by Francis Ray
“I’m always good, Daddy,” Amy said, staring up at him with those big brown innocent eyes that reminded him so much of her mother.
“Yeah, when you’re asleep,” Mark cracked. His sister’s penchant for trouble was well known. “I’ll watch her, Dad. You know my class is next door.”
“Thanks, son.” John briefly squeezed Mark’s shoulder, and again marveled how tall he’d gotten in the past year. John lifted the phone back to his ear. “I’ll go by the garage and pick up the wrecker in case I have to put it on the flatbed.”
“It might be the battery,” Claire said. Her voice sounded odd.
John’s mouth twitched. People always thought of the battery when a car wouldn’t start. But since Claire was more astute than most people and had the same problem once, he’d listen. “I’ll bring one.”
“Ah, John do you have a certified Jaguar battery? Brooke is kind of … well, particular about her car.”
Since John had clients who felt the same way about certified parts for their cars, he wasn’t surprised. “I do, just for cases like this. The battery is bigger for a Jaguar, so I always keep one in stock.”
“Wonderful. I’ll tell her so she won’t worry.”
“Be there in about thirty. Bye.”
John deactivated the phone. “I need to change into my work clothes. Mark, read to Amy while I’m gone.”
“Why can’t I read to him?” Amy wanted to know.
“Because you don’t know some of the words in the lesson?” was Mark’s comeback.
“I do so know them!” Amy said, belligerently.
Quick as a wink Mark opened his Sunday school book and pointed. “What’s that word?”
John paused and watched as Amy’s brow furrowed in concentration. “P–a–t–i–e–n–c–e. Pa … pa,” she started trying to sound the word out, then she looked up at her brother with a smug grin on her angelic face. “It’s the word that comes after me,” she said triumphantly.
His lips twitching, John continued to his bedroom without waiting for Mark’s reply. Thank you, Linda, he thought, taking off the jacket to his suit. We have two wonderful kids. I just wish you were here with me to see them.
* * *
Brooke was pacing in front of the garage when she spotted the shiny black wrecker with a flat bed rumble down the two-lane road. He better know what he’s doing. She’d called roadside service again to make sure the wait hadn’t changed. It hadn’t. This time she’d been hoping to have a man in customer service answer. Men usually fell all over themselves to help her.
Then why hadn’t Randolph called back?
He’s busy, Brooke almost shouted aloud. Or perhaps he’d forgotten her cell number. She’d switched services a couple of weeks ago and had a new number. Of course, she’d told him and written the number in the letters she’d sent him. He’d probably misplaced the number. Of course he had. Randolph loved her.
The lumbering vehicle pulled to a stop just as Claire came out the back door in the garage. Brooke had gone in once for a glass of juice while she waited and seen her going through the want ads.
“John made good time,” Claire said, heading for the truck.
Brooke grunted. Thirty minutes was far less than the time the auto club had said, but she had always been the impatient type. She just hoped he had worked on a foreign car before.
His steel-toed brogans were topped by long, well-muscled jean-clad legs topped by an impressive chest in a pristine white tee shirt. He was built, and ruggedly handsome. Brooke could imagine him on a hopped-up motorcycle with black leather pants, leather vest, and a bad attitude. Some women would probably find him attractive, but he was too rustic, too blue collar for her.
She glanced at Claire to see if they might be an item and saw the same warm smile Claire had for every man she met. A woman as pretty as Claire deserved a good man to love her. When this mess with their jobs was settled, Brooke was going to help Claire jump-start her love life.
“Hi, Claire. Miss.” Stopping in front of Claire, the man tipped his baseball cap to both of them.
“Hi, John. Thanks for coming.” Claire turned to Brooke. “Brooke Dunlap. John Randle.”
“Ms. Dunlap,” he said, his voice smooth and mellow. He extended his large hand.
“Mr. Randle,” Brooke said, taking her cue from him as she found her hand briefly encompassed in his wide, calloused one.
“If you’ll give me your key, I’ll check your car.”
Brooke pulled the keys from the pocket of her flared sundress and dropped them into his hand. She noted his nails were trimmed, and clean. “Thank you. I appreciate you coming. I’m not sure what I would have done,” she practically crooned.
Out of the corner of her eye, Brooke saw Claire blink, but Brooke kept her expression vulnerable and helpless. Although it galled her to do so, she decided she had to go into her “poor little me, I need a big strong man” act. With four uncles and a doting father, she’d discovered at an early age that men responded well to weak women.
John slid his long, muscular body behind the wheel of the Jag and attempted to start the car. Nothing. Getting out, he lifted the hood and began checking underneath. When his head popped around the hood he had a half-smile on his face. “You may be right, Claire, about the battery. Everything else looks all right. I’ll see if a booster will get it going.”
“Claire said you would know what to do,” Brooke gushed, touching his arm lightly as he passed. The muscles beneath were warm and solid. For a crazy moment she wanted to let her hand linger.
John’s eyes widened at the contact and it was all Brooke could do to withdraw her hand and act casual. She hadn’t expected the jolt or the sudden coldness in his black eyes that made her want to slink away.
“When I give you the signal, try to start it,” he told her. Was it her imagination or had some of the warmth left his voice?
Brooke’s smile was strained as she said, “Of course.”
“What are you doing? I thought you didn’t trust him with your car.” Claire whispered as John continued to his wrecker.
“Ensuring that I get a discount,” Brooke said, absently rubbing her tingling hand on her thigh as she went to sit in the car.
John connected the cable to the car and after a few seconds gave her the signal. Nothing happened. Waving at her to stop, he got out and came back to her. “The battery isn’t taking a charge. It will have to be replaced.”
Although Brooke had expected as much, it was still a shock to hear. “The car is less than six months old.”
“The dealership will probably reimburse you. I’ll give you a receipt and store the battery in your trunk so they can see it was needed,” John said.
“Thank you,” she said. “I hope this won’t cost too much.”
“Three-fifty should cover it.”
Brooke’s eyes bugged. She was actually at a loss for words. But not for long. “That’s ridiculous.”
“Double service charge for Sunday plus the cost of the battery. Foreign car parts aren’t cheap,” he said calmly.
“You’re supposed to be Claire’s friend.”
“I am, but I have a family to think about.”
“Well, I pity them,” she snapped.
His eyes narrowed. “Ms. Dunlap, do you want me to put the battery in or not?”
“Put the damn thing in,” she said tightly.
He didn’t budge. “Will that be cash, check or credit card?”
Brooke had never wanted to inflict bodily harm on someone more. Not even her old boss had gotten to her this badly. “Credit card.”
Claire’s worried gaze went from Brooke’s angry face to John’s unhurried steps taking him to the side of the wrecker. She was caught between two warring people who were friends of hers. Feeling responsible, she went to try and correct the problem.
“John, I didn’t know about the double time. I’ll pay it.”
He stopped with the battery in his hands. “With a car like that she can afford it
even if she doesn’t get reimbursed.”
“That’s just it; she can’t,” Claire said. “She was laid off Friday.”
He stared down at Claire a long time, then asked, “What about you?”
Claire glanced away. “The same.”
Setting the battery down, he pulled off one glove and placed his hand on her arm. “I’m sorry, Claire. If there’s anything I can do, just name it.”
She looked back at him. “Give Brooke a break.”
He pulled his glove back on. “I might consider it if she hadn’t tried to pull that little helpless act of hers instead of being honest. She might be beautiful, but she needs to learn that all men aren’t going to salivate over her because she smiles at them.”
“Desperation made her act that way. I’ve worked with her for several months and I’ve never seen that side of her,” Claire said. “Please.”
“I’ll think about it.”
Claire sighed. There was nothing more she could do.
As if she knew what she was looking at, Brooke watched John’s every movement as he installed the battery. Finished, he reached inside the car and turned the key. The engine purred to life. After putting the old battery in her trunk, he went to the wrecker and came back with a clipboard.
Brooke had the credit card ready. He took it, copied the information and handed her the bill to sign. She practically snatched both from his hand and quickly signed her name.
He took his time tearing off her receipt. “Thank you.”
She jerked the carbon copy out of his hand and stuffed it into her pocket without looking at it. “I’m having the dealership’s service department check my old battery first thing tomorrow morning.”
Undisturbed, he turned to Claire and said, “Call if you need me for anything.”
“Goodbye, John, and thanks.”
“Anytime,” he said and went to his wrecker.
Infuriated, Brooke watched John pull off. “How can you call that rude money-grabbing man your friend?”
“Because he’s kept my car running and charges me a fraction of what another mechanic would charge,” Claire told her.
“He makes up for it by overcharging the rest of us,” Brooke said. Then, as if realizing what she had implied, her eyes widened. “Please forgive that crack. He just made me so angry.”
“I’ll pay for the double time.”
“You’ll do no such thing. Either the dealership or my salesman is going to eat this.” Getting in her car, Brooke slammed the door.
“Please drive carefully.”
“Don’t worry. I want the satisfaction of getting in John’s face and telling him he was wrong about my car. He won’t ignore me then.” She backed out, then sped down the road.
Claire watched Brooke speed away, wondering if John ignoring Brook had added to her irritation with him. Letting down the garage door, she went inside to continue looking through the want ads.
* * *
Everything was ready.
Lorraine checked her makeup in the mirror, then glanced around the bedroom to see the ecru duvet turned down, the flickering flame of the candle Claire had given her on the nightstand. The soft scent of peach-vanilla filled the room. She’d lit it for the book club meeting, but had liked the way the fragrance had scented the room so well she’d brought it to the bedroom.
She might be fifty-eight and Hamilton fifty-nine, but thank goodness they still enjoyed a healthy sex life. Or perhaps the desire was still there because they saw each other so infrequently these days. In the last month he’d been home exactly seventeen days.
The doorbell rang, breaking into her thoughts. Hamilton. She whirled to rush out of the room and race down the wide hall. Years ago, when the children were growing up, with their hectic schedules, they’d established the routine of him taking a taxi to and from the airport. The children might be gone, but she still had a full calendar.
Halfway down the spiral oak staircase, the front door opened. Joy splintered through her. “Hamilton!” She ran the rest of the way.
Hamilton glanced up, happiness replacing the weariness in his face. As always, he was conservatively dressed in a tailored navy pinstriped suit with a silk tie and white shirt. He never appeared in public without a suit or a sports jacket. His briefcase and luggage fell from his hands and he opened his arms.
Laughing, she went into his arms as she always had, with love and complete devotion. Their lips clung, their bodies welcomed each other.
“I missed you,” he said.
“Not as much as I missed you.” It was a ritual they had always gone through when he returned after a business trip. She was thankful that it was still true after years of marriage. Some of her friends and associates weren’t as fortunate.
Her hand resting on his strong jaw, she smiled at the man she had defied her family to marry. “Did everything go all right?”
“Great, but it took longer than I expected. I think I could sleep for two days.”
“Let’s eat first,” she said. Curving her hand around his waist, she headed for the kitchen. She’d already set the table and put the serving dishes out as well. “You never eat right while you’re working.” And she always waited to eat with him.
“There are some things I miss more than food,” he said, nibbling on her ear.
She laughed and leaned in closer. “You won’t get an argument from me, but first you eat.”
“You smell wonderful. New perfume?”
One of the things she’d always liked about Hamilton was that he noticed things about her. “Soap. Claire gave it—” She stopped abruptly and bit her lower lip.
Frowning, he lifted her chin with his thumb and forefinger. “What is it?”
“She worked for Middleton. She and her friend were laid off Friday.”
He touched her arm gently. “Lorraine, I’m sorry it happened to your friend, but I look at expenditures and ways of making the company more efficient. The bottom line is saving the company and that often means cutting jobs.”
“I know.” Lorraine swept her hair back behind her ear. “We’ve gone through this before, but it still bothers me. Especially when it hits this close.”
Concern entered Hamilton’s eyes. “She doesn’t blame you, does she?”
Lorraine shook her dark head of hair. “No, she’s too good and too practical for that.”
He looked at her closely. “But you blame me?”
She saw the glimmer of hurt in his eyes and instantly sought to soothe. “I love you,” she said and hugged him. “But I’d be a liar if I denied that sometimes I wish you had chosen a different profession.”
“But it’s given us a good living. The kids were able to go to the best schools. You’ve all had the best of everything. Just like I promised you when you married a dirt poor kid from a town in Texas no one had ever heard of.”
After all these years Hamilton’s background still bothered him. It was the one area in their marriage that they had not been able to overcome or openly discuss. “Things never mattered. You did.”
His arm around her waist, he started for the kitchen again. “Your parents didn’t think so. They didn’t want their baby, their only daughter, not having the lifestyle she had always been accustomed to.”
“They’re very proud of you.”
“Because I’ve proven to them I could give you even more than they had,” he said, taking a seat as Lorraine put the tossed green salad on the table and served the lemon herb chicken with rice. “We both know their opinion of me is tied to my financial success.”
Since he was right, there was no sense denying it. She took her seat. “Mine and the children’s aren’t.”
He reached for her hand and grasped it. “You’re the best part of me. I couldn’t do it without you behind me. There’s a certain comfort in knowing you’re always here that helps me get through the day. You make this house a home worth coming back to.”
Hamilton had grown up with parents who had died the summer he graduated from
high school. Home was important to him. She understood that, but this was the first time hearing him say it almost made her feel trapped.
“Eat. So you can get back to nibbling,” she teased, trying to shake off the return of the depressed mood that her life was missing something, a mood that had plagued her since Margaret’s death.
Grinning, Hamilton picked up his salad fork.
* * *
Brooke did something she never had done in all of her twenty-five years. She sat by the phone and waited for a man to call. She’d never had to. Men had always catered to her. First it had been her father, and his four brothers. It had probably helped that her father was the oldest and the first to get married and have a daughter. There was always a pair of arms to hold her, to give her what she wanted. They couldn’t give her what she wanted now.
Arms wrapped around her body, Brooke stood and looked out her window to the marina. Usually she enjoyed looking at the boats and all the activity, but not today. Why didn’t he call?
She’d been home for more than four hours and she’d yet to hear from Randolph. He had to know she was upset about losing her job. He should want to comfort her. She’d always known he wasn’t as demonstrative as the men in her family, that he tended to be more rigid in his thinking, but she had accepted it as the way he had been brought up. She’d met his parents once. They had been polite, but cold. They didn’t even appear to like each other.
Glancing over her shoulder at the silent phone she decided she couldn’t take this waiting another second. Just as her hand reached for the phone it rang. She snatched it from the cradle.
“Randolph.”
“Hello, Brooke.”
He sounded as he always did: cool, calm and in total control.
“I’ve been waiting for your call.”
“Sorry, something came up,” he said carelessly.
She couldn’t believe her ears. “And it was more important than what I’m going through?”
“There’s nothing I could have done to change your situation,” he replied, a bit of annoyance creeping into his voice.
“I needed you.” She wrapped her arm around her waist. “Is that all you can say?”