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He glanced at her, his eyes pained as he murmured, “Can we save that discussion for another time?”
“Of course.” Seeking a distraction, Jo cleared her throat and rubbed her hands over her jeans-clad knees. “So, where are we going?”
“You said you needed extra help yesterday. So, I’m taking you to get extra help.”
She frowned. “You do remember me telling you that I can’t afford to pay any extra hands? I don’t know anyone who would be willing to work for free.”
His smile fell and an ironic expression appeared on his face. “I wouldn’t say the person I have in mind is willing to work for free, but they’re obligated to do so.”
An easy feeling unfurled in Jo’s stomach. “What do you mean, they’re obligated?”
“I’m not going to bring some dangerous vagrant into your midst, in case that’s what you’re thinking.” Brooks slowed the truck as they entered the city limits of Lone Oaks, his dark eyes scanning the left side of the road. “I’m simply providing a logical solution to your problem by finding someone who needs to work to fulfill an obligation while simultaneously giving you the help you need.” He shrugged. “Room and board, home-cooked meals, and a watchful eye are all it’ll cost you.”
Jo narrowed her eyes. “A watchful eye?”
He looked at her then, his smile broad and genuine. “Only occasionally.”
Brooks guided the truck into a left turn and Jo eyed a large sign they passed at the entrance of the driveway.
“Dream House?” she asked. “What is this place?” She glanced at the two-story building in front of them. It was all brick, with small windows and cracked pavement out front, which, she supposed, was intended to serve as a sidewalk. “It sure doesn’t look like a dream to me.”
“It’s not.” Brooks’s tone had changed, taking on a heavy, sorrowful note. “But I hope to change that in the future, starting with giving the place a facelift.” He parked the truck in front of the building, cut the engine, and exited, pausing before he closed the door to say, “Hop out. A treasure trove of help awaits you.”
Jo made a face, watching as he rounded the truck and patted the hood, motioning for her to join him. She did so, glancing around her as she entered the brick building, then stood in the lobby and thrust her hands in her pockets as Brooks spoke to a lady at the reception desk.
He joined her a moment later, a pleased expression on his face. “Ms. Agnes will be with us shortly.”
“Ms. Agnes?” Jo glanced at the reception desk where the woman Brooks had spoken with answered the phone, then glided in her chair farther down the desk to type on the keyboard of a desktop computer.
Two teenaged girls strolled down one of the three halls that were located behind the reception desk, each of them wearing sweatpants and a T-shirt, one of them carrying a basketball.
Covering the phone with one hand, the receptionist called out to the teens. “Girls, be sure you’re back by curfew. Don’t go galivanting all around and drag in late like last Saturday.”
The teens made a face. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Wait a minute,” Jo said, watching the girls as they left the building, laughing. “Dream House.” She frowned at Brooks. “Is this a foster home?”
“Brooks!” An older woman with an exuberant expression and kind eyes walked quickly down one of the hallways, rounded the reception desk, and threw her arms around Brooks’s waist, burying her pudgy cheek against his chest. “I can’t tell you how happy I am to see you. It’s been ages since you visited.”
Brooks’s demeanor softened, his features gentling and his deep voice adopting an affectionate tone Jo had never heard before. “I didn’t mean to stay away so long, Ms. Agnes. I’ve just been buried under work.” He lifted his strong arms and returned her embrace, lowering his head and kissing the top of her gray head. “I didn’t mean to interrupt your workday,” he said softly, “but you’ve always come through for me in the past, and I have a friend in need now.”
Agnes released him and stepped back, patting his forearms with her wrinkled hands. “Oh, my boy,” she said. “You’re never an interruption to my day. I wish you’d drop in more often. And I’m more than happy to help your friend.”
“This is Jo,” Brooks said. “She’s the granddaughter of my neighbor, Earl Ellis.”
“Oh, my dear.” Agnes stepped over to Jo and clasped her hands. “I understand your grandfather had some health problems recently. I just heard yesterday that he was in the hospital.”
Jo nodded, the supportive warmth of the older woman’s hands around her offering comfort she hadn’t expected. “He was, but he came home yesterday.”
Agnes’s eyes brightened. “That’s wonderful news.”
Brooks nodded. “That’s why we’re here. Jo’s returned home to take care of Earl and run their family farm. But”—he spread his hands—“as you probably already know, Lone Oaks Crossing hasn’t been doing much business lately.”
Agnes nodded. “Yes, I’ve heard that, too.” Her brow creased. “And considering that’s the case, I wonder if there’s enough work to serve the need for the community service hours my charge has?”
“Trust me, there’s plenty,” Brooks said. “More than Jo and her friend, Frankie, can handle themselves while taking care of Earl, too.” He rocked back on his heels and shoved his hands in his pockets. “As a matter of fact, I just dropped off my thoroughbred yesterday for boarding, so Jo already has her hands full and is in need of the extra help.”
Agnes’s eyes widened. “Oh, is that so? You and Earl used to train racehorses, didn’t you? Won the Derby years ago, if I recall correctly?”
