Love And The Single Mom (Singles.... With Kids #1)

by C. J. Carmichael

  In short, it became a room perfect for romance….

  “Is he looking this way?” she asked Nora.

  “Not anymore. Now he’s eating his soup. Do you know him?”

  “He came in yesterday, then again this afternoon. But the answer is no. I don’t know him.” That shadow of a memory just would not take substantial shape. She wondered if perhaps she just wished she’d met him before.

  “Would you like another piece of cake?” Margo asked. Nora was already finished her first and was sipping on her chai latte.

  “Forget the cake. How long has it been since you’ve been on a date?”

  “Are you trying to be cruel?” No one knew better than Nora the pathetic state of her social life. That was one of the subjects they often talked about—how hard it was to meet men when you had kids and worked full-time.

  Sometimes Margo wondered if that part of her life was over for good.

  “Wait.” Nora tried to appear blasé. “He’s looking this way again.”

  “Probably at you.”

  “No way. This one is yours, Margo. What are you going to do about it? He’s coming this way.”

  “He is not.” But he was. Margo couldn’t believe it. She set down her fork, but in her nervousness, she knocked aside the photographs she and Nora had been looking at.

  Several of the glossy four-by-sixes fell to the floor.

  Suit Guy scooped them up as if he’d crossed the room for exactly that purpose. Before handing them over, he glanced at the photos and frowned.

  “Thank you.” Margo accepted the pictures and set them on the table. “That was clumsy of me.”

  The guy had boy-next-door looks, except for his eyes, which were darkly lashed and deeply blue. Right now those eyes seemed to be looking at everything in the room except her.

  “No problem. I was just coming by to, uh, to tell you how much I enjoy your soups. Do you make them here?”

  Soup? He’d crossed the room to ask about soup? Margo shot an “I told you this wasn’t what you thought it was” look at Nora. “Sure. We have a different special every day, and they’re all my own recipes. I’m glad you like them.”

  “The best I’ve ever tasted.”

  She sensed Nora grinning at her and her face grew hot. “By the way, I’m Margo.”

  “Yeah. I assumed as much. From the name of the place.”

  Margo felt her face grow hotter. “Margo Evans,” she clarified.

  “Robert Brookman,” he said before shaking first her hand, then Nora’s.

  Realizing she hadn’t introduced her friend, Margo added quickly, “And this is my friend, Nora Clark.”

  Robert asked Nora a few questions and seemed keenly interested. Margo sank back into the cushions of the sofa and prayed desperately for Sandy or Edward to call her with an emergency from the kitchen. She’d known Robert wasn’t looking at her. He liked her soups. Not her.

  When Robert found out Nora was a physiotherapist, he told her about a buddy with a sore knee. Nora gave him the name of a colleague who ought to be able to help, then scribbled a number on the back of one of her business cards.

  “Thanks a lot.” Robert pocketed the card. “Well, I should be going. Sorry to interrupt, but it was good to meet you, Nora. You, too, Margo.”

  He left without giving either of them a backward glance.

  ROBERT HIT THE SIDEWALK and kept on walking. He didn’t care where he went, he just needed to move. That had been close. Damn close. He’d gone to that table intending to ask Margo out, but one look at those pictures had changed his mind.

  What if those were her kids?

  He couldn’t get involved with another single mom. Hell, what if she was married? He hadn’t even thought of that. They ought to make the wearing of wedding bands a legal requirement. It sure would make the life of a single man a heck of a lot easier.

  After a while, when he’d blown off the worst of the adrenaline rush, Robert slowed his pace. He noticed a boutique cycle shop ahead and went to gaze in the window.

  A sweet little two-wheeler, a BMX just like Andrew wanted, was in the display window. Maybe he could buy it for his birthday. Belinda had said no contact—but he could have it delivered….

  Imagining the delight Andrew would feel getting that bike, Robert was sorely tempted.

  But no. He might not be breaking the letter of Belinda’s request, but he would definitely be breaking the spirit.

  Reluctantly Robert turned away from the window. He checked out the street signs at the next intersection, got his bearings, then headed toward home. He walked slowly, in no rush to get there.

  Oddly enough, he found himself thinking of Margo again. Damn, why hadn’t he just asked her? Are you married? Are these your kids? He’d been caught so off balance, all he’d managed to do was chat up the physiotherapist. And he wasn’t even interested in her.

  Well, he’d be better off forgetting about both of them, he decided. He’d really blown things tonight.

  AFTER ROBERT LEFT the bistro, Margo turned a blank face to Nora. “Was it something I said?”

  Nora laughed. “Actually, I think it was something he saw.” She tapped the photographs. “He definitely got cold feet after he picked up these.”

  “I don’t know how cold his feet were. He left with your phone number.”

  “That was just business. I get that reaction all the time when people find out what I do for a living.”

  Margo wasn’t so sure.

  “Trust me,” Nora added. “He was planning to talk to you until he saw those pictures. Maybe he’s worried you’re married.”

  Maybe. Margo looked at her ringless hands. Somehow she didn’t think that was it. “Oh, well. He looked kind of dull, don’t you think?”

  “Not really.”

  “You should have seen him in his suit.” In his dark blue pinstripe, Robert Brookman had appeared to be of the same ilk as her ex—a business-obsessed workaholic who scheduled evenings out with his wife with less frequency than his semi-annual dental checkups.

  “I bet he looked really hot in his suit, too.”

  Margo wouldn’t admit that Nora was right. “It’s probably just as well. My life is too hectic for romance, anyway. If he calls you, make sure you say yes.”

  “I keep telling you—it’s not me he’s interested in. But even if he was…I’m not sure I’m ready to start dating yet.”

  Nora’s expression grew sad and Margo knew she was thinking about Kevin.

  Nora didn’t talk about him much. All Margo knew was that he’d been a cop, killed in a car accident before Danny’s birth. It was a loss from which Nora didn’t seem fully recovered. But Margo hoped that she would move on soon.

  Kids were terrific. A job you loved was great, too. But there were times when Margo longed for more and she knew Nora did, too. With a sigh, she picked up her fork and took another taste of cake.

  After a moment’s silence, Nora said, “Weren’t you going to tell me something about your ex?”

  Good lord. How could she have forgotten? “I need more coffee before I get into that story. Hang on a minute.”

  Margo hurried to the other room and slipped behind the counter. No customers were waiting in line at the moment so she had free access to the espresso machine. Sandy was clearing tables, while Edward made a show of rearranging the goodies in the display case.

  A few minutes later Margo returned to the annex room with a fresh chai latte for Nora and a top-up to her mocha.

  “So…?” Nora prodded.

  “You’ll never believe this.” Margo settled back into the couch, then took a deep breath. “Tom’s getting married again.”

  Nora looked shocked. “But didn’t you say his affair with the bimbo was over?”

  “Apparently he started dating someone else, about four minutes after the first affair ended. The new bimbo is named Catherine and she works part-time in reception at a law firm. That’s all I know about her.”

  Nora leaned closer as Margo relayed her
conversation with Tom, practically word for word. “I’m just stunned,” she concluded. “I can’t believe my children are going to have another mother.”

  “No—no, don’t say that,” Nora insisted. “You’re their mother. Not this Catherine person.”

  “But what about when the kids spend time with their father?” Margo set the mocha down. Even chocolate, coffee and whipped cream couldn’t entice her tonight. “You don’t know Tom. He’s a traditional guy. He’ll expect Catherine to do all the cooking and cleaning up. She’ll be the one making Ellie’s and Peter’s lunches for school and washing their laundry and oh…”

  Margo made a weird noise—she wasn’t sure if it was a sob or a choked laugh. “Listen to me, complaining about another woman doing the chores that I get so tired of sometimes. But as much as I hate the weekly grind of laundry and lunches, I hate even more the idea of Tom’s new wife doing it.”

  Nora squeezed her hand. “I understand.”

  “Do you?” Margo was still grappling with the enormity of this thing. “From now on my kids will be going on vacations with this woman. They’ll see new places with her, share new experiences. All without me.”

  “But you’ll go on vacations with them, too.”

  “That isn’t the point. The kids are little and I’m their mom. I don’t want to miss the first time they go skiing. Or visit a dude ranch. Or see Washington D.C.”

  These were all trips she and Tom had at one time planned to take with their children. Now he’d be doing all that with Catherine.

  “Poor Margo, I don’t know what to say. I’d go crazy in that situation,” Nora admitted.

  Margo knew that she would. Although it was awful that Nora’s husband was dead, at least she didn’t have to worry about joint custody arrangements or stepparents or any of that messy stuff.

  “Does Catherine have children?”

  Good question. “I don’t think so.”

  “Hopefully your kids won’t have stepsiblings to worry about.” Nora was working hard to find something positive to say.

  “But that means Catherine will be clueless about kids.”

  “True. Like in that movie Stepmom, when Julia Roberts’s character is so insensitive in the beginning.”

  “Not to mention the real mother dies in that movie,” Margo pointed out.

  “Okay, so that was a bad example. Sorry. I really am trying to make you feel better. Eat some more cake. I’m sure this Catherine will turn out to be a very nice woman.”

  Margo took a bite of cake and wondered why neither Nora’s comforting words nor chocolate seemed to help.

  “You need a distraction. Like that guy, Robert Brookman…”

  “The guy who couldn’t get out of here fast enough once he saw a picture of my children?”

  “Maybe I was wrong about that. As you said, he was probably worried that you might be married and just choosing not to wear a ring.”

  “That’s an optimistic interpretation.”

  “Tell you what,” Nora said. “If he comes by again tomorrow, you’ll know he’s interested. If he doesn’t…then start looking for someone else.”

  “Someone else? I thought we’d just established the fact that neither of us have time for a man in our lives right now?”

  “Hey, you were the one complaining about your ex-husband’s new fiancée. Don’t you know that the best defense is a good offence? Instead of worrying about the new woman in Tom’s life, I say you make him worry about the new man in yours.”

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Friday’s Soup of the Day: Sherry Chanterelle

  ROBERT STOPPED TO READ the specials in the bistro window. He’d always loved mushroom soup, he told himself as he went inside.

  He couldn’t say what he was doing back here. The soup was a convenient excuse, but he knew better. He paused at the sight of Margo serving an older man. The two bantered with a degree of familiarity that made him unaccountably envious.

  He wanted her to smile like that at him.

  No question about it, he had it bad. Wouldn’t he feel like a fool, though, when he found out she was married with a parcel of kids? He joined the queue waiting to be served and plotted the best way to find out what he’d come here to learn.

  HE WAS BACK. Margo saw him on the street as he stopped to read the specials on the chalkboard. When he stepped inside, her heart felt like it was dancing. Nora had been right after all…or had she?

  Robert’s smile when he stepped up to the counter seemed guarded.

  “Hi, Margo. Could I have a bowl of the soup and a scone on the side?”

  She took his money while Em filled the order. She glanced up once at Robert, but he wasn’t even looking in her direction. Maybe he really was here for the soup.

  Robert carried his tray to the table at the back and, like before, he set himself up with the daily paper and his BlackBerry. She tried to ignore him after that, but it wasn’t easy. As before, he stayed for a long time. Once or twice she thought she saw him looking her way, but she couldn’t be sure.

  After the lunch hour rush was over, Margo decided to go back to the kitchen to experiment with a new muffin recipe. She envisioned a combination of dried cherries, dark chocolate and pecans swirled into a batter of wholesome grains and buttermilk.

  The challenge of concocting something new was just what she needed to take her mind off Robert Brookman. Not to mention Tom’s upcoming wedding.

  As she scooped chunks of dark chocolate into the batter, Margo glanced out the open door at Robert’s back. She wondered how much longer he would stay. And what was he working on so intently? She couldn’t complain about him taking up a table since he continued to order food. So far he’d had two bowls of soup, three scones and four cups of coffee.

  He’d also covered his table with newspapers and his laptop, and had taken half a dozen different phone calls. It was almost as if he’d decided to make her bistro his new office. And, cute as he may be, she wasn’t too happy about that.

  Gently, Margo stirred the chocolate, cherries and nuts through the batter. It was thicker than most muffin batters, but if she added extra liquid now, she’d end up overmixing and ruining the muffins anyway. She’d just have to hope for the best.

  Margo scooped the mixture into muffin liners, then put the tray in the oven. As she set the timer for twenty minutes, she noticed that it was almost three-thirty. Tom and Catherine would be picking the children up from school soon. Hopefully everything would go smoothly, but she couldn’t help worrying about Peter and Ellie.

  Yesterday they’d acted as if their dad’s remarriage was no big deal, but the reality would surely hit soon. This could be terribly confusing for them.

  As she ran a sink of soapy, hot water for the dirty dishes, Margo wondered if the family was due for another round of counseling. Maybe she’d discuss the idea with Tom when he and Catherine came back from their honeymoon.

  Honeymoon…

  They’d probably go someplace with five stars and 600-count bedsheets—a total contrast from her and Tom’s camping expedition in Marin County. They’d been college students with not much time between semesters, and even less money. They’d hiked in the mornings and spent their afternoons sleeping on the beaches and making love whenever they wanted. She’d been so happy and so optimistic about the future. But whoever dreamed on their honeymoon that divorce lay in the future?

  “Something smells good in here.”

  She whirled around to find Robert Brookman in her kitchen, just an arm’s length away. He looked different in the small galley space. Even better than she remembered.

  Maybe it was me he was interested in… “Can I help you?”

  “I hope so. I was just—”

  The loud buzz of the timer startled them both. Margo rushed to switch it off. “Sorry. I’m experimenting with a new recipe.”

  She pulled the tray from the oven and her earlier fears were confirmed. The muffins were too flat. Even without checking, she could tell the consistency was going
to be tough.

  Robert inspected them, too. “They look smaller than the ones in your front display case.”

  “I know. Something definitely went wrong.” She dumped the muffins out onto a clean cloth, wrote a few quick comments in her notebook then looked up at Robert. “Feeling brave? Want a taste?”

  “I’m your man.”

  The double entendre hit them at the same moment. Their glances collided, then they both looked quickly away.

  “Actually,” Robert said, clearing his throat, “I realized something a few minutes ago. Ever since I saw you I’ve been trying to think why you look so familiar. About a year ago you had a line of credit approved at the Wells Fargo branch down the block from here, didn’t you?”

  Margo froze. Great. This was exactly the link from the past that she did not need right now. Robert Brookman was from Wells Fargo. But now that he’d mentioned that, she remembered, too. She nodded reluctantly.

  “I was on a branch tour. When I’d stopped to talk with your loan officer, I hadn’t realized he was busy with a customer.”

  Busy with her. She recalled Robert apologizing for interrupting, then asking the loan manager to come talk to him when he had a few minutes. Ten seconds Robert had been in that office. Fifteen, tops. And yet, he’d remembered her.

  “I checked over your file that day. I remember being surprised that a lawyer would decide to abandon her law career and open a restaurant.”

  “You’re not the only one who was surprised by that decision. Most of my friends and family felt I was taking a terrible risk.”

  Robert glanced out the open door to the room full of customers. “Your gamble seems to have paid off.”

  She dropped her gaze for a moment. If only he knew the truth. “We’re pretty busy.”

  “I’m not surprised. Your food is terrific. Especially the soup. But I’ve already told you that.”

  “Thank you.” She wondered if that was what he was doing here. Checking up on her business on behalf of the bank. “I haven’t missed any of my loan payments.”

  “Relax. I’m not here in an official capacity.” He tugged on his tie, and suddenly he was the one who looked uncomfortable. “Actually, I don’t work for the bank anymore. I was laid off last Friday.”