His Ideal Match

by Arlene James

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” he said, and Carissa nodded, though she had no intention of talking to him ever again, if she could help it.

  She watched him go then tucked in her son once more. Phillip might not think that he was husband or father material, but she knew better. He had been helpful and kind and would be, she had no doubt, until the day that she left this house. But that didn’t mean that he could ever feel for her what she wanted him to feel. Therefore, the only sensible thing she could do was keep her distance—and hope that would be enough to protect her needy children and her own foolish heart.

  Chapter Eleven

  Over the next few days, as June wound to its inevitable close, Carissa did everything she could to avoid Phillip. She stayed in her suite as much as possible and kept the children with her, coaching them to answer the door and say that Mom was too busy to speak with anyone who stopped by. It helped that the boys were happy to play in their new bedroom, now that they had more space, and that a case of the sniffles kept Grace confined for a bit. They took all of their meals in their suite, too, but one thing she could not avoid was laundry.

  It seemed that she and the children had a load of laundry to do every other day, but at least she didn’t have to drive down to the coin laundry and dump her hard-earned cash into a bank of machines. Instead, she carried each load to the dumbwaiter and sent it down to the butler’s pantry off the kitchen. Then she would tote it the short distance to the laundry room behind the pantry. After sending the loaded laundry basket down in the dumbwaiter as usual, Carissa tiptoed along the landing then craned her neck to look over into the stairwell. She saw that it was empty, so she moved quickly down the stairs that led to the foyer. A quick glance around the curve showed her that the way was clear.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Carissa ran light-footedly into the butler’s pantry. No sooner did she open the door to the dumbwaiter than Hilda stuck her head into the room from the kitchen.

  “There you are! The Misses want to see you in the parlor.”

  Carissa started and gulped. “The Misses? Oh, you mean the Chatam sisters. What do they want with me?”

  Hilda nodded. “They want you to join them for tea. Go on now. I just took in the tray.”

  Carissa gestured at the basket of laundry. “But I need to—”

  Hilda waved a hand dismissively. “Oh, I’ll put that in the washer. You can shift it later. Meanwhile, Chester will go up and sit with the children.”

  Carissa couldn’t very well argue. Her hostesses had asked very little in return for their hospitality. Still, she sensed that this was something more than a friendly tea party.

  “Cold water is fine,” she muttered, tucking wisps of hair behind her ears. She smoothed the wrinkles from her faded purple T-shirt and wished the hems of her jeans were not so frayed as she sauntered back down the hallway in her worn canvas slip-ons.

  Odelia and Kent met her just inside the parlor. Garbed in another outrageous costume, Odelia flitted and fluttered like the origami hummingbirds hanging by delicate springs from her earlobes, the iridescent fabric of her ensemble seeming to have a life of its own. Kent, meanwhile, resembled a plump barber pole encased in a white suit. Carissa couldn’t help smiling. Her smile died, however, when she saw that Phillip was also in attendance.

  He stood with one elbow propped against the edge of the ornate white plaster mantel above the fireplace, looking cool, calm, collected and more handsome than a man had a right to be in khakis and a blue-gray shirt, the sleeves rolled up to display his tanned, corded forearms. His tight smile displayed his dimples and seemed to dare her to try to escape. Any hope that he hadn’t realized she’d been purposefully avoiding him promptly vanished.

  She switched her gaze to his aunts, putting on a polite smile as Odelia, supported by her husband’s arm, dropped down on the brocade settee. Hypatia, sitting on a gold-on-gold-striped chair, waved Carissa forward while Magnolia poured a cup of tea from the gleaming silver pot on the tray in the middle of the low, oblong piecrust table. Magnolia placed the delicate china cup on a matching saucer, added a spoon, picked up a thick cloth napkin and passed everything to Carissa when she came within reach.

  “Take that chair, dear,” Hypatia directed, indicating the armless chair beside the fireplace. Kent seated himself beside Odelia just as she leaned forward and slid a small tray of condiments to the end of the table nearest Carissa, who took the opportunity to add a bit of honey and lemon to her cup before sliding back into her seat. She stirred, rested the spoon on the saucer, lifted her cup and sipped.

  All three Chatam sisters seemed to be perched on the edges of their seats. Carissa felt that she had to say something.

  “Mmm. Very good.”

  The sisters relaxed with pleased smiles.

  Carissa sipped again and wished that she could relax, too, but Phillip hovered over her like a giant bird of prey. She wondered what was coming and began mentally recalculating the estimate she’d recently made of how soon she would be ready to move out on her own. She was so busy revising her budget that she almost completely missed Hypatia’s opening gambit and had to ask her to repeat herself.

  “I beg your pardon? What did you say?”

  “I said, dear, that it’s almost Independence Day.”

  “Oh. Yes, I suppose it is.”

  “We here at Chatam House do so enjoy a good Independence Day celebration,” Odelia gushed.

  “The children would enjoy the parade, I’m sure,” Kent put in. “That is, if you think it’s appropriate.”

  Carissa smiled, wondering why an Independence Day parade might be considered inappropriate. “Certainly,” she said lamely, wondering where this was going.

  “We were thinking of a barbecue this year,” Magnolia said, “to show off the pool, you know.” She smiled at Kent, nodding in his direction.

  “But perhaps a small party would be best,” Hypatia ventured, “all things considered.”

  Carissa blinked at her, getting the feeling that “all things” depended heavily upon her.

  “What my aunts are trying to say,” Phillip told her, “is that though they usually host a large Independence Day celebration, out of concern for you and your children, they are willing to cut back or even cancel the event this year, although canceling at this late date would be difficult.”

  Carissa twisted around in her chair to gape at him. “Out of concern for us? I—I don’t understand.”

  “Well, of course you don’t,” he snapped. “You’ve gone out of your way to avoid contact with everyone in this house! I’ve been trying to talk to you about this for days.”

  “I haven’t... We...” She gulped and looked away. “I don’t know what we have to do with the Chatam Independence Day celebration.”

  “The year Daddy died, we weren’t in the mood for a party for months,” Magnolia revealed softly.

  “Oh,” Carissa breathed, as understanding dawned at last.

  “Now, we have spoken to Chester and Hilda,” Hypatia said briskly, “and their only concern is for you and the children.”

  Astonished at the kindness and consideration of these sweet ladies, Carissa quickly said, “We wouldn’t dream of curtailing your celebration plans.”

  “Are you sure, dear?” Odelia asked. “It won’t bring back bittersweet memories of celebrations past for you or the children?”

  Carissa shook her head adamantly. Her children had seldom enjoyed a real Independence Day celebration. “In fact, I think it might be good for us. You know, take our minds off...” She resisted the urge to glance at Phillip, finishing meekly with “things.”

  The sisters traded satisfied smiles, then to Carissa’s chagrin, they looked to Phillip as if for final approval. He cleared his throat and said, “Well, if she’s sure, I guess we carry on as planned.”

  “There�
��s just one other thing, dear,” Hypatia said, smiling benignly at Carissa.

  “What’s that, ma’am?”

  “My sisters and I are wondering where you and the children plan to attend church. We’ve noticed that you haven’t been going with Chester and Hilda, and we thought you might prefer to attend Downtown Bible Church with us. Of course, if you have somewhere else in mind, that’s fine, too.”

  Carissa got the message loud and clear. As long as she lived in their home, these ladies expected her and her children to attend church. It was very little to ask, considering their generosity.

  “Actually,” Carissa said smoothly, “we quite like Uncle Chester and Aunt Hilda’s church.”

  “Oh,” Odelia said, giving the word several syllables and sounding disappointed.

  “Your troubles are bound to seem lighter once you get back into the habit of regular attendance,” Magnolia stated kindly.

  Carissa had thought something similar herself, and she wasn’t about to argue the point. She did argue when the topic turned to meals. Perhaps she shouldn’t have, but Carissa continued to insist that she and the children take dinner in their suite.

  For one thing, she and the children simply didn’t have the clothes to wear to the Chatam table every evening. They barely had appropriate clothing to wear to church. For another, the children were tired and not at their best by dinnertime. Often, they needed baths before they could eat, and afterward it was most convenient to dress them in their pajamas. She compromised by agreeing to go downstairs for breakfast in the sunroom and take lunch in the kitchen to make things easier on Hilda.

  With that settled, she smiled and sipped her tea as talk moved to plans for Independence Day. When her cup was empty, she declined another, set the saucer down, excused herself and went out to check on her children and her laundry. She felt Phillip’s eyes on her as she left the room, but he did not follow, and in the days ahead, he kept his distance, merely nodding when they passed on the upstairs landing or in the downstairs hallways, and did not appear at breakfast.

  It was absurd to feel hurt, of course. She had started this game, but Phillip’s absence left a gaping hole in her life. Somehow, despite her better judgment and best intentions, she had become dependent on him in a dozen little ways, and they all added up to a significant presence that no longer was, had never really been and would never be. The children felt it, too, and all of their lives seemed a little less bright because of it. But they had lived with loss in one shape or another for a very long time; Carissa told herself that they would adjust.

  She did what she always did—she kept on keeping on, and soon Independence Day arrived. Independence Day meant putting aside work and joining in the celebration, being part of the whole Chatam family for the day. It also meant pulling out the red, white and blue bits of their respective wardrobes to make a properly patriotic display.

  The kids got into the spirit right away. Grace wore a ruffled red knit sundress that was too small for her over a pair of white shorts and white sandals. Carissa used a long, white, filmy scarf to tie a big, floppy bow around Grace’s soft red hair, above her right ear. Nathan chose a red-and-white-striped shirt, jeans cut off at the knee and blue canvas shoes, while Tucker went all red: T-shirt, shorts, socks and shoes. The left shoe had a hole in the toe.

  In a flash of creativity born of desperation, Carissa cut a star out of the denim shorn from Nathan’s too-short jeans and glued it over the hole in the toe of Tucker’s shoe. The kids were so impressed that she wound up having to glue blue denim stars to their shoes, too. She even hand sewed them to the straps of Grace’s sundress top to make them longer so the dress didn’t bind the child under the arms.

  For herself, Carissa made do with her good white blouse, blue jeans and freshly laundered white canvas shoes, tying her hair up on top of her head in a ponytail with a red bandanna. Half of her hair promptly flopped about her face in wisps and tendrils, but she left it, tucking what she could behind her ears, and hurried the children downstairs to breakfast.

  She sensed Phillip’s presence even before she entered the sunroom. He sat at a table with Hypatia and Magnolia, drinking black coffee and eating a mound of pancakes topped by blueberries, strawberries and whipped cream. Grace ran straight to him, but after a single glance of acknowledgment in Carissa’s direction, he seemed content to ignore her, even as he lifted Grace into the chair at his side, filled her plate, tucked a napkin under her chin and proceeded to oversee her breakfast.

  Carissa made sure that Grace had milk to drink and didn’t use too much syrup, but she might as well have been invisible so far as Phillip Chatam was concerned. He had eyes and ears only for Grace and his aunties. For them he was all easy smiles.

  Meanwhile, Carissa seated the boys at another table, filled plates and glasses for them and made certain that no more than an adequate supply of syrup flooded their pancakes before cutting them into bite-size pieces. Phillip finished his breakfast and rose just about the same time that Odelia and Kent arrived, decked out in eye-popping patriotic finery.

  Kent sported a white straw hat, a white linen suit and a red shirt worn with a blue vest decorated with palm-sized white stars. Beside him, Odelia dripped white sequined stars of all sizes from her flowing red dress to her blue sandals and sash. She wore them attached to the brim of a red, wide-brimmed straw hat and dangled them from her earlobes in long chains, and stars the size of saucers fixed the sash at her waist and shoulder. The boys literally hooted when the pair of them came into the room, and Grace stood in her chair to applaud.

  Phillip picked up his plate to clear his place, but Odelia and Kent went to join the boys. Shaking his head, Phillip headed off to the kitchen via the butler’s pantry, remarking to the room in general that he’d see everyone later. Carissa took his place, filling her plate from the sideboard that Hilda had stocked at some point.

  She told herself that she was relieved to have him out of the room, but deep down she felt a bit slighted...wounded, even, the truth be told, which was nonsense. The man was much too handsome for her own good, and while he might be kind and thoughtful and instinctively adept with the children, he lacked ambition and discipline, by his own admission. The wisest thing she could do was to keep her distance.

  She managed to do that for another three hours or so, walking with the Chatam sisters and her aunt and uncle down to the corner of the estate to watch the Independence Day parade as it wound its way through the historic district from the downtown square of Buffalo Creek. As soon as they returned to the house, however, the place began to fill up with people, and Phillip seemed always to be at hand, greeting the newcomers with hugs and smiles and making quick introductions. The first to arrive were Garrett and Jessa Willows and their son, Hunter, all of whom promptly swept Carissa’s children outside to play. Garrett, the former Chatam gardener, promised to show them all the secret places on the estate.

  Before Carissa could catch her breath, she met more Chatams than she’d known existed, starting with Asher and his wife, Ellie, and their baby daughter, Marie Ella. Next came Petra and her husband, Dale Bowen, whom she’d met the other night, followed quickly by Reeves and Anna Leland and their daughter, Gilli. Reeves’s sister Melinda and her husband, J. W. Harris, came with their little boy, Johnny. To everyone else’s surprise, Reeves and Melinda’s twin baby sisters, Harmony and Lyric, showed up, too, saying they were just passing through on their way home to California after visiting friends in New York.

  While the Chatam sisters were getting their nieces settled upstairs, Kaylie breezed in with her husband, the hockey player Stephen Gallow, and her father, Hub Chatam, who led the grief support group. Kaylie’s brother, Chandler, arrived from Stephenville with his wife, Bethany, and their little son, Matthew. Another of her brothers, a much older one, Bayard Chatam, and his wife, Chloe, brought along their married daughter Julia and her sons Richard Paul and Brian Travis, their fath
er being out of town on business. Bayard promised that his younger daughters would be along later, and one of them, Carolyn, arrived on the arm of her uncle Morgan, a distinguished-looking college professor and Kaylie’s second-oldest brother.

  Then Carissa met Phillip’s parents, who arrived with Dallas. Thereafter, Phillip never again left Carissa’s side, a circumstance for which she quickly became thankful, given that the Drs. Murdock and Maryanne Chatam made a formidable pair and seemed to have a particular interest in her.

  Dr. Murdock Chatam stood tall and straight, with a head of thick, graying hair, cinnamon-brown eyes and a patrician profile, complete with the Chatam cleft chin. Dr. Maryanne Chatam was slender and of average height, with blond, silver-streaked hair cut in a stylish bob and gray-blue eyes as sharp as scalpels, especially when they honed in on Carissa, which they did the instant that Dallas made the introduction.

  “My daughter tells me you have three children,” said Maryanne.

  “And that she’s a widow, no doubt,” Phillip added, stepping up to Carissa’s side, “and that her father recently passed and that she’s a whiz with computers and any number of other things, I’m sure.”

  “Including that she’s Chester’s niece and is staying here at Chatam House,” his father stated in weighty tones.

  “And now we’re all up to date on Carissa Hopper,” Phillip said, taking her by the arm and aiming a very pointed look at his sister. Dallas shrugged and shook her head defensively as Phillip maneuvered Carissa away and escorted her quickly through the house and out onto the patio, which was crawling with people.

  “What was that about?” Carissa asked once they were well away from his parents.