Page 55 of Architect's Christmas Nanny

For a millisecond, Brad wondered how he was going to explain. But that was before he saw the piece of paper in Josie’s hand and the stack of wrapped presents on her bedside table, perfectly illuminated by a ray of sunlight.

“I’m sorry,” he told her, crouching in front of her bed and gazing up into the sweet face of the girl he would gladly do anything for. He knew there was nothing he could offer her but sympathy. Jillian was everything to them both.

“Why did you let her go?” Josie demanded between sobs. “Why didn’t you tell her?”

“How do you know I didn’t?” he asked. “How do you know she didn’t leave because she doesn’t feel the same.”

“Because shedoeslove you,” Josie yelled. “Are you blind?”

“What are you talking about?” he asked.

“It’s in the book,” she muttered to herself, sliding out of bed and moving to the box of books they had kept. Moose trailed her like an inky shadow.

“What book?” he asked, wondering what kind of evidence could possibly be in one of Josie’s books. He didn’t really think any of her picture or chapter books had men falling in love with their children’s nannies.

“Oh, no,” Josie breathed.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, getting up to join her.

“It’s the wrong box,” she said, her voice rising in panic. “This is the wrong one. Where’s the other one?”

“What do you mean?” Brad asked. “We had three boxes—two were to donate and one was to keep.”

“This one was supposed to go to the library,” Josie whimpered, tears sliding down her cheeks in a despairing way that Brad found much more frightening than the wailing and sobbing from earlier.

“I must have grabbed the wrong box,” he told her. “But it’s okay. We’ll go to the library and find it.”

“What if she already got rid of those books?” Josie demanded.

“Then we’ll go to the community center and look through the donations there,” Brad told her, suddenly realizing what an onerous task that would be. “Or I can buy you new books—lots of them.”

“The books Jillian wrote for me are in there,” Josie said sadly, crying openly now, her little face falling into her hands.

Brad felt like he’d been hit in the chest with an axe. Those books were Josie’s most prized possessions. They were precious to him too. They represented all of Josie’s childhood dreams and passions, and the love that Jillian felt for her. And now they would be the most tangible memory his daughter had of the woman who had practically been a mother to her.

“Come on,” he told her. “We’re going to the library right now. Let’s find those books.”

“But… we’re in our pajamas,” Josie said, her sobs turning to hiccups.

“I don’t care,” Brad told her. “Get your shoes on. I’m starting the car.”

Five minutes later, they were pulling out of the driveway, still dressed in pajamas, but with coats and shoes to manage in the cold.

“Give me your phone,” Josie demanded from the backseat.

He surrendered it without question, figuring she was going to call her Uncle Logan or Aunt Caroline. That probably would have been the smart thing to do, seeing as how she was the Children’s Librarian. Theymight be able to solve this whole thing with a simple phone call.

But something had him tearing out of the gravel lot as quickly as he dared with his daughter in the car, desperate to bring back at least the memory of the woman they both loved.

“Jillian,” Josie said briskly in the backseat. “What are you doing?”

“Jillian?” Brad echoed in surprise.

“You can’t,” Josie said after a moment. “You just can’t. Dad gave our books to the library by accident, and now I’ll never see them again…”

Her voice broke off and Brad felt his heart disintegrate. He knew she was sad about the books, of course she was. But what she would never see again, what was missing that really had her crying like her heart was broken, was Jillian.

“No, we’re going there now,” she said. “We’re in the car. Please don’t go.”

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