Mom In The Middle. Mae Nunn

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      He held up his palms deflecting the praise. “Hey, I’m just a regular guy trying to walk the walk the company teaches. When I saw he needed help, I offered to stick around. Any H&H employee would do the same.” He downplayed his kindness.

      She let her shoulders slump, relaxing for the first time all day. It was nice to meet a simple man who believed in acts of kindness.

      “I’ll mop up back here later,” she gestured to the spatters of grimy water on the utility-room floor. “But right now we have to grab a sandwich and get to the hospital before visiting hours are over.”

      “Hey, no problem. I’ll just pick up this mess, put away the tools and show myself to the door.” He squatted and began loading rusted pipes into the cardboard box. “By the way, your dad’s really something.”

      “Yeah, I agree.” She nodded and turned to leave the utility room.

      “And quite the talker,” he added with a note of amusement in his voice.

      Afraid to ask what that meant, she kept moving.

      True to his word, Guy Hardy finished up the work, and ten minutes later poked his head into the kitchen to say goodbye. He declined the offer of a sandwich and even insisted on letting himself out as if he’d done it a hundred times.

      Abby rose to put her plate in the sink and glanced toward the family room. Through the large picture window she could see the driveway was once again empty. He was probably halfway back to the store that would be open for several more hours.

      “Dad, if you’ll wash Dillon’s face, I’ll go freshen up and we’ll still have time to stop at the market for that bunch of flowers you wanted to get Mama.”

      As Abby passed the laundry-room door, she glanced inside, expecting to find wet traces of their sink repair. Instead, the white linoleum floor was much cleaner than usual. The mop was thoughtfully replaced, damp end upward, in the hanging utility rack. This regular guy, as he called himself, was nice and a clean freak.

      She sighed, knowing there was only one way to handle this. With the bedroom door closed, she asked directory assistance for the new Hearth and Home Super Center. After the cheery greeting, Abby requested the store manager. Following a brief hold, a woman’s voice answered.

      “I’m Leah Miller, and it’s my pleasure to serve you.”

      “This is Abby Cramer and I left some things there on Saturday after my mother’s accident.”

      “Oh, yes, Mrs. Cramer,” the voice was filled with concern. “If there’s any way we can be of help to your family, you just let us know.”

      “Well, thank you for the kind offer, but I was really calling for another reason. I’d like to compliment one of your employees. He delivered everything today and then stuck around to help my father with a plumbing repair.”

      “That’s the kind of story we like to hear about our personnel. Can you give me the employee’s name, please?”

      “He’s the same person who took us to the hospital. His name is Guy. Guy Hardy. Do you think you could put a note in his file so it will look good on his work record?”

      “Ma’am, I don’t think I’ll be able to do that,” the woman sounded amused. “Guy doesn’t have an employee file. Not in Austin, anyway.”

      “I don’t understand.” Abby squinted at herself in the mirror above her dresser.

      “Guy’s the boss,” Leah said simply.

      “But I thought you were the manager.”

      “Yes, ma’am, that’s true. I’m the manager, but Guy Hardy is the owner.”

      Abby watched her own reaction in the mirror as her jaw sagged with the realization.

      There was nothing at all regular about this Guy.

      Chapter Three

      Abby fastened her seat belt and slammed the door of the van.

      Well, that explains it, Lord. The nice-guy act had nothing to do with genuine kindness and everything to do with protecting his interests. When will I learn not to be such a Pollyanna?

      She shifted into reverse, turned to glance behind her and looked at her precious boy. He’d dozed off the moment he’d settled into his car seat. Her father was silent for once, busy with his own thoughts. The quiet was a welcome relief from all the chatter of her first graders. The school year was winding down. Coming to a screeching halt, actually. She was preparing her kids for the testing that would assess not only their skills but her ability as a teacher. With the burgeoning Hispanic population in Texas, many children required special attention because English was their second language. She could teach twelve hours a day and not meet everybody’s needs. The playground project at church was behind schedule, underfunded and she still hadn’t found a weekend sitter so she could devote more time to its completion. School would be out just after Mother’s Day, the day of the playground unveiling, and there was more on her to-do list than she could possibly accomplish in what little free time she had.

      And now it looked like she might have a battle with an insurance company on her hands. The true identity of Guy “Good Samaritan” Hardy was just one more brick in the wall that was weighing heavily on Abby’s heart. On Saturday he’d insisted the store would cover her mother’s medical expenses, but that was when he’d thought Hearth and Home might somehow be responsible. Now that they had the diagnosis of a spontaneous fracture, would the store try to weasel out? Would their insurance provider be like the others, washing their hands of the case and leaving her folks to fill in the gap that would surely be left once Medicare benefits were paid? They’d had enough setbacks during her father’s battle with MS to know how quickly the bills could pile up. Abby prayed they wouldn’t have to rely on their church for assistance. Again.

      The hospital parking lot was full and once more she was grateful for the handicapped spaces up front.

      “Daddy, you go on in and stay as long as you’d like,” she offered as they entered the building. “I’ll sit out here with Dillon.”

      “You sure were quiet on the way here, baby girl. I know you’ve got a lot on your plate right now, but you don’t need to worry about me and your mama. Just pray that God will continue to bless us like He always has and we’ll be fine.”

      Her daddy wheeled the manual chair that should have been replaced ages ago out of sight and Abby sank down onto a waiting-room sofa.

      “If God continues to bless us like He always has,” she muttered to herself, “we’re in a heap of trouble.”

      The next afternoon, Guy climbed down Shorty’s stepladder and flipped the switch by the kitchen door. The ceiling fan overhead whirred to life, sending a gentle rustle of cool air through the room. Guy folded the aluminum ladder, leaned it carefully against the wall, and gave the shiny silver chain that dangled from the new light fixture a tug. The bulbs glowed inside their tulip-cup houses, spreading much-needed illumination across the kitchen countertops.

      One last touch and the job would be finished. He fished in the pocket of his Hearth and Home apron, drew out a small, faceted glass prism, and clipped it to the end of the СКАЧАТЬ