Hired: Cinderella Chef. Myrna Mackenzie

directors. They don’t have an in like you do. Caring as they are, they’re outsiders. They don’t live your life. They don’t really know what it’s like to be you. And neither do I. Besides, didn’t you tell me that you were a police officer, a public servant? Darcy, you can still do something like that, but instead of chasing bad guys, you’ll be serving Able House and this community.”

      While the kitchen clock ticked away, she sat there, looking angry and rebellious and sad all at once.

      “You don’t exactly fight fair,” she said.

      “My sisters would agree with you.”

      She tilted her head. “Were you a tough guardian?”

      “A total bully.”

      “And not very truthful,” she said with a small smile.

      “Ah, the lady wants truth? All right, I let them twist me around their fingers all too often, but not when their well-being was at risk. You’ll help?”

      Slowly she nodded. “I don’t really have a choice. Able House is special. In the short time it’s been here, most of us have bonded. It’s our home.”

      He held his hand out in a gesture of acceptance. “I promise I’ll fight for you while I’m here.”

      This time when he held out his hand, she took it. Patrick had meant it to be a symbolic gesture, a joining, the beginning of a pact, but as she lay her slender hand in his and the pads of her fingers slid against his palm, every nerve ending in his body switched on. He was aware of her in a way he hadn’t been only seconds earlier. She was no longer just a compelling, interesting woman and a great cook, no longer just his bridge to the residents of Able House. She was a flesh and blood woman who drew him in ways he didn’t want to acknowledge.

      He let her go as they began to move down the path toward the gardens.

      “So, what do you want me to do?” she asked.

      “Fill me in on your background and what life is like for you now. Give me a tour of Able House. I’ve been there, of course, during the building stages and at the opening ceremonies. But I’ve stayed away since the residents arrived. It’s your home, not an institution. I haven’t wanted to intrude.

      “I am aware that some of the neighbors haven’t been welcoming, and…now, after meeting you and given my upcoming departure, I’d say I dropped the ball.”

      “We’re fine,” she said.

      Not true. There had already been problems with a couple of neighbors who didn’t seem to understand or to want to understand how great a barrier their parked cars posed when they placed too many vehicles on the driveway so that they stuck out over the sidewalk. Or that sprinklers that overshot the grass and hit the walkway would soak anyone rolling past. They’d been parking their cars like that for years. They’d never had to think about the impact of how they positioned their sprinklers and they resented having to change their habits for people they hadn’t wanted in the neighborhood in the first place. Patrick had heard their complaints many times, and he was beginning to think that what might originally have been unconscious rudeness and laziness had become, to some extent, a form of harassment. There was still a sense that Able House would drag down property values and decrease the elite atmosphere of the neighborhood. That kind of resentment wasn’t easily overcome.

      “Darcy, the plan was to integrate you so deeply into the neighborhood that you become a necessary part of the whole. That would help Able House become a springboard for similar residences. But, to achieve that you have to be visible, not flying under the radar. I’m sorry if we didn’t make that clear when you moved in.”

      “People in wheelchairs often fly under the radar.”

      He held up his hand. “I would never say that I understand your life, your experiences or how you feel. I don’t and I can’t, because I haven’t lived your life, but I know this much. Your legs may not work the way they used to, but other people with functional limbs lack your talent. Hiding that talent would be a mistake.”

      She frowned.

      So did he. “A mistake,” he repeated. “Living at Able House comes with strings attached. It isn’t a retreat. Retreats are fine. They have their place, and we all need to hide away now and then, but Able House is your job as well as your home, and your job requires you to go forth and be visible. All right?”

      Darcy nodded, but he could see that she wasn’t happy. No wonder. She had just told him that she was a private person and here he was digging into her life.

      “Has anyone ever told you that you’re a stubborn man?”

      Patrick chuckled. “Yes, as well as bossy and arrogant. So, are you still in?”

      “I’m still here, aren’t I?” she asked. “And please don’t make some lame joke about how I couldn’t get away. I could totally leave you in the dust if I wanted to.”

      “I’m sure you could,” he said, and he wasn’t lying. He had watched her deftly and seamlessly maneuver her chair over a place where a tree root had forced the sidewalk up a good four inches. And given her current pace, he was already taking long strides to keep up with her.

      When they reached the fountain surrounded by yellow roses in the middle of the gardens, he motioned for her to stop and sat down on a bench facing her. “All right, here comes the part where I’m not only stubborn but pushy and nosy as well. So, how did you end up at Able House?” he asked.

      “Don’t you already have all that information?”

      “I don’t intrude on the residents’ lives.”

      She gave him a wide-eyed look of disbelief. Given all that he’d told her and the demands he was making on her, he could understand her incredulity.

      “Okay, I didn’t intend to intrude. I carelessly assumed everything was going as well as could be expected, given the neighbors’ initial reluctance. I didn’t realize that there might be any other complications until you told me that you didn’t want to be visible. And, okay, that stuff about not butting in? I’m making an exception in your case,” he agreed. “But I’m not digging through your files or asking one of the directors to break trust with you—which they wouldn’t do, by the way. I’m just…asking you. I won’t know if you leave something out.”

      Darcy frowned. “So, I could lie to you…”

      “And I’d be clueless.”

      “That wouldn’t be very helpful, though, would it?”

      He laughed. “No, it wouldn’t.”

      “So, you’re trusting me?”

      “Looks that way.” He waited.

      She gave him an incredulous look. “That is so lame. How did you ever grow up to be such a success? In the part of town where I grew up, you would have been taken advantage of on a daily basis.”

      He gave a casual shrug and continued to wait.

      “I hate that you’re trusting me. It means I have to be honest. I do have a code of honor.”

      Now, he couldn’t contain his grin.

      “You knew that, didn’t you?” she asked.

      Patrick tipped his head. “The directors spent a lot of time choosing the residents. Honor would have been important and they would have gone over every detail of your situation, your personality and your accomplishments. They probably know things about you that you don’t even recognize yourself.”

      Her frown grew. “I doubt that very much, but…all right. I’ll give you the abbreviated version of how I came to be where I am. I wasn’t always in the chair, only for the past couple of years. Actually I was born in a very poor part of the city and ended up in an experimental suburban school program where a group of us with meager means but a decent stash