Page 7 of Hold My Heart

He noticed the tension in her shoulders. “Do you go by Oly?”

“No,neverOly.” She shuddered, took a deep breath and held it, trying to keep it together, but reached out all the same and shook his hand.

She wore no jewelry, he noticed, not even a pair of studs on her ears. Pretty enough, she needed no adornment. He kept eye contact with her for a moment before searching her face. It was a good face, strong and supple, hidden behind thick waves of chestnut-brown hair that tapered off into an angled cut well below her shoulders.

Pretty? No, she wasbeautiful, he thought with a start. Maybe beautiful wasn’t even the right word. Statuesque, maybe, in the way of old-time movie stars. A modern-day Catwoman with the grace and style of Julie Newmar. He took in her heart-shaped face, the gorgeous eyes only slightly marred by the destroyed mascara, prominent cheekbones highlighted by a rosy color he attributed more to stress than rouge, and full lips that quivered just a bit. He was tall, and she came up to around his shoulders. Which had to put her around five foot eight, maybe five nine.

“And this is Renee,” she said with a sigh. “Renee Salant.”

“I amnot!”

The scream pierced his eardrums, but at least it was words instead of just unintelligible sounds.

Olympia turned on her heel, hands on her hips. “Yes, honey, that is your name. You are Renee.”

“I don’t like you!” the little girl screamed. Her face turned even redder with exertion. “I think you’re ugly. And stinky. Stinky like poo! I have a mother and she’s nice. She’s notmeanlike you.”

Harlan watched the woman’s jaw tighten as she tried not to get upset. She blinked and shook her head to clear it. In a quick movement, she took the pot off the burner and winced when the steam burned her wrist.

Renee was still screaming. “I hate you!I hate you!”

He wasn’t going to give in to Renee’s tantrum and instead kept his attention on Olympia. “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine,” she insisted, shaking her head. “Still trying to get a handle on this motherhood thing. I need help, and although you’re a man, you’re also my best option.” She said it by way of explanation, her lips twisting apologetically, as though the words would hurt him. He’d heard them too many times before to be insulted. “I had to take money out of my 401k to hire you. I wasn’t sure what else to do. Daycare is way too expensive. More than my mortgage.”

He nodded gravely and fought against the urge to grab her slightly reddened wrist and press his mouth against the burn. Kiss it and make it better. “I understand, and I appreciate you taking a chance on me. This late in the year there aren’t really a lot of options. You said she’s four?” He indicated the screaming toddler.

“Yes. Four. At least I think she’s four. I don’t remember her birthday. The lawyer told me at some point, I’m sure. Or it’s in the papers somewhere...”

Then he remembered the few details she’d given over the phone. The girl—Renee—did not belong to Olympia by birth. Something about a cousin and a tragic accident. It was some sort of guardianship deal, very sudden and unexpected. No wonder she was overwhelmed. As the nearest family member, she’d been thrust into motherhood without a chance to acclimate to the idea or have anyone help her along the way.

His decision to do all he could for this family strengthened, bolstered by an underlying desire to ease the lines of stress fanning away from her mouth.

She released a sigh that was closer to a sob. “I have a full-time job, you see, and preschools in the area have already started their school terms. Not to mention most of them have a waitlist. She isn’t old enough yet for any other type of school, and daycare around here can be positively unreasonable.”

“So I’m told.”

Olympia pressed her fingertips to the bridge of her nose. “I...I was out of options. I can’t take any more time away from my job. I work for the art gallery in town and we have a giant fundraiser coming up in another month. I’m in charge of it, and if I don’t show up, then it’s all going to go to hell in a hand basket. Someone else will be brought in to take over if I can’t handle the new responsibilities and I’ll lose everything I’ve worked so hard for.” Her hands lifted helplessly before falling to her sides once more. Her chin trembled, her eyes closed, and a tear slipped out. “I don’t know how to be a mom.I don’t know how to do this.”

“Look, I can help,” Harlan said softly, moving to his leather messenger bag and pausing to shoot Renee a smile. She screamed harder in response. He resisted the urge to cover his ears. “I have a few papers I need you to sign for me. Then, if you don’t mind, we can get out of your way, let you do whatever you need to do, and I can get acquainted with this little girl.”

Olympia watched as he pulled some documents from his bag. His face was smooth, thin and angular in a boyish way. Dark blond hair fell in untidy bits around his face, too long and too shaggy to do anything but hang over his ears. He pushed it out of the way with his fingers and tried to go for a professional I-have-everything-covered grin. His eyes, a dark clear hazel, never wavered as he turned back to stare at her expectantly, holding the papers out for her.

“You have a baby face,” she commented. “Exactly how old are you?”

Harlan glanced up from the papers, eyes wide. “I’m thirty-one.”

She gulped. Yikes! “Wow, yeah, you’re young.”

“Not really. I think the cut off foryoungis twenty-two.”

While Renee kicked and fought against the holder keeping her from tipping out of her chair, he finally broke the staring match with Olympia and glanced down at his watch, noticed that only five minutes had passed. It felt like a lifetime. He looked back at her and didn’t have time to open his mouth before she was sighing and rushing toward the baby.

“It was signing papers that threw my life into a tailspin in the first place.”

She could only mean the legal estate documents, he thought in a rush, and wondered how it would feel to be thrown to the wolves, in a manner of speaking. He’d seen enough of the house to know that this was not a woman accustomed to messes, at least not the physical kind. Kids were nothing if not a mess on two legs. The Victorian was immaculate, with antiques in every room and expensive draperies and rugs. The pieces each looked picked out particularly to go with the era of the home. Everything in its place. And valuable to boot.

Sympathy rising and mouth dry, Harlan said, “Be that as it may, if we want this to be a legitimate arrangement, I need you to sign these releasing me from any liability when it comes to Renee. It’s standard procedure to protect both myself and you if something happens—which I’m not saying it will, I just like to be prepared. Then I want you to go sit on the couch. You need to kick your feet up. Relax.”

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