Family by Design

His friend Adam suggested hiring an estate service, one that could view everything with an eye to its current or future value. To J.C., the process sounded like an autopsy. Backing away from the closet, he tore out of the room. Striding quickly, he passed through the living room, then bolted outside. Breathing heavily, he sank into the glider on the porch, loosening his tie.

The breeze was lighter than a bag of feathers, but he drew in big gulps of air. He’d never been claustrophobic, but he felt as though he’d just been locked in an airless pit. He pictured Chrissy’s stricken face. Maybe it wasn’t so illogical that she wouldn’t step foot in the house.

Lifting his head, he leaned back, his gaze drifting over the peaceful lane. School was in session, so no kids played in the yards or rode their bicycles in the street. A few houses down, Mrs. Morton was weeding her flower bed and a dog barked. Not that there was much to bark at. Extending his gaze, he spotted a woman pushing a wheelchair on the sidewalk across the street. The color of her hair stirred a note of recognition.

Maddie Carter? Shifting, he leaned forward, focusing on the pair. It was Maddie, pushing Lillian’s wheelchair. Although Lillian could walk, she tired easily. Combined with the mental confusion, he understood why Maddie chose to use the chair.

They were within shouting distance when Maddie glanced across the street. Recognition dawned and she leaned down to say something to her mother. Walking a few feet farther, Maddie detoured off the sidewalk via a driveway and used the same method to reach the front of Fran’s house.

Trying to tuck his emotions beneath a professional demeanor, J.C. walked down the steps.

Apparently he wasn’t completely successful.

“What’s wrong?” Maddie greeted him, her eyes filled with sudden concern. Today her eyes picked up some of the green of the grass, rendering them near-emerald.

J.C. straightened his tie, but couldn’t bring himself to pull it into a knot. The strangled feeling from being in Fran’s house hadn’t dissipated. “This is my sister’s house.”

Understanding flooded Maddie’s expression. “Are you here by yourself?”

J.C. nodded. “Chrissy won’t come back.”

“What can we do?”

He glanced at the wheelchair. “Your hands are full enough.”

Maddie patted Lillian’s shoulder in a soothing motion. “My mother always enjoys visiting new places.” She met his gaze. Both knew most anywhere other than her own home was now a new place for Lillian.

The older woman smiled at him kindly. “Young man, you need a bracing cup of tea.”

Apparently even his patient could see his distress. “I don’t have the makings for tea.”

“We do,” Lillian replied, craning her head around and up toward Maddie. “Don’t we?”

“Yes, but maybe Dr. Mueller would like to just sit on the porch.”

“Well, now, I’d like that myself,” Lillian replied.

Shedding his own worries, J.C. offered his arm. “Would you care to sit in the glider?”

She giggled, a young, fun sound. “I always have.”

As he helped her rise from the wheelchair, J.C. imagined she’d had a fair share of male attention in her youth. In ways, he could see an advantage in having only partial memories. Hopefully the bad ones faded and only the good stayed.

Once Lillian was settled on the glider, he pulled two rattan chairs close, offering one to Maddie. With the glider set in gentle motion, Lillian’s eyelids fluttered near closing.

“What was it?” Speaking quietly, Maddie tilted her head toward the house. “Inside?”

J.C. thought of a dozen noncommittal answers. “Everything.”

“It was hard after my dad died,” Maddie sympathized. “You said Chrissy won’t come back?”

“Completely freaked out when I tried,” he replied in an equally quiet tone. “Said she never wants to come back, that the house killed her parents.”

Maddie’s forehead furrowed. “Were you thinking of moving in here, so Chrissy would have all her familiar things?”

“That and because we’re two people living in a one-person tent. So to speak,” he explained. “I have a small one-bedroom apartment and it’s not good.”

“And you’re certain Chrissy won’t change her mind?”

“Absolutely.”

Maddie hesitated. “Are you going to sell the house?”

“Thought about renting it out in case Chrissy changes her mind in the future. But right now … I can’t rent it with all of my sister’s belongings still inside.”

“That’s what got to you,” Maddie murmured. “There’s still a sweater and bathrobe of my dad’s in Mom’s closet.”

The dog down the street barked again. And Mrs. Morton crossed the street to talk to her neighbor.

J.C. barely knew Maddie. Funny to be having this conversation with her. But none of his friends could really empathize. Some had lost a parent, but no one had lost everyone. Certainly no one else had the crucial role of caring for the sole survivor.

Maddie swiped at her wayward hair. He liked the way it sprang back with a mind of its own. “Do you have anyone to help you go through your sister’s belongings?”

He shrugged one shoulder. “No one else will know what’s important.”

“Not necessarily,” she objected mildly. “Thinking of things in categories could help. You can decide if there’s a special garment, like my dad’s sweater, you want to save. If not, then it doesn’t take a personal eye to empty closets. Same is pretty much true for the kitchen with the exception of heirloom pieces. Furniture can be sorted through, or just stored for now. Jewelry, papers, other keepsakes can be packed and labeled for when you feel it’s time to decide about them.”

J.C. sighed. “You make it sound reasonable—”

“It is if you’ll accept help.”

“It’s not a job I can ask anyone to tackle.”

“You didn’t ask. I’m offering.” With her back against the cloudy gray exterior of the house, Maddie’s eyes had changed again. But this time the gray held no storm warnings. “Before you mention my mother, she’ll come with me. I’m guessing there’s a comfortable chair and a television. It’ll be an outing for her that isn’t tiring.”

“For her, maybe not. But you—”

“I can’t believe I look that fragile,” Maddie declared. “To hear you talk, I’m so delicate it’s a wonder I don’t blow away in the breeze.” She held out one hand as though testing the air. “Even in this breeze. You, of all people, should know how good it makes a person feel to help someone. I’d like to help. You’re doing Mom a world of good. I can already see small improvements. Besides, you and Chrissy need to be able to move on. Once this house is rented to another family, it won’t seem so scary anymore.”

“A friend suggested hiring an estate service,” he admitted.

“That might be taking it a tad too impersonal. Do you recall grilling me about who helps with Mom? Now, it’s my turn. Who helps with Chrissy? Who can sort through the house? If that’s you, will it be between appointments and surgeries?”

“And I thought I felt bad being inside the house.”

She laughed, tipping her head back, allowing the laughter to gather and spill like a bright waterfall. “Touché.”

Somehow, his dread had disappeared.

Maddie held out her hand, palm side up, her eyes still dancing. “I’ll need a key.”

“I’m a little nervous,” Maddie admitted, fitting the key in the lock.

“You should be.” Samantha rolled her eyes. “I still can’t believe—”

“Other-may,” Maddie resorted to pig Latin to remind her friend of Lillian’s presence.

“Oh, now you remember.”

“I never forgot.” The key to Fran’s house turned easily and Maddie pushed open the door. “Mom, you like getting out, don’t you?”

Lillian smiled. “I like new places.”

Samantha rolled her eyes again. “And it’ll be new for a month of Sundays.”

Maddie elbowed her friend. “I thought you liked J.C.”

“I didn’t expect you to take on organizing his life.”

Maddie flinched. “Do you think he feels that way? And quit rolling your eyes before they fall out of your head.”

“The only one here out of her head—”

Maddie grasped the handles of her mother’s wheelchair and pushed her inside. “How about some TV, Mom? The cable’s still on, so you can watch a movie or Animal Planet.”

Lillian considered. “Have I seen Animal Planet before?”

She watched it every day. “I think so.” Flipping through the channels, Maddie put the TV on an old movie her mother had seen dozens of times. Fortunately, it was new to her each and every time. Uncapping the thermos of tea she’d brought, Maddie poured some in a cup and placed it on the table next to Lillian.

She caught up to Samantha in the hallway, where she stood, leaning slightly on her cane as she studied family pictures grouped over a console table. “Seems hard to believe they just went to sleep and never woke up.”

“I don’t know J.C. well enough to say this, but I think he feels the same way.”

“As though he might wake up one day and find out it was all just a bad dream.” Samantha shook her head. “That’s how I felt about Andy.” Samantha’s brother had died in a plane crash, ending his young life far too soon.

Maddie linked her arm with Sam’s. “What we’re doing, it’s a good way to give back.”

Sam’s voice thickened. “Yeah.” When she had returned to Rosewood paralyzed from a fall, she’d nearly burned down her parents’ entire home. She succeeded in destroying the kitchen. But friends and neighbors had stepped up, rebuilding it, making it even better than before. And in the process, she had reconnected with her old love and now husband, Bret. Sam cleared her throat. “Where do you want to start?”

“Master bedroom, I think. J.C. insists on hiring someone to move the boxes once they’re packed, so I’d like to retrieve the jewelry for his safety deposit box. Then I thought of recording an inventory.” She held up her cell phone. “I can shoot photos of the big pieces to J.C., let him decide what to keep.”

They entered the carpeted master bedroom, feet sinking pleasantly into the deep pile. The four-poster bed looked as antique as the fireplace it flanked. In the curve of the bay window was a cozy reading area.

“Nice,” Sam murmured.

Maddie walked to the open closet, seeing what J.C. had, instantly understanding why it had been so difficult. Although Maddie hadn’t known Fran, remnants of her personality remained.

“What does he want to do with the clothes?”

“Donate them. But I thought we might find one outfit that we’d tuck away for Chrissy.”

“Wonder if Fran kept her wedding dress,” Samantha mused.

“Oh, Sam! That’s perfect! You old softie, I said you’d turned into a romantic.”

Samantha grinned. “Okay. So we’re both hopeless.”

The doorbell rang. A young man sent by J.C. to deliver packing boxes offered his help. Maddie showed him to the dining room where he could assemble the flat cartons.

“Efficient,” Samantha commented, sitting on the bed, folding clothes. “You’re right. Emptying this room first will make it easier for J.C. The longer we put off clearing Andy’s room, the worse it was.”

Maddie crossed the room to the dresser, then slid open the top drawer. A vintage leather jewelry box sat inside. “I’m guessing Fran inherited her mother’s jewelry. Two generations of mementos for Chrissy.”

“Poor kid. I can’t imagine losing my parents now … but when you’re nine years old?” Samantha smoothed the lines of the dress she was folding. “Still, I can’t help worrying about you. Even though you always act chipper, I know the constant caregiving gets to you. And now this …”

Maddie turned to speak, but Sam cut her off.

“I know, I know. Helping people makes you feel better. But face it, even you have to admit this is a depressing chore.”

The jewelry box still in her hands, Maddie stroked it absently. “If you could have seen his eyes …”

Samantha sighed. “It’s my own fault. I just didn’t expect you to wind up …” she waved her hands around “… here.”

Maddie thought of J.C.’s face, the bleak expression, the unexpected spark of hope. Swallowing, she wished it hadn’t meant so very much to her.

Chapter Five

Adam sat on the edge of J.C.’s desk, flipping through the messages on his cell phone.

“Your office must miss you,” J.C. told him drily as he signed a stack of insurance forms.

“Let Didi come to work for me and I’ll stay out of your way.”

J.C. grunted. “Last I heard, she’s still loyal.”

“Yeah. You have the women hooked.”

J.C. wagged his head in disbelief. “A whole harem.”

“What about the patient’s daughter? Maddie?”

Feeling an unwanted burst of protectiveness, J.C. looked up. “What about her?”

Adam flung out upturned hands. “Give.”

J.C. fiddled with his pen for a moment. “She offered to close up Fran’s house.”

The joking demeanor faded. “Wow.”

“That’s what I thought. I was at the house, felt like I was going to lose it and Maddie stopped by.”

“Out of the blue?”

“She was taking her mother out on a walk and spotted me on the porch. We talked about Fran’s things. Maddie said it would be harder the longer I left it.”

“What about the estate people?”

J.C. sighed. “I know you were trying to help, but it sounded so … cold. Maddie’s going to take an inventory, get things packed for storage so I can rent out the house.”

“Good plan. Then if Chrissy wants it later …”

“That’s what we thought.”

“We?”

“Lay off, Adam. Maddie’s just trying to help because she’s grateful that her mother’s improving.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You need to get married, get off the romance radar.”

“Because that worked out so well for you?”

J.C. winced. “There are downsides to having old friends. They know too much.”

“Sorry. You know I get jittery about the marriage thing.”

“Guess you haven’t met the right woman.” J.C. held up one hand before his friend could jump in with an obvious reminder. “And neither have I.”

Adam raised his eyebrows. “Maybe you have, my friend.”

J.C. frowned.

“Maddie sounds like someone worth getting to know.”

“Ah, just what I need in my upside-down life.”

Chuckling, Adam looked smug. “You said it.”

A few weeks later, J.C. glanced around the near-empty rooms of his sister’s house. “You’re amazing!”

Surprisingly, Maddie blushed.

The quaint sign was charming, taking him aback even more than all she had accomplished.

“You sent a lot of help,” she reminded him, not quite meeting his gaze as she fiddled with one of the few remaining cartons.

“Still …” He shifted, taking in how much had been accomplished, how his sister’s belongings had all been tucked away.

“I did think of something else.” Maddie finally lifted her eyes. Today they were as blue as her sapphire-colored blouse. “Even with another family living here, from the outside the house looks the same. If you had it painted in a new palette, one that doesn’t even resemble the gray, it would seem very different.”

J.C. hadn’t even considered the exterior. “I don’t know much about picking out colors.”

Maddie smiled, causing the dimple in her cheek to flash. “That’s the easy part.”

Wanting to study her face, her soft-looking lips, he nodded. “Such as?”

She brushed a lock of hair from her forehead. “Um … yellow would be pretty. A daisy shade of yellow. White trim. Be cause the front door is mostly glass …” Her voice trailed off.

J.C. realized he was staring, not listening. “Sounds good.”

She brightened. “I don’t want you to think I’m meddling. I have this habit of over-organizing things, people, well, most everything.”

Her dimple moved when she spoke, a punctuation mark to her smile. As he watched, it gradually disappeared. What had she just said?

Maddie’s smile faded a bit.

And J.C. marshaled his thoughts. “You were saying?”

“That I meddle.”

“Thank the Lord you do.” She paled and he instantly realized she’d taken his words the wrong way. “Helping, not meddling. I’d never have guessed Fran’s house could be packed up so … quickly.”

“And the painting?” she prodded.

“Great idea.” Her eyes were incredibly blue. “Maybe blue?”

“With the yellow? Or just a light shade of blue?”

“Definitely not light,” he murmured, captivated by the depth of color in her eyes.

“Well, we could get some samples, look them over.” Maddie twisted her hands.

J.C.’s gaze followed her action when he abruptly remembered the last time he’d been entranced by a pretty face and mesmerizing eyes. His ex-wife had been pretty, as well. On the outside. “You still haven’t told me how much you’ll take for doing all this.”

Her eyes clouded and that enchanting dimple disappeared. “I did it to help you, not to make money.”

“But …” He waved around, again stunned by the emptiness. While it was a relief to have the job done, the house no longer held the reminders of Fran’s life. Facing Maddie again, he couldn’t keep a sliver of bleakness out of his voice. “It was a big job.”

Maddie’s voice, too, was quiet. “For me it was Dad’s fishing pole. Mom gave it to his best friend. Logically, I knew Dad was gone, that he wasn’t coming back, but when his fishing pole was in the shed, leaning against the wall, it almost seemed like he’d stroll back in, whistling, ready to tie new flies.”

She got it. Completely. “Yeah.”

“When everything’s done … if you do decide to change the look of the exterior, it might help Chrissy to see it’s just a house.”

His niece had been campaigning to live in the building on Main Street. “She’d kick and scream all the way here. And I’m not ready for that.”

“Think about my offer.”

He blanked, looking at her in question.

“To watch Chrissy in the afternoons.”

“Still not enough to do?” he asked wryly.

“Actually, Chrissy kept Mom entertained the day you visited. That means more time for me to get things done.”

He was skeptical. “You forget, I know Chrissy. Much as I love her, right now she’s acting like a pain.”

“Understandably.”

“It’s easier to be understanding from a distance,” he warned her, thinking of Chrissy’s refusal to do any homework. He’d wrangled with her for more than an hour and had gotten nowhere.

Maddie laughed. “Isn’t everything? Keep the offer in mind. I’m not going anywhere.”

Sobered, he wondered. In his experience, that’s exactly what women did.

The phone jangled loudly. J.C. bolted upright, reaching for the receiver before the noise could wake Chrissy. Momentarily forgetting he was sleeping on the couch, he overshot the mark and slammed his hand into a lamp that crashed to the floor. Grabbing the side table so that he wouldn’t land on top of the broken glass, he smashed his toes into the unyielding wood base.

Muttering under his breath, he finally reached the phone. Bad car accident on the highway, possible spinal fracture. Flipping on the overhead light, he glanced at his watch. Nearly two in the morning.

J.C. dressed quickly, then wrote a note for Chrissy. Still uneasy with leaving her alone, he stopped at Blair’s apartment, knocking quietly.

Yawning, she rubbed her eyes. “I’ll try to listen, but I pulled a double yesterday and I’m beat.”

“Sorry I woke you.”

She yawned again. “Me, too.”

“Thanks, Blair.”

Still yawning she closed the door.

Once at the hospital, J.C. rushed to the trauma area. Fortunately, the situation wasn’t as dire as he expected, but it was still over two hours before he neared home.

Red lights flashed from an ambulance, strobing eerily in the darkness. Grabbing his bag, he ran toward an EMT. Chrissy! Had something happened to her? “I’m a doctor.” Panting, he caught his breath. “What’s the situation?”

“Heart attack. Nurse that lives here gave him CPR. Touch and go, but she kept him alive.”

“Nurse?” Blair? J.C. skirted the back of the ambulance, catching sight of Blair, then reaching her on a run. “Where’s Chrissy?”

Blair looked distracted. “In your apartment I imagine. Had my hands pretty full here.”

“Sorry. Of course.” He pushed one hand through his thick hair. “Saved his life, I hear.”

“Hope so.”

J.C. loped across the lawn toward his apartment. Even from a distance, he could see that the overhead light in the living room was on. Not breaking his stride, he burst inside. But the living room was empty. With the lights on, his earlier tangle with the lamp looked ominous. “Chrissy?”

No answer.

The bedroom light was off, but he could see the mound of little girl beneath the covers. He switched on the lamp. “Chrissy?”

Muffled cries penetrated her covering.

Gently he peeled back the duvet. “It’s okay.”

“Uh-uh.” She cried harder.

“I know one of the neighbors got sick, but it looks like he’ll be all right.”

“You weren’t here!” she accused.

“There was an emergency—” J.C. started to explain.

“The sirens came and everything!”

Logic couldn’t overcome her fear. “I’m here now.”

Chrissy burst into a new round of tears. It was too late. And it wasn’t enough. Worse, he couldn’t promise it wouldn’t happen again.

J.C. glanced at Lillian Carter’s chart. “No nausea or decreased appetite?”

Maddie answered for her mother. “Nope. If anything, she’s eating a bit more.”

“Now is that something we tell handsome young men?” Lillian fussed, then smiled at J.C. To Maddie’s surprise he didn’t smile back. Wasn’t like him. Not at all. Lillian smoothed her skirt. “You bake a lot of sweets. They’re hard to resist.”

“I do have a sweet tooth,” Maddie admitted.

Again no reaction from J.C. Had they somehow irritated him? “Everything all right?”

“Hmm.” Distracted, he glanced up from the chart. “I’m sorry, what?”

She frowned. “I said, is everything all right?”

He shrugged, then exhaled. “Not really.”

She searched his expression. “Chrissy?”

J.C. explained the emergency call and his neighbor’s heart attack.

“That’s dreadful!”

“Chrissy’s inconsolable.”

“Of course,” Lillian spoke up, surprising both of them. “A child must always feel safe. It’s the parents’ job to make sure of that.”

Maddie wanted to wince for him. Still … “It’s hard to hear, but true. J.C., you need help. And frankly, Mom and I could use the babysitting money.”

“In the middle of the night?” he responded.

“Middle of the night, morning, after school, whenever we’re needed. We don’t exactly have a schedule carved in stone. You can drop Chrissy by if you get a call in the night. It’s not ideal, but it’s far better than leaving her alone.”

He glanced at Lillian. “You have more to consider than just Chrissy.”

“Do you have any tea, young man?” Lillian questioned, apparently now off the subject at hand.

J.C. sharpened his gaze. “No, Mrs. Carter, but I’m pretty sure your daughter does.” He pushed the office intercom. “Didi? Could you bring in a cup of coffee for Mrs. Carter?”

“Sure, boss.”

There was a soft knock on the exam room door, then Didi pushed it open. As she brought the coffee and tray with creamer and sugar, J.C. took Maddie’s elbow, steering her to the other side of the room.

“Have you thought any more about your tea shop?”

Puzzled, she shook her head. “You know I can’t—”

“You want a shop. I have a building that needs a tenant. More important, I have a niece who needs someone besides me in her life. She looks at every housekeeper and nanny I’ve hired as a threat, someone set up to take her mother’s place. But she likes you. She likes Lillian.” He glanced over at the older woman. “You have to admit your mother couldn’t threaten a bug.”

“But—”

“Chrissy wants to live in the building on Main Street.”