Now she was stuck. She couldn’t leave anyone in the lurch whose taut posture communicated such a panicked SOS.

Letting the door close behind her, she took a few steps closer to the duo. Much as she wanted to ask who the child was, she settled for a question more appropriate to the immediate problem. “How can I help?”

As she spoke, the girl spun toward her and went silent. But her splotchy complexion and heaving chest suggested her distress hadn’t abated.

“The sleeve of the sweater got caught in the dryer latch while I was taking it out.” Jack lifted his arm to display the limp garment. “It started to unravel.” He angled sideways to give her a view of the damage.

“May I take a look?”

“Please.”

She crossed to him and gently lifted the damaged sleeve. About three inches of a row of stitching had unraveled. “Did you pull this?”

“Yeah. I guess that was a mistake.”

She didn’t bother to confirm what he already knew as she gave the damage a closer perusal. While her experience with needle and thread was limited, the skills she’d gleaned from the learn-to-knit class she’d taken to fill up her solitary evenings a couple of years ago ought to help.

“I may be able to fix this.”

The girl eased closer, hope sparking in her eyes. “Would you try?”

“I’d be happy to. May I take it home and work on it?”

As renewed anxiety darkened the girl’s irises, Jack spoke. “She doesn’t like to let it too far from her sight. It was her mom’s.”

“Oh.” Christi examined the unraveled section again. “Do you have any sewing supplies?”

“Other than an emergency sewing kit from a hotel I stayed in once, no.”

That wouldn’t be sufficient.

But Beth was into needlepoint. She’d been working on a piece a few minutes ago. Perhaps she also had sewing-related items.

It was worth asking.

“I’ll tell you what. I was just visiting my boss, who lives in this apartment complex, and she may have the supplies I need. Give me a few minutes to see what I can scrounge up and I’ll meet you at your apartment. Unless your friend has to go home first?”

“I live there too.”

What?

Christi gaped at the girl as she tried to digest that bombshell. Refocused on Jack.

His cheeks grew ruddy, and he reached around to massage his neck. “I, uh, should have introduced you sooner. This is my daughter, Hannah.”

The words registered—but didn’t compute.

Jack had a daughter?

“I’ll explain at the apartment.” He was watching her like she was a spooked deer about to bolt.

No wonder, if she looked as shocked as she felt.