Dating by Design Series - Box Set

by Jennifer Peel

  With great trepidation, I entered my house. “Mom?” I called from the stairs.

  “I’m in the living room,” she sobbed.

  My heart sank. I trudged the rest of the way up the stairs to the main living level. I found her sporting a sleeveless bright green romper on my couch surrounded by tissues and vegan paleo dark chocolate wrappers. I wasn’t sure how to feel about her outfit other than disturbed. My mom was beautiful, but she was pushing seventy. Things weren’t as in place as they used to be. At least she was wearing a bra, even if it was the wrong kind for that outfit. The straps were showing.

  I made my way to her pitiful looking self and pushed the tissues and wrappers out of the way so I could sit next to her. I took her hand. “Mom, what’s wrong?”

  “What do you think? He’s gone mad and I can’t take it anymore. I refuse to live in a demolition zone. He’s ruined my feng and shui.”

  Those went together without the conjunction, but I didn’t mention it.

  “Not only that, but the cry from all the dead animals he’s consuming and bringing into our home is sickening. I hear them everywhere.”

  I managed to keep a straight face and tried to think up a plan to get the chicken out of my fridge before she discovered it.

  “And,” she wailed, “he doesn’t touch me anymore.”

  Okay. That was enough. I hugged her, hoping that would silence her. “Mom, it’s going be okay. Let’s go over and we’ll talk it all out.”

  “I’m done talking. He doesn’t listen anyway. Besides, he’s flooded the house.”

  I pulled away. “What? How did that happen?”

  She flapped her hands. “Oh, he decided that we needed a new toilet in our bathroom. The idiot didn’t even turn the water off, then he busted a pipe. The bathroom’s a wreck and the kitchen too. He’s ruined the ceiling.”

  “Did you call your insurance company or a repairman?”

  “No!” she shrieked. “He made the mess; he can clean it up. I’m tired of it.”

  “Mom, you’ve got to get this taken care of. You don’t want mold or rotten floors.”

  She threw her hands up in the air. “I’m done. He can burn the house down for all I care. We’re over.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes. “Don’t say that, Mom.”

  She turned from me, shedding her own tears and reached for another chocolate bar.

  I found myself changing into some old painting clothes and heading over to my parents’ to see if I could help salvage the house I grew up in and loved and my parents’ relationship that I loved even more. I felt bad leaving my mom, but for now, she was finding solace in vegan chocolate and raiding my wine cabinet. She was going to be fun later tonight.

  “Dad,” I shouted over the sound of what I hoped was a Shop-Vac. The house didn’t smell right. It went beyond musty. I traversed my way to the kitchen. Kitchen chairs and some of my mom’s plants littered the way. I wasn’t prepared for the scene in front of me in the kitchen. The ceiling was pooling with water and several pieces of drywall had fallen. What must the master bathroom look like? I was afraid to go upstairs and look.

  Dad was indeed using the Shop-Vac to clean up the water that covered the tile floor among the soppy mess of drywall. “Dad,” I called louder.

  He looked up harried, clothes a mess, embarrassed I was there judging by the bright red cheeks and his balding spot. “Go home, Katie.”

  I pulled the plug on the Shop-Vac. “No. This has to stop. Dad, what’s going on with you?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” He grabbed an industrial strength trash bag and started picking up wet drywall. It was like he had no fight left in him.

  “Try me.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Fine, but I’m not leaving and I’m calling one of those emergency restoration services.”

  “I don’t need help.”

  I shook my head. “We’ll address that lie later, but you’re getting some whether you want it or not.” I pulled out my phone and googled a company. I chose the one with the best star rating, not caring how much it was going to cost me.

  He stared at me dumbfounded.

  I dared him with my eyes to try and stop me. All he did was hang his head and start cleaning again.

  I wanted to cry, and probably would later. After I called the restoration service, I jumped into cleaning up the disaster. My first job was to dry off the gorgeous dark wood cabinets and cover anything I could in plastic that sat beneath the wet drywall that hadn’t come down yet.

  Dad and I worked in silence for an hour before the restoration people showed up. I knew better than to push him before he was ready to talk. Besides, I had to concentrate on not gagging. The smell was awful. I opened all the windows and turned the air conditioner to run nonstop. Thankfully, my parents had a couple of fans I made use of, especially in the bathroom where the water made it to the carpet in the master bedroom. Wet carpet was disgusting.

  The repairs were going to be costly. I left a message for our mutual insurance agent, who was also a family friend, to see if my parents could file a claim. I didn’t know if stupidity was covered, but we would find out.

  I was a mess by the time the restoration guys got there. My dad acted for a moment like he was going to protest, but I wasn’t hearing it. Though when I whipped out my credit card to pay once they had their estimate ready, he showed he still had some fight in him. He refused to let me pay and handed them one of his own instead. Hopefully we would get some of it back if his homeowner’s policy would cover the cleanup minus the deductible. And Dad would only allow them to clean up and dry everything out. He was hell-bent on making the repairs himself. We would argue about it later.

  Once the guys went to work, it was my job to keep Dad out of the way. I ordered Chinese takeout and we sat outside on the back porch. We sat out staring at the pool that I should come over and enjoy more often. Thankfully, he was still paying a pool guy to maintain it.

  The air smelled like honeysuckle and barbecue, better than inside, for sure. I stared at my dad. It was the first time I ever thought he looked old. He was going to turn seventy this year. My parents had met later in life and I’d followed soon thereafter. My mom started out as a patient of his after getting whiplash from a car accident. She made up a lot of reasons to come see him, as the story was told, even after the whiplash was gone.

  There was so much I wanted to say to him, but I decided to take another tactic. I held up some of my lo mein between chopsticks. “Remember when I was seventeen and you took me to Chinatown in San Francisco and we got fresh fortune cookies?”

  “You ate the entire bag.” He faked a smile.

  I would take it. “You had a few. I still have the picture of the little ladies making them.”

  “That was a fun trip.” He was refusing to make eye contact with me.

  “One of my favorite father-daughter trips.” We had taken one every year from age ten to eighteen. “We should take another one and bring Mom with us.”

  Dad pressed his lips together. “I know what you’re trying to do.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Get in my head.”

  “Then make it easy on me and tell me what’s going on with you,” I practically begged.

  “Katie, you’re not the right person to talk about these kinds of things with.”

  My heart dropped. “Are you sick? Did your cardiologist say something?”

  He shook his head. “I feel fine.”

  “Then what? Please.”

  He set his food down on the patio table and patted my knee. “I love you, Katie girl.”

  “Dad . . .”

  He shook his head. He wasn’t going to budge.

  I left late that night as soon as the restoration crew left. The house now smelled like a strong antiseptic. It was better than the sewer smell. I begged Dad to come home with me and talk to Mom, but he gave the excuse he should stay home and keep an eye on all the fans going. I began to worry
he had fallen out of love with my mom, or that he was having an affair.

  Whatever it was, I was determined to find out and fix it. My parents were one of the things I counted on, like the sun coming up every day. They had to be right.

  I was canceling all plans for the weekend. I wondered if the Braves game was over or if Nick was still on his date. An odd twinge of jealousy pricked me thinking about that. No, Kate. Don’t even go down that road. This was a good thing, I reminded myself.

  I noticed I had a few texts from Skye.

  Liam hasn’t responded.

  An hour later. He just responded, but all he said was good. What do I do now?

  I was sorry I had missed that one.

  Thirty minutes later. I didn’t text him back, but he texted me again and asked me if I liked volunteering at the shelter. That’s good, right?

  Yes. That’s a good sign. I’m sorry I missed your other texts. I was helping my dad.

  I better text her dad too. I’ve had a family thing come up. I’m not going to be able to make it tomorrow night. And Skye may ask if Liam can come. You should say yes.

  I shoved my phone in my purse and headed home exhausted, worried, and wishing for someone to go home to. Mom was there, but I was thinking more along the lines of someone I could snuggle up to in bed. Come to think of it, I bet my mom was in my bed. Ugh.

  On my very short drive home, Nick called. Should I answer it? He would probably keep calling if I didn’t. I hit the Bluetooth button in my car. I could hear a cheering crowd in the back.

  “Are you still on your date?”

  “Where have your manners gone, Kate? No hello?”

  “Mine? You shouldn’t be calling me while you’re on a date.”

  “You texted.”

  “I didn’t think you would look at it until you were home; that’s the polite thing to do.”

  “I always keep my phone handy in case Skye needs me.”

  “Oh. Well, I suppose that’s a good reason, but I’m not Skye.”

  “No, you are not.”

  “Where’s Chanel?”

  “I left her in the box.”

  “You should get back to her.”

  “First tell me why you’re canceling on me.”

  “I told you, I have a family,” my voice cracked, “thing.”

  “Kate, what’s wrong?”

  I paused, unsure what to say to him or if I should say anything to him.

  Before I could formulate an answer, he threw me another curveball. “Is it anything I can help with?”

  “Not unless you know anything about home repair.”

  “Actually, I do.”

  “Really?”

  “I used to work construction while I was trying to break into acting.”

  “I didn’t know that.”

  “What can I do, Kate?”

  Why did he pick now to be sweet? It wasn’t helping me keep my emotions in check or out of my voice. “It’s more complicated than fixing my parents’ house.”

  “What’s happened?”

  “I think my parents . . .” I could hardly say it. “I’m not sure, but I think they might be headed for divorce.” Tears streamed down my face.

  “Do you want me to come over?”

  Yes. “No. No. You’re on a date. You should go. I’m sorry I interrupted.”

  “You’re not an interruption.”

  If it was anyone else but him who said that line, I would be asking him to come over. What a beautiful thing to say to somebody. “Nick, you better go.”

  “If it will make you feel better.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “Trying to help. Goodbye.”

  “Wait,” he got in before I hung up.

  “What?”

  “Does Skye like Liam?”

  I laughed through my tears. “I think you should ask her. Good night, Nick.”

  “Good night, Kate.”

  I foolishly wished for the kiss on the cheek that usually accompanied those words, and for so much more.

  Oh, Kate, why do you always fall for the wrong guy?

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  I woke up with an awful crick in my neck from sleeping on the couch. I’d been right. Mom made herself comfortable in my bed, and judging by the empty wine bottle on my nightstand, there was no getting her up last night. Sleep was probably good for her, anyway. I sat up and rubbed my neck. I was going to take a long, hot bath, then I was going to get to the bottom of what was going on with my dad.

  Mom was sitting on the edge of my bed in her classic muumuu, rubbing her head when I creeped in.

  “Morning. I have some coffee brewing downstairs.”

  “Is it organic?”

  “Sure. . .” I had no idea.

  She ran a hand through her spiky hair. “How’s the house?”

  “I thought you didn’t care.” I grinned.

  “It’s too early for back talk.” Mom encouraged some growing up; she didn’t want to stifle me. Dad wasn’t all that fond of it.

  I sat next to her on the bed. “I called a restoration service, so it’s better. It’s going to take three to five days for everything to dry out and before repairs to the ceiling and your bathroom can really begin. I also left a message for your insurance agent.”

  “This isn’t your problem, honey.”

  “Of course it is; I’m your daughter. And you’re sleeping in my bed.” I tried to keep it on the lighter side.

  She laughed but rested her head on my shoulder. “I don’t know what to do with him anymore.”

  I patted her head. “We’ll figure it out together.” I felt more like the mom now.

  “I love you, Katie.” She sniffled.

  “I love you, too. Do you want to take a shower first?”

  “You go ahead, honey. I need to commune with my crystals.”

  “You have fun with that.” I was going to become one with my jetted tub and some music.

  I slid into the hot water while the soulful tones of Billie Holiday singing Body and Soul filled my bathroom. I tried to clear my head, but all I could think of was Nick, giving myself over to him body and soul. I slipped my head underwater trying to drown out thoughts of him and my parents. My life felt suddenly out of control. Controlled environments were safe, albeit sterile.

  I came up out of the water and ran my hands over my face, trying to wipe away the water and thoughts of Nick. He was completely off limits. Not only was it my job to find him a match, but there were rules against me dating him—the company’s and my own. He was a young adult fantasy, that was all.

  I hoped Chanel knocked his socks off and he was rethinking being in a short-term relationship. I didn’t think it would take much to convince her to change her mind by the way she was jumping up and down when she came in to sign the NDA. Maybe after the game ended he took her out for drinks and they stayed up all night talking or doing . . . other things that were none of my business and shouldn’t be making me feel even an ounce of envy. I had to work through it like the book said. Live it in my head and never act on it.

  I stayed in the tub until the water went tepid. It was long enough for my neck and back to relax. I had a feeling the knots would be back while I figured out what was going on with my dad and how to get my parents back together. Unless he was having an affair. I felt ill thinking about it. And I didn’t want to suggest it to my mom until I knew for sure. She would have said something, though, if she’d been suspicious, right? Mom wasn’t the kind of person to sweep things under the rug.

  I threw on some cutoffs and an old college tee. I planned on going over to my parents’ house to talk to Dad some more and clean up some of his other messes. Mom was right; the house resembled a demolition zone. I wouldn’t want to live there right now either. But she couldn’t stay with me forever. I loved her, but I knew after a while she would drive me crazy, along with any potential suitors I would probably never have anyway, but one could hope.

  My hopes faded
even more when I turned off my tunes and the fan in my bathroom once I was ready for the day, meaning my hair was pulled up and I had some mascara on. At first I heard Mom’s voice. That didn’t concern me too much. She was talking to her crystals. It was a little, or a lot, weird, but that was her. The real problem was when they talked back in a deep, masculine voice that wasn’t my father’s.

  I rushed out of my room and listened for a moment trying to figure out who she’d let in the house.

  My worst fears came to light.

  “Did you know she kept a poster of you above her bed in college?”

  Oh. My. Gosh. I ran down the stairs, but not fast enough.

  “Really?” His silky tones rang through my house.

  Mom cackled. “Oh, yes. She was so in love with you. She used to write Kate Wells on everything. I bet I saved a couple of her notebooks with yours and her name plastered all over them in hearts.”

  I came to a screeching halt at the bottom of the stairs. There they were sitting at my breakfast bar, drinking coffee. Nick wore the most arrogant grin in the history of smiles, and my mom sat there like she was talking to a girlfriend, pouring cream in his coffee.

  “Mom!”

  Both heads turned my way. Nick’s eyes said I knew it.

  “Speak of the devil.” Mom placed her hand on Nick’s arm. “Really she’s an angel.”

  “I can see that.” Nick’s eyes roved over me.

  Mom’s head bounced between the two of us, her eyes and smile widening with each turn. “Just as I suspected. Your auras are calling to each other.”

  “Mom,” my voice warned.

  She blew that warning right off and squeezed Nick’s arm. “Katie, here, has a mostly pink aura, which means she’s a romantic and searching for her soulmate. She won’t admit it, but don’t let her fool you. She loves to be loved and to give it in all aspects of her life.”

  “MOM!”

  She ignored me. Nick did too; he was captivated by what my mother had to say.

  “And you,” she waved her hand over and over Nick, “have the rare gold aura, which makes you a generous lover and perfect for pink. You enjoy being the center of attention, but you can make a woman feel like she’s the center of your universe. And you know what you want, don’t you?”