His Ideal Match

“Best of anything.”

Odelia grinned and clapped her hands. “So do I!”

Just then, a frantic male voice cried out, “Grace! Grace, where are you?”

“In here,” Odelia trilled.

Phillip arrived, breathless, one boy in hand and another trailing behind with a scowl on his bespectacled face.

“Thank You, God!” Phillip gasped, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. Slumping against the doorjamb, he huffed out a breath and sucked in another before fixing Grace with a baleful glare. “Young lady, you scared the life out of me.”

“I’m sorry,” Grace said contritely, going to take his free hand in hers.

Odelia watched all six foot four inches of her nephew melt like so much marshmallow over a campfire. Interesting.

“Just don’t take off like that again,” he scolded before looking to Odelia. “I’m sorry. She got away from us.”

“You are so in for it,” chortled the freckle-faced, gap-toothed boy being physically restrained by Phillip.

“No, she is not,” Odelia decreed, smiling down at her little guest, “but perhaps next time, she will seek permission before she goes exploring.”

“Yes, ma’am,” coached the older boy with glasses. Reaching around Phillip, he poked the girl.

“Yes, ma’am,” little Grace echoed dutifully.

“Very well,” Odelia said, waving them all out. “We’ll make formal introductions at luncheon.”

As Phillip towed the children away, he said, “I’m not sure what Hilda has planned for lunch.”

“Whatever it is,” Odelia told him brightly, following their ragtag little group into the sitting room, “I’m sure it will be lovely.”

After a season of weddings, they had experienced a tranquil period at Chatam House. First had come the marriage of Phillip’s older brother, Asher, and Kent’s granddaughter Ellie, whose newborn daughter the family had recently welcomed. Chatam House’s gardener, Garrett Willows, and his Jessa had married almost immediately afterward, with Odelia and Kent’s wedding following just one month later. Shortly after that, Phillip’s oldest sister, Petra, had married Garrett’s friend Dale Bowen.

Two other nephews, Reeves and Chandler, and a niece, Kaylie, had met their spouses here at Chatam House. It had been months since the house had hosted company, however. Then Phillip had arrived, for no apparent reason, and here he remained, much to the disgust of his parents and the concern of his aunts. The boy just did not seem to want to work. Oh, he wasn’t lazy; he just had no direction. He seemed to be waiting for some sort of inspiration to strike—or for some grand adventure to present itself.

Hypatia was of the opinion that they had been more than patient with him. Certainly she and her sisters had been praying for him. Watching him now, Odelia couldn’t help wondering what God had in store for Phillip. One thing she knew without doubt was that God always had a plan for His children.

She suspected that Phillip was about to find that out.

* * *

When Carissa Hopper did not return as expected that evening, Phillip was ready to climb the walls. He had scaled mountains less challenging than dealing with three kids! While little Grace beguiled everyone into getting her way, Tucker treated the mansion like his personal playground, haring off without warning. Nathan, meanwhile, remained solemn, suspicious and openly hostile, especially toward Phillip. It shouldn’t have mattered, but it bothered Phillip. People usually liked him. Then again, he didn’t have much experience with children. In fact, if anyone had told him that he’d have to work so hard to keep three youngsters from tearing the house down, he’d have scoffed. How Carissa Hopper had somehow managed to shelter, feed, clothe and survive this trio all alone for years was a mystery to him.

Hilda and Chester insisted that it wasn’t like Carissa to lose track of time or forget to call, but their phone calls to her went unanswered. Someone—Hypatia probably—alerted Phillip’s baby sister, Dallas. She showed up with her short, curly, carrot-red hair held back by a wide headband. She looked a little thin to him but oddly serene. A second-grade teacher, Dallas waded right in, taking control of the children and leaving Phillip free to enjoy his dinner. When Chester came into the dining room immediately after the meal, everyone knew that something was wrong. Dressed as always in a white shirt, black tie, black slacks and black lace-up shoes, Chester looked worried, a hand smoothing over his nearly bald head.

“Carissa has been at the emergency room with her father. Now they’re back home. I’m going to take some food over to them and try to convince Carissa to let the children stay here for the night.”

He and Hilda lived with Hilda’s sister, Carol, the aunties’ maid, in the converted carriage house behind the mansion. Grace, Chester explained, could bunk with Carol for the night, leaving the small attic room, once occupied by the gardener, for the boys to share.

“Phillip can drive you over to your brother’s,” Odelia suggested to Chester. “I think you’re too worried to go alone.”

“Be glad to,” Phillip said, rising from the table.

Chester didn’t argue and merely nodded his head, an indication of just how worried he was.

They left a few minutes later and drove across town to an older apartment complex that had seen better days. Chester led the way to a ground-floor apartment that opened onto a depressingly bare inner courtyard. It never occurred to Phillip that he might have waited in the car until Carissa opened the door. The dismay on her face when she saw Phillip standing behind Chester left no doubt as to her thoughts on his presence there.

“Come inside,” she said unenthusiastically.

The tiny vestibule opened on one side into a narrow living room and on the other into a dining room, with space large enough for only a small table and two chairs. Both rooms were strewn with toys and packed with boxes and wobbly furniture. The place seemed barely large enough for two people in Phillip’s estimation, let alone five.

“How is Marshall?” Chester asked, handing over the bag filled with containers of Hilda’s food.

“They wanted to keep him in the hospital,” Carissa said, “but he wouldn’t have it.”

“All I needed was a breathing treatment,” grated a raspy voice. Phillip saw a wheelchair roll into view from the dining area.

“Dad, you should be in bed.”

Marshall braced his skeletal elbows on the arms of his old manual wheelchair and shook his head, wheezing with effort. “And you should be in a nice three-bedroom brick house in Dallas, but here we both are in this two-bedroom dump. Introduce me to this young man.”

Carissa sighed and beckoned Phillip forward. “This is Phillip Chatam. Phillip, my father, Marshall Worth.”

Phillip reached out a large, strong hand. “A pleasure to meet you, sir.”

Marshall’s thin, veined hand trembled. “You must be a nephew of those sisters, the triplets, that my brother works for.”

“Yes, sir, I am. One of many.”

Marshall waved a hand at his daughter, saying, “Sugar, put that food in the kitchen. Chester, take a load off.” He pointed to a dining chair. Niece and uncle traded looks and did as instructed.

“Phillip, I’m dying,” Marshall Worth said bluntly, “and this cancer’s taken everything I ever had. I’ll have nothing but rags and sticks to leave my daughter and grandchildren.”

“Daddy,” Carissa said, zipping back into the room, “that’s not important.”

“Chester and Hilda will do everything they can,” Marshall went on, as if she hadn’t even spoken, “and Carissa’s a hard worker, but she barely makes enough to feed them all.”

“Daddy, don’t worry,” Carissa pleaded.

“I can’t die without knowing you’ll have help,” he told her tiredly.

“Daddy!”

“Don’t concern yourself, sir,” Phillip interjected, leaning down to place a hand on the man’s rail-thin shoulder. “She won’t be alone or without help. You have my word as a Chatam.”

Tears filled Marshall Worth’s rheumy eyes, and he nodded with relief.

“Chatams are good people, so if you say it, I believe it,” he rasped.