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  One, two, three. Molly counted off the houses. An elderly woman walking her dog smiled and waved at Molly when she turned into the driveway and pulled up behind a cherry-red Jeep.

  Before turning off the ignition, she checked the clock again. Twelve twenty-five. The drive she’d expected to take her an hour had taken only twenty-five minutes. She reached in the leather satchel she favored over a briefcase and pulled out a comb and a compact. Using the rearview mirror, she fluffed her red gold pageboy and dusted powder over the sprinkling of freckles that bridged her nose. May as well go in, she told herself.

  While she didn’t like putting her families on the spot when they were already nervous about a home visit, arriving early did give her an advantage. She got to observe the families in a more “natural” state before they could put on their best behavior.

  She grabbed her satchel and stepped out of the car. Taking a deep breath of the crisp fresh air, she walked up the flagstone path to the brick red door. The rambling old farmhouse was just the sort of house she’d want if she ever had a family. But for now, she’d be happier with her condo—if only she could figure out some way to keep it.

  Molly rapped the brass doorknocker sharply. A minute went by and no one answered. She looked for a doorbell before rapping the knocker again. Still no answer. Why didn’t people have doorbells? Brass knockers looked nice, but doorbells worked so much better.

  She reached for the knocker a third time. The door whipped open, startling Molly off balance. Instead of grabbing the brass knocker, she grabbed a fistful of soft flannel shirt backed by a very solid chest.

  “What—” Brett glared at her hand.

  A hot flush of embarrassment washed over her. She let go and stepped back, struggling to regain her composure. The dismissive head-to-toe once over he gave her didn’t help. Neither did the fact that the man she was accosting was gorgeous in that dark, chiseled, outdoorsman way.

  “Whatever you’re selling. I’m not interested.” Brett started to close the door.

  “Wait. Mr. Cahill? Brett?” Molly hesitated a moment until the man nodded.

  “I’m Molly Hennessey—from Thayer House.”

  He pulled back, opening the door wider. “You’re not what I expected,” he blurted. “The satchel, I thought . . . please come in. Is it that late already? I’ve had a heck of a morning.”

  Bang, bang, bang. “Unca, Unca, Unca.”

  “Jake!” Brett all but yanked her into the house, slamming the door behind her. “Make yourself at home. I’ll be right back.” He headed to the back of house, deftly skirting a large toy Jeep and a Big Wheel cycle.

  The front door opened directly into a large living room. From the age of the home, she imagined it was once two rooms, a family living room and a more formal front parlor. She took off her jacket and laid it on the back of one of the tapestry-covered side chairs.

  It was easy to see the kind of morning Brett had had. In addition to the Big Wheel and Jeep—just like the one in the driveway, she noted—numerous other toys were scattered around the room. A half-full laundry basket stood in front of the couch, a variety of unfolded little T-shirts, overalls, and socks strewn around it.

  Walking in the direction Brett had taken, Molly came into the dining room. A vacuum cleaner was poised ready for action next to a pile of graham cracker crumbs. Blueprints covered the oak table. A half-full coffee mug sat dangerously close to the table edge. Molly surmised Brett must have been trying to get some work done while watching Jake through the wide archway to the front room.

  Brett met her at the open doorway to the kitchen, a squirming, lunch-coated Jake in his arms. His face full of fatherly pride, he said, “This is Jake.”

  Brett held the chubby, dark-haired toddler as if he was his prized possession and grinned like a little leaguer who’d just hit a grand slam to win the series. Laugh lines accented the look of expectancy in Brett’s brown eyes. A single dimple flashed in his left cheek.

  Despite her profession, Molly hadn’t had much hands-on experience with small children. She reached for Jake.

  “Hi, Jake. Do you want to come see me?”

  The baby turned his face into Brett’s shoulder peeking out at Molly with one eye.

  “He’s a little wary of women.” The look on Brett’s face seemed to say he was in agreement with Jake on that score.

  “That’s not surprising,” she said. “In Korea, he would have spent most of his time with his foster mother, and all of a sudden she was gone from his life. Then, to lose your sister, too. Jake probably feels betrayed. He may be taking out his anger on all women.”

  An insistent scratching at the kitchen door, followed by a loud howl, interrupted Molly.

  “Humpf,” Jake said, straining to get down and out of Brett’s grasp. Once he’d accomplished his objective, Jake took off into the kitchen with Brett close behind.

  “Humphrey . . . the dog,” he explained to Molly over his shoulder. “He’s at the back door.”

  Curious, Molly trailed behind the guys. No sooner had she stepped into the kitchen than the biggest horse of a dog she’d ever seen accosted her. Before Brett could grab his collar, Humphrey jumped up and put his paws on Molly’s shoulders, nearly knocking her over with his weight.

  Relax; don’t let him know you’re scared. Dogs can sense when you’re afraid. She silently repeated the litany over and over.

  “Humphrey!” Brett roared.

  Jake laughed and shouted, “Humpf.”

  The dog looked at Brett, and Molly would have sworn he smiled, if dogs could smile.

  She stood statue-still until Brett lifted the dog's paws from her shoulders.

  “Bad boy. Lie down.” Humphrey whined at Brett's reprimand and slunk under the table.

  Touching her shoulder, Brett asked, “Are you all right?” Humphrey’s really very gentle. He just doesn’t realize how big he is and that not everyone is as happy to see him as he is to see them.”

  Molly shivered, whether from relief or from Brett’s unexpected touch she wasn’t sure. Demonstrative people made her uneasy.

  “What is he?”

  “The general consensus is that Humphrey is a cross between a golden retriever and a Russian wolfhound. We got him at the Humane Society. He was the runt of the litter.”

  “He's certainly, uh, friendly.”

  “That's a polite way to put it. Actually, his exuberance can be a real pain. He thinks he's a person and expects to be included in all family activities.”

  “Someone else seems to think Humphrey's a member of the family,” she said pointing at Jake who was under the table sharing a dog biscuit Humphrey had found somewhere.

  “Jake, yucky.” Brett crouched beside the table and reached for Jake, the plaid flannel of his shirt stretched to the limit across his wide shoulders. Having those shoulders between her and the dog was reassuring.

  “Can you hand me the washcloth on the table?” Brett asked, reaching back.

  “Sure.” Molly found the cloth and put it in his waiting hand.

  “No, no, no,” Jake protested to Brett's ministrations.

  She stepped closer and bent to peek at the activities under the table, only to have Brett turn to stand up. He paused, his face so close that she could see each individual whisker shadowing the tanned hollow of his cheek. She quickly stepped back.

  “Terrific,” he said. Brett stood and gave Molly a grin verging on a grimace. “I can see your report now.” He shuddered.

  “Hey, it hasn’t been all bad,” she said giving him a broad smile. “You did rescue me from Humphrey.”

  He pulled out one of the kitchen chairs for her, sat Jake on his booster seat, and moved the baby’s milk cup within his reach. “I'll clear off these other dishes and we can talk. Would you like me to put on some coffee while I’m up?”

  “No, but I’ll take tea if you have any.”

  “Sure.”

  The earlier chaos aside, Brett appeared to be a man at home in the kitchen. He stacked the dish
es in the dishwasher, wiped the remnants of Jake’s lunch from the table, and started the water for tea before sitting down next to her.

  She pulled a sheaf of papers and a pen from her satchel. “Let’s get these forms out of the way first, then we can talk some more about Jake.”

  “Okay, where do I sign?” Brett lifted the pen with a flourish. “I’m anxious to have everything finalized.”

  Molly studied Brett’s face, lingering on his dimple. Surely, he was kidding. Susan must have told him about the new application. “I’m afraid there’s a little more to it,” she said.

  “What?” he asked, the dimple disappearing. Jake’s been with Kate and David and me for the required six months. I thought this visit and signing the final papers was it.”

  “Susan didn’t explain?”

  “Explain what?” A muscle worked in his jaw.

  “Because your sister and brother-in-law’s adoption of Jake wasn’t completed, Korean Child Welfare is requiring you to apply to adopt Jake yourself.”

  “It’s not enough that Kate—” His voice caught on his sister’s name. “It’s not enough that her and David’s Wills named me as Jake’s guardian?”

  Molly’s heart went out to Brett. “Korean Child Welfare doesn’t recognize your guardianship, because, technically, Jake wasn’t legally Kate and David’s son, yet.”

  “Technicalities.” His voice had an edge, but Brett’s expression had visibly relaxed. “So, what do I have to do? Fill out some forms?”

  “Yes.” Molly hesitated. She hated being the bearer of bad news. “But, there’s another small problem.”

  “Like, what?”

  Molly cast her eyes down, away from Brett’s penetrating gaze. “Korean Child Welfare doesn’t allow single-parent adoptions.”

  “What!” Brett said so loudly, Jake dropped the cup of milk he was drinking, spilling the liquid on the table. Brett let the milk flow over the table edge and on the floor. “Susan Green didn’t say anything about Korean Child Welfare not allowing me to adopt Jake. Are you telling me I can’t?” he demanded.

  Molly bit her bottom lip and forced herself to meet his gaze. He was leaning back in the chair now with his arms crossed and his mouth frozen in a straight line, the light from the window defining the sharp planes of his face. “No, not necessarily,” she answered cautiously, not wanting to cause him any more pain.

  Jake slapped his hands in the puddle of milk, catching Brett with a splash to the cheek. “Let me clean Jake up and put him in for his nap, then we can talk.” Without waiting for a reply, he picked up Jake and took him upstairs.

  She wasn’t handling this well. Reading the adoption file again to get a better handle on the situation, she saw that the home study update box on the new application was checked. What had Susan Green been thinking? She must have told Brett all he had to do is update Kate and David’s home study.

  Molly couldn’t even be certain Korean Child Welfare would accept a new application from Brett. The agency was considering changing its policy on single-parent adoptions, but, even if the change were approved, it probably wouldn’t go into effect until next year.

  Maybe it would be for the best if Korean Child Welfare wouldn’t take Brett’s application. She had reservations about Brett—or anyone—taking on single parenthood. Brett’s footsteps on the stairs warned her of his return.

  Giving him a conciliatory smile when he hesitated in the kitchen doorway, she said, “I really am sorry. I’ll try to make this as easy on you as possible.”

  “It’s no problem,” he said tightly. He closed the distance to the table in two long strides and sat down.

  “Susan hasn’t handled your case exactly according to procedures. It appears she may have told you we only needed to update your sister’s home study and then we could proceed with the adoption.”

  Brett nodded, his lips pressed together in a thin smile.

  “And that Jake could stay with you while we and Korean Child Welfare processed the update.”

  He nodded again, his smile becoming a flat line.

  Molly’s throat tightened. She forced the words out. “Then Susan didn’t tell you that at your sister’s death, Jake became a ward of Thayer House, that you don’t have legal custody.”

  “Not exactly, he said, the muscle in his jaw beginning to work again. “She said something about technicalities. I don’t know. I wasn’t in that great a shape, you know, with Kate gone and Jake and all.” He pushed his hand though his hair.

  Molly imagined Brett had had a hard time. It wasn’t as if he’d planned on becoming a parent or losing his sister. And unfortunately, what she had to tell him next wasn’t going to be easy. “Brett, there’s a chance—a small one—that Korean Child Welfare could direct Thayer House to reassume custody of Jake while we try to work things out.”

  He pushed away from the table, clenching the edge. “I see.”

  “I’m not sure you do.” Uncharacteristically, she touched his hand in sympathy. “I want to check on a few things before we go any further. Korean Child Welfare can be very rigid in how they require us to apply their regulations. I’ll get right back to you later today or tomorrow morning.”

  He pulled his hand away from hers, got up, and paced the kitchen. “Neither you nor anyone else is going to take Jake away from me.”

  She should say something more, give him some reassurance, but instead she sat, her gaze locked with his, until a wail from upstairs broke the silence. He turned and hurried upstairs.

  “Go ahead,” she said to his back. “I’ll let myself out.”

  Chapter Three

  Molly hated what she had to do. She liked Brett Cahill, his quick smile, and the ease with which he'd handled each little disaster that had plagued the home visit. A child would be lucky to have Brett as a father. That was why she hated what she had to do.

  But the adoption requirements were clear. Korean Child Welfare allowed infants to be adopted only by couples who had been married three years or longer. She’d doubled checked as soon as she got back to the office. The requirements for older, harder-to-place children were more relaxed and, after the first of the year, chances were good that Korean Child Welfare would let single people apply to adopt infants. For the time being, though, Brett wasn’t eligible to adopt Jake.

  Molly took her glasses off and rubbed her brow. In a worst-case scenario, Jake would have to be placed in foster care for a while and listed as one of Thayer House’s available children. The thought bothered her, more than it should. She was just doing her job.

  “Problems?”

  She jerked her head up to see Charles entering the office. “Yes . . . no . . .”

  “Well, which is it?” Charles asked.

  “Both,” she answered.

  Now, it was Charles’ turn to frown. “What’s wrong?”

  “Brett Cahill isn’t married.”

  “Go for it, friend,” he teased.

  “Get serious,” Molly said. After this afternoon, Brett surely saw her as an adversary Not that he should see her in a romantic light, but she’d hoped they could work together on friendlier terms.

  “Okay, relax. But you knew Brett wasn’t married.”

  “Yeah, but what I didn’t know was what he didn’t know.”

  “Girl, you’re not making any sense.”

  No, she wasn’t making sense, but it didn’t make sense to her that an experienced caseworker like Susan had let Brett believe his adopting Jake would be a simple matter. Molly pushed the file folder away and slumped in her chair. “This case is a mess. I can’t understand why it was assigned to me, rather than someone else with more experience, like you,” she challenged Charles.

  “Hey I had nothing to do with it. Maybe it’s trial by fire to see what you can do.”

  “Wonderful!” Molly raised her hands in defeat. “All I know is that no matter what Susan told him, Brett Cahill isn’t eligible to adopt Jake now. Korean Child Welfare very specifically requires its adoptive parents to be married fo
r at least three years when they make the application.”

  “I’m with Susan,” Charles said. “Give the guy a break. You know we’re expecting KCW to issue new requirements giving its American agencies the discretion to approve adoptions by single people.”

  “I want to, but I have some reservations. The new regulations won’t take effect for another three months, if they do at all. What if the director assigned me this case as some sort of test to see if I can handle the job, and I start off by flaunting the regulations? How would that look?”

  “You have a point,” Charles conceded.

  Molly chewed her pen top. “Susan should have started proceedings for Thayer House to resume custody of Jake as soon as Brett notified her of his sister’s death,” she said as much to herself as to Charles.

  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

  Molly looked at Charles. He did like to play devil’s advocate with her. She knew what she had to do, but it wouldn’t hurt to hear his opinion. “What do you think?” she asked.

  “I think you should cut the guy some slack and begin processing the new application. By the time you finish the new home study, you should be able to file the application under the new requirements. Case closed.”

  “But what about the baby?”

  “What about him?” Charles asked.

  She answered, “Leaving him with Brett is against Korean Child Welfare’s regulations. Taking him from Brett could be difficult.” What an understatement. She shuddered, remembering Brett’s vow to keep Jake at all costs. “And placing Jake in temporary foster care and, then, back with Brett if his adoption is approved could traumatize the child. He won’t know where he belongs.”

  “It’s within our power to name Brett as a temporary foster parent while we try to place the baby with him or elsewhere,” Charles suggested.

  “I wonder if he could get certification as a foster parent,” she said, leaning her forearms on the desk, hands clasped. “He’s juggling a business and childcare with no one to help him. No matter how hard he tries to be a good parent, it’s not the best situation for a young child.”