by Marlie May
Her eyes lit at my suggestion, making me glad I’d made the offer. “You have time next week? The dumpster’s coming, and I need to haul a bunch of flooring out and toss it inside.”
“Tuesday? Wednesday afternoon? Both?”
“Whatever you can do is welcome.” She leaned across the small kitchen table to kiss me.
“Yuck.” Arie screwed up her face. “You gotta do that all the time?”
Chuckling, I ruffled her hair. “Wait and see. Someday, someone’s going to kiss you, and you’re going to love it.”
“Nah. I’m not kissing or hugging anyone.” She turned to Cara. “Except Mommy.” Her smile grew, and her cheeks pinkened as she turned my way. “And you, too. Maybe.”
I grinned at Cara, eager to share the progress I was making in the step-dad region, but she stared out the window and chewed on her nail.
Seemed like the occasional distraction was the new norm for her and it unsettled me because I couldn’t figure out why she appeared worried.
Was she stressed about her business? She’d told me the renovations were ahead of schedule. It wasn’t money; she’d said she had enough.
A tiny, cruel part of me kept suggesting she was having regrets about us, an idea I knew was ridiculous. We made love half the night, and she held me close until morning. The openness in her eyes when I caught her watching me told me I had nothing to fear.
But I couldn’t stop the tightness in my gut from growing.
Once Arie got on the bus, we headed our separate ways. Me, to the Brew House, where I tried not to get in the way.
Lettuce. I could make up some salads. I grabbed ingredients from the fridge to wash. It was always good to have a few salads on hand when customers stopped in to pick up lunch to take to work with them.
As I darted around Mei to run a few orange peppers under the faucet, she snatched them from my hands and said, “Already clean.” She scowled, but the expression had no kick because her dark eyes gleamed with humor. “And there are already ten salads waiting in the fridge.”
I hadn’t noticed them. “Okay, then, I’ll make up a batch of pizza dough.” We made a huge bowl fresh each morning.
Mei waved to the low, covered mounds resting on trays on top of the ovens we used to bake mac ‘n cheese and lasagna, and melt cheese on sandwiches. “Already done as well. You know, if you want to help…” She untied my apron and lifted it over my head. “You can go pester Kevin at the hot sauce plant.”
I lifted my palms and grinned. “I get it. Let you do your job.”
She huffed. “That’s right. I’m the boss here, now, and you better behave.” After hanging up my apron, she handed me my keys. This was becoming a habit for us. “Shoo. If it sounds more fun, go visit your wife.”
Which sounded infinitely more satisfying than pestering Kevin.
“Let me run my tight ship the way I please,” she added with a pert nod. It didn’t take much for her to hustle me out the door.
I walked down the sidewalk and unlocked the front door of Cara’s place with the key she’d given me, but she wasn’t inside the building. Pulling my phone, I sent her a text. Stopped by to help, but you’re not here?
Had to run home to check something. And then, I’m heading to Farland for paint. Talk later?
Not exactly a brush-off, but not an invitation to hang out to be together when she returned with the paint, either.
Sure, I replied. See you later, at home.
I wanted to ask her if something was wrong but was determined not to be one of those guys who hovered. What we had was too awesome, too perfect to do something stupid like that.
Climbing into my car, I drove out to the plant, where I found Kevin had taken apart the entire assembly line, grinding salsa production to a halt.
“What are you doing?” I shouted, then apologized, because it was clear from the shocked looks most of the staff gave me, that I was behaving like an asshole, the last thing I needed to do. My tension about Cara was obviously leaking into my work life. I lowered my voice. “Why are you doing this, Kevin?”
His face blazed, and, when everyone else continued to stare, I realized I not only shouldn’t have shouted, I should’ve spoken to him privately about this. He tipped his head, and I followed him down the hall and into the office I’d made up for him across from mine, where he took the chair behind his desk. He paused to stroke his fingertip across the picture on his desk—his wife, Charity—my cousin—, and their children, four-year-old Timothy, and six-month-old Desirea, before calmly explaining why he’d made the change.
Felt weird sitting across from him, like I was the underling and him the boss, but in many ways, it was true. I’d given him full managerial control. Now, I just needed to figure out my own role here, because micromanaging him wasn’t doing me any more favors than with Mei.
It wasn’t easy stepping back to let others do what I felt I should do myself. It made me feel awkward like I’d jumped into a turbulent sea without a life vest.
“Either you let me handle things like the assembly line, or we’re going to have problems,” Kevin said. His tone implied teasing but the flint in his dark eyes suggested there was a bit of truth in his words.
“Why not leave the assembly line the way it was?” The way it had worked well for the past two years. I’d never seen a need to—
Kevin leaned back in his chair, making it creak, and grinned with full confidence.
I was glad he felt he could handle this. If only I could let go and feel the same.
“Give it a chance,” he said. “You’ll find this method will actually increase production.”
I held in my grumbles because arguing about it wouldn’t prove anything other than I had a control issue. Which I probably did. But, after what happened with Lainie, could anyone blame me?
Kevin hadn’t done anything wrong, he’d just done things differently from me. I decided to wait and watch and would only step in to give more direction if true problems developed.
After Kevin returned to the floor, I went to my own office and opened up the books to dig into my accounting, something I refused to hand off to anyone else.
And, while I ran the numbers, I gave myself a stern lecture about stepping back to let others do the jobs I’d given them.
Cara
Anxiety was eating me alive.
And I knew it was spilling into everything.
I was so distracted while working on my building, I’d nearly chopped off my finger with a putty knife while lifting linoleum in the kitchen. Arie had decided I’d forgotten how to read because I’d stop speaking halfway through a story. And from the way Roan kept asking if anything was wrong, I knew he sensed something was up.
I wanted to tell him everything, share my burden, but I was determined to have the test results in hand before we sat down for a conversation. Then, we could work it out together, whatever “it” might be.
No matter how many times I told him I loved him or made love with him, a wall had risen between us. I couldn’t wait to tear it down.
The thought that Jason had forged the test results was beyond horrifying. After what he’d done after graduation…Well, I didn’t want to believe he could sink even lower until I had solid proof.
On Thursday, when the results still hadn’t arrived, I called the company we’d used for the test. After fifteen minutes of being shuffled from one person to another, I was finally connected with someone who could give me some answers.
“Sorry,” the woman said. “We didn’t receive your request a few days ago.”
So much for Costa Rican internet. I’d made the request on my phone the morning before we flew home.
“Can you send them?” I asked.
“Of course. Let me get your information again.”
I held back my groan. “Any way you could just tell me the results over the phone?” They must have it on their computer. A few clicks and they could fax me something. Send it by email. Whatever was quickest.
“I�
�m sorry,” she said again. “Not without a release of information. Actually, we would need to see your I.D., since your address has changed.”
“How can I make this happen faster?”
“Fax proof of residence and your I.D., and we’ll get the results in the mail right away. Assuming we receive the necessary information today, you should receive the results by Monday. Tuesday at the latest.”
There was nothing I could do but put everything together and fax it to them.
I was ripping up the old kitchen countertops on Monday when someone knocked on the front door. A welcome smile filled my face as I pulled open the door because I assumed it was Roan, that he’d forgotten his key.
My smile drooped fast, but my spine went rigid. “Bethany.”
What was she doing here?
She shoved past me, her low heels clicking on my new tile, leaving dark smears behind from the sand and salt mix I’d spread on the walkway to keep passersby from slipping and falling. “We came early for Arie’s birthday party.”
We? Monday was a bit early for a Saturday party. I peeked outside, finding no one, and shut the door. “Where’s John?”
“He’ll arrive on Friday.”
So, no we, just her. “You shouldn’t be here. All communication between us should go through our lawyers.”
Moisture sprung up in her eyes and melted her thick mascara. “I know. I’m sorry. You’re right. But I miss you and Arie.” She enveloped me in her thin embrace, heavy with a cloud of perfume.
I stood stiffly, unsure of how to respond. Unsure I wanted to respond. To miss someone, you had to care for them. And if you cared for them, you wouldn’t try to steal their child.
“It never should’ve come to this,” Bethany sobbed. She fumbled for a tissue, finding one in her clutch, and blotted at her eyes. “You brought this on both of us.”
Me? Enough of this crap. I backed away from her. “I did nothing. You’re the one suing for custody of Arie.”
“My only grandchild.” Her crocodile tears dried in a flash.
I imagined it took skill to make them spring up like that at will. A device I had no interest in learning. “What do you want, Bethany?”
Looking around the big open room where customers would soon enjoy tea and baked goods, she sneered. “You actually left California for this wreck?”
“It’s not finished yet,” I rushed to reassure her. Like I’d done every time I’d displeased her over the past five years. Explaining why I hadn’t made the recipe for her favorite seafood dish exactly the way she’d directed. Why the house wasn’t immaculate whenever she stopped by uninvited. And why Arie often ran around with smudges or tears on her clothing. She loved to play outside, thank you very much. Dirt never hurt a soul.
Bethany minced her way across the tiles and trolled into the kitchen. She shook her head. “This is an utter disgrace.”
Smiling, I looked around at all the progress I’d made. “It’s perfect. Well, it will be.” I knew I was gushing, but my enthusiasm had taken over. “Wait until you see it when it’s finished. I’ll have gleaming granite countertops, stainless steel appliances, fresh paint, and the front room will host my tea room. My staff and I will cook back here.”
Her nose curled. “I suppose it will look acceptable. Someday.”
A tea room was cool. The newest, popular thing. I’d already had locals stop in and ask when I’d open.
But it was clear none of that would impress my former mother-in-law.
“Where’s Arie?” she asked as if she expected to find my daughter—dressed in rags—scrambling with beat-up toys in the corner.
I leaned against the countertop and struggled not to brush the grit off my jeans and flannel shirt. I was renovating, and she was a surprise “guest”. No reason to feel embarrassed that I wasn’t dressed as impeccably, like her. “She’s in school and won’t be home until after two.” Which wasn’t for four more hours.
“You’re actually raising my granddaughter in this dump?”
“Well, not exactly here among the rubble.” I chuckled, but her porcelain face didn’t crack. “Arie and I used to live in the apartment upstairs, but now we live in a nice home. She has her own room and a yard out back to play in. We’re even talking about getting a puppy in the spring.”
She stiffened. “We? Please don’t tell me you have roommates.”
“I guess you could call him a roommate, but lately, I call him husband.” There. Let her stew on that for a while.
She stormed up to me, her snug black skirt barely shifting around her slender thighs. “Husband?” Spittle flew from her mouth. Finally, I’d cracked her surface, a welcome novelty, considering all the times she’d cracked mine. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m confident my lawyer notified you of the event.” In fact, I knew Camila had. She’d sent me a copy of the letter. “I married the man I kissed a few weeks ago. You must remember him.” I frowned and tapped my chin. “Maybe you don’t, come to think of it, since you couldn’t see his face in your pictures.”
“Naturally, your lawyer mentioned something like this, but how dare you?”
“I dare a lot.” Especially now. For once, I had no urge to cower from Bethany, a welcome change for me. The question was: where had I found all this bravado? I should be whimpering, crying for her to drop the case. But I couldn’t be that person any longer, even if I should make myself behave nicely. “I married an old friend, Roan. We actually hooked up years ago but…it didn’t work out.” I grinned. “It’s working out very well, now, however.”
Try to challenge me on the validity of this marriage.
“You, you—” Her hand clenched.
Horrified, I took a step back, putting distance between us. Would she actually hit me?
Red splotched her cheeks, and her eyes shot flames. “You slut!”
I flinched as if she’d truly had slapped me.
“What’s going on here?” Roan stood in the doorway, his face florid. “You want me to call the cops, Cara?”
“The police?” Bethany shrieked. Her eyes flew between us. “Is this…heathen the man you feel can replace my precious Jason?”
There was very little precious about Jason.
“Roan,” I said when he put his arm across my shoulders. “This is Bethany. Jason’s mother. Bethany, this is my husband, Roan. You might remember him from college since he was sort of friends with Jason, too.”
Actually, not really a friend, as no true friend would behave like Jason.
“I’m her protective husband,” Roan growled out. “Who doesn’t allow others to yell at his wife.”
As I was rapidly coming to learn, I could protect myself. But his support and the warmth of his arm felt heavenly.
“I believe you need to leave,” I told Bethany. “I’ll be in touch with my lawyer. We can arrange supervised visits with Arie while you’re in town. Perhaps.” And maybe I’d just tell her to fuck off via Camila. Anyone who would come to my business and make demands deserved no kindness from me.
“Supervised?” she gasped out, her hand pressed against her chest as if she’d taken a mortal wound.
I didn’t like the twinge of sympathy that shot through me. Yes, she loved Arie. But no, she did not deserve full custody of my child because she loved her.
“I’m not going to leave you alone with my daughter,” I said.
Bethany shuddered, and what might actually be real tears filled her eyes. “I would never hurt my grandchild.”
I waved for her to proceed us, toward the front door. “I don’t trust you not to hop on a plane and take her to California.” Or out of the country. There was nothing this woman wouldn’t do to win.
She regained control of herself with pride pinching her features. “I’ll gain custody of her honestly. There’s no reason to take.”
I swung open the door, and she strutted through the opening.
“Honestly? Like you’ve been honest so far?” I said. “Nice pictures, by the way. R
oan and I were thinking of adding them to our wedding album.”
I banged the door in her face. Then I collapsed onto the back of it. My knees trembled and my heart pattered fast enough, I worried it would leap from my chest.
Damn, even if I should’ve kept my mouth shut, I felt good about that confrontation.
“You’re awesome,” Roan said, coming up close to me. “And she’s nervy, coming here and making threats.”
Chuckling nervously, I wrapped my arms around him. “She’s a witch.” I leaned back to look up at him. “What brings you here, anyway?”
“Missed you.” His kiss made fire lick through my bones. I wanted to drag him into the kitchen and christen my counters, but my schedule was tight. I’d have to make up for what I was missing tonight.
We pulled apart.
“Thought you might need help,” Roan said.
“Then I’ll put you to work.” Holding his hand, I started for the kitchen, saying over my shoulder, “Painting okay?”
“Sure.”
On Tuesday, Camila arranged for Arie to visit with Bethany, under tight supervision. Not by me. I’d be happy if I never saw her again in my life. Sam volunteered.
Thankfully, all the work at my building, as well as getting ready for Arie’s party, kept me dwelling too much on the paternity results that still had not arrived. But my guts stewed while I waited for the mail to arrive at Roan’s place each day. Finally, on Wednesday, the envelope appeared.
Standing in the kitchen, I slit it open with trembling fingers
My breath a solid lump in my throat, I pored over the results.
Then ran to the bathroom and threw up.
Roan
On Wednesday, after helping Mei at the Brew House, I drove out to Spicy Concoctions.
Because I couldn’t put it behind me, I cussed under my breath about Bethany’s actions the entire way. I only vaguely remembered the woman from when she’d visited Jason during college, and then at graduation. Clingy. Controlling. But otherwise a mom. Her behavior hadn’t seemed to bother Jason, so what did I care back then?