The Nanny's Little Matchmakers

Mitch turned to Polly. “I believe you said people were waiting on me.”

Her brows furrowed as she pursed her lips, but she didn’t argue with him. She meant well, he knew, but Polly didn’t understand what he was up against. What he’d always been up against. People were constantly trying to be his friend, hoping to gain access to the amazing Hattie Winston. And now that she was gone, every charlatan in town was offering “help” with the case, only their motives weren’t so pure. Whether it was to prove his guilt, or get the inside scoop for the latest newspaper, all the supposed offers of help never had Mitch’s best interests in mind.

Did Will have Mitch’s best interests in mind? He had no idea. He’d barely met the man, and while Polly’s recommendation might mean something to some people, Mitch had too much at stake to trust just anyone.

Polly led him into the parlor, where Pastor Lassiter, Gertie and Maddie sat waiting. Before Mitch could speak, Pastor Lassiter stood.

“Now I know you object to receiving help, but I have to say that in this instance, you are going to accept what we offer. Those children of yours need protection, and if they’re staying with us, no one is going to know who they are. Folks around here are used to us having all sorts of children running around, and not one will question who these children are. Pride isn’t going to keep your children safe.”

Mitch nodded slowly. “Thank you. I am grateful for the offer. In fact, I was afraid of what would happen if I had to take them back home. They don’t need to be subjected to the scandal.”

The older man looked at him solemnly. “Now, Polly assures me that you’re innocent, but I need to hear it from you. I won’t harbor a murderer in my home.”

The ever-present lump in Mitch’s throat threatened to cut off his airway. It seemed like all he ever did was proclaim his innocence, but no one ever listened.

“I didn’t kill Hattie.”

There. The words were his own, but he hardly recognized his voice. He had children who were grieving a lost mother, and rather than focusing on them, he had to continually defend himself.

“Where are my children?”

Polly smiled at him. “They’re playing in the yard. We’re letting them get their wiggles out before we start lessons.”

Once again, Mitch nodded slowly, trying to process the information. Laughter drifted toward him, and somewhere in there, he thought he recognized the sound of his own children. Pastor Lassiter walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder.

“I believe you, son. But from what I’ve seen in the papers, you’re going to need to do a lot more than what you’ve been doing to get the rest of society to believe it.”

Mitch’s body went cold as he looked around the room. “You’ve seen the papers? Are they here? I don’t want the children—”