the bath, wrapped in a large towel.
“As soon as you’re into your pajamas, I’ll get my book,” the new housekeeper offered.
“You won’t fall asleep, will you?” The inquiry came from Judd, who glanced meaningfully toward Seth.
“Don’t be so hard on your father. He needs to catch up on his sleep.”
The woman was not only a marvel in the kitchen, she was also a born mind-reader.
“Isn’t that right, Mr. Webster?”
He managed a nod, wondering how she knew he’d been burning the candle at both ends.
“Did you need me to carry in your luggage?”
“Luggage?” she repeated, and a look of surprise flashed in and out of her eyes. “Not to worry, I’ll get it myself.”
“I insist.” It was the least he could do.
“All right.” Again he noticed her hesitation. “I believe it should be on the porch…. That’s right, I left everything on the porch. I was so pleased when I learned of this new assignment that I packed as fast as I could.”
Seth prayed his twins wouldn’t give her reason to alter her opinion.
Humming what sounded surprisingly like a hymn, she returned to the children, ushering them like a mother hen out of the room.
Seth couldn’t remember a time Judd and Jason had taken so quickly to anyone. With every other housekeeper it had demanded the better part of a week before they’d been comfortable enough to address the woman. But then no housekeeper had arrived with a meal fit for a king. The vegetables had been so well disguised that neither Judd nor Jason had noticed.
“Mrs. Miracle…”
“Mrs. Miracle…”
Laughter erupted as the twins roared out of the bedroom, dressed in their pajamas,