GARRETT ANDERSON
Garrett took a deep breath. "You have to trust me, okay? Andie will be fine. She's only going to pick up paper that's around the perimeter of the house."
"Oh. Okay."
Garrett looked at Mike. "I want you to start in the barn. You—"
"I saw a lot of hay in that barn. What if he gets hay fever?"
"He's not going to—"
"I read somewhere that all kinds of vermin live in hay stacks. And aren't there wasps out there? What if he gets stung?"
"But there's not—"
"That barn looks like it could fall over any second."
"Natalie, he'll be fine," Garrett said, drawing each word out.
"I was just voicing my concerns."
"Were you ever," Susan muttered loud enough for Garrett to hear. He shook his head, torn between annoyance and amusement.
"Okay, Sylvie, you start in the kitchen. The cabinets—"
"She won't be on a stepladder, will she?" Natalie asked horror evident in her tone. "What if she fell? And those cabinets. This house is so old—"
"Natalie!" Garrett and Susan both shouted. Natalie gave them a startled look.
"What?" she asked.
"Shut up," Susan said before Garrett could open his mouth. He shot her a grateful glance.
"You signed a contract allowing Garrett the opportunity to discipline your children. So let him."
"I can't stop being a mother because of a piece of paper," Natalie stated. "I'm just concerned about these particular chores."
"You are concerned because you aren't in charge," Susan said. "But if you don't pipe down I'm going to tape your mouth shut."
"I can take a hint," Natalie said. She moved between the two cameramen and sat on the couch. "Continue with your edicts, King Garrett."
He sighed. "I think I'll just show them what I want done. By the way, when should we have the cookout?"
"Tonight!" Andie shouted.
"Yeah," Mike said, grinning. "That's a great idea."
"What about tomorrow night? That way you'll have the rest of today and all of tomorrow to finish your tasks."
"Jeez, slave master, is it going to take that long?" Sylvie asked.
Garrett looked at her. "Watch it, Sylvie, or I'll make you do dishes."
"Ew!"
"And scrub the stove. And maybe clean out the freezer."
"Did I say slave master?" Sylvie said. "I meant to say that you're kind-hearted and good to children.
Garrett raised his eyebrow.
"With a sense of humor and a charming wit?" she elaborated, spreading out her arms in supplication
"Sylvie," he said, trying not to smile, "you better stop now."
"Okay," she said, "I just wanted you to know you're a terrific guy."
"You still have to work in the kitchen."
She flashed him a silver-tinted grin. "It was worth a shot." She disappeared down the hall even though Garrett hadn't yet told her what he wanted her to do.
"Mike, never mind about the barn. You can unpack some of the boxes in one of the bedrooms."
The boy shrugged. "Whatever."
"Hey, Dr. Garrett," Andie said, "what do I get to do?"
"You'll go outside with Mommy and pick up paper that's around the house."
Her eyes narrowed as she looked at him suspiciously. "Is that a fun job?"
"Yes. You get to hold a bag and pick up paper to put in it. Doesn't it sound like fun?"
"I don't know," she said. "Is that all I'm gonna do?"
"Well, since you'll be walking and bending over, you'll be exercising, too," Garrett said.
"Mommy says exercising sucks."
"Andie!" Natalie admonished from the couch. She gave Garrett a faint look of embarrassment. "Exercise is very important. And fun. Or so I've heard."
Andie scrunched up her face and Garrett realized the little girl was thinking. Then she put her hands on her hips and stamped her foot. "I don't want to pick up paper."
"Okay," Garrett said. He squatted in front of her. "You can make that choice. But you can't go to the cookout."
Her lower lip jutted out. "Why not?"
"Because the cookout is only for the children who finish their tasks. When you're done picking up paper, I'll have some other things for you to do. If you finish doing everything, you get to go to the cookout."
Andie gave a sigh bigger than her entire body. "All right, Dr. Garrett. I'll pick up paper."
Garrett smiled. "That's great, honey."
"Okay, people," Susan said. "Let's get this show on the road. Where to first, Garrett?"
"Why don't you follow Andie and Natalie outside and film them picking up trash?"
"Oh excitement," Susan drawled. "I live such a thrilling life in the wonderful world of television."
Garrett got Natalie and Andie trash bags and they trudged through the front door. Garrett saw Susan motion to the camera crew.
"C'mon, guys, let's go earn our paychecks," she said. The cameramen left first. Susan winked at Garrett before she followed them out.
Garrett led Mike into the bedroom closest to the kitchen. He indicated which boxes to open and how to separate the contents into piles. Then Garrett went into the kitchen and showed Sylvie how to lay down shelf paper after cleaning off the dusty shelves.
"This isn't so bad," she said. "I like this paper. It's pretty."
Garrett cleared his throat. "Sylvie, I didn't mean to make fun of your nail polish earlier. I was just overwhelmed by the color."
She smiled. "It's okay. I was only a little mad. Mom says anger is healthy and you shouldn't keep your feelings inside or they'll fester and grow like big, ugly sores."
"That's certainly graphic."
"Yeah," she laughed, "but it's true, you know? If you keep everything bottled up inside, one day it'll explode. Like when Daddy died. I didn't talk to anyone for a long time and then one day—boom! I tore up my whole room. Threw books on the floor and ripped off my bedcovers. I just wanted to destroy everything. I was so mad at him for dying."
His mother had died when he was so young. He hadn't known her long enough to miss her. As for his father's death, he'd been torn between relief and regret when he'd found out Jacob Hart had died. Relief because the old man was gone and regret because Garrett had wanted the kind of father that Jacob could never be.
"It must have been very difficult," Garrett finally said. "I'm sorry."
"It wasn't like he really cared about us. But I still wish he was alive." Sylvie said quietly. "Mom didn't get mad at me about messing up my room. She even helped me clean it up. We talked a lot and I felt better."
She put her hand on his arm and he looked at her, surprised. "I'm really glad Mom met you."
He didn't know what to say. The look of hope and trust in her eyes stunned him. What had he done to deserve that kind of faith from her?