“No, thank you.”
Olivia longed to give her a hug and tell her everything would be all right. But she didn’t dare yet, not until the woman felt more comfortable.
“I read about your home in the newspaper,” Miss Holmes blurted out. “And I’d like to know how much it costs to stay here. I don’t have much money, but I could pay something.”
“We don’t require compensation,” Ruth said in a soothing voice. “All we ask of the women staying here is that they help with the chores in any way they can.”
Miss Holmes blinked. “Oh, I see.”
She looked to be in her mid-twenties with plain features, her light-brown hair pinned back in a bun. Her gaze continued to bounce around the room.
Olivia slid closer on the sofa. “How far along are you, Miss Holmes?”
The woman’s gaze darted to Olivia’s face, then away. “Almost five months. And please call me Nancy.”
“What about the baby’s father?” Ruth asked.
Nancy’s features hardened. “He wants nothing to do with me. He doesn’t believe the baby is his.”
Not an uncommon occurrence as Olivia was discovering. “I’m so sorry. But please know that you’re more than welcome to stay here if that’s what you decide.”
Nancy’s whole frame slumped. “I have nowhere else to go. My father just returned from an extended business trip and told me I had to leave.”
“I know what that’s like, believe me.” Olivia’s throat tightened as she forced away memories of her own father’s reaction. “You don’t have to worry, Nancy. You have a safe place with us.” Olivia’s chest warmed as it always did when she said those words. Words she only wished she could have heard.
“Thank you so much. You have no idea how much that means.” Nancy’s voice broke.
“Have you eaten dinner?” Ruth asked.
The girl shook her head. “I’ve been sitting in the park for hours trying to figure out what to do.”
“Then I’ll heat a plate for you while Olivia gets you settled in.” Ruth rose from her seat. “Welcome to Bennington Place, Nancy. I hope you’ll soon feel right at home.”
Seated at the Cheesemans’ dining room table, Darius sipped from his water glass while discreetly studying the room. A magnificent room at that, with vaulted ceilings and an ornate chandelier hanging over the long mahogany table. Crystal, china, and silver graced the long expanse, with several vases of fresh flowers spaced evenly along the way.
This was exactly the type of house Darius envisioned owning one day. Classy and elegant. Not filled with mismatched furniture and worn carpets.
“It’s good to finally have a chance to speak with you, Mr. Reed.” Meredith’s mother, a tall, stylish woman with the same coloring as her daughter, pierced him with a shrewd gaze. “Meredith has told us wonderful things about you. And of course my husband knows you from your business dealings.”
“I’m honored to meet you too, ma’am.” Darius set down his glass and shifted slightly on the plush chair.
“So, tell us a little about yourself. How long have you lived in Toronto?”
“All my life. My parents moved here before I was born.”
“Ah. And what does your family do?”
With effort, Darius held the woman’s gaze and did his best not to flinch, picturing his father’s grease-stained overalls and perpetually dirty fingernails. A mechanic’s lot in life, Papá always said. “My father owns his own business. My mother looks after my daughter while I’m at work and takes care of the family.” Had Meredith told her parents that he had a daughter? He ran a finger under his collar.
“What type of business is your father in?” Mr. Cheeseman picked up his fork. “Property management like yourself?”
“No, sir.” Darius hesitated. “He owns an auto repair shop.”
Mr. Cheeseman’s hand stilled for a moment before he continued to cut his steak. “I imagine business must be brisk now that so many people have cars.”
“Very much so.” Darius picked up his water and took a sip.
“You should see Darius’s office at Walcott Industries, Mama,” Meredith jumped in. “It overlooks the whole downtown.”
“How did you end up working for Mr. Walcott?” Mrs. Cheeseman peered at him over her wine glass.
Darius tried not to squirm as he swallowed his last bite of steak. This felt more like a job interview than a friendly dinner. “I started in the mail room and worked my way up while taking business courses.”
“Impressive. Are you still studying?” Mr. Cheeseman asked.
“Yes, sir. I take a course at the university on Saturday mornings. It will take a while to earn my degree, but I will eventually do it.”
“I admire a young man with ambition.” Mr. Cheeseman pointed a fork at him. “Judging by our dealings with your company, I know you’ll go far there.”
“That’s my plan, sir.”
“I understand you live with your parents at present.” Mrs. Cheeseman made it sound as though it were a sin not to have a place of his own.
“A temporary arrangement, so my mother can watch Sofia while I work.”
Why did Darius feel the purpose of this whole meal was for Mr. Cheeseman to convince his wife that Darius was worthy of their daughter? And why did he feel that he was failing most miserably?
Meredith pushed away from the table. “Darling, I’d love to show you Mama’s gardens out back before we have dessert.” She held out a hand to him.
“Good idea.” Mr. Cheeseman beamed. “It’s a lovely summer evening. And Marion’s roses are something to behold. We’ll have coffee and cake in the parlor when you’re ready.”
Ignoring Mrs. Cheeseman’s disgruntled look, Darius followed Meredith through the house to a rear door that led to the garden.
Once outside, Darius exhaled a long breath, grateful for the reprieve. What an incredible yard. Slightly outside the downtown core, this neighborhood allowed for larger expanses of lawn and beautiful landscaping. He had no doubt that despite Mr. Cheeseman giving his wife credit for the amazing floral display, a hired gardener was most likely responsible for its manicured upkeep.
Meredith took his arm as they made their way along the flagstone path. “I’m
