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She chanced a glance at his strong profile. No, it wasn’t that. He’d been waiting with a cup of gourmet coffee and another word of thanks when she’d arrived at his back door this morning. He was probably tired after their late night. She certainly was.
Arabella, smile wide, came toward them, her triplets in tow. After exchanging pleasantries, Gabe took A.J. and moved off toward Reverend West and a clutch of men gathered around the coffee pot.
“So you agreed to be A.J.’s nanny?”
“I still can’t believe it.” She’d hardly slept last night thinking about being alone with a child every day for hours on end. Even though this morning had gone well, she’d been a nervous wreck for the four hours Gabe had been gone.
Arabella hugged her. “Good. He’ll keep you busy.” She pumped an eyebrow. “Hanging out with his handsome, single dad will be icing on the cake.”
“He’s really sweet.”
“The child or the dad?”
Brooke smiled. “Both actually. Gabe walked me home last night and wouldn’t leave until I was safe and sound.”
“Wow…what a guy!”
“Arabella, will you stop? It’s not what you think.” She told her cousin about the phone call and the missing house key.
Frowning, Arabella shoved a lock of thick hair away from her face. “That’s spooky.”
“Tell me about it. A house feels really empty when you’re alone and someone else has your key.”
“Did you call the sheriff?”
“Vincent told me to my face that he wanted me out of town. I’m sure he or Marsha or someone in that family is responsible. With Uncle Pauley as mayor, what police officer is going to take me seriously?”
Arabella placed slim fingers on her forearm. “You’re welcome to stay with us.”
“You have your hands full enough. Besides I have my new job and Gabe right next door. I’ll be okay.” The words were brave, but anxiety knotted beneath her breastbone. What if Gabe was right? What if someone was willing to do her harm to gain Grandpa George’s inheritance?
A shiver snaked down her spine but before she could dwell on the worry, Reverend West, a large, forty-something man with toffee-colored hair, called the group to order.
“Thank you for coming, all of you. The Lord has to be pleased at such a large group who’s willing to donate time and effort for the good of others. The Bible tells us in Matthew chapter twenty-five that anything we do for those less fortunate is the same as doing it for Jesus. I like thinking about that, don’t you?” A wide, warm smile lit the preacher’s brown eyes as he looked over the gathered volunteers. Across the room, people nodded or smiled in response.
A good feeling filled Brooke in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time. She was glad she’d come. Maybe she could volunteer for the help hotline or to clean the church. She wouldn’t mind doing grocery shopping for the elderly either as long as A.J. could go along.
She looked around to see the little boy playing with a group of children, including Arabella’s triplets and a chubby blond girl of grade-school age. Jasmine Turner was with them, doling out some of Arabella’s oatmeal cookies. Brooke relaxed, comfortable that A.J. was safely in the care of someone else for a while.
When she returned her attention to the pastor, the volunteers were breaking into groups.
“What are we doing?” she murmured to the woman beside her.
“Committees.” Pen in hand, the woman tapped a notebook, though her blue eyes studied Brooke intensely. “Do you have a preference? By the way, I’m Darlene Perry, the church secretary.”
The name and face were familiar and Brooke sorted through her memory to place the woman. Darlene hadn’t been the pastor’s secretary five years ago, but she was definitely a local. When the name clicked, pity stirred in Brooke. Darlene Perry had once been a very pretty woman. Now she looked too frail and fragile to hold a job. Complexion pasty-gray, her dark blond hair, though neatly curved around her thin face, had no sheen, and her eyes were dull, lines radiating from the edges as though she worried a lot. Brooke suspected the woman wasn’t well.
“I’m Brooke Clayton.”
