Free Mulberry Park by JUDY DUARTE

it a point not to stick his nose in other folks’ business.
    Besides, what did he know about kids? His own stepsons had pretty much disowned him, and he couldn’t say as he blamed them.
    He pulled into the parking lot, next to the car Hilda and Analisa were climbing out of. His lips twisted in a crooked grin at the thought of the blond pixie writing letters to God.
    It was kind of cute, if you asked him.
    “Good morning.” His voice held a friendly tone and boomed as though he was outgoing and had a habit of greeting everyone he ran into. In reality, Walter had always been shy—except when he drank.
    Funny thing, though. The other day, after talking to Claire, who hadn’t shined him on like most people did, his confidence level had risen.
    “Good morning,” Hilda said.
    “Ought to be a nice day,” he added.
    She glanced around, as if she hadn’t realized the sky was such a pretty shade of blue and the ocean breeze would make it pleasant today.
    The sun glistened off strands of silver and platinum in her hair. She’d be an attractive woman if she smiled more. But then again, maybe—like him—she didn’t have much to be happy about these days.
    “I asked God to find you a friend,” the little girl told him. “One who knows how to play chest .”
    “You did?” The fact she’d mispronounced the name of the game didn’t faze him, and he’d be darned if he’d correct her. He supposed he ought to thank her. As far as he knew, nobody had ever prayed on his behalf before. Except maybe Margie when she’d been alive. “I appreciate that, young lady.”
    “You’re welcome.” She blessed him with a grin that turned his heart to mush, then looked at her nanny. “Can I run ahead to the playground? Please?”
    “Sure. Go ahead. But don’t you try to jump out of the swing. If something happens and you get hurt, your uncle will tell us we can’t come back to the park.”
    The little cutie pie dashed off, leaving Walter and Hilda to bring up the rear. It was his cue to go his own way, but he didn’t. “How’s that arthritis?”
    “Not too bad today.”
    “I don’t know about you,” he quipped, “but I used to be a kid not so long ago. And all these aches and pains are for the birds.”
    Hilda actually grinned, which took years off her face. “I couldn’t agree more.”
    They walked toward the shaded table near the playground, where she and the girl usually sat. Rather than part ways and move on, Walter stuck around for a moment. Maybe she’d flash him another one of those rare smiles.
    “Mind if I sit here for a minute or two?” he asked.
    “No. Go ahead.”
    They didn’t speak right away, which wasn’t surprising. Right now, they seemed to be two strangers treading on shaky ground.
    He finally asked, “How long have you been a nanny?”
    “Nearly thirty years. I married just out of high school, but when my husband Frank died, I had to figure out a way to support myself. And since I always liked children and we’d never had any of our own…” She dropped the subject, which made him think she was still dealing with either the loss or the disappointment. Maybe both.
    “Ever remarry?”
    “No.”
    That was too bad. The so-called Golden Years were merely gilded without loved ones or friends, and Walter suspected she was nearly as lonely and miserable as he was.
    “How about you?” she asked. “Are you married?”
    “I was once. She was a pretty gal named Margie, a single mother with two little boys.” Hilda didn’t ask for details, but Walter rarely had a chance to reminisce out loud. “She was a waitress, and I used to eat most of my meals at that little coffee shop where she worked, just so I could see her.”
    In fact, when the two of them started dating, he’d curtailed his drinking and settled down, hoping to be the kind of man she and her two sons deserved. And at least while she’d been alive, he’d been able to lay aside his demons and become a family man—for the most part,