by Bella Grant
“No, I’d rather they stay at home.”
“Actually, I thought of taking them out tomorrow,” I told him. “Am I allowed to do that?”
“Umm, I’m not sure they’re ready for that,” he responded, doubt coating his words.
“I wouldn’t do anything to harm your girls, Jarrod,” I said plainly. “And if you believed I would, you wouldn’t have hired me for this position. Also, could we do a bit of redecorating?”
“Well, that’s—”
“Jarrod, the shower is all yours.”
My breath hitched at the familiar feminine voice that had interrupted him. Though a bit muffled and stated from a distance, I couldn’t mistake Pearl’s voice. So they were together? In the same room, from the sound of it. Had he really gone to a conference or had he merely wanted the time to spend with his lover? I shouldn’t be shocked because I had long since determined they were lovers. I was appalled, though, that he’d left his kids the first night with a complete stranger so he could have sex with a woman he could have any time since they worked in the same building together, her desk across from his office.
“I- I’ve got to go,” Jarrod said to me, a bit distracted. “Umm. I’m glad you’re there with the girls. Do whatever makes them happy. Even if that means redecorating the whole house. Just leave somewhere for me to sleep when I get home. If not for you, Laurel, I wouldn’t be here and have the opportunity to do this.”
This? Sleeping with his employee? “Good night, Jarrod,” I told him on a confused sigh and hung up before he could respond. I didn’t like the way I was bothered about him and Pearl.
Maybe I had taken to calling him Jarrod way too soon. Maybe I should think of him as Mr. Simpson, my boss. How else would I get my crazy brain and heart in sync and realize he was just the boss? Nothing else.
It didn’t matter to me what he wanted to do with Pearl and where they did it. Didn’t matter if he peeled her clothes off, revealing her perfect body. Pearl was a beautiful woman, and I understood why he was taken with her. They suited each other.
Pushing Jarrod from my mind, I settled in my favorite sleeping position, on my tummy. After counting about fifty sheep, I fell into a fitful sleep. When I woke up, feeling groggy, I convinced myself it had to do with sleeping in a new bed and nothing to do with my boss. First on the agenda was to call my mom and let her know I was fine. I listened to her scolding that she had been about to call the police and report me missing before she calmed down enough to ask me about my new home.
We chatted for several minutes, then I told her I had to go check on the kids and hung up. I showered quickly and plaited my hair into a French braid down my back. Dressed in jeans and a T-shirt, I searched for Ana and Isa. They were eating breakfast the housekeeper had prepared.
“Ana, Isa, good morning,” I greeted them.
“Our mom used to call us that,” Isabelle stated with a bleak look on her face before bowing her head sadly.
“Oh, girls, I’m so sorry,” I apologized, fretting that I’d done something wrong. “I should have asked you if I could shorten your names. I won’t use it again if you don’t want me to.”
“No, we like it,” Anabelle replied, spooning her cereal but not eating it.
“Good, then I won’t stop,” I told them with a smile. “Now, what would you like to do today?”
“Ms. Snow,” the housekeeper interrupted, entering the dining room. “I’m preparing eggs for your breakfast, which I hope is fine. How do you take your eggs?”
“Oh, you don’t have to make me breakfast,” I started to protest, getting to my feet. “I can make it myself.”
“Nice of you to volunteer, but it’s my job to do the cooking,” Mrs. Philpott said with a pleasant smile, then frowned at the children. “Anabelle and Isabelle usually take cereal in the mornings unless I can talk them into trying something else.”
“In that case, I prefer my eggs lightly scrambled with parmesan, if that’s okay,” I informed her, assuming my seat once more. “Thanks, Mrs. Philpott.”
“No problem.”
She left and I noticed Isabelle making a disgruntled face. “What’s wrong?” I asked her.
“We’re not babies,” she replied in an offended manner that made me grin.
“I’m sure Mrs. Philpott didn’t literally mean babies,” I told her gently.
“But they treat us like babies,” Isabelle insisted.
“Yes.” Anabelle picked up where her sister left off. “Like we don’t know what’s going on.”
“What’s going on?” I pried, my tone even so as not to alarm them. Their faces were so serious; what they wanted to say was obviously big.
“That he never wanted us,” Anabelle answered, her eyes downcast and her tone somber.
“Who never wanted you?” I asked for clarification although I had a pretty good idea who they were talking about. My heart ached for these two children.
“Mr. Simpson,” Isabelle replied, her tone so pitiful that I wanted to cry.
“You mean your father,” I clarified, using his title. “That’s not true. Your father cares about you very much. Look at the way he provides you with everything you need. And didn’t he get me, the most awesome nanny, to be here with you when he’s at work?”
They didn’t reply, but I knew they were thinking about what I had said. Their faces were somber and reflected an expression too weary to belong to children.
“And your dad said we could go out today,” I informed them. “We have a lot to do. How’d you like to visit the Children’s Aquarium? We could stop for ice cream after, then return and start working on your rec room.”
“What are we going to do to the rec room?” Anabelle asked. Both were staring at me curiously, and I was glad I had piqued their interest.
“I thought you could create artwork on the walls,” I informed them. “We can stop by Target and get some supplies so we can get to work.”
“Won’t Mr. Simpson be mad?” Isabelle asked.
I thought of what Jarrod had told me when he called last night. He’d said I should do whatever made his children happy, and if they had input in the rec room’s decor, they would be more comfortable there. We could also stop by Best Buy and look at a television more suitable for their age.
After breakfast, I followed the girls to their room to supervise them while they dressed. I was relieved I didn’t leave their outfits up to them. They had a double-door, walk-in closet full of clothes and shoes and clearly didn’t know where to start. I snagged pairs of jeans for them and helped them to decide what they wanted to wear. When they chose different shirts, I smiled inwardly because it showed me they could make choices independent of each other.
“Can you braid my hair like yours?” Isabelle asked me when they were finished dressing.
“Sure thing, sweetheart. I’ll do yours too, Ana.”
Their hair braided, I asked the girls to meet me in the hall and collected my purse from my room. Jarrod had advised me not to use my personal money on the girls, but I wanted them to have a good time and the credit card he was having set up wouldn’t be available until during the week, and these kids deserved some fun.
I searched for Henry and asked where I could find my car, but he instead called me a driver, insisting the children had their own personal chauffeur. I would have preferred to drive, but the butler didn’t seem inclined to give in, so we piled into the backseat of the Cadillac Escalade.
The day turned out to be great, and I gave myself a pat on the back for a job well done. As reserved as Anabelle and Isabelle were, they couldn’t contain their excitement at the Children’s Aquarium at Fair Park. I was just as fascinated as they were since I’d never been there before either. We trekked through all six exhibit areas, me snapping pictures of them, their eyes round in amazement as they took in all the aquarium had to offer.
We spent two hours there before I took them to an ice cream shop as I’d promised them I would. I bought three cups for us and we made our ice cream. I t
eased them about their toppings of gummy worms, sprinkles, wafers, skittles, and other sweets they had to choose from. Our ice creams were weighed, and I paid for them before we sat down. While we ate, I showed them the pics I’d taken of them at the aquarium and was pleased at the way they giggled at their appearance.
We washed our sticky hands before piling in the Escalade again to go to Best Buy. I allowed them to point out the one they wanted for the rec room, ensuring it wasn’t too difficult for them, and used my credit card to buy it, confident Jarrod would pay for it. They also dug into the container of DVDs and selected some cartoons and kids’ shows they wanted to watch.
On our way to Target, my phone buzzed, a text message from Jarrod.
Good day, Laurel. How are you and the girls? I trust everyone is fine.
I sensed worry in the tone of the message and smiled. The girls were wrong. He did care about them or he wouldn’t be worried about me taking them out and getting them upset for one reason or another.
I quickly typed a response. We’re all fine. We went to the aquarium and they enjoyed it. Also bought an age-appropriate TV for them.
On second thought, I sent several of the photos I’d snapped of them and one of all three of us that I’d asked a lady to take.
“That was your dad wanting to know how you’re enjoying your day,” I informed them, and they became shy again. But their eyes seemed more hopeful and less doubtful. And that was when I vowed that whatever happened, these girls would bond with their father if it took me the whole ten years for them to do it. They’d lost their mother, and Jarrod was the only one in their lives. They all needed each other.
As soon as he returned from his trip, I would set the plan in motion for a father to begin bonding with his daughters.
Chapter 14
Jarrod
For what must have been a dozen times, I swiped through the photos Laurel had sent me, admiring each until I arrived at the one of all three of them. Laurel was in the middle, stooping, and she was flanked on either side by Anabelle and Isabelle. They looked beautiful. All three of them. And I couldn’t take my eyes off the light in my daughters’ eyes. I stared at them in awe before I focused on Laurel. This was all her doing. I would never have thought the girls able to go outside and socialize with others. I’d sheltered them, wanting to protect them from the cruelty of the world.
What I really wanted was that I could have sheltered them from the cruelty of finding their mother dead. But since I didn’t, I would make it up to them now. I’d done something right after all. I’d placed Laurel in their lives and it was already doing a world of good.
I wondered why Laurel had agreed to this. She was a lovely woman, inside and out, and it wouldn’t have been hard for her to find a man willing to commit to her and give her babies of her own. She would make a wonderful mother. Well, technically, she would become the twins’ mother in a few weeks.
I needed to get her an engagement ring, even if we wouldn’t be engaged for long before the wedding. I would do this the right way—like we were in love and I couldn’t live my life without her. I’d take her to a fancy restaurant and propose to her there. I wouldn’t let on what was happening, either. That way, her surprise would be genuine. She might know it was going to happen, but she didn’t need to know when.
“What’s so interesting?” Pearl asked from beside me and leaned sideways to view my phone screen. I locked the phone, which darkened the screen and returned the device to my pocket, but she had seen the photo.
“Just pics Laurel sent me of the Anabelle and Isabelle,” I replied and gave her a thoughtful look.
She wore a dress again. She had worn them an awful lot lately. The dress was short, too, above her knees, displaying her smooth, unblemished complexion. I glanced away from the bottom half of her bare thighs and up to the V-neck of the bodice where a hint of cleavage showed.
Once more, the thought that she had deliberately mixed up the hotel rooms entered my mind. I would never have thought it of her, except for what had happened this morning as she’d walked out of the bathroom naked, then pretended she didn’t remember we were sharing room. I’d slept on the sofa the first night, and the second I’d asked for a foldaway bed to the delivered to the room.
Both nights had been uncomfortable, and I was ready to get home. We would be landing in the next few minutes, and I hoped I wouldn’t have to wait on Marshall to pick me up.
“The girls like her then?” Pearl asked me.
“Seems that way,” I replied. “I have always trusted my gut, and the day she did the interview, it kept telling me she was the one.”
“The one? For what?”
“Taking care of the kids, of course,” I replied. “What else?”
What else indeed? When the jet landed, it was the gentleman in me which had me waiting for Pearl to alight the aircraft before I followed suit. I bid her a hasty goodbye since she’d left her car at the airport and dumped my briefcase and small carry-on to the backseat before entering the vehicle and closing the door.
I couldn’t remember ever anticipating getting home, even before the twins arrived. I was eager to see the changes in my kids. Maybe, just maybe, we would be able to build a relationship when they came out of their shells. And by their reactions in the photos Laurel had sent me, they were slowly emerging.
Relieved when we reached the estate, I hopped from the vehicle. Wheeling the suitcase alongside me, I entered the hall and made the quick trip to my bedroom unnoticed. I checked the time on my phone. Some minutes after four. The bed looked inviting, but I had more of an urge to find out what Laurel and the kids were up to.
I heard giggling when I approached the rec room. Giggling was good. I pushed the door open, smiling a little before I took in the disaster ahead of me. The room, which had been so elegantly designed, was now a remodeling site. Instead of the plain gray of the walls, they were infused with colors and appliques and art craft. On one side, the word ‘Masterpieces’ was affixed to the wall in block letters. Below that was a board nailed to the wall with two drawings hung there. Both held a depiction of the gardens, one containing the swan fountain and the other of a tree with a nest. They were hardly true masterpieces, but I could decipher what the lines meant.
Another wall boasted painted handprints. The television had been removed and replaced with a smaller one. Maybe if I had seen the kids and Laurel hunched over in one corner, concentrating on adding an appliqué on the wall, I wouldn’t have done what I did next. The only thought which registered then was that someone had destroyed the room I’d hired a professional interior decorator to ready for my daughters.
“What the hell happened here?” I asked aloud and immediately regretted it. All three females stood to regard me. I watched the way my children sidled closer to Laurel, their eyes downcast, and I went numb. Their actions said it all. They were afraid of me. They would rather accept a stranger than their own father. How could I blame them when I had done nothing for them to be comfortable around me?
“Jarrod, you’re home,” Laurel stated with a smiling face, although her green eyes flashed a warning. “Girls, say hello to your father.”
“Hello,” they echoed pitifully.
“Isabelle, Anabelle.” I nodded my greeting to them before returning my gaze to their beautiful nanny, who had paint smudges on her cheek and nose. “Laurel, may I speak with you in the hall for a moment please?”
“Sure. I’ll be back, girls. See if you can get the appliqué on properly.” She walked ahead of me from the rec room, and as soon as the door was closed, I rounded on her. “What do you think you’re doing?” she asked, stealing exactly what I was about to say to her.
“That’s a question I should be asking you, Ms. Snow.”
“You said I should do what makes the twins happy,” she remarked, repeating my words from two nights ago.
“I didn’t mean to ransack the work a professional completed.”
“This has nothing to do with what a professional sa
ys, Jarrod,” she quipped sternly. “It has to do with your children’s input, and they’ll love that room when we’re finished because they worked on it and they can feel a sense of pride in their accomplishment. Can’t you understand that?”
Her words hit home and I felt chagrined. “I guess it shouldn’t matter since it’s their room anyway,” I responded, thinking how I kept messing up with my daughters.
“Now you probably crushed their spirits a little by not gushing about their talents,” she claimed sternly. “So here’s what you’re going to do. We are going to re-enter the rec room and you are going to tell them how much you love what they’ve done to it. Is that understood?”
“Yes, ma’am,” I drawled and lifted an imaginary hat which caused her to blush.
“I don’t mean to be bossy,” she relayed, her cheeks slightly flushed. “But they are making progress. The more they do, the more comfortable they get.”
I nodded. “I understand.”
We returned to the rec room, and I proceeded to tell them I was very proud of their talent. “I like what you’ve done with the walls,” I remarked, relaxing my face into the smile. “It’s way more colorful than before. And the handprints on the wall is a great touch. Do I get to add mine?”
“If we can find space for that big ol’ hand of yours,” Laurel teased. “Ah, girls, do you see a spot your dad can use?”
I liked the warm feeling inside me when she called me their dad. It felt so much more personal than saying father. I became aware that I just didn’t want to be father to them. I wanted to be Dad.
“How about here?” Isabelle asked shyly, pointing to a spot on the wall in the center of their handprints. I was amazed she had even spoken to me without me trying to pry information from them.
“Let me get the paint,” Laurel offered and returned with a container of blue paint. “Go on, don’t wimp out now,” she said, her eyes twinkling with mischief when I hesitated.
Shrugging, I slapped my hand in the paint and succeeded in splattering her shirt. “I’m so sorry,” I apologized, grimacing at getting her shirt stained. “That wasn’t intentional.”