Table of Contents
Title Page
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
JOIN ME ON THE EDGE
THE JUGGLING ACT
Carol Maloney Scott
http://carolmaloneyscott.com
Kindle Edition
The Juggling Act - Copyright - Carol Maloney Scott 2015
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review. For permission requests, please contact the publisher.
Formatting by Wild Seas formatting
http://carolmaloneyscott.com
To my wonderful girlfriends,
Without all of your love and support, I would be closer to “the edge”
CHAPTER ONE
Claire
“I don’t care if we leave the damn thing up until Valentine’s Day.”
I study the sparkly monstrosity in front of the living room window with dread. The pine needles are forming a sizable pile on the tree skirt, and it’s a wonder both baby and wiener dogs haven’t choked on the prickly green reminders of their parents’ negligence.
“Why don’t we go for St. Patrick’s Day? It fits in with the green theme. By Easter we could hang some eggs on it. Maybe stick Aidan’s stuffed bunny on the top?”
Brandon smiles and squeezes his little boy, while I scowl at him with multiple ornament boxes in my arms.
Fourteen-month-old Aidan revels in the attention, and in turn squeezes his stuffed bunny, Mr. Hoppy. In all fairness to his parents, we do keep the pocket doors shut during the holiday season, so that Aidan can’t toddle in and get into tree mischief, and the wiener dogs, Dixie and Duncan, can’t eat the wooden pieces off the tree skirt and generally destroy the entire room.
“You’re hilarious. You know, I have to go back to work on Monday, and I’m stressed out, and—”
Brandon rises from the couch, holding Aidan in the flying position, straight at Mommy.
“Kiss your baby, and stop worrying.”
Aidan giggles and reaches out for me. I take him and plant him on my hip. His giggling causes me to crack a smile, but I look more sternly at my young, handsome husband.
“Are you going to help me?”
“Yes, Claire, but it’s Friday, and we have the whole weekend. I’m wiped out from last night. Playing a gig on New Year’s Eve takes a lot out of you.” Brandon sits back down and runs his fingers through his thick, sandy hair.
“I was there, too. Remember? And I was up early this morning, taking the dogs out and feeding Aidan.” I kiss my son’s head and widen my eyes at my slothful husband.
“Well, if I remember correctly, it was your idea to give Tatiana the long weekend off for New Year’s.”
“Well, I thought it was only right. She only has one relative in town, and she also needs to mingle and make some friends. I don’t like the way she looks at you.”
Brandon rolls his eyes. “I have no interest in the nanny. And besides, hiring her was your idea. I know she comes cheap, and you’re helping out Ron and Natasha by employing her sister, but I thought we were doing just fine before she came along. Right, little buddy?” Brandon gets up and touches Aidan’s chubby hand, which is flailing about in excitement.
“You could not possibly have continued trying to take care of Aidan while I’m at work, and work on your writing and your music. This way you have the time to put in a full workday. I thought I was helping you achieve your dreams.” My expression softens as I channel my mother’s words—nagging the shit out of a man never accomplished anything.
Brandon grabs me, and holds both me and our baby close, whispering in my ear. “You are too tense. It will get done. Stop worrying.” Breaking the embrace, he says, “Now I’m going downstairs to work on a few things in my studio, and get in today’s word count on my novel. Tonight after dinner, I will take the ornaments off the tree and throw it in the woods.” He touches my chin, lifting it up to catch my eyes. “Okay, Princess?”
I grimace and relent. “Fine, I’ll go fold some laundry, and maybe take the dogs for a little walk while Aidan naps.” Aidan squirms, signaling that he wants to get down. I carefully place him on the ground, and he plops on his butt.
Brandon kisses both of us, and heads down to his basement work area. As soon as he opens the pocket door, the doggie twins come running in, almost knocking into Aidan, who bursts into hysterics every time he sees his furry brother and sister.
I gather up my brood and lead them out of the living room. Dixie is my four-year-old black and tan, short hair mini dachshund. I brought her into my life at a time when my maternal instinct was high, but my prospects for motherhood were low. I had been recently divorced, and forced to have a hysterectomy after suffering several miscarriages toward the end of my marriage. My ex-husband, Ron, was insensitive, but seems to love being a dad to his two-year-old daughter, Galina, with his new wife, Natasha.
Natasha is Ron’s Russian Internet bride, but contrary to some foolish rumors, he just met her on the Internet. She’s obviously not a mail order bride. Ron seems happy, and I no longer hold any resentment towards him. Natasha’s sister, Tatiana, moved to Richmond this past summer, and her need for work coincided with our need for help at home. In exchange for room and board, and a small salary, Tatiana is now the nanny in the Harmon household.
Instead of dragging the whole gang upstairs, I haul the basket of clean laundry into the kitchen, and start folding the clothes on the table. Aidan plays with his feet on the floor, while he dodges puppy kisses. To keep all the little ones happy, I distribute warm, just out of the dryer, blankets to all three delighted recipients.
Duncan is the newest addition to the family. He was adopted in the summer and is now only nine months old. Still a puppy, his behavior is challenging, and I don’t have the time to properly train him. Not that I have any dog training skills whatsoever, which is evidenced by Dixie’s track record of pooping in shoes and eating couch cushions.
Duncan is a long haired, red mini dachshund, with a more easy going personality than Dixie, who is the canine drill sergeant, yet sweet protector, of the home. Dixie is sleek, with a beautiful face, and Duncan is a handsome clown with curly ears.
Brandon didn’t want the second dog or the nanny, but he finds it hard to say no to me. Our whirlwind romance only began less than three years ago, and already we are married with a one-year-old.
Already in my later mid-thirties when we met, I was eager to start a family, and Brandon’
s connections in the adoption world made it easier for us to find a newborn through a private adoption. His successful novels, based on his own experiences as an adopted child, have earned him near rock star status in adoption circles.
He finally turned thirty last year, and could have waited longer to become a father, but he wanted to make my dream of motherhood come true. Unfortunately, I find myself tense a great deal of the time, even more so than when I was out drinking, and generally screwing up my life, in my post-divorce dating period.
I adore my precious baby, but I underestimated how being a working mother was going to affect me, and our relationship, despite the warnings of my own mother and several friends who have kids.
Aidan was born a month after our wedding, and while we were excited to become instant parents, it has been quite a revolution to adjust to our new lifestyle. I work full time at Bella Donna Press as an Acquisitions Editor, and my job has become more demanding over the past couple of years. Brandon’s flexible, work at home endeavors, which include writing and fronting a rock band, aren’t stable employment. However, I believe in his creativity and I want to help him succeed. I just wish he would stop throwing his underwear on the floor and take the trash out once in a while.
The doorbell interrupts my laundry folding rhythm, and I tentatively approach the front door. No one ever knocks unexpectedly for any good reason. I don’t want Girl Scout cookies or whatever else anyone is peddling. I hold the dogs back with my foot, pick up Aidan and crack open the door.
“Hey, Claire.” Huge pale blue eyes stare at me, in the tiny, porcelain doll face of my new tenant, Diamond.
When I moved into Brandon’s two story Cape Cod style home, we rented out my two story colonial across the street. Originally it was rented to an odd single man by the name of Oscar. He paid the rent on time and was quiet. Then again, that’s what the neighbors of serial killers always say about them.
Unfortunately because we were busy getting married and becoming instant parents, we didn’t notice that Oscar had painted the entire inside of the house black, or that he kept an army of smelly gerbils in the downstairs bathroom. As new landlords, we vowed we would learn from this experience, and make more visits to our rental property to check on things, as it was only across the cul-de-sac.
“Hi, Diamond. Oh, and I see little Ruby.” Her equally pale blond, blue-eyed daughter pokes her head from behind her mommy’s pencil thin legs. Diamond’s skinny jeans hug every curve and bit of bone structure, and her sequined halter top is an odd choice for a single mother, at home alone with her baby, on New Year’s Day. It’s also thirty degrees outside. I look down at my own cable knit sweater and feel frumpy.
Diamond smiles and scoops up her daughter, who was already reaching out for Aidan. At this young age, my son already has a girlfriend. Because Diamond doesn’t work, and Brandon is home all day as well, Aidan and Ruby have frequent play dates during the week. Therefore, I worry about my husband also having a girlfriend.
“Is Brandon home?” My raised eyebrows cause her to hesitate, and she adds, “He told me last night was awesome, and I wanted to hear about the audience reaction to the new songs. You must be so proud. I wish my ex would have taken Ruby. Staying home on New Year’s Eve sucks.”
My first inclination is to tell her Brandon was abducted by aliens, but I’ve been working on my self-control lately, so I invite my neighbor in before she catches pneumonia, and the little girl turns into a vanilla popsicle. At least Diamond had the good sense to put a coat on her daughter.
She enters the foyer and immediately greets Aidan and the dogs loudly. “Oh, aren’t you so sweet? Yes, you are such good little babies.”
Dixie and Duncan return the enthusiasm with licks and twirls. Aidan hugs his little friend and almost pulls her to the floor. I take Ruby’s coat and lead everyone to the playroom, which is really a main floor family room that now looks like Disney World after a cyclone blazed through it.
“Brandon’s downstairs working and I don’t think—”
“Hey, I’m here.” He looks a bit breathless, as if he sprinted up the stairs when he heard we had company. Or is this just my imagination?
Diamond and Brandon begin talking about the show last night. Clearly Brandon texted her after the performance, probably to wish her a Happy New Year. How else would she know the night was successful?
“So everyone loved the original stuff?” Diamond’s already bulging eyeballs grow larger as she hangs on Brandon’s every word.
Since turning thirty, Brandon has ramped up his efforts with his rock cover band, Chain. Once content to play well known rock anthems in local bars, he now wants to write original music with his band members, Max, Jon, Rob and the latest addition, a female singer named Zoe. I was supportive at first, but now it seems that he is spending a disproportionate amount of time on this endeavor, and less time on his writing (which does earn money), and helping around the house.
I watch my husband and the young blond with the anime eyes and collagen enhanced lips, and can’t help but feel a twinge of jealousy. I’m still thin and reasonably attractive at thirty-eight (for another month). I have been told my own blond hair and brown eyes are a striking combination, and I am often complemented by men of all ages. Unlike Diamond, I didn’t give birth to a child, but honestly how could she have lost all of her baby weight with no residual damage in eighteen months?
“Claire, hello. You’re zoning out again, Honey. Are you okay with the babies for a few minutes while I show Diamond what I’m working on?”
I swallow hard and tuck murderous thoughts to the back of my mind, where my hope for domestic bliss still resides. “Sure, no problem.” I smile and watch Brandon disappear with the new neighborhood floozy.
My best friend, Jane and I used to jokingly refer to me as the ‘neighborhood floozy’ because I was the only single woman on a street bursting with mommies. Now I have what I’ve always wanted—to be one of them, and sometimes I long for my own slutty, sequined tops and seasonably inappropriate clothing.
I open Aidan’s largest toy box and start absentmindedly handing out stuffed animals, puzzles, games and other toddler amusements. Aidan has now discarded Mr. Hoppy for other delights, and as the little ones giggle and throw toys all over the room, I settle back against the wall, holding a memory of my own attractiveness.
Justin won this bunny for me at a carnival a few years ago. He was my co-worker, even younger than Brandon, and he was crazy about me, but I fell in love with Brandon and a life of domesticity. Justin may have been capable of winning prizes and attention, but Brandon took care of me and Dixie from the moment he moved in across the street.
Of course, accidentally flashing him while walking Dixie might have contributed to his instant attraction, but it was my ineptitude in home maintenance and dog wrangling that charmed him. Brandon is a sucker for a damsel in distress.
Justin left our mutual employer, Bella Donna Press, shortly after my rejection, but not because of it. We remained friends, but he was lured away with a better offer back in his home town of Philadelphia. After an absence of almost two years, he’s back as the Chief Information Officer—at twenty-eight years old. Justin is a brilliant Princeton IT grad, and Bella Donna’s new management lured him back with all sorts of money and promises. If Diamond wasn’t as dull as her namesake is brilliant, I would set the two of them up and solve a bunch of problems.
I place the bunny in the box and begin playing with the babies, and at least an hour later, Brandon and Diamond emerge from the basement studio, laughing.
“I absolutely must make it to the next show. That asshole ex of mine better be available.” She covers her mouth and giggles. Doesn’t she realize soon the babies will be repeating everything we say?
Brandon laughs. “Tatiana can always watch Ruby if Diamond wants to come out with us. Right, Honey?”
“Absolutely, just let us know when you’d like to come. The band schedule is on the website.” Is he trying to piss me off or he i
s truly this clueless? “Ruby’s coat is in the kitchen, laying over a chair.”
“Oh, I thought they could stay awhile and we could have—” Brandon stops when he sees the look in my eyes.
“We should get going, anyway. Thanks for keeping an eye on Ruby, Claire. You’re such a good mom.” She takes Ruby’s hand and Brandon helps her put the little pink coat on the pony tailed tot.
I stay where I am as Diamond says goodbye. Aidan breaks free to play with his blocks. The dogs follow their guests to the door, and Brandon returns with an annoyed expression.
“Claire, what’s wrong with you today? Why were you so rude to Diamond?” His beautiful bright blue eyes show genuine bewilderment, as if he truly does not see the woman across the street is hot for him.
“Are you kidding?” I stand up and kiss him. “Never mind. I just thought it would be nice to spend the day alone together, since we don’t have as much privacy now, with Tatiana here all the time.”
Brandon seems to think I’m trying to seduce him, which I am. He helps to settle Aidan down for his nap. I am trying the bees with honey approach, even though my stinger is on alert.
Later on, afternoon sex prompts a short nap in our bed, and Brandon’s phone buzzes repeatedly on the end table. Aidan is still asleep, but the phone won’t wake him in his room across the hall.
I rub Brandon’s chest gently as I wake up close to him in our king size bed. “Hey, are you gonna answer that?”
He rolls over and pulls me closer. “What?” He rubs his eyes. “I am beat from last night, and from my little woman’s loving.” He kisses my head, but I’m distracted by the incessant buzzing. Someone wants to get in touch with him urgently.
I lean over his body and grab the phone, stealing a glance at the display. Zoe.
Instead of announcing the caller, I hand it to him. He takes it and begins to scroll through his messages. “Zoe wants to come over tomorrow and work on the vocals for the new songs.” Brandon looks at me and says, “Is that okay? We won’t be all day.”
The Juggling Act Page 1