Maxwells Smile

said. “So the Barta sisters founded this organization all on their own? Wow, I’m impressed.”
    “Me too. They were teenagers at the time. Now Kid Flicks sends DVD libraries all over the United States to hundreds of different children’s hospitals and pediatric departments.”
    Whenever her son got excited about something, it lightened Rachel’s heart. She took a sip of Maxwell’s smoothie and got a brain freeze.
    “I got to thinking about all the kids in the hospital,” Maxwell said thoughtfully. “I talked to Katie, the girl across the hall from me, when the nurse got our lunches mixed up. I walked over and traded Jell-O for her pudding. She has a brain tumor, and has been there for weeks. Other kids could be there for months. They can’t all have homework to keep them busy. And what if it’s summertime? No school, and they can’t go outside to play.”
    “It’s got to be tough,” Sam agreed.
    “Katie was sad, but also bored,” Maxwell said. “So being able to watch a movie to distract her from the treatment or take away some of the boredom would be a good thing.”
    “That was a great idea those sisters had,” Sam said.
    “They take donations,” Maxwell continued. “You can send cash or you can hold a drive to collect DVDs and then send them to Kid Flicks. That’s what I’m going to do.”
    “Wait. What?” Rachel bent down beside the two of them and stroked her fingers through her son’s hair. “What evil plan are you concocting now?”
    Maxwell gave her his patented evil villain laugh, complete with wiggling fingers about to clutch the mysterious weapon that would destroy the world.
    “Sounds like Maxwell wants to hold a charity drive to collect DVDs for kids who are stuck in hospitals,” Sam said. “Did I tell you how smart you are, Maxwell? I bet your mom is super proud of you.”
    That Sam could see how special Maxwell was meant a lot to Rachel. She didn’t know what to say, so she said the first thing that came to her. “Maybe you could come over tomorrow afternoon to give us a quote on the garage?”
    Sam’s eyes met hers, and his smile worked its way into her heart with startling ease. “I’ll be there.”
    Maxwell beamed from one to the other.
    Sam shook hands with her son. “I’d better get the rest of my groceries,” he said, and left with promises to see them both tomorrow.
    “He’s cool,” Maxwell said.
    Cool was not a word her precocious son ever used. But Rachel had to agree. Sam Jones was cool.

Chapter Three
    It was just a regular business call, Sam kept telling himself as he navigated the quaint Birch Cove neighborhood to Rachel McHenry’s house. Knock on the door, introduce himself, head to the garage to inspect the damage, and draw up an estimate. All-business.
    “Right,” Sam muttered as he turned onto a cul-de-sac that boasted hedgerows of lilacs in full bloom. He could smell the sweet blossoms through the open window on the passenger side of the rust bucket. Reminded him of his mom’s yard and hiding in the shrubs from her when he was little. No matter how angry she had sounded, she’d always smile when he’d appear with a slapdash bouquet of lilacs in hand.
    “Business,” he muttered.
    So why had he spent an inordinate amount of time getting ready this morning? The first three shirts he’d put on hadn’t been right. Too casual, too plaid, too fussy. He hoped this short-sleeved button-up in a shade of blue he’d always thought garish wasn’t too much. And since when had he last bothered with a scented aftershave?
    “It’s more than work,” he confessed to his smirking subconscious. “She’s pretty, and I like her.”
    It had been a while since he’d so quickly taken a liking to a woman, even one who had chewed him out for having corrupted her child with a kiddie movie. The fire in Rachel McHenry’s green eyes had made Sam smile inside, all the way to his heart. And he hadn’t stopped smiling since chatting with her in the grocery store over peppers and spilled smoothies.
    Pulling up the driveway, he immediately noted the fallen ceiling through the open garage door. It looked not good in a very expensive way.
    Grabbing his notebook, he jumped out and strolled over. A little red Volkswagen was parked on one side of the double garage, and it looked as if water had destroyed a good half of the sheetrock on the opposite side, judging from the chunks hanging down. Blame it on the inordinate amount of rain they’d experienced this