Sam flicked on his bedside light while pulling on sweats and a hoodie. He glanced toward the skinny silhouette hovering on his threshold. “Yes, son?”
“I think the furnace is on the fritz.”
“I think you’re right. Want to help me check it out?”
Ben shrugged. “Sure.”
Sam didn’t miss the reluctance in Ben’s tone, but he didn’t take offense either. “Be right back,” he said to Mina then guided his son down the hall and the steps, flicking light switches along the way. Ben followed in sullen silence. Ben wasn’t intrigued with mechanics or carpentry. Instead of building stuff or fixing stuff, he liked to make stuff up. He was more of an intellectual, a dreamer. He preferred brain-buster electronic games as opposed to outdoor sports. A bit of an artistic nerd, Ben spent his spare time reading fantasy books or doodling anime characters in one of his many sketchbooks. Sam didn’t mind, but he knew Ben took some heat at school from some of the other boys. Going on nine, he was short for his age and on the puny side. And Ben was quiet. Painfully quiet. Unlike his chatty, effervescent sister.
For over a year now, Sam had been pushing Ben to try new things. Even if he didn’t like tinkering with engines, it would help to know how they worked. No interest in playing football? Fine. But if he understood the concept and rules at least he could offer an educated opinion when cornered by his sports-minded classmates.
As they hit the first floor and headed toward the basement, Sam reflected on an incident a few months back. He’d been stoked when his son had contributed several ideas for a jungle gym Sam had started building for a local playground. But when Sam had invited his son to help with the actual construction, Ben had looked at a hammer like it was an object from Mars. Still, Sam felt compelled to teach Ben a handful of basic survival skills. Every man should know how to change a flat tire or how to swap out a fuse. Or in this case, how to reignite an extinguished pilot light, which is what Sam assumed was the problem with the fritzed furnace—and it was.
“Luckily,” he said to Ben, “this should be a quick fix. See here? We lost the pilot light. Must’ve been a draft. First thing we’re going to do is turn this gas valve to
“Yes, sir.”
“Now we wait three or so minutes then switch the valve to pilot setting. See here? Three positions. On, off, and pilot setting.”
Hands thrust in his hoodie pockets, Ben nodded.
“Next step. Hold a lighted match to the pilot opening while pushing the reset button on the pilot control panel.” Sam pointed. “This button here. Hold that button in until the pilot flame burns real bright, then set the valve to the
Ben leaned forward and squinted at the posted directions. “Has it been three minutes?”
Sam smiled a little, moved by his son’s feigned interest. He then went through every step just as he’d described.
“It’s not working,” Ben said after Sam’s third attempt.
“No, it’s not. Valve must be clogged.” Sam didn’t bother explaining this part. Ben was shivering and Sam was suddenly anxious to check on Mina. He nabbed a roll of wire from his workstation and got down to business. Unfortunately, nothing he tried worked. Which meant they had a faulty thermocouple or worse.
“Now what?” Ben asked as he pulled his hood up over his ears.
Sam rose and guided the boy upstairs. “Now we dig out the space heater and call a professional.”
“Want me to start breakfast while you do that stuff so we’re not late for school?”
“I promised Mina pancakes.”
“I’ll get out the Bisquick. Can we add blueberries?”
Sam’s heart ached as he squeezed his sensitive son’s shoulder. A boy who preferred libraries and kitchens to garages and work sheds. “Sure.”
Two hours later, Sam was on his way to the Rothwell Farm. He’d dropped Ben at school. He’d tried to drop Mina at school but that didn’t go so well. For the first time this year, he’d totally buckled and given in to her desperate sobs. He just didn’t have it in him today to deal with the guilt and misery of deserting her in a place she didn’t want to be. No sitters were available and Mina was being especially clingy anyway. He could take her home, but that would mean huddling in front of the space heater until the repairman showed and that wouldn’t be until late afternoon. Besides, Sam had promised Harper he’d come over early to work on her kitchen. It was the one room, aside from her bedroom, that she used a lot and there were some safety issues.
“Remember what I told you,” Sam told Mina as they rolled into the driveway. “Daddy’s here to work.”
“Okay.”
“Miss Day is a busy lady, so leave her be.”
“Okay.”
“I stocked your backpack with a mess of movies and cartoons, three books, and your Miss Kitty color set, so you have plenty to keep you busy.” He pointed to the ratty teddy bear Mina had dolled up in a pink dress and tiara. “And Princess Pinky to keep you company.”
“We’ll be good, Daddy, don’t worry.”
Sam smiled across the seat at his daughter. He’d bundled her up against the cold—coat, scarf, gloves, thick leggings, and insulated boots. She’d accessorized by topping her sock cap with a tiara and augmenting her pink wool scarf with a purple-feathered boa. She was cute as a button, but she was also a handful. Deep down Sam acknowledged that maybe part of the reason he’d buckled and brought Mina on the job was because she’d work as a buffer between him and Harper. He’d put in a few hours yesterday, working on her stairway. They’d pretty much kept to themselves—him sanding and varnishing wood, her yakking on the phone and flipping through entertainment channels like a celebrity news junkie. But whether they were inches apart or in entirely different sections of the house the sexual tension between them raged. Sam figured the presence of his daughter would diffuse that tension—one way or another.
Harper answered the door dressed in clingy activewear and her phone pressed to her ear. “Yeah. I got it. I know. On it. Have to go. What?” She held one finger up to Sam, holding him off for a minute. He was used to her doing that, not that he liked it. “I’m supposed to be on a short holiday, Martin. Okay. Fine.”
Sam took in her appearance as she ended the call. Her thick hair was pulled in a high ponytail and an iPod was visible in a sports armband. She wasn’t sweaty or flushed so Sam assumed she was preparing for a workout and not just finishing up. He struggled not to admire the way her formfitting attire accentuated her curves— although he was beginning to think she’d turn him on even if she was draped in a gunnysack. He held her gaze, acknowledged the mutual sparks, then the glitch when Mina moved out from behind Sam and into Harper’s view.
“Hi,” Mina said.
Harper tucked her phone into her waistband and raised a lone brow. “Hi.”
“This is my daughter, Mina. Mina, this is Miss Day.”
“Don’t worry,” Mina said. “I won’t bug you. I have movies and Princess Pinky to keep me busy.”
“It’s been an unusual morning,” Sam said.
“Our furnace is on the futz.”
“Fritz, honey.”
Mina sighed, shrugged. “Fritz. Futz.”
Harper’s other brow rose. “Nice tiara.”
“Daddy bought it for me.” Mina leaned a hard right, peeking past Harper. “This place is haunted, you know.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Seen any ghosts?”
“Not a one.” Harper moved aside and waved them in. “Let me know if you do.”
“You betcha!” Mina rushed forward, dragging along her bear and backpack.
Harper stared at Sam, pressing her hand to his chest. “Cute kid, Rambo.”
“Thanks.”
“Shouldn’t she be in school?”
