Colorado Christmas. C.C. Coburn

      BECKY’S FRUSTRATION OVER not finding a suitable caregiver for Nicolas during the upcoming holidays was evident when she dropped and broke three dishes as she cleaned up the kitchen after dinner.

      All she wanted was someone to care for Nicolas in the afternoons, supervise his homework and make his dinner. Was that really asking too much? He might be in fifth grade but he was only eight, so too young to be left to his own devices. She was prepared to pay double the going rate, but so far none of the applicants were remotely suitable. Should she set her standards a little lower in order to get someone? Anyone?

      “No!” she muttered as she opened the fridge and poured a small glass of wine to calm her nerves. Taking it to the living room, she curled up on the sofa. Nicolas deserved to have someone who cared about him—or at least knew how to care for a child. She’d devoted several lunch hours to interviewing candidates, and now she was getting desperate. The Christmas holiday was looming and Nicolas had told her tearfully that he didn’t want to go to the program organized by the town, saying the bullies from school went there, too.

      She rubbed her forehead. The fact that Nicolas was being bullied at school preyed on her mind. Coming to a small town, she’d thought all of that would be behind them, but it had reared its ugly head on several occasions. She’d spoken to Nicolas’s teacher and the woman had reiterated that the school had a zero tolerance policy toward bullying and assured Becky she’d dealt with the perpetrator.

      But Becky wasn’t so sure. Nicolas seemed withdrawn and his tearful outburst tonight over attending the town’s holiday program only worsened her fears that the bullying had continued. She’d tried to get him to talk about it, but he’d clammed up and gone to bed early. She’d have to make time to discuss it some more, but not when he was tired and overwrought.

      She scanned the list of applicants she’d interviewed for the job. But reviewing the list caused her even more stress.

      There were a number of questions she asked potential caregivers, to confirm that they were of the moral fiber and intellectual capacities she desired in her employees.

      Frank Farquar’s great-niece, Ellie, was one of the applicants. But when questioned about the types of movies she enjoyed, the teen had recounted a list of the most frightening and diabolically violent movie titles Becky had ever heard of. Ellie was a definite nonstarter. So was the woman addicted to soap operas and another addicted to both caffeine and tranquilizers. Grandmotherly Virginia Smith had seemed promising, until Becky discovered she was illiterate. The kindly woman had difficulty reading the simple list of duties Becky handed her. What hope did she have of helping Nicolas with his homework?

      Many more interviews had taken up Becky’s precious spare time and she groaned at the memory of the ways each and every applicant had proved unsuitable.

      She took a deep breath to try to relax, but the scent of roses filled her lungs.

      Will O’Malley! She couldn’t seem to escape the man, even in her own home. And his name was on the register for tomorrow’s hearings….

      She tucked her feet beneath her and sipped her wine. What would he be up to tomorrow? And would he have the audacity to ask her out again?