Her Christmas Wedding Wish. Judy Christenberry

James Anderson had been a brilliant man, but when it came to his daughter he had been foolish. He’d lost her because of his anger, long before either of them had died.

      When another car pulled up behind him, Richard automatically checked his watch. Good. The nurse was on time. It would be easier to enter the house with a stranger.

      He got out of his car and waited until the nurse joined him. “I appreciate you coming, Ms. Soderling.”

      “Please call me Molly, and I’m glad I can be of assistance.”

      “My mother would’ve come, but the past few days have been hard on her.”

      “Of course. Shall we go in?”

      Richard pulled the keys from his pocket. They had been handed to him by the funeral director, along with other items found in the clothing. He selected one that he hoped would open the door.

      He’d guessed right. The door swung open and he followed the nurse into the house. He was hit almost at once with a wave of grief. The house showed so much of Susan. It was warm and cozy, a home where a family shared and loved.

      He turned to the nurse, hoping to control his grief, and he saw the same reaction on her face. She hadn’t even known Susan.

      “Poor Toby,” she muttered.

      “Why would you say that?”

      “Because I can see what he’s lost,” she said quietly, and he saw the sheen of moisture in her eyes.

      Before he could think of anything to say, she said, “We’d better get started. Do you know where Toby’s bedroom is?”

      He shook his head. “I’ve never been here.”

      “Oh. Then I’ll go look for it.”

      Richard decided he should remove any valuables his sister and her husband had before he hired someone to come pack up the house. What would he do with everything? What would Toby want to keep? Hard decisions to make on the spur of the moment.

      He entered the master bedroom, neat and tidy, like Susan. And hard for him to enter. He looked in the closet and found his sister’s jewelry box. Then he found a folder of their financial papers on her husband’s side of the closet, and some cuff links and things in a small leather box. He assumed Toby would one day want them.

      “Mr. Anderson?”

      Molly appeared in the doorway of the bedroom. “Yes? And please, call me Richard.”

      “Am I packing everything Toby has or just enough for the trip?”

      “Have you found any luggage?”

      “Yes, it’s stored in the third bedroom closet.”

      “Then please take everything you can, packing the immediate needs in the smallest bag. I’ll be there to help you in a moment.”

      After she left the room, Richard realized how extraordinarily kind she had been to come with him and do the grisly task. It was like sorting through the bones. A very personal experience.

      As soon as he’d gathered anything valuable, he carried it all to Toby’s room. It was a perfect bedroom for a little boy.

      Susan had loved her child. It showed in so many ways.

      He stood there, not wanting to enter. Molly was folding clothes and putting them in the bags. He had to force himself to join her. “I need to put these things in one of the larger bags,” he said, nodding down to the articles he held.

      “Of course. If it’s anything valuable, you should put them in a carry-on bag so you can keep them safe.”

      He frowned. “I guess you’re right.”

      She pointed out a small bag he could use. When he got to the hotel, he could transfer it to his own carry-on bag or his mother’s.

      By the time he had those things stowed away, Molly had finished packing Toby’s clothes. Then she packed some books from a nearby shelf.

      “The packers will get those things,” Richard said.

      “I know, but I thought it would help Toby if he had some things of his own with him.”

      Richard agreed. Molly was very thoughtful.

      “I can’t thank you enough for coming with me to the house, Molly. It was difficult to—to come here.”

      “Yes, I know.”

      Molly reached for one more thing. A small framed picture of Toby with his parents. It sat on his bedside table.

      He watched her but said nothing.

      She was an attractive woman, he suddenly realized. Her reddish-brown hair was shoulder length and simply styled. Her green eyes held so much sympathy, he didn’t like to meet her glance. When she smiled, as she had at Toby, her face lit up a room. No wonder the boy was attached to her. She was like a warm fire on a cold night.

      He backed away, recognizing a danger there. And he’d invited her to his home for a month. Was he crazy? No, just desperate. He had to protect his mother. Since his father’s death eighteen months ago the not-yet-sixty-year-old had aged. She leaned on him, so needy in many ways. Now she had to deal with her daughter’s death and the regrets she had.

      How could she deal with an eight-year-old boy? And the child was frightened, since he didn’t know them. Molly was the answer to both those problems. He’d made the right move hiring her.

      “Uh, I really appreciate your help, Molly,” he said again, preparing to set the tone for her visit.

      “It’s all right, Richard. I’m glad I could help.”

      “Yes. What I wanted to say is my mother is weak. She won’t be able to deal with Toby. I’ll need you to shield her from the boy’s energy, as well as care for Toby. Will that be a problem?”

      She seemed taken aback. But she raised her chin and said coolly, “No, that won’t be a problem.”

      He’d upset her. Too bad. He had to protect his own. “Good. I work long hours, so I won’t be there to make sure she’s not disturbed, so I will appreciate your help. If there are problems, bring them to me, not my mother.”

      “Certainly,” she said, her voice crisp.

      “Are we finished?”

      “Yes, of course.”

      He picked up the two big bags and she grabbed the overnight bag where she packed Toby’s things for tomorrow. She also picked up the bag that held the valuables.

      “I can get that,” he hurriedly said.

      The sympathy that had prompted her to come with Richard tonight was drying up. Molly glared at him and set the bag on the floor. Did he think she was going to steal something? “Fine.”

      She walked back into the living area of the house. The Christmas tree looked forlorn in the darkened room. Suddenly Molly stopped. “The presents. Should we—”

      “We don’t have room,” was his clipped response.

      Molly forced herself to keep moving to the front door. Every step she took was a betrayal to Toby. She could feel him protesting. The presents under the tree would be something he needed, not for what was in them, but for the memories associated with them.

      “When will their belongings arrive in Dallas?” she asked.

      “I don’t know. I’ll have to make arrangements tonight.”

      He sounded irritated.

      Molly mentally shrugged. She’d done her best for Toby. She couldn’t do any more because the man behind her didn’t want her to.

      She’d thought perhaps he was sad and exhausted at the hospital. Now he seemed surly and difficult. And she was going to live with him for a month? She must be crazy. At least