Nanny to the Billionaire's Son. Barbara McMahon

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СКАЧАТЬ dark and handsome—and he could dance better than Fred Astaire, I believe.” She ended, mentioning one of Hollywood’s most famous dancers she and her sister enjoyed watching in old black and white movies.

      “Ooooh, do tell all!”

      Sam put some bread in the toaster and began to relate every delicious memory of the previous evening to her sister. She ended with her dances with Mac.

      “We danced, then I left.”

      “That’s all?” Charlene clearly wanted more.

      “Actually the tall, dark and handsome stranger turned out to be the man from whose office I got the ticket. What are the odds of that happening? Once I realized that, I left before he figured it out. I consider that a lucky break. I was worried half the evening that someone would spot me as an imposter and have me thrown out.”

      “You didn’t do anything wrong. The ticket had been thrown away. You were just recycling,” Charlene said.

      “Which was the argument you used to talk me into going. And I’m glad I did, but the longer I stayed, the more chance there was of someone asking how I came to acquire a ticket.”

      “No one would have been so rude. And your dress fit in, didn’t it? You’ll have to tell Margaret all about it.”

      “You should have seen the designer creations there. But I held my own. It’s a lovely gown and I’m so glad she trusted it to me. What if I had spilled champagne on it or, worse, caviar?”

      Charlene laughed. “My sister, the champagne and caviar girl.”

      “Well, champagne maybe. I don’t think I’ll be eating caviar again.” Sitting at the table, she finished her toast, still feeling the warm glow from the night before. She’d had a fabulous time. If only she could have afforded to buy a ticket on her own and gone without a care in the world. The party had ended too early for her and would never be repeated.

      She’d relished the sensations she experienced wearing that shimmery satin dress. It would take a long time to forget the feelings of elegance and sophistication. A magic beginning to the New Year.

      And a kiss to welcome it in. She hadn’t had that in a few years, either.

      She glanced up, at the coat hanging from the nail on the plywood at the back. She’d hung it on one of the nails last night to let the dampness dry.

      “At least that’s good for something,” she muttered.

      “Hey, we’re warm and dry,” Charlene said.

      “Dry anyway. It’s drafty in here. And I’m so tired of using a camping stove for cooking instead of our old gas range. It’ll take weeks to finish paying off the roof before we can start saving for this repair. It’s already the worst part of winter. Do we want the back wall open to the elements now? The house is hard enough to heat in winter without losing a wall for a few days.” She sighed. She was back to reality with a vengeance.

      Charlene gazed at the damaged space patched by panels of plywood. “It could have been worse—we could have been in here when the tree crashed through.”

      “We were too busy trying to stem the flood of water coming in through the attic when parts of the roof blew off,” Sam reminded her. The hurricane that had freakishly blown into Georgia last September had wreaked havoc in a wide swatch of the state, including this southside of the state capital. Their roof, more than a hundred years old, had not stood up to the gale force winds. Nor had the huge old oak trees that fell beneath that force when the soil became saturated with all the water that rained down for days. Only one fallen tree had damaged the house, thank goodness. But it had done a tremendous job of taking out most of the back wall.

      Insurance covered a portion of the repair costs but it was up to Sam to earn the extra money needed to finish the repairs and get their home back in order. Charlene did the best she could, but there was a limit to her work as a transcriptionist.

      “Happy New Year, Sam,” Charlene said, raising her mug.

      Sam clinked hers against her sister’s and smiled. “Happy New Year, sis.”

      She felt her eyes fill with tears and blinked, looking away. Only a short time ago she’d been kissed into the New Year.

      “So are we going to make New Year’s resolutions?” Charlene asked.

      “We do each year, why should this one be different?” Sam asked, hoping her sister didn’t see her distress.

      “Then, I resolve to make a push to sell some of my quilts,” Charlene said.

      Sam laughed. “You say that every year.” There was nothing wrong with her life. She should be grateful it was as full as it was.

      “This time I mean it. I’ll force myself. It’s not right that you have to do everything for me. I’m capable. The damage from the hurricane shows me how close to the edge we live. I need to do something to contribute to the unusual expenditure, not be a drain.”

      “You’re not a drain. You have your job and I have mine.”

      “Face it, Sam. If I can get some of these quilts sold, it would help a lot and make your time working that second job shorter.”

      Her sister had been confined to a wheelchair since the accident nine years ago. Charlene would never walk again, nor dance, nor enjoy all the freedom that Sam took for granted. But she pulled her own weight with her home-based job and as a hobby made beautiful quilts. Some were the traditional kind that went on beds. But more and more she was doing artistic work—quilted pictures and clothing. Sam had two of her quilted vests and always received compliments when she wore them.

      “And you should resolve to go back to school,” Charlene said before Sam could think up a single resolution.

      “I have a full-time job and am working nights until we get the house repaired. When do you suggest I consider attending classes and studying?” Sam asked. She loved the courses she took at one of the local colleges. It was taking far longer than she originally expected to get her degree, but she drew closer each year.

      “I don’t know, but you need to put that as a resolution. If I could sell a few quilts for enough money, we could catch up on the bills and arrange for the repairs.”

      “You do that and I’ll look into college again.” She rose and went to the sink to run water in her cup, not wanting Charlene to see how fragile her control was. She longed to return to college to finish her degree. She had less than a year’s worth of classes left. Once she had her B.S., she would apply for a job with the National Park Service. She’d have to make sure she could afford living arrangements for her and her sister if she got selected. But if they could renovate this house, they could either sell it, or rent it out when they moved west. It was the only legacy their parents had left them. It was a mixed blessing, now, with the hurricane damage.

      “I’ll need help,” Charlene said.

      “With what?” Sam turned to look at her sister. She was so pretty and seemed so small tucked in that chair.

      “Getting contacts. Finding someone willing to buy the quilts,” Charlene said.

      “Doesn’t your quilting guild have СКАЧАТЬ