The Christmas Secret. Lee Mckenzie

late-November day in Seattle, the room felt bright, almost sunny. Strangely so, Sam thought. Right now the only occupant was a teddy bear snuggled into the corner of an overstuffed yellow upholstered armchair with a copy of Green Eggs and Ham on the seat next to him. Sam could practically hear the warm laughter that would accompany story time. On the floor next to the chair sat a basket full of colorful yarn and knitting needles, and adjacent to that a small round side table painted bright blue. On top of the table there was a vase filled with fresh-cut flowers and a quirky-looking tea service on a wooden tray, a teapot in the shape of a giant strawberry and two pink china cups and saucers. Tea for two. The nanny and AJ’s son? Sam wondered.

      Claire walked into the room and admired the china. “This is so adorable. I’ve never seen heart-shaped saucers.”

      Sam’s heart felt as flat as a pancake, as though the life was being squeezed out of it. She had never been entertained with tea parties, not even as a very young child. Even back then her mother hadn’t been well and although her father had dutifully provided the basics, there’d been no fun, no games, no laughter. But this woman, the nanny, had moved in here and created a personal space that both fit with the rest of the house and was yet set apart from it, and its welcome hominess gave Sam a good feeling about her.

      “This room is perfect,” Kristi said. “Even the wallpaper works in here. I wouldn’t change a thing.”

      Neither would Sam.

      “Excellent.” Claire made a note of that. “That leaves the nursery, which is right here across the hall. Should we take a look?”

      Sam nodded a silent affirmative, and cast one last look at the nanny’s room before reluctantly following her partners to the room across the hall. Earlier when they’d been in the kitchen, she had deliberately avoided looking outside because she was emotionally unprepared to see AJ’s son. And now she wasn’t ready for this.

      The nursery, the only room in the house with a bright modern flair, had been painted a fresh shade of pale green. The child-size trundle bed was covered with a cozy patchwork quilt and heaped with stuffed animals. The green-and-yellow polka-dot upholstery on the armchair and ottoman coordinated with the multitoned green-and-yellow-striped drapes on the window next to them. Had AJ chosen these colors, this furniture? Did he sit here with his son? She didn’t know why, but she found it impossible to picture him as a father. Or had his wife decorated the room before she left? Did she still visit? Did the child live with her part of the time?

      “Sam?” Claire’s gentle tone eased her out of her daze. “I was saying the bedrooms shouldn’t take long, since the nanny’s room and nursery are fine as they are.”

      “Sorry, and yes, you’re right. The other two bedrooms won’t take long. I guess we should start with the grandmother’s since no one’s living in it. I’ll have to move the furniture away from the walls to get at the wallpaper.”

      “You’ll need help with that,” Claire said. “I’ll get Marlie to call the movers as soon as I get back to the office this afternoon and find out when they’re available. We’ll have them do the room when they rearrange things downstairs.”

      Kristi stowed her camera in her shoulder bag. “I’m going home to download the photographs I took today and spend the afternoon working on a color scheme. I want to be home when Jenna gets out of school because yesterday my sweet darling daughter had a boy there when I got home.”

      “Ah, the teenage years,” Claire said with a grin. “I remember them well. Except I didn’t have a boyfriend,” she added quickly.

      Neither did Sam. She’d never invited a friend home, either, and wouldn’t have dreamed of bringing home a boy she was interested in. He would have made a run for it.

      “I remember those years, too.” Kristi sighed. “I also remember what teenage boys are like. Hormones permanently in overdrive. That’s kind of how I got to be a mom so young.”

      “You were eighteen when your daughter was born,” Sam said because she felt she should say something reassuring. “Jenna’s only thirteen.”

      Kristi rolled her eyes. “Thirteen going on twenty-something.”

      “And the boy?” Claire asked.

      “She says he’s fifteen, which, knowing my daughter, means he’s probably closer to sixteen.”

      Claire put an arm around Kristi. “Young girls always date up. Besides, Jenna’s a good kid with a good head on her shoulders. I’d give a lot to have one just like her.”

      From the time the three of them had become business partners, Claire had talked about how desperately she wanted children. Now that her marriage was on the rocks, the likelihood of that was slimmer than ever. Sam didn’t allow herself to think about a family, or the future. It was too hard. Hell, just seeing another little boy’s bedroom had sent her mind racing back into the past.

      What if …?

      If only …

       Don’t go there!

      “Do you have plans for the rest of the day, Sam?”

      She gave herself another mental shake. “Ah, yes. Stop at the drugstore to pick up my mother’s medication. Grab a few groceries.” Precious few after she paid for the prescription.

      “How is she?” Kristi asked. “Any better?”

      Sam wished she hadn’t said anything. Although Claire and Kristi had never met her mother, she had reluctantly told them about her. There were days when Sam couldn’t leave her alone, and her business partners needed to know why.

      She shrugged. “A little better, I think.” She hoped, but she didn’t want to talk about her mother. “After dinner I’ll go over my notes and come up with a timeline for getting all this work done. I’ll email it to both of you and we can go over it at our meeting tomorrow morning.”

      “Excellent,” Claire said. “I’ll do two appraisals—one for the house as it is now and another that will include all the proposed updates. We can present the package to … the client.” She eyed Sam over the top rim of her dark-framed glasses. “Then we’ll take it from there.”

      The three of them trooped down the back stairs to the kitchen, Sam last and desperately hoping to avoid another encounter with “the client.” In the kitchen they were greeted by an aproned silver-haired woman, who stood at the stove stirring a large pot. The savory-scented steam rising from it reminded Sam’s stomach it was almost lunchtime.

      “Hello, girls. I’m Annie Dobson, the nanny.”

      “Nice to meet you.” Claire shook the woman’s hand and stepped back. “What are you cooking? It smells wonderful.”

      “Homemade chicken noodle soup. It’s a favorite around here.”

      Sam’s stomach rumbled hungrily.

      “We’ll get out of your way so you can have lunch,” Claire said. “Is Mr. Harris … I mean, is AJ around?”

      “He had to go out, so he took young William with him. Would you like me to pass along a message?”

      So, his son’s name was William.

      “Yes, that would be great. Please let him know I’ll call as soon as we have a work plan in place. I’m Claire, by the way. This is Kristi, the interior decorator, and Sam’s our carpenter.”

      “Nice to meet you. It’ll be nice having some young women around here for a change, especially a lady carpenter.” Her blue-eyed gaze gave Sam a good going-over. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

      “Um …” Sam searched her memory for an image of the woman. Had she worked for the Harris family when Sam had renovated their corporate offices? She was a nanny, so unlikely. “No, I don’t think so.”

      Annie’s scrutiny didn’t let up. “No, maybe not. I usually never forget a face,