Jimmyâs face was radiant as he stood onstage in the Christmas play, and said, âDo you see the star?â
A surge of love overwhelmed Evan. He hadnât thought he had that much love left in him after heâd lost his wife and son. But his heart told him there was room for Jimmy.
Evan made his way to where he had seen Chloe sitting. Jimmy ran from the stage straight to her. She knelt, giving him a huge hug. Getting closer, he could hear her praising his performance. âYou were the very best one!â
He bounced on his sneakers. âReally?â
âReally!â She hugged him again. âThe very, very, very best.â
Jimmy hugged her back hard before finally letting go.
âYou havenât told me what you want for Christmas yet, big guy.â
âA family.â
She leaned her head against his. âMe, too.â
Evan was struck by their words. The star on the stage twinkled, beaconing its message of hope. And he wondered if he dared believe.
Chloe Reed gripped little Jimmyâs hand as much to stop her own shaking as to reassure him. Everything was on the line. The boyâs future, her own. Swallowing, she tentatively raised the brass knocker on the massive front door.
Silence.
She bent down to encourage Jimmy, and whispered, âItâll be okay, I promise.â
The door whipped open suddenly and she nearly teetered. Unnerved, she looked up, way up, to meet a dark pair of unpleased eyes. Set in a rugged face with a determined chin, his eyes swept over her in uncompromising dismissal.
Awkwardly, Chloe straightened up, expecting to meet him face-to-face, but he was tall, unusually tall. âUmâ¦hello.â
âYes?â
âIâm here to see Evan Mitchell.â
âYouâre looking at him.â
âOh.â Sheâd held a wild hope that sheâd knocked on the wrong door. Despite her bossâs warnings, she had wanted to believe that Evan Mitchell would be approachable, reasonable.
âIâm Chloe Reed.â Wishing she could shield the little boy, she squeezed his hand again. âAnd this is Jimmy Mitchell.â
Eyebrows as dark as the manâs thick hair swooped downward. âWhat are you doing here?â
Wanting to protect the seven-year-old, Chloe beseeched the man with a pleading glance.
Relenting, Evan opened the door wider. âCome in.â
She and Jimmy both stared as they walked into the circular, two-story-high entry hall, their steps echoing on the marble floor of the impressive house.
Evan hadnât expected his late cousinâs son to appear on his doorstop, but he didnât want to hurt the boy. Raising his voice, he called for the housekeeper. âThelma! Can you come out here?â
Wiping her hands on a cheery gingham apron, a pert woman in her sixties dashed into the hall. âWhat is it? Iâm in the middle of pie making andâ¦â Her voice trailed off when she saw Chloe and the boy, her face easing into a smile. âWho do we have here?â
âSpencerâs boy,â Evan replied briefly.
Thelmaâs eyes widened, then warmed in understanding as she spoke to Jimmy. âDo you like apple pie?â
Uncertain in his new surroundings, Jimmy looked at her warily, taking a step backward, leaning against Chloe.
Thelma walked toward him, extending her hand. âIâve got lemon meringue, pumpkin, cherry and banana cream, too. I sure could use a taster.â
Jimmy looked up at Chloe, who nodded. Accepting Thelmaâs hand, the pair disappeared in the direction of the kitchen.
Evan wished he could whisk the woman away as easily, but he knew that wasnât going to happen. Instead he gestured toward the parlor, observing the swing of her long, wavy, caramel-colored hair as she walked. Once in the room, she turned, her large green eyes questioning.
âHave a seat.â
As she did, he wondered what his late cousinâs attorney was up to now. Sending a pretty woman was novel, even for Holden Wainwright.