It's a Wonderful Wife by Janet Chapman

Cove. “Any suggestion on who I should contact about getting a boat slip and a couple of moorings—one here in the harbor and one out at my island?”
    â€œMy uncle is the harbormaster. Oren can fix you up on this end and probably get a mooring set at your island.” He gave Jess a calculating look. “You’re also going to need a rugged deep-water dock.”
    Jesse decided his contractor had been passing word around that a deep-
pocket
flatlander was moving to town. “You wouldn’t happen to have any relatives in the dock business, would you?” he asked dryly.
    â€œWell now,” Ken murmured behind his hand—which was likely hiding his grin. “It so happens my son knows a little something about building docks. In fact, Jason’s just about elevated it to an art form.”
    â€œThat’s good,” Jesse said with a nod, “because I know a little something about docks myself, since I’ve overseen the construction of several here in the States and overseas. You wouldn’t
happen
to have one of Jason’s business cards on you, would you?”
    Ken reached in his hind pocket and pulled out his wallet. “That’s right, Corey mentioned you’re a high-up executive in a big shipping company, Tide-something-or-other.”
    â€œTidewater International,” Jesse said, also deciding not to mention he was in fact one of the majority shareholders.
    â€œWell, Jesse,” Ken said, handing him
three
cards, “my youngest son also has a business you might find yourself needing once your house is finished. It appears you’re not the only one drawn to our remote coastline in recent years, and many of the summer folks started looking for someone to keep an eye on their homes. Amos is a full-service caretaker; he’ll do regular property checks, lawn maintenance, painting, and tree-trimming, and he’ll put your floating dock in and out of the water each spring and fall. In fact, he’s even planting a vegetable garden for a client and his wife this spring, so they can pick their own salad fixings all summer.” He shook his head. “This week the boy’s been out hunting up half a dozen laying hens for another couple, because they thought it would be fun to mosey out to the coop for fresh eggs every morning.”
    Jesse used his thumb to fan the business cards to see the third one. “And Samantha?” he asked, reading that Samantha Wiggins apparently did something with interiors.
    â€œYou need a reliable, discreet housekeeper to clean once a week while you’re here, my Sammy’s the girl for you. She’ll also do some baking if you have guests coming, and even cater and serve small dinner parties.”
    Jesse lifted his grin to Ken Dean. “How many children do you have?”
    Ken grinned back. “Five. My oldest son, Kenny Jr., runs this store with me. I have one daughter still in the nest; Abby helps her sister out when she’s home from college, and she’ll also babysit.” He suddenly frowned. “Jason’s the only one I couldn’t talk into going to college. You got any kids, Jesse?”
    â€œNot yet.”
    Ken shook his head again. “Well, I can tell you that despite coming from the same gene pool and having the exact same upbringing, every one of them will have their own personality.” He went back to grinning. “And opinions. And the older they get the dumber
you
get, because they’re certain they know a better way of doing things.”
    â€œMr. Dean to the service desk, pa-lease,” a frustrated voice called over the speaker.
    Ken’s grin broadened. “That would be Oren’s granddaughter, Malinda.” He started backing away. “If you’ll allow me a little fatherly boasting,” he said, gesturing at the cards Jesse was holding, “you won’t find more reliable, harder working people at a fairer price than those