Gift from the Heart. Irene Hannon

elusive—was her constant companion. With A.J. living in Chicago, Morgan in Boston and Clare in Kansas City, their contact was largely confined to periodic telephone chats. Which was better than nothing. But not enough. For the past couple of days, as they’d come together to mourn and pay tribute to their great-aunt, Clare had felt a sense of comfort, of love, of warmth that had long been absent from her life. She would miss them when they all returned to their own lives.

      Tears pricked her eyelids again, and she blinked them back fiercely, fighting to maintain control. Crying didn’t help anything. It was just a selfish exercise in self-indulgence. Especially when she had no one to blame for her situation except herself. Focus on the present, she told herself resolutely as she took a steadying breath. Just concentrate on what Aunt Jo’s attorney has to say and put regrets aside for a few minutes.

      Seth Mitchell waited until the three women were seated, then picked up a hefty document. “I’ll give each of you a copy of your great-aunt’s will to take with you, so I don’t think there’s any reason to go through this whole document now. A lot of it is legalese, and there are some charitable bequests that you can review at your leisure. I thought we could restrict the formal reading to the section that affects each of you directly, if that’s agreeable.”

      Morgan quickly replied in the affirmative, making it clear that she was in a hurry. Then, as if realizing she may have overstepped, she sent her older sister a questioning look. Clare nodded her assent, struck as always by Morgan’s focus on her job. Clare had enjoyed her teaching career, but she hadn’t built her life around it. Nor had A.J. put success—in a worldly sense—at the top of her priority list. Clare wasn’t sure why Morgan had become so focused on making the big bucks. But maybe she should take a lesson from her middle sister, she acknowledged with a sigh. Because she could use some big bucks about now. Or even some small bucks, for that matter. That’s why Aunt Jo’s bequest seemed the answer to a prayer.

      As Seth flipped through the document to a marked page and began to read, Clare forced herself to pay attention.

      “Insofar as I have no living relatives other than my three great-nieces—the daughters of my sole nephew, Jonathan Williams, now deceased—I bequeath the bulk of my estate to them in the following manner and with the following stipulations and conditions.

      “To Abigail Jeanette Williams, I bequeath half ownership of my bookstore in St. Louis, Turning Leaves, with the stipulation that she retain ownership for a minimum of six months and work full-time in the store during this period. The remaining half ownership I bequeath to the present manager, Blake Sullivan, with the same stipulation.

      “To Morgan Williams, I bequeath half ownership of Serenity Point, my cottage in Seaside, Maine, providing that she retains her ownership for a six-month period following my death and that she spends a total of four weeks in residence at the cottage. During this time she is also to provide advertising and promotional assistance for Good Shepherd Camp and attend board meetings as an advisory member. The remaining half ownership of the cottage I bequeath to Grant Kincaid of Seaside, Maine.

      “To Clare Randall, I bequeath my remaining financial assets, except for those designated to be given to the charities specified in this document, with the stipulation that she serve as nanny for Nicole Wright, daughter of Dr. Adam Wright of Hope Creek, North Carolina, for a period of six months, at no charge to Dr. Wright.

      “Should the stipulations and conditions for the aforementioned bequests not be fulfilled, the specified assets will be disposed of according to directions given to my attorney, Seth Mitchell. He will also designate the date on which the clock will begin ticking on the six-month period specified in my will.”

      Seth lowered the document to his desk and looked at the women across from him.

      “There you have it, ladies. I can provide more details on your bequests to each of you individually, but are there any general questions that I can answer?”

      Clare vaguely heard the disgust in Morgan’s voice as she made some comment about the impossibility of getting away from the office for four days, let alone four weeks. A.J., on her other hand, sounded excited about the bookshop and eager to tackle a new challenge. But Clare was too caught up in her own bequest to pay much attention to her sisters’ questions.

      “Who is this Dr. Wright?” Clare asked with a frown. “And what makes Aunt Jo think he would want me as a nanny?”

      “Dr. Wright is an old friend of Jo’s from St. Louis. I believe she met him through her church, and even when he moved to North Carolina, they remained close friends,” Seth told Clare. “He’s a widower with an eleven-year-old daughter who apparently needs guidance and closer supervision. As to why Jo thought Dr. Wright would be interested in having you as a nanny, I can’t say.”

      He paused and glanced at his desk calendar. “Let’s officially start the clock for the six-month period on December first. That will give you about a month to make plans. Now, are there any more general questions?”

      When no one responded, he nodded. “Very well.” He handed them each a manila envelope. “But do feel free to call if any come up as you review the will more thoroughly.” He rose and extended his hand to each sister in turn. “Again, my condolences on the death of your great-aunt. Jo had a positive impact on countless lives and will be missed by many people. I know she loved each of you very much, and that she wanted you to succeed in claiming your bequests. Good luck, ladies.”

      The three sisters exited Seth Mitchell’s office silently, each lost in her own thoughts. When Clare had been notified that she’d been named as a beneficiary in Aunt Jo’s will, she’d just assumed that her great aunt had left her a small amount of cash—enough, she hoped, to tide her over until she got her teaching career reestablished. She certainly hadn’t expected a six-figure bequest. Or one that came with strings.

      None of them had.

      She glanced at her sisters. A.J. looked enthusiastic and energized. But then, she was always up for some new adventure, and she had no real ties to Chicago. It would be easy for her to move and start a new life. Morgan, on the other hand, looked put out. To claim her inheritance, she’d have to find a way to juggle the demands of her career with the stipulations in the will. And that wouldn’t be easy.

      As for Clare—she was just confused. She’d never been to North Carolina, had no experience as a nanny and had never heard of this Dr. Wright. It wasn’t that she minded moving; she had nothing to hold her in Kansas City now. Yet wouldn’t this man think it odd if she just showed up on his doorstep and offered to be his daughter’s nanny?

      But Clare needed Aunt Jo’s inheritance. She had to find a way to make this work.

      As the sisters paused outside Seth Mitchell’s office, each preparing to go her own way, Clare’s eyes teared up once more. It might be a long time before they were together again. And different as they were, they’d always been like the Three Musketeers—one for all, and all for one.

      A.J. also looked misty-eyed as she reached over to give each of her sisters a hug. “Keep in touch, okay?”

      “Have fun with the bookshop,” Clare told her. Then she turned to Morgan. “I hope you can work things out with the cottage.”

      Morgan returned her hug. “I’m not holding my breath,” she said dryly.

      “I’ll pray for all of us,” A.J. promised.

      That was a good thing, Clare thought, as they parted. Because they would need all the prayers they could get.

      Along with a whole lot of luck.

      Chapter One

      Hope Creek, North Carolina

      Dr. Adam Wright wearily reached for the stack of messages on his desk and glanced at the clock, then to the early November darkness outside his window. He was already late picking up Nicole, and he knew he’d hear about it. Neither his wife nor his daughter had ever had much patience with the demands of his family practice. And things had gone from bad to worse with Nicole since she’d come to live with him a