The Single Dad Next Door

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“If you want to take in the sights, I can watch the girls for you.” Mrs. Rowe—the lawyer’s wife—smoothed her hand over the French braid she’d finished on Skylar’s hair.

“Me next.” Ruthy handed the older woman a hair tie and plopped down in front of her.

Kellen smiled as the three females laughed together. While his daughters loved when he gave them attention, they seemed to practically glow under the care of a woman. For the hundredth time he wished he could have given them a better mother in life. One day when he had to explain to them that their own mother hadn’t wanted them, what would he say? That they meant so little to her that she’d signed away her rights the second Kellen offered to give up his claim to all the royalties he earned for writing the Snaggletooth Lions’ popular songs?

He’d never pictured cozying up with Ida’s lawyer and his wife, but he didn’t know many people in town yet. Besides, they were a kind old couple who seemed taken with his daughters.

“We don’t have any grandchildren of our own. Both of my sons decided to pursue careers instead of families. I’m afraid that’s a thing with this generation.” She tickled the back of Ruthy’s neck, causing her to erupt with squeals.

He couldn’t blame the Rowes’ sons. Kellen had taken off from home with only his passion for music lodged in his heart. Not a dream of family. His daughters hadn’t been planned. Family fell into his lap. But he’d choose them now. “Maybe your sons will change their minds.”

Mr. Rowe ducked through the cottage’s small doorway. “How’d the sale go today?”

“Not as well as I hoped, but then again, it’s a Friday and people are working. I’ll try again tomorrow. I really need to clear out the place before the truck with my stuff gets here.”

“I could set you up for an auction. You might do better that way.”

The lawyer was probably in his midfifties. Even though he wasn’t working today, Mr. Rowe wore dress slacks with a tucked-in polo and shined dress shoes. Kellen doubted the man owned a single pair of jeans.

“That’s a good idea.”

“It’ll take one call.”

“Go ahead and do it.” Kellen leaned his shoulder against the doorframe and watched his girls as they chatted with Mrs. Rowe. The woman pulled a baggie of cookies from her purse.

“Oh! Let’s have a tea party.” Skylar jumped up and down and then proceeded to show Ruthy how to nibble her cookie “just-so.” Because that was how ladies ate, apparently.

He’d have to dig back through the garage and save a few of Ida’s unsold teacups for them. Maybe Maggie was right about keeping a few special belongings. His girls would imagine themselves queens of far-off lands if they were allowed to use Ida’s china.

The lawyer pulled a smartphone from his back pocket. “You look stressed, son. Why don’t you take a walk? It would do you good to have a breath of fresh air. My wife and I will stay with the girls.”

Kellen really didn’t want to leave Skylar and Ruthy with people he hardly knew. Then again, there was something he needed to take care of. “If you could stay with them for a couple minutes, actually that would be great.”

He bowed out of the room and started toward the Victorian mansion next door. The sun had begun to set, making the sky purple, but even in the dim evening light the sage clapboard and pink-painted details on the home were easy to spot. The carved wood that trimmed every dormer and corner of the house spoke of a long-forgotten time period. Guests must bump down the driveway, gasping when they first saw the place, and look forward to the rest and relaxation they’d find inside.

The inn might belong to him, but the way he’d delivered the information to Maggie West had been nothing short of cruel. When she challenged him about redoing Ida’s home, he’d spat out the word freeloader without thinking. She deserved an apology.

Maggie might be too attached to earthly treasures, but that was her beef to worry about, not his. It was just...he’d thought he’d escaped materialistic people by moving his girls away from Los Angeles. So much for his ideal vision of Goose Harbor being a safe haven to raise his family away from the worldly influences of the country’s pop culture. He welcomed the realization, though—no place was perfect and he’d never be able to shelter his girls from everything. Not completely. At least people didn’t walk around Goose Harbor half-dressed, although that could have more to do with the climate than anything else. Either way, that was one small victory.

Kellen eased through the gate that connected the two yards. He spotted Maggie right away. Knees in the wet dirt around the flower beds, Maggie yanked out weeds while mumbling under her breath. She worked quickly and had a smear of mud across her forehead. Kellen bit back a smile. The woman moved like the cartoon Tasmanian Devil. All frenzied motion. All passion.

Maybe that was why, despite wanting to steer clear of women who cared more about possessions than people, he felt drawn to her. When they’d argued earlier, a fire flicked across her eyes. Maggie West didn’t do anything halfway. Even if something was going to be done wrong, it would be done with ten times more zeal than it required.

He stopped about a foot behind her. She yanked out a dandelion and tossed it over her shoulder.

The weed landed on his leather shoe. “Are you able to take a break?”

Hand to her heart, Maggie jumped. “I didn’t hear anyone sneak up behind me.” She stopped her laugh when she looked behind her and caught sight of him. “Oh. It’s you.”

“Listen. I want to talk to you. Can we sit on the steps for a minute?” He pointed toward the pink steps leading to the front door.

“Sorry. I can’t stop.” She kept her back to him. “I have so much to get done and not enough hours to do it in. I really don’t have time to talk to you right now.”

“Please? It’ll only take a few minutes.”

She rocked back on her heels and squinted up at him. “Some people don’t have the luxury of relaxing all the time. We have to work while other people get things handed to them. Besides, I wouldn’t want anyone thinking I was freeloading, would I? Don’t you want the flower beds of your inn to look good for the next guests arriving tomorrow?”

He chose to ignore the freeloading barb she’d tossed into the conversation, seeing as he’d come to apologize.

A story from the Bible played across his mind, as they’d been doing so often lately since he’d started reading it again. It was the part in the New Testament when Jesus spoke at Mary and Martha’s house and Martha was too busy taking care of everyone to listen and became upset with Mary for sitting at the feet of Jesus instead of helping.

Did God want him to remind Maggie of that Bible story? It felt like it. But Kellen couldn’t be sure. He’d spent so many years ignoring when he felt God wanted him to do something to know for certain. He might be a grown man, but despite being raised in the church, he was still only a young Christian.

With the way he had acted this morning, he couldn’t blame her for being worried and upset after finding out he owned the place where she currently lived and worked—but he could end both of those emotions for her by being honest about the will.

He bent down to be eye level with her. “Martha, Martha. You are worried and upset about many things. Aren’t you?”

Maggie turned back to the flower bed. “Not that it probably matters to you, but my name isn’t Martha.”

“I know.”

She kept her eyes focused on the ground. “I’m surprised that you know the Bible at all, seeing as you were going to ditch Ida’s as quickly as an old newspaper.”

Kellen forced his shoulders to relax as he held back the response that came to his lips. “My dad is a minister.”

“Could have fooled me.”

It was going to take everything in him to apologize to Maggie without snapping back at her. Kellen took a deep breath and counted to ten before speaking. “You’re right. I wasn’t a good church kid growing up. I rejected everything my dad taught and lived life by my terms for a long time. God kept chasing me, though, and I’m His for good now. The funniest thing is, now my dad’s old sermons keep coming back to me at the oddest times.”

She yanked out another weed.

He moved a foot away and kneeled in the flower bed.

She watched him out of the corner of her eye. “You’ll ruin those fancy designer jeans.”

Kellen ran his fingers over the mulch. “I always wondered if Martha had just asked the people gathered to hear Jesus talk if they would help her, the chores could have all been done in a couple minutes and then she could have been sitting there at the Lord’s feet next to her sister.”

“Maybe she had no one to ask. Or maybe she knew it would be a waste of time to ask because no one would come to her rescue. Maybe Martha was all on her own and knew her sister wasn’t about to leave what she was doing to help.” She yanked out a weed with so much force it took out the flower next to it, as well. “Maybe, like me, she had no choice. What if she felt like she was drowning and losing what she cared about and she...?” Maggie shook her head. “So don’t talk to me about helping.”

Dare he challenge her? “Is it that you’re alone, or is it that you refuse to ask for help?”

“You don’t understand what I’m saying.” She shot him a glare and inched farther away. “I’m done talking to you.”

Kellen yanked out a weed.

Maggie rocked back onto her heels and let out a huff. “Just what are you doing?”