The Millionaire and the Mum

It seemed ludicrous. Why was she trying so desperately to hang on to the farm? Yes, it had belonged to her dear grandmother, and yes, the farm and the old country roses her grandmother had introduced to the area nearly fifty years ago were Beth’s heritage and she loved them, but were they really worth the price she’d had to pay to keep them?

She thought about how she hadn’t had a day off since Eben died a year ago. How she’d had to say no to Matthew when he wanted to play soccer because she knew she wouldn’t be able to get him to and from practices and games. How she hadn’t bought herself a new outfit in three years. How most nights they ate spaghetti or soup or meat loaf—things that didn’t cost a lot of money. How her truck was ten years old and had more than 150,000 miles on it and how she prayed every day that it would last another year.

When Caleb, her cousin who had worked for her since Eben’s death, left at the beginning of the summer, he’d said, “Bethie, if I were you, I’d try to sell this place.”

Beth knew it would be a lot easier for everyone if she sold the farm. With the proceeds, she could buy a small house in town, get a job in Tyler, live a normal life. Yet every time she thought about leaving the roses she loved—Madame Hardy and Bloomfield Courage and Madame Alfred Carrière and Jacques Cartier and hundreds of others—she got such a desolate feeling in her stomach, she knew she would never willingly do it. Her grandmother had loved her roses passionately, and she had passed that passion on to Beth. She would never sell. Not unless she was forced to. Not unless there simply was no other way for her family to survive. And I’m not there yet. I may be close, but there’s still Grandma’s jewelry.

As she had many times since her drunken husband had run his truck into an oncoming eighteen-wheeler, she told herself it didn’t matter that she was virtually penniless. That she had no idea how she would get another crop together for the spring selling period. That she had never before had to do everything herself. She was strong, and she wasn’t afraid of hard work.

I have to keep this place going. This place isn’t just my heritage. It’s my children’s heritage, too.

They were such good kids. They made up for all the bad stuff she’d had to endure during her marriage.

Beth’s grandmother hadn’t wanted Beth to marry Eben. “He’s lazy,” she’d warned. “Always wanting something for nothing.” She hadn’t added, like your good-for-nothing daddy, but Beth had known it was implied. “He’ll give you nothing but grief,” her grandmother had added sadly.

But Beth hadn’t listened. She’d been twenty-two and a hopeless romantic. He’d been twenty-four—handsome and charming. It was a whirlwind courtship; they were married four weeks to the day after she met him at a country-western dance.

Marry in haste, repent at leisure.

Beth grimaced. Truer words were never spoken, cliché or not. Beth and Eben hadn’t been married a month when he started coming home drunk. Later she found out he’d always had a problem with alcohol.

Oh, Granny, I should have listened to you. And yet, if she had, she wouldn’t have Matthew and Amy today.

Beth became pregnant with Matthew almost immediately after marrying Eben. For a while after Eben found out about the coming baby, he’d tried to be a good husband, but the lure of booze was stronger than his good intentions, so when Matthew was a year old, Beth decided to leave Eben. But then her mother got sick. And her grandmother couldn’t do everything—run the farm and take care of Beth’s mother. So Beth abandoned her plan to leave Eben and talked him into moving out to the farm instead. She didn’t have to do much in the way of persuading. Eben liked the idea of being a rose grower. Rose growers were respected and looked up to. That he knew nothing about growing roses didn’t seem to daunt him, and to be fair, he had worked pretty hard that first year. Beth began to hope that he had changed.

Carrie Wilder lasted six months before succumbing to the cancer that plagued her body. A week after her funeral, Beth discovered she was pregnant again. Distraught over the loss of her mother, Beth resolved that unless things got worse, she would try to stick it out with Eben—at least until the kids were in school.

The following year, just fourteen months after her mother’s death, Beth’s grandmother suffered a massive heart attack and died. It was a shock to all who knew her. Lillian Wilder was only sixty-eight years old, and had always seemed indomitable.

Beth was devastated by the loss of the woman she had so admired, but there was no time to mourn. The farm was now hers. By the following week, she had taken over its management.

Eben couldn’t handle it. Once again, he began to drink heavily. Beth knew his ego had suffered a fatal blow, yet how could she have done anything else? He didn’t know enough about the business to run it without her supervision. So his drinking increased, and as he drank more, he worked less. Beth had to hire more help. Instead of one helper, she had to have two men, one to replace Eben, one to assist. She spent as much time as she could overseeing the work, but the children were young and needed her attention, too. She was busy day and night, too busy to worry about Eben’s bruised ego.

Now he was gone and, except for the children, Beth was all alone. She wasn’t beaten yet. And with that thought to sustain her, she turned back to the job at hand.

Chapter Two

J ack had no trouble finding the Johnson place. It was clearly marked with a neat white sign hanging from a rose-covered trellis.

JOHNSON NURSERY

Old Country Roses

Open Wednesday through Saturday,

10 a.m.-6 p.m.

A long gravel driveway wound through a large field surrounded by trees, gradually ending in a parking area beyond which sat a two-story redbrick and white frame house with a wraparound porch. To the right of the driveway was a garden area that contained dozens of rosebushes, interspersed with other kinds of flowers, although not many were in bloom now. Dotted around the grassy area surrounding the house were tripods and birdhouses and small trellises that were used as support structures for what Jack guessed would be called climbing rosebushes. Some of them had lots of roses in bloom, others only a few. To his left he saw half-a-dozen greenhouses, and behind the house he could see part of a barn and another greenhouse. The man at the motel hadn’t exaggerated. Everything in Jack’s line of sight showed storm damage, although the house and the rose garden seemed to have escaped with the least damage.

To the left of the house was a sweet gum tree that looked unstable. Several branches had been severed or partially severed and the trunk itself looked as if it had been split. As Jack drove closer, he saw that there was some kind of tree house in the sweet gum.

Somewhere out of sight he could hear a child, and down by the greenhouses, he thought he saw someone working. Looked like a woman, too. Maybe it was Beth Johnson. Turning off the ignition, he decided he would head that way.

Beth shaded her eyes and watched the unfamiliar red truck enter her property and come slowly up the road leading to the house.

She frowned. She didn’t recognize the truck, but maybe it was a customer. Pulling off her gloves, she walked toward the house.

Halfway there, she heard Matthew. His voice came from the back of the house. “Amy! Where are you?”

“I’m right here!” Amy answered.

Beth’s heart knocked painfully against her rib cage as she spotted Amy, who was just emerging from the tree house, Pooh bear clutched in her arms.

“Oh, my God! Amy!” she shouted. She began to run.

Although Beth’s entire concentration was focused on her daughter, who had begun to descend the tree house stairs, she was aware that a tall, dark-haired man had climbed out of the truck and, until she’d shouted, had been heading her way.

Suddenly there was a horrible cracking noise, and the sweet gum tilted to the left.

“Amy!” Beth screamed.

The stranger dashed toward Amy, reached up and snatched her off the ladder and, with Amy safely cradled in his arms, leaped out of the way just before the tree crashed to the ground. Once clear of the area, he gently set her on her feet.

“Mama!” Amy cried, racing toward Beth.

Beth nearly collapsed in relief. Tears ran down her face as she whisked her daughter—who also began to cry—up into her arms. “Oh, Amy,” she said, kissing her again and again. “You scared me. Why did you go into the tree house after I told you not to! You could have been killed.”

“I’m sorry, Mama. I just wanted my Pooh bear. He was scared up there by himself!”

Beth knew that to Amy, her Pooh bear was as real as her brother, and almost as important. “Hush, sugar. It’s okay. You’re okay. But don’t you ever, ever, disobey me again, do you hear? No matter what the reason is.”

“I won’t,” Amy said, her voice muffled as she buried her head against Beth’s neck.

By now a white-faced Matthew had joined them. “I had to go to the bathroom, Mama, but she promised me she wouldn’t move off the porch until I got back.”

Normally Beth might have scolded him, but just then, she didn’t have the heart to. She knew he’d been as frightened as she was. Taking a deep breath, she finally turned her attention to the heaven-sent stranger who had saved her daughter. Meeting his eyes over Amy’s head, she said in a voice that still trembled a bit, “How can I ever thank you?”

He shrugged. “No thanks necessary. I’m just glad I was here.” Then he put out his right hand. “Jack Stokes, ma’am.”

His handshake was firm and strong. “Beth Johnson.” Now that her heart was calmer, she began to assess the man who stood before her. He was very good-looking, in a rugged, Marlboro man sort of way, with a deep tan, dark thick hair cut short, and striking blue eyes. “And these are my children,” she added. “Matthew and Amy.”

Matthew said a polite hello.

Jack smiled down at him and offered his hand once more.

Matthew grinned and the two shook hands.

Beth couldn’t help smiling.

Amy finally raised her head. After hiccuping, she gave Jack a shy smile.

“Hello, little lady,” he said.

“Hi,” she said in a tiny voice.

“You probably think I’m a bad mother,” Beth said, “but I told them to stay away from the tree.”

He nodded.

“I’m sorry, Mama,” Matthew said. Once again, he looked as if he were going to cry.

Beth squeezed his shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault, honey.” It really wasn’t. It was Beth’s fault Amy had been in danger. No matter how much work Beth had to do, that was no excuse for not watching her children more closely. “But it sure is a lucky thing for us that Mr. Stokes happened along when he did,” Beth added, turning back toward him. Now that she in control of her emotions, and Amy was safe, she was once more curious about why the man was there.

“Well, ma’am, I didn’t just happen along. I heard from Mr. Temple down at the Temple Motel that you needed some help here, and I came out to ask you for a job.”

Beth blinked. A job? He needed a job? Her gaze swept over his well-kept red pickup truck, his nice-fitting jeans, the worn but obviously well-made boots he wore, his clean hands and good haircut. Not to mention his teeth which—even though he had yet to smile—were white and straight and quite clearly teeth that had been cared for.

He sure didn’t look like he needed a job. Yet he had saved Amy from possible serious injury, so for that reason alone he deserved to have his request taken at face value. “I’m sorry,” she said with genuine regret. “I can’t afford to hire anyone.”

“I’d work real cheap.”

Beth grimaced. “I have to be honest. The only way I could afford you is if you’d work for free.”

He thought for a minute. “Tell you what. If you’ll give me a job, I’d be willing to work for room and board.”

Room and board? Was he serious? Why would he be willing to work for room and board? Something didn’t add up.

“I’m real handy,” he persisted. “And I’m not afraid of hard work. I could help you get those buildings in order again.” He gestured toward the greenhouses, then turned to the sweet gum. “I could get that tree cleared out, too.”

It was only then Beth realized she was doubly lucky. Not only had he helped avert disaster by saving Amy, but the sweet gum had fallen away from the house.

“I’m afraid that tree house can’t be salvaged, though,” he said.

They both looked at the tree house, which had been demolished by the tree falling on top of it.

Amy’s lower lip quivered, and Beth knew what she was thinking. Eben had built that tree house, one of the few things he’d ever made for the kids, and Amy, in particular, had loved it.

It hurt Beth to see her child suffering, but what could she say? She certainly couldn’t afford to have someone build them another tree house.

Apparently taking her silence for resistance, Jack said, “I have references. I could get you some names of people you could call.”

Studying him, she considered his offer. She was tempted to take him up on it, even though she was sure this man was hiding something. He had to be. No man who looked as well off as he did would need to work for room and board. “Look, I know I owe you for what you’ve done for me today, but you could probably go to any one of the rose farms and get work. Paid work.”

“I tried the other places. They all want someone who knows something about roses.” He smiled at Matthew again, and Matthew smiled back. “I don’t know a thing about roses, but I wouldn’t mind learning.”

Oh, God, despite her doubts about him, she desperately wanted to take him up on his offer. She was exhausted, and she had so much work ahead of her if she hoped to get the farm back in working order. So what if he had something to hide? Didn’t most people? And he had saved Amy from a terrible accident, hadn’t he? Besides, he’d said he’d give her references.

“How about a trial period?” It was obvious from his tone he sensed she was weakening. “One week. If it doesn’t work out, all you have to do is tell me, and I’ll go.”

Her eyes met his again. His blue gaze was steady and direct. Maybe she was crazy, but it also seemed honest to her. She sighed. “All right. One week.”

Now he smiled. “You won’t be sorry.”

Maybe not, Beth thought. Then again, maybe she would. She sure didn’t have a great track record when it came to judging men. Right now, though, she really didn’t care. She needed help, and he was offering it. She would take her chances and hope for the best.

Jack could see Beth Johnson wasn’t sure she’d done the right thing by hiring him. Hell, if he could persuade warring fanatics to release a dozen hostages, he could sure persuade one woman to let him work for her. “I could start right away.” He gestured toward the tree. “If you’ve got a saw, I could get that tree cut up and piled over by the fence where it won’t be a hazard.”

She nodded slowly. “That would be great. While you’re doing that, I’ll make up a bed for you on the sleeping porch. That’s the screened in part at the back of the house. I hope that will be satisfactory.” This last was said primly, and she didn’t meet his eyes.

It was clear she was wary about having him inside her house. He didn’t blame her. He was a stranger. For all she knew, he could be a thief or worse—a murderer. He was glad to see she was sensible as well as pretty.

For pretty she was, even though she was dressed in beat-up boots, faded blue jeans and an obviously old yellow T-shirt with dirt everywhere—on her clothes, her face, her hands, her knees. Still, no amount of dirt could disguise the fact that her slender yet womanly figure curved in all the right places, or that her strawberry-blond hair was thick and curly and shining, or that there was an appealing sprinkle of freckles on her cheeks and nose, or that her eyes were steady and clear and the warmest golden brown he’d ever seen. Yes, she was an altogether very pretty woman.

The kids were cute, too. That boy of hers looked just like her. The little girl, though, must have taken after the father, because her hair was dark and her eyes were blue. Jack hadn’t been around many children in his life, but he couldn’t help liking the Johnson kids. Or their mother, who was still waiting for his answer.

“The sleeping porch will be fine,” he said. “But you don’t have to rush to get it ready. I’ve paid for a night at the Temple Motel, so I might as well stay there tonight.”

“Are you sure?” When he nodded, she said, “All right. But if you’re going to work here this afternoon, you’ll stay and have supper with us. My electricity’s back on, so I can cook again.” She grimaced. “Although my phone is still not working.”

“On my way in I saw some telephone linemen working.”

“Did you? That’s good. I hope they get our service back soon.”

He nodded. “I appreciate the offer of supper, but it’s not necessary to feed me.”

“I insist. That was the deal,” she said firmly.

He could see her pride wouldn’t let her accept his help today unless she could pay him something, even if it was only a meal. “Okay. Supper sounds great. Now why don’t you show me where you keep your tools? I don’t guess you have a chain saw?”

“As a matter of fact, I do.” Leading the way to the barn, she added, “Everything you’ll need is in there. While you work on the tree, I’m going inside for a bit. Matthew, you and Amy come with me.”

“Ah, Mama, can’t I stay out here and watch Jack?”

“His name is Mr. Stokes. You know better than to call an adult by his first name. And, no, you may not stay out here and watch. He doesn’t need you hanging around getting in the way.”

“I’d rather he call me Jack. Mr. Stokes sounds like some old man,” Jack said, giving Matthew a conspiratorial wink.

“Can I call you Jack, too?” piped up little Amy.

“Amy,” Beth said admonishingly.

Jack looked at Beth. “Mrs. Johnson, I really don’t mind—”

“Beth,” she interrupted. “Please call me Beth. We don’t stand on formalities here.”

“Beth,” he repeated, liking the way her name felt on his tongue. “What I was going to say is, if the kids want to watch, maybe they could sit in the bed of my truck. That way they could see, but they wouldn’t be in any danger.”

“Please, Mama, please?” Matthew begged.

“Please, Mama?” Amy echoed.

“Oh, I guess it’s all right, as long as Mr. Stokes—”

“Jack.”

She seemed taken aback by the interruption, but when she realized he’d done the same thing to her that she’d done to him, she grinned. “Jack.”

He liked the way his name sounded on her lips, too. He also liked her smile. It was open and real, with no suggestion of anything other than genuine amusement.

“Okay, then,” she said, “You two can watch, but if you get out of the truck, Jack will send you into the house, and that will be that. Understood?”

Both children nodded solemnly. “Yes, Mama.”

After one more warning to be good, Beth left the three of them and headed for the house. Telling the children to wait, Jack went into the barn and found the chain saw. Then he and the children walked back to the truck. After getting them settled in the flatbed, Jack attacked the fallen tree.

He worked steadily for the next hour or so, and just as the kids began to get restless, Beth walked out onto the porch. Jack saw that she’d cleaned herself up and now wore fresh jeans and a light brown T-shirt.

“Time for lunch,” she said. “I made hot dogs.”

“Oh, boy,” Matthew said. “Hot dogs are my favorite.”

“They’re my favorite, too.” Amy said.

Jack smothered a smile. It was obvious Amy had a bad case of hero worship where her older brother was concerned. The way she acted reminded him of how Kate used to follow him around all the time when they were young. The twins had had each other, but Jack had always had Kate, and no matter how much their father had tried to discourage her from tagging after Jack, she had paid no attention.

“I thought we’d eat on the side porch,” Beth said as she helped the children out of the truck.

“Cool! A picnic!” Matthew raced around to the side porch, closely followed by Amy.

Beth shook her head. “Those two are a mess.” But despite her words, it was clear she adored her children.

“They’re nice kids.”

“Thanks.”

“Matthew’s in school?”

“Yes. Second grade. And Amy’s in kindergarten.”

“So they didn’t have school today?”

“No. It was canceled because of storm damage. I do hope they’ll go back tomorrow, though. It’s hard to get anything done when they’re home.” Her expression became rueful. “You see what very nearly happened today. What would have happened if you hadn’t been here.” Her eyes clouded.

Jack had an idiotic urge to put his arm around her and tell her to quit thinking about it, everything was okay now. The unexpected feeling shook him, because he wasn’t normally given to emotional reactions to people. He couldn’t afford them, not in his line of work.

Leaving him on the porch with the kids, she went inside. A few moments later, she returned with a laden tray containing plates and silverware, hot dogs in buns, jars of mustard and relish, a plastic squeeze bottle of ketchup, and a bowl of something that looked like macaroni salad. She set the tray down on a small metal table in the corner. The kids immediately began to help themselves.

“Wait, Amy,” Beth said as Amy picked up the bottle of ketchup. “Let me help you.”

“I can do it myself,” Amy said. To prove her point, she turned the bottle upside down and proceeded to squirt ketchup on her hot dog. Although the amount of ketchup that ended up on the sandwich was probably twice what should have been there, Amy gave them a triumphant smile. “See?”

“You did a good job,” Beth said. “Now try not to get any of that ketchup on you, okay?”

“Okay.”

“Help yourself,” Beth said, turning to Jack.

“I need to wash up first.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. You can wash up in the barn. I don’t know if you saw it or not, but in the far corner there’s a little bathroom that the help—when we had help—used to use.” For a moment, her voice held a trace of bitterness. Then she seemed to shake it away. “There’s even a shower.”

He found soap and an old but clean towel hanging from a hook next to the sink and cleaned himself up. There was a mirror over the sink, too, so he combed his hair. While standing there, he felt something against his legs and looked down. A large black cat was rubbing against his legs. “Hey, where’d you come from?”

The cat meowed, yellowish-green eyes glowing in the semidarkness of the building.

Jack leaned down and petted the cat, who arched her back and purred. He had never especially liked cats; his father had tended toward dogs—big dogs—but this cat seemed okay. Besides, it was obvious she’d taken a liking to him. It was hard to dislike an animal that liked you, he thought ruefully. She even followed him when he set off toward the house.

“I see you discovered Char,” Beth said when he rejoined her and the children.

“Char?”

She grinned. “Short for Charcoal.”

“She discovered me.”

“Usually when strangers are here, she hides until they leave, plus she’s been really spooked since the storm. She must like you.”

Again he thought how much he liked Beth Johnson’s smile. So far his impression of her and her children was favorable. Whether that would make a difference to his investigation, he didn’t know, but he thought it probably would, because he was a pretty damn good judge of people, and Beth struck him as completely honest.

Returning her smile, he filled his plate, accepted a glass of lemonade, then sat on the top porch step and began to eat.

Beth settled the kids on the old glider that was a holdover from her grandmother’s days, then decided it would be friendlier to join Jack on the steps, even though there were a couple of wooden chairs on the porch that she’d intended for them to use.