Mom Over Miami - By Annie Jones Page 0,49

is still staying because her baby brother is acting every bit the part and sopping up her attention like a biscuit in greasy gravy—says to use bold colors and geometric shapes. To stimulate creativity. Just what I need. Toddlers with the mental capacity to form complex escape plans using blocks and tippy cups.

Nope. Much as I appreciate the well-considered suggestions, I have settled on the paint color that I think best suits the current situation.

Eggshell.

You know, as in what I am constantly walking on trying to please everyone?

It’s perfect.

—From “Nacho Mama’s House” column

“What were we thinking here, Hannah?”

We? She had heard of the royal “we.” And had worked with an old-style doctor or two who still insisted on walking into a patient’s room and asking, “How are we feeling today?” But coming from the mouth of their bright-eyed young minister in his fisherman’s knit sweater and custom-made-for-fall corduroy pants, it riled Hannah’s suspicions. Just who were “we” and what were “we” supposed to think?

She found no answer in his broad face.

“I’m thinking, Reverend Tappin…” She’d been thinking how much she missed Aunt Phiz. How even though school and friends took up more and more of Sam’s day, she didn’t seem to have more time in her day. And on top of that, she missed the kid. And Payt.

He hadn’t said a word about Miami. She’d hoped to ask him this morning, but how could she with a houseful of boys in pajamas and boxes of colored cereal spilled on her table and all the moms about to converge on her house to pick up their boys? And with her commitment to come to the church and repaint…

Oh. Paint. That was the topic at hand. She stepped back and took in the serene, calming neutrality of the blank wall. “We’re thinking…that it’s perfect?”

“I’m thinking—” he tilted his head like a man trying to make sense of modern art “—that it looks exactly like it did before you started this renovation project two months ago.”

“No. Not at all.” Easy fix. Just point out the obvious and get out of the way. “Before, the walls had this dingy, not-quite-white thing going.”

“And now?”

She swept her arm out with the grace of a practiced spokesmodel. “Eggshell.”

He cleared his throat.

“Eggshell,” she reiterated, adding extra oomph to the motion of her outstretched arm.

“You know, Hannah…”

Not good. No one started good news off with “You know, Hannah…”

“I’ve been doing some thinking myself.” He scratched his fingers through his short blond hair, leaving a rooster tail on top.

“Oh?” She smoothed her hand along the top of her own head, hoping he’d pick up on the hint.

“I have.” He didn’t exactly frown. But his expression did take on a decisive does-this-milk-taste-funny-to-you? quality. “It’s not that I don’t appreciate all your effort and hard work on behalf of the nursery program. But…”

But?

She swallowed and touched her chilled fingers to her throat. The man planned to fire her. For something that wasn’t technically her fault.

Fired? From a volunteer position?

Worse! From a volunteer position she had written about extensively in her weekly newspaper column! Taking rejection was one thing. She’d taken that all her life. In fact, she’d taken on far more rejection than she had actually received. All those imagined slights, the overblown reactions, the hurts borrowed against her ever-present fear that someone would not like her.

But this…this would go too far. This she could not suppress with a shaky smile. Everyone would know about this.

“I know it doesn’t look like much of an improvement, Reverend.” In fact, looking close now, she could see the product designed to kill the other paint colors had left a few ghosts behind. She turned her back to the wall. “But I was dealt circumstances beyond my control—that got beyond my control—that went entirely out of control—”

“Don’t worry, dear.” He laid a comforting hand on her shoulder. “The first wedding I ever performed in this church? A world-exclusive Jacqui Lafferty and Cydney Snowden Technicolor extravaganza.”

Her shoulders sank in relief, and she breathed out a sigh and an almost inaudible “Thank you.”

He nodded.

As an afterthought—and she did feel more than a little guilty that it didn’t spring to her mind sooner—she added, “But please don’t hold any hard feelings toward the ladies. I took the reins of this wild ride, and when I did, took on all the responsibility for the nursery and toddler department. I may have let this redecorating business get out of hand, but let me assure you that from now you can count