She had, actually—and Serena’s first response had been dismay. “Have you lost your mind?” she had asked her mother. “You’ve invited a total stranger to live in our own backyard?”
“Serena, he’s a very nice man who needs our help,” Marjorie had answered calmly. “What kind of people would we be if we turned our backs on someone in that poor man’s circumstances?”
“And what will happen to us if he isn’t a very nice man?”
Marjorie had waved off the question with typical confidence in her own judgment, leaving Serena to do the worrying.
“My mother has a soft heart and a generous nature,” Serena said to Sam. “I would hate for anyone to try to take advantage of those traits.”
“If that’s a not-so-veiled warning, I received it loud and clear.”
She kept her smile cool. “I hope so.”
“I take it you don’t share your mother’s predilection for snap judgments.”
“I tend to be a bit more cautious about giving my trust.”
He was watching her now as closely as she’d studied him earlier. “That’s very wise of you.”
“The truth is, I’m not as good as my mother at reading people. I’ve learned to be more careful.”
“Personal experience being burned?”
“Once or twice.” She quickly changed the subject. “So you’re going to work in the diner. Do you have training for waiting tables?”
He shrugged. “How hard can it be?”
She couldn’t help smiling at that. She would love to be around to watch his first encounter with her mother’s busy lunch crowd, all of them in a hurry to eat and return to their jobs. “Mom said you’re being released tomorrow. Do you know what time?”
“Sometime tomorrow morning. Before noon, they said.”
“I’ll be here to pick you up. Is there anything you need me to bring in the morning?”
His eyebrows rose. “You understand that your mother has offered to let me stay in your guest house?”
“Yes, I know. She’s probably dusting and freshening it as we speak.”
“And you have no objections to this arrangement?”
“I suppose not. After all, Mother already offered.”
“And you claim that she is the trusting one in the family?”
Serena wrinkled her nose at him, amused by his expression. “I don’t have to completely trust you to give you a hand in the morning. Not that I don’t trust you, of course,” she added quickly, in case he’d taken offense. “What I meant to say is—”
He laughed. The sound was so unexpected—and so pleasant—that it silenced her babbling. “I know what you meant,” he assured her. “And there’s no need to apologize. I appreciate your help. I hope I can find a way to repay you and your mother someday for the kindness you’ve shown me.”
Somewhat stiffly, she murmured, “I wasn’t apologizing.”
“Good.”
A young woman in teddy-bear-print scrubs carried a covered tray into the room. “Dinner, Mr. Wallace.”
He eyed the tray without enthusiasm. “I don’t suppose you’ve got a thick steak under there? Or maybe lasagna?”
With an apologetic smile, she set the tray on
the wheeled bed table. “I’m afraid not. It’s macaroni and cheese with English peas and Jell-O.”