She’d been homeless before and she’d sworn she’d never slide that low ever, ever again. Now, because of Riley, it was even more important that she hold on to the roof over her head. He didn’t deserve to lose what should have been his birthright just because of some stupid mistake.
Anger slowly began to replace the fear that had threatened to consume her. Anger and determination. She would protect what they had, for Riley’s sake. No matter what came her way.
* * *
Erin was still antsy later that night and Riley had picked up on her mood, testing her patience to its outer limits. It was all she could do not to cry in sympathy when she put him, protesting loudly, down for the night. She resolutely clipped the baby monitor to her belt and gathered her cleaning supplies. He’d settle, he had to. And then she could lose herself in the rhythms of keeping Connell Lodge fit for habitation. Okay, so maybe that was a slight exaggeration. She kept the old house in excellent order, but she did miss the additional help that a full complement of staff had brought.
Before James’s illness, they’d had two live-in staff as well as a roster of part-timers who came to assist with the outdoor work and the cleaning inside. Now, she just had to grab time wherever and whenever she could. It wasn’t ideal, Erin thought as she went into the library and flicked her duster along the shelves, but it would have to do. At least until she could get some cash flow going again and hire a part-timer to help around the place.
She found a peaceful rhythm in the housework, in the scent of the polish she used on the wooden furniture and the leather treatment she used on the chairs. It got her thinking about the past.
When she’d found work here at the lodge she thought she’d landed in heaven. It was a long way from the rundown trailer park where she’d grown up on the outskirts of Sacramento, and even further from the abandoned building where she’d lived with a group of itinerants after years of running away from her mother’s abuse.
That had ended badly. Very badly. The taste of bile rose in Erin’s throat and her hand settled on the monitor at her hip, turning up the volume. Riley had settled, but just thinking about the past, about what had happened, sent her flying back down the hall to their rooms to check on him. She pushed open his bedroom door and peeked into his crib. He lay there like an angel—his beautiful lashes spread in tiny twin fans on cheeks still flushed from his earlier crying.
Erin reached down to straighten his covers—resting her hand on his little tummy, feeling the rapid draw in and out of his breaths. He was okay. She breathed deeply, settling the old jangle of nerves that had spooked her as she’d thought of the past. Of someone else’s baby who hadn’t been as loved as her little boy. A baby they’d all failed. Yes, Riley was okay. She was doing everything right. This time around.
A sound in the kitchen filtered down the hallway. She gave Riley a gentle loving pat and left his room, pulling his door closed behind her. She was surprised to see Sam in the kitchen. He’d had dinner on a tray in his study tonight, saying he was finally on a roll with his book and didn’t want to take a break. She fought back a smile as she took in his unusually disheveled appearance.
“Tough day?” she asked, entering the room.
“You have no idea. You’d think I knew better. That I’d have backed up.”
“You didn’t?”
He shoved a hand through his short-cropped hair, making it stand in all directions. “I’m an idiot. I saved over my file. All that work today, gone.”
“Hey, we all make mistakes. Don’t be too hard on yourself. Besides, aren’t you the software guru? You must be able to retrieve something, surely?”
He barked an ironic laugh. “You’d think so, wouldn’t you? But no such luck.”
“Maybe you just need a break. You’ve been working hard all day. Why not come into my sitting room, have a coffee or something and we can just talk.”
In the back of her mind, Erin thought about all the things she still had to do this evening, but right now it seemed more important to give Sam the comfort he so obviously needed. Besides, she could do with some company herself after revisiting—however briefly—the memories of her past.
“Sure, I’d like that,” Sam said.
“Coffee then?” Erin asked, moving toward the machine.
“Actually, I wouldn’t mind a glass of something stronger.”
“No problem. Wine or spirits?”
“I’d kill for a whiskey about now.” Sam smiled.
Erin laughed. “You go and take a seat.” She gestured to the doorway to her sitting room. “I’ll pour your drink.”