CHAPTER FOUR
Elisabeth’s insides were coiled like a ball of string wrapped too tightly.
At any second, she would unravel and fall apart.
She placed her arm around Caitlin’s shoulder.
Holding her youngest sister’s small warm body allowed Elisabeth to regain her composure and gather an ounce of much-needed strength.
Something told her she would need every bit she could muster when it came to Henry Davenport.
His references had checked out. She’d heard enough about Henry from Cynthia’s list not to worry about him murdering them in their sleep, but he was a pretty boy like her ex-fiancé, Toby Cantrell, and pretty boys were never reliable. They always left when the going got tough.
Caitlin pointed at Henry. “Who’s that?”
“Caitlin Wheeler, meet Henry Davenport.” Elisabeth tried to keep the corners of her mouth up when all she wanted to do was frown. “Henry, this is my youngest sister, Caitlin.”
As he made his way toward them, a dazzling grin broke over his handsome face. “Sister?”
Elisabeth nodded.
Caitlin waved at him. “Hello.”
He bowed and was rewarded with a giggle. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“When I’m five, I get to go to Disneyland.” Caitlin tilted her head slightly. “Have you ever been to Disneyland?”
“I have,” Henry said.
He bent over, bringing him closer to Caitlin’s level and closer to Elisabeth.
Okay, he wasn’t like her ex-fiancé, who never acknowledged her siblings, let alone spoke to them.
But Henry was still a charmer. His nearness disturbed her, making her feel warm and uncomfortable.
She wanted to step back but wasn’t about to leave Caitlin’s side. Elisabeth bit the inside of her cheek.
“Disneyland is one of my favorite places in the world.”
Caitlin moved closer to him, surprising since she was usually shy around strangers. For the first ten minutes, that was. “Do you know Minnie Mouse? I want to see Minnie and Cinderella and Ariel and Jasmine and Tiana and Aurora…”
“What about Snow White?” Henry asked.
Caitlin nodded. “And the seven drawers.”
“Dwarfs,” Elisabeth corrected.
“Dwarfs,” Caitlin repeated. “Oh, and I want to see Belle. Anna and Elsa, too. I want to be five.”
“How old are you?” Henry asked.
She raised her fingers. “Four. How old are you?”
“Caitlin,” Elisabeth whispered. “It’s not polite to ask someone their age.”
“He asked me.”
“I did.” Henry’s eyes sparkled with laughter. “I’m thirty-four.”
Elisabeth did a double take. He looked younger. Not that thirty-four was old. She would be twenty-five in a few months. But she felt much older.
“Do you like ballerinas and princesses?” Caitlin asked.
“I do,” Henry admitted. “Do you think you could help me with something?”
Wide-eyed, Caitlin nodded. Elisabeth placed her hands on her sister’s thin shoulders.
“I have a goddaughter named Noelle.” Henry’s smile softened as he spoke the name. “Her birthday is coming up on Christmas Day, but I’m guessing she’ll like ballerinas and princesses when she’s your age. Could you show me the kind of toys and dress-up clothes she would like so I can be prepared?”
Caitlin grabbed his hand. “Let’s go to my room.”
“I don’t think so.” Elisabeth wasn’t about to let a stranger be alone with her baby sister or her siblings. “Henry needs to get settled in Sam’s room.”
“Where’s Sam going to sleep?” Caitlin asked.
“In your bed.”
Caitlin frowned. “Where will I sleep?”
“With me.”
“I’ll go move my babies and animals.” She skipped to the porch, bounced up the stairs, and jumped inside the house.
“Cute girl,” Henry said.
With blond ringlets and big sparkling blue eyes, Caitlin was the definition of cute and knew it, too.
Elisabeth nodded. “But she’ll talk your ear off.
She talks from the time she wakes up until after she’s supposed to be asleep.
I was so worried when she turned two and only said a few words, but those words turned into sentences and conversations in a couple of months. She’s quite the linguist now.”
Elisabeth babbled worse than her stylist while she cut hair.
She was just tired and hungry after today’s shift at the café—make that bistro.
That would explain why Elisabeth felt off-center and a little dizzy.
She’d been up before the sun, and her day was far from over. It had nothing to do with Henry.
Sam, eleven and perpetually bored, stepped forward. “So, you want to work here?”
“I’m Henry Davenport.” He extended his hand. “You’re Elisabeth’s…brother?”
“Sam Wheeler.” He shook Henry’s hand, but mistrust echoed in his voice.
Sam acted like a dog whose territory was invaded. Manny might run the farm, but ever since their parents’ deaths almost four years ago, Sam had been the man of the house. He took the job seriously.
He straightened his narrow shoulders and puffed out what little chest he had. “You know anything about farming, Mr. Davenport?”
“Sam,” Elisabeth cautioned. She needed to work on the children’s manners. Not to mention a million other things. How did women make it as mothers? It was going on four years, and she still hadn’t figured it out.
“It’s okay.” Henry met Sam’s wary gaze. “First, call me Henry. My father was Mr. Davenport. And second, I don’t know much about farming.”
Sam shot her a why-is-he-here look. Elisabeth felt the same way. Henry might not be qualified, but he looked strong and healthy. All his bones seemed to be intact, and he was breathing. And there was the twenty-five thousand dollars that came with him. The rest would…follow.
Henry smiled. “Don’t worry, Sam, I’m a fast learner. I graduated from Harvard.”
“Harvard?” Eight-year-old child prodigy, Abby, perked up. “Do you think you got your money’s worth from your Harvard education? After all, if you amortized the cost difference between a state university and an Ivy League college and added in an—”
“That’s enough for now, Abigail.” Elisabeth tugged on Abby’s braid and hoped their financial situation changed by the time her sister was ready for college.
At this point, none of them would be able to attend without scholarships and financial aid.
“You’ll have plenty of time to discuss higher education options later.
” Elisabeth turned her attention to Henry. “Abby’s what you might call gifted.”
“She’s a freakin’ genius,” Sam added.
Elisabeth sighed. “Why don’t you two check on Caitlin?”
For once, they both did as they were told. About time.
Elisabeth rubbed her lower back. She stared at Henry’s face, unable to find any fault with what she saw.
He wasn’t so much a pretty boy as a classically handsome man.
Okay, he was totally gorgeous if she wanted to be honest with herself, which she didn’t.
Every instinct screamed to keep her distance.
A mischievous glint shone in Henry’s eyes.
“You’re good with children.” The words tumbled out of her mouth. Had he realized she was staring? Probably. He’ll think you like him.
Unfamiliar warmth flooded her cheeks. Great. Now she was blushing. This wouldn’t do. So he was good-looking. She could handle it. Elisabeth squared her shoulders. “Do you have any children of your own?”
“No,” he answered quickly. “I don’t plan on having any. Kids are too much work.”
“But there are lots of rewards.”
“I know. Parenthood is wonderful for many people,” he said. “But not me.”
She didn’t like that. Nor did she get it. He seemed a natural with Caitlin. “Why not?”
“I’m not father material,” Henry admitted. “Too much responsibility. Someone always counts on you to be there or do something for them. I like to have too much fun.”
He sounded like Toby, a large child living inside a man’s body. Kids only get in the way. We’ll be living our lives for them, not ourselves.
She hated to call the job off when she needed the money so badly, but not even for twenty-five thousand dollars would she subject the kids to someone who didn’t like them. Elisabeth stiffened. “If you don’t like kids, this may not be the job for you.”
“I like kids, provided they aren’t my own.”
She reminded herself he wasn’t here forever. Only until Manny returned.
She sighed with resignation. “Welcome to Wheeler Berry Farm. We haven’t been formally introduced. I’m Elisabeth Wheeler.”
“Henry Davenport, but you already knew that.”
His perfectly straight teeth flashed in a brilliant smile, reminding Elisabeth that Sam’s braces were coming up. “Cynthia told me your name so I could check your references.”
His eyes widened. “You checked my…references?”
“Of course I did. I’m not in the habit of hiring people this way, but I know enough to check references,” Elisabeth admitted. “Manny, my foreman, usually takes care of it. But his mother is ill, and he needs to be with her. That’s why I needed help. The kids and I can’t do it ourselves.”
“How old are the kids?”
“Sam’s eleven, Abigail’s eight, and Caitlin’s told you she’s four. They’re good kids most of the time. Okay, some of the time. They have their moments. Will you be able to handle that?”
“Yes.”
He wet his lips, and she had to force her gaze away from them. Strange. She wasn’t in the habit of staring at men’s mouths.
“What about your parents?” he asked.
Sadness washed over her. No one had asked about them in so long. Everyone in Berry Patch knew what had happened, but no one wanted to bring it up. No one except the state caseworker who checked in on her siblings.
“They’re gone.” Elisabeth met his inquisitive gaze.
She didn’t want to talk about them. “Your references gave glowing recommendations. One person, Brett Matthews, seemed surprised by your…situation.” That was putting it mildly, but she didn’t want to hurt Henry’s feelings.
“I hope I didn’t cause any problems for you. ”
“You didn’t. Brett is a financial adviser,” Henry said. “He must have assumed I was following his advice.”
That made sense. But Brett had recommended Henry for the job, saying he was loyal with a heart of gold and would be a helpful employee.
He added Henry was good with children and babysat Brett’s daughter and another friend’s newborn son.
That, in addition to the money from Cynthia Sterling, had sealed the deal in Elisabeth’s mind.
Geese flew overhead. One more sign autumn had arrived, and it was time to prepare for winter. Good thing she’d found help.
“Tell me about your farm,” Henry said.
“I’m the fifth generation of Wheelers to farm this land. We have over a hundred acres of the most fertile land in the Willamette Valley. Some of the original homestead was sold off during the Depression.”
She had a love-hate relationship with the land, but pride filled her voice.
She hadn’t succeeded, but she hadn’t failed, either.
Growing up, this might not have been her dream, but it was her life now.
One she wasn’t about to let go. No matter how difficult things got, she would make sure the farm thrived for her sisters and brother.
They would always have a home to return to when they got older.
“Thirty acres are row crops—beans and corn. The others are berries—raspberries, marionberries, boysenberries, and evergreen blackberries. We have a small vegetable and herb garden and a handful of livestock. A horse, a cow, a few goats, and some chickens.”
“As I told Sam, I’ve never worked on a farm before.”
He sounded sincere and honest. Maybe this would work out. Elisabeth hoped so.
“Cynthia explained that to me, but I’ll show you what to do. And I’ll be here to answer any questions. That is, when I’m not working at the restaurant.”
“Sounds like you keep busy.”
“I do.”
“What do you do for fun?”
Fun? That word hadn’t been part of her vocabulary for years. Yet with Henry standing right next to her, wearing a devastating grin on his face, she could imagine having fun with him. A lot of fun. The thought made her wish he wasn’t going to be living here for the next month. “I—”
The bang of the screen door interrupted her. Sam stood on the porch, scowling. “Caitlin’s on the pot and needs you.”
“Be right there.” Relieved by the interruption, Elisabeth brushed a strand of hair off her face. “That’s my cue to go inside.”