1
“YOU’VE DONE WHAT?” Trent McBride asked, in a voice that had been known to make his peers quake.
But Bobbie McBride had never been easily intimidated—and especially not by one of her own three offspring. She faced her youngest without flinching. “I’ve hired a housekeeper for you. You’ve heard us mention Annie Stewart, who’s been cleaning the McBride Law Firm offices since she moved to town six weeks ago. She’s very conscientious and she’s already got quite a few clients, but she still needs steady work.”
“I don’t need a housekeeper.”
“You most certainly do. You keep this place tidy enough, I’ll admit, but Annie will take care of the little details you never even notice. She’ll do your laundry, too.”
“I can wash my own underwear.”
His mother continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “She’ll come twice a week, on Tuesdays and Fridays, and stay a couple of hours each time. I’ve arranged to have her start next week.”
Though he, better than most, knew the futility of trying to argue with his mother, Trent made the effort, anyway. “I don’t want her to start next week. How am I supposed to pay a housekeeper on what’s left of my insurance settlement? And before you even suggest it, I’m not letting you and Dad pay for this.”
“You never let us pay for anything,” Bobbie replied matter-of-factly. “All three of my children are stubborn as mules and irritatingly independent. But you, my dear Trent, have always taken first place. As it happens, I’ve worked out all the details regarding payment, too. I’m sure you’ve heard that Annie moved into the old Stewart place just down the road from here. Turns out strange old Carney Stewart was her great-uncle, and he left the house and property to her when he died last year. No one even knew Carney had family until then. Anyway, the place is in terrible shape, and it needs a lot of repairs. I told Annie you’re a skilled woodworker, and she’s willing to trade her services in exchange for yours.”
“I am not a handyman.”
“Perhaps not, but you’re certainly available. And it will be good for you to get out of the house more. As long as you’re reasonably careful, the exercise will be good for you, too. Not to mention the fact that you’ll be doing a big favor to a very nice young woman.”
“I don’t do favors.”
“You’ll do this one.” Her voice was as soft as his—and just as unyielding.
Bobbie McBride had been a schoolteacher for more than thirty years. When she got started on one of her famous lectures, there was no stopping her. And when that lecture was directed toward one of her three adult children, there was no point in trying to interrupt. Though Trent had recently turned twenty-six, his mother could still reduce him to a sullen adolescent.
“If you think for one minute that I’m going to let you live out the rest of your life brooding in this cottage like some sort of crusty old hermit, you are very mistaken,” she said flatly. “Do you want to end up like Carney Stewart, old and alone? I’ve given you more than a year to pull yourself together. It’s been eighteen months since the accident. It’s time for you to stop sulking and get on with your life.”
Trent kept his gaze focused on the unadorned wall in front of him. “I’m not sulking. I’m living exactly the way I choose.”
“You sit here alone for days. You rarely go out in public. You neglect your family and rebuff your friends. You aren’t eating right and you aren’t doing the exercises you were given. This is the way you choose to live?”
“Yes,” he answered simply.
She shook her gray head in exasperation. “Well, I’m not going to stand by quietly while you ruin your life.”
“Too late, Mother.” He tried to sound bored, but he was aware of the undertones of self-pity. “I did that eighteen months ago.”
“Sometimes,” she said after a moment, “what I think you need most is to be taken behind the wood-shed.”
He was surprised to feel one corner of his mouth twitch in what was almost a smile. “You just might be right.”
Bobbie reached for her coat. “I have to be going. Annie will be here Tuesday morning at nine. You two can work out the details of this arrangement then.”
As tempted as he was to refuse, he knew it wouldn’t be worth the effort. “All right. I’ll give it a month, but that’s it, Mother.”
Satisfied with her limited victory, Bobbie allowed him to usher her out of his house. Closing the door behind her, Trent growled and shoved a hand through his shaggy blond hair—his usual reaction to a visit from his mother. Now what had she gotten him into?
IT WAS A GLOOMY February morning, windy and gray, the heavy clouds overhead threatening a cold winter rain. Looking from the glowering sky to the darkened cottage in front of her, Annie Stewart tried to decide which seemed the most sinister.