Surely routine household chores should stir a memory. How many tubs had she scrubbed over the years? One too many as of today since Jacob had underestimated the number of dirty rooms. Did his regular maid have bad eyesight?
Jacob Stone had been right about one thing. Cleaning was dirty, hard work. And she thanked God for the job plus the monotonous distraction it provided.
She’d done more than dust and air the extra rooms, but she felt obligated. Jacob would have been well within his rights to toss her into a snowbank. Of course with any luck, someone would come looking for her soon, whisk her off to a hot meal and soft bed, a bed she hadn’t made.
Meanwhile, she would pay her way while she waited to reclaim her identity. Her pride demanded it. Pride? The notion seemed misplaced given her current mess, but she didn’t have much else left.
Dee slumped against the bathroom wall and clutched her legs to her chest. What had robbed her of her past? She’d scoured every inch of her head, and there wasn’t a telling lump to be found, just a sore spot that could have come from brushing her hair too hard.
Could she trust someone on the tour bus to help her? Possibly, but not worth betting the bank. That just left her new boss.
What a puzzling man. Not that she had much to compare him to. He seemed determined to help her when he had absolutely no obligation.
Around midday, he’d slipped through the door, set a plate of food on the table and silently lumbered back out before she could speak. While she hadn’t been able to tolerate more than a mouthful of the sandwich, she’d stared out the window at his footprints long after he’d been swallowed by the circling snow. His thoughtfulness had filled her with a sense of security far more nourishing than two slices of bread and some turkey.
Dee stretched her legs the length of the minuscule bathroom. Every muscle resisted, tightening, urging her to curl up and sleep.
Not a chance. She had to break out the vacuum and get back to work before her boss caught her napping on the job.
She flung the can of scrubbing bubbles into the supply bucket just as voices swelled from the next room. Dee conquered her aching muscles and stood, ducking her head out the bathroom door. “Hello? Who’s there?”
The television blared to life from the stand. She stepped into the room and found the girl from the plow truck—Emily, Jacob’s sister—pitching aside the remote control.
“Hi, there.” Emily sat cross-legged in the middle of one of the unmade beds, a jelly-filled doughnut in one hand, foam cup of milk in the other resting on her knee. On the television, a game show contestant puzzled over an answer that could win her a Winnebago and a year’s supply of beef jerky.
All of that faded for Dee as her gaze focused on the sleeping baby in the middle of the bed. Swaddled in a pink sleeper with footies, the infant appeared to be no more than two or three months old.
Jacob had a child and recruited his sister for babysitting? She’d just assumed from his bare ring finger that he was single.
Dee notched down the volume with the remote. “I would tell you to make yourself comfortable, but—”
“I figured you wouldn’t mind some company while you worked. I’m Emily. Emily Stone.” She patted the sleeping baby on her little round belly. “This is Madison.”
Still no clue who the infant belonged to and Dee didn’t bother asking. Her overtaxed brain seemed to do better by assimilating information as it came to her.
Emily appeared to be settling in for a long stay, and Dee wasn’t sure she had enough energy for the mental gymnastics needed to dodge more questions. “Weren’t you going to build a snowman?”
Emily tore her doughnut open. “Like I can wait another minute without the inside skinny on you.”
“There’s nothing to know.” What an understatement.
“Yeah, right. I figure I’ll just hang out. Madison’s gotta eat soon anyway.” Emily sipped her milk. Her curious eyes peered over the rim.
Dee eyed the cup, her stomach simultaneously growling and rolling. Best to stay away from food. She took in the girl’s Army fatigue pants and tight white T-shirt, hair-thin silver chains floating along her collarbone.
“So?” Emily licked away her milk mustache.
The girl wasn’t going to leave without something. The truth, or as close as she could guess, seemed a safe bet.
“My boyfriend skipped out on me.” Dee spritzed the mirror with Windex and began wiping.
“That bites. Guess I’m really lucky to have Chase.” The baby whimpered and Emily lifted her like a pro.
Then she hiked up her T-shirt and latched the baby onto her breast.
Dee blinked, surprised. Well, that solved one mystery, and brought an unwelcome swell of relief that the baby was Jacob’s niece.
Emily frowned, her hand cupping Madison’s head as the baby nursed. “I didn’t think to ask. Do you mind my nursing her in front of you?”