Page 22 of Architect's Christmas Nanny

Brad followed after them, amazed at how well Jillian always seemed to meet Josie where she was, whether her mood was upbeat or morose.

Though he honestly couldn’t remember Josie being like this very often—when she was sick maybe, and feverish?

“I don’t want to talk about it,” Josie said as Jillian helped her into the back seat.

“You don’t have to,” Jillian told her right away. “But when you’re ready, I’ll be here.”

Josie rolled her eyes, which made Brad feel worse and better at the same time.

Jillian gave him a quick look, as if to tell him not to scold the girl for her rudeness.

He nodded, knowing it was better to allow the eye roll than to push back when he was just glad she was being responsive at all.

He opened Jillian’s door for her, as always, and then got in himself and started the car.

As the little town melted away into suburban homes, then the college campus, and finally the trees and fieldsof the countryside, he felt his heartbeat slow and his mind begin to race with ideas of what might be going on with Josie.

Is she being bullied?

It was hard to imagine his headstrong and independent daughter letting anyone push her around. But it probably wasn’t easy being the new kid, even at a sweet little country school.

I’ll talk with Principal Tucker again, he decided.

“I think I found our first Christmas tradition today,” Jillian said suddenly. Her voice was modulated but happy. “It’s a volunteer project.”

“What is it?” Josie asked from the back seat, sounding more like herself.

“Your grandmother helps to run a festival that happens between Christmas and New Year’s,” Jillian said, sounding pretty excited now. “She does a big book sale.”

“The Winter Wonderland,” Josie said, her voice animated now. “I love the Winter Wonderland.”

Brad kept his mouth shut, feeling more relieved by the moment.

“Well, your grandma wanted to know if we want to help sort all the donations,” Jillian said. “And she said if we had any children’s books of our own that we don’t want anymore, we can bring them to your Aunt Caroline at the library.”

“I helped her with story hour for the little kids last year,” Josie said excitedly. “Yes, let’s do that.”

“Okay,” Jillian said. “We found our volunteer project, then.”

Josie started suggesting old books that she didnotwant to donate, and Jillian immediately began making akeeplist on her phone, though Brad was pretty sure she knew that list by heart. He’d come home to find the two of them bent over the pages of one of those beloved stories many times over the years.

The first day he came home to find them curled up on the sofa, each bent over herownbook was a bittersweet memory. He’d felt a wash of pride and a bite of sadness all at once at the clear evidence his little girl was growing up.

But this was good news. The volunteer project Jillian had chosen just so happened to be one that involved a family member already, so Brad knew he could let Grandma be the one to take over this tradition with Josie, and he could focus on making a decision about the space in town. Or at least that was what he should do.

“Can I help too?” he heard himself ask suddenly.

For a startled moment no one answered, and the only sound was the car’s engine and the faint sound of Bing Crosby singing “The Little Drummer Boy” on the radio, which Brad had turned down, but not off when Jillian got in the car with him earlier.

“Yes, Dad,” Josie said at last. “That would actually be really awesome. Right, Jillian?”

“Definitely,” Jillian said.

He kept his eyes on the road, but he could hear the smile in her voice. Warmth spread in his chest at the idea that he had earned her approval.

His two favorite girls kept mapping out books to keep and give away, and Brad turned onto Providence and into the tall trees that would lead them home.

A few hours later,they had pulled out every book they owned and were spending most of their time sorting, but also a good bit of it stopping to read passages and look at favorite pictures from some of Josie’s old favorites.

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