Heaven Sent and His Hometown Girl. Jillian Hart

Ashton last night, broke down in the middle of that storm. You remember her, don’t you?”

      There was a moment of silence, then Zach gasped. “Tall, slender, pretty. Nora’s granddaughter. Sure, I remember. Is she back in town? Why don’t I run the belt out to the Greenley place—”

      “Her Jeep’s broken down on the highway south of town.”

      “Then I’ll warm up the tow truck and bring it in.”

      “You can’t miss it. Bright red, brand-new model about four miles out.” Matthew felt his stomach tighten, as if he didn’t like the idea of Zach giving Hope a hand and he couldn’t explain why. Maybe it was his conscience.

      Sure, the woman troubled him, stirred up all sorts of emotions. He knew he was out of her league—which wasn’t why he wanted to help. It didn’t sit right backing away now. He liked to see things to the end.

      Matthew heard silence and peeked around the doorway into the kitchen. “Ian, stay away from the counter. Go put on your shoes like your brothers.”

      The little urchin hesitated, tossed him an innocent grin, then dashed away to join his brothers at the table. Matthew headed down the center hallway and to the front door, careful to keep an eye and an ear on his sons.

      “Hope Ashton, huh?” Zach laughed at that. “It’ll be something to see her again. I bet she’s still a knockout.”

      “Yep.” She was pretty, all right. Model-good looks but there was a girl-next-door freshness to her. A freshness he didn’t remember seeing in the unhappy rich girl he’d gone to school with.

      Matthew ended the call, checked on the three boys busily pulling on shoes in the corner of the kitchen and went in search of his work boots. He sat down on the bottom step to tug them on.

      Morning was his favorite time as the sun rose, so bold and bright. The world was waking up, the birds’ songs brand-new and the breeze as soft as a whisper. Peace filled him for a moment, and then he heard a loud crash coming from directly behind him—the kitchen.

      That was his two seconds of peace for the day. He took off at a dead run. Six strides took him into the kitchen where he saw his three sons standing in a half circle.

      “Josh did it, Daddy!” Kale pointed. “He climbed up on the chair and dropped the cookies.”

      “They smashed all over the floor!” Ian looked pleased.

      Josh’s head was bowed, his hands clasped together as he whispered a prayer.

      Matthew saw the shattered cookies and stoneware littered all over the clean floor and the pitcher of grape juice at Ian’s feet. The refrigerator door stood open and a chair from the table was butted up against the cabinets. He remembered to count to ten.

      “We got real hungry.” Ian rubbed at a juice stain on his crisp white T-shirt.

      “Real hungry,” Kale added.

      Josh took one look at the floor and bowed his head again. “The cookie jar’s still broken, God.”

      Since he was short on time, Matthew decided to ignore for now the purple stains splattered on his kitchen floor, nudged the refrigerator door shut and grabbed the broom from the corner. “You boys step back. Careful of those sharp pieces.”

      “Daddy, it’s all Josh’s fault.” Ian tugged on Matthew’s jeans, transferring the grape juice from those little fingers onto the clean denim above Matthew’s knee.

      “Somehow I doubt Josh did this all by himself.” He laid his hand against the flat of Ian’s back and eased him away from the broken stoneware shards. “Any owies I should know about?”

      “There ain’t no blood nowhere,” Ian announced.

      But there was grape juice spattered all over the little boy who’d obviously been the one to try to heft the full pitcher from the refrigerator shelf and failed.

      One thing was clear. He couldn’t go on like this. He needed a new housekeeper or he’d never get off to work on time. “Into the truck. C’mon. Step around the mess, Ian.”

      “Sorry, Daddy.” The oldest triplet looked angelic as he stopped his sneaker in midair, about to crunch right through the cookies and shattered pottery.

      He caught Ian by the shoulder, Kale by the arm and was grateful for Josh who clambered after them, muttering an amen to end his prayer. The mess would wait. The boys would have to change at Mom’s.

      Lord knew, this was all a balancing act. Every morning wasn’t as bad as this, but then he was used to having a housekeeper. With three three-year-olds, it made a big difference having another adult to run interference.

      Matthew locked the door and herded the boys toward the black pickup in the gravel drive. He opened the door, and the scent of Hope Ashton’s perfume—light and pretty—lingered, a faint reminder that she’d sat beside him on the ride to town. Longing swept through him. Not for Hope, but for a woman gone from his life forever.

      It had been over two long years since he’d smelled the pleasing gentleness of a woman’s perfume in his truck. Two years had passed since he’d buried Kathy, and he still wasn’t over his grief.

      And how could he? There would never be another woman who would make his heart brighter, his life better.

      Kathy had been his once-in-a-lifetime, a gift of love that a man was lucky to know at all. Something that miraculous didn’t happen twice.

      It just didn’t.

      Chest tight, he buckled Josh into the remaining car seat and hopped into the cab.

      “I’m so glad I have the committee meeting today,” Nanna announced as the new day’s sun tossed a cheerful pattern across the quilt. “I’ll take any excuse I can to get out of this house.”

      “I thought you were supposed to be on bed rest. How are we going to get you to town if your doctor’s orders are to keep you right here?” Hope slid open the closet door.

      “We could always drive. It’s easier than hobbling. I’m still not used to those crutches.”

      “Very funny.” Hope pulled out a blue summer dress. “This would look nice. Before I take you anywhere, I’m checking with your doctor.”

      “You worry too much, and I want the yellow dress. The flirty one.”

      “Flirty? You’re in your sixties. You shouldn’t be flirting.”

      “That’s what you think.” Nanna’s chuckle was a merry one. “Howard Renton joined the planning committee last month. Both Sadie and Helen made fools of themselves fighting to sit next to him. But I think I won him with my charm.”

      “Wear the yellow but don’t flirt. Too much.” Hope laid the cheerful sundress on the foot of the bed. “Isn’t that what you used to tell me?”

      “Hope, you’re twenty-nine years old. You’re supposed to be flirting.”

      “I’m supposed to, huh? Is there some unwritten law or something?”

      “Go ahead and pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’re going to let the best years of your life slip away alone without a man to love you.”

      “I didn’t fly all the way from Rome and drive down from the closest airport through a terrible storm to hear that kind of advice.”

      “Well, then what kind do you want to hear?”

      “The kind that doesn’t have anything to do with getting me married off.” Hope unzipped the dress and lifted it from the hanger. “’God gives to some the gift of marriage, and to others he gives the gift of singleness.’”

      “’And the Lord God said, “It is not good for the man to be alone. I will make a companion who will help him.”’” Nanna lifted her arms as Hope