“I’ve already hired a registered nurse to help with Dad and in the afternoons with Todd when necessary,” Elise said. “Cindy is from a large family and gets along well with children. She’s outside with Fritz, who’s acclimating her to the premises.”
Mrs. Pedmo looked over at Lucas. “I understand what’s happening here, Lucas, and I can’t say I blame you. If it wasn’t that I respect Anton Springer as much as I do, I doubt all this would be possible. However, it takes more than just setting up a house or business to raise a child. Children need more than material goods and a roof over their heads. Much more. They need love, attention, discipline.”
Elise sensed Lucas’s anger as a chilly black silence surrounded them. She knew Lucas was aware he would have to prove to Pedmo and Child Services he would be there for Todd. He already had made it clear to everyone he was willing to rebuild his life. He leaned forward, his eyes inky black. There was a hard edge to his voice. “Are you saying I’m not capable of providing any of those?”
“No, I’m telling you it takes a lot of time, energy, and work.”
“I’m quite aware of this, Mrs. Pedmo. I, more than anyone, understand the term ‘abandonment’ and its implications.”
“Yes...yes, of course, you do.” the elderly woman stammered and offered him a weak smile. “You also should know there are people who’d rather see you not get custody.”
“I’m also aware of that. But what about you, Mrs. Pedmo?” He lifted a brow, and Elise cringed at his rash behavior. “Just where do you stand?”
She interrupted. “Lucas, Mrs. Pedmo has been more than accommodating.”
Mrs. Pedmo dismissed her comment. “It’s all right, Elise. I don’t take sides, Lucas. I just take care of my charges. The law is responsible for determining a custody suit if we can’t resolve it.”
Mouth set in annoyance, Lucas leaned forward again. “Just so you know, I’ll fight anyone who steps in my way to get the child.”
“And money?”
“I’ll use every damn penny I have.”
Todd appeared in the doorway, barreled into the kitchen, and made a flying leap into Lucas’s lap. “Bess lost the ball, but Cindy let me sit on her motorcycle. We have more tennis balls, don’t we?” He touched Lucas’s hair with a grubby hand and giggled. “You have paste in your hair, Uncle Lucas. Ooo-oh, it’s sticky, too.”
Lucas resettled him in his lap and enveloped him protectively in his arms, the child’s silky head resting underneath his angular chin. “You have mud in yours, sport.” He blew in his hair and the little boy giggled again.
Removing a package of cookies from the cupboard, Elise prodded Todd. “How about taking some cookies out to Cindy and Fritz?” She sensed their conversation with Mrs. Pedmo was far from finished. She handed him the bag. “Now only one, we’re having dinner in an hour. And please don’t feed them to Bess. I have dog biscuits for her.”
When the boy scampered away, Mrs. Pedmo spoke. “You realize, Lucas, I know more about you than most people around here. It helps to have a son who can make the right contacts.”
“You have my admiration, Mrs. Pedmo. You do your homework.” Lucas leaned back in his chair. “I’d appreciate your discretion in not divulging anything more about me than may be necessary.”
She frowned. “I’ll do the best I can, but I think you should be aware there’s now a third party involved.”
“Impossible!” His easy charm faded. A fist thumped the table. “Who? Can you tell me, who?”
“You know I can’t tell you. I’m probably pushing the limits of confidentially by even divulging this much information.”
He leaned back again and eyed her with open frankness. “What’s going on? Why are you doing this? Why are you telling me?”
She rose. “To put both Elise and you on alert. After working this job for over thirty-five years, you get a gut feeling about certain things, about people you meet, about what’s best for a child.” She glanced at Elise. “I’ll have everything in order by Tuesday. You may move Todd any time afterwards.”
Elise walked her out onto the sprawling front porch encircled by white spindled rails and watched until her car pulled out of sight. Lucas came out and stood beside her.
“I guess we messed this one up badly.” Elise felt the cool surface of the pillar against her cheek as she rested her head and stared at the dust rising from the long drive leading onto the main road.
“I don’t think so, Lizzie.” He slipped his hand onto the back of her neck in a gesture of reassurance. “But I suspect someone else is about to.”
Chapter Thirteen
Elise leaned forward, peered into the mirror, and scrutinized the eye shadow and blush she had just applied. She had almost forgotten about her date with Jack Morrison. If it hadn’t been for Twila Pedmo’s cryptic disclosure earlier that morning, she might have called it off. She found nothing fascinating about the man, yet she had the feeling if there were anyone who might know what was happening with the custody case of Todd Fisher, Jack Morrison was sitting in the pole position.
Elise remembered her high school years when her brothers had played sports. As an only doted-on child, Jack Morrison always had the best sports equipment, the best golf clubs, and a new sports car to take him to and from practices. After his high school graduation and five years of dabbling in liberal arts, he had obtained a degree in sociology only after his father decided he had no immediate goals toward self-sufficiency and put his foot down. Jack’s father owned a very successful family printing business and Jack inherited a great deal of capital when his parents passed away. It was also rumored he had a fondness for gambling and losing. Fritz had described him as a willful slacker.
Downstairs Elise heard the rattle of pots and pans as Fritz moved about in the kitchen. The tantalizing smell of garlic, basil, and tomato sauce drifted up the stairs and her stomach complained with a soft rumble. Her brother had invited Cindy to join them for a pasta dinner. The young nurse had enthusiastically agreed, returning home only long enough to relinquish the bike to a younger brother and find an older one needed the use of her car. Not surprisingly, Fritz offered to provide transportation to and from her house.
Musical cars. Elise had played the game several times during her high school years when Fritz was home from college. She dreaded the confusion his visits made to their social lives with their friends. Oh, how she hated driving her father’s beat-up old pick-up because Fritz had a date and needed the family car. Her thoughts turned to Lucas. He had been anything but overjoyed when he discovered her intentions for the evening. She was thankful for Fritz’s presence. It had helped to defuse any outbursts.
Twila Pedmo’s disclosure had caught them both by surprise. Elise knew of no other close relatives of Lucas Fisher unless there was a distant cousin waiting in the wings. She promised herself she’d talk to her father the first thing tomorrow and see if he could offer any suggestions.
With quick efficient motions, Elise straightened her red and white checked jacket, under which a slinky red tank top boldly set off her white, designer jeans. She hoped the outfit was dressy enough for a low-keyed restaurant and casual enough for a late night excursion to Two Horses. No matter what, she would not be deterred. Somehow, she would convince Jack to take her there. She wanted to see the illustrious Clarisse Fisher, if only from a distance.
From behind her, a pair of small, bright eyes appeared in the bathroom mirror. There was no mistaking the soft gray color, a gene handed down to all the Fisher men. Todd Fisher held a fistful of uncooked spaghetti in his hand and his Fox and the Hound book in the other as he regarded her with mild curiosity.
“You smell good.” He leaned closer to peer at the jars and tubes of make-up spread out on the marbled vanity. “Can I try some?”
Elise grimaced. “I don’t know whether Uncle Lucas would like you to wear my make-up.”
The little boy’s lower lip ballooned out. “Do we have to tell him?”
“Doing something Uncle L
ucas might not like and not telling him could get you in trouble, squirt,” she said, ruffling his soft hair. “I’ve got a better idea. We can still use the make-up. How about I make you look like a clown or maybe an Indian?”
“A clown.” His decision needed little thought as his face lit up with eagerness. “I like those silly clowns, and I love the circus,” he told her, “and I really, really like to eat those animal crackers in a circus box.”
Elise pulled out a bench from beneath the vanity. “Well then, hop up here and let’s see what we can do.”
With quick, creative strokes she shaded an area around his eyes and mouth in white eyeliner and then lined the perimeters with a dark blue liner. His nose became a colorful blob of red, and two more rosy spots accented each cheek. From her bedroom drawer, she dug out an old green sock hat she had worn in high school and had sentimentally refused to throw out. Rolling up the brim, she tugged it over his pale hair and turned him toward the mirror. Her efforts were rewarded with a high-pitched giggle.
“I do look like a clown,” he said, excitedly, sliding off the bench to stare at himself in the mirror. He twisted his little cherub face from side to side. His antics were endearing, and she felt a hollow spot in her heart tear open wider. Would she ever have a child of her own, she wondered, to share pure, uninhibited antics with?
“Yes, you do. Cindy will have to help you take the make-up off before you go to bed,” she instructed, smiling.
He nodded and looked at her with a sober expression, “Eee-lise, can you help me find Ranger?”
“Ranger, your beanbag dog?”
He nodded again dejectedly. “It has to be somewhere...maybe in all those boxes at the cottage.”
“I’ll tell you what, we’ll go out there together sometime this week and see if we can find it.”
The little boy brightened immediately. “Ee-lise,” his small fingers rested on her sleeve. “Are you a possum’s ability?”
She wrinkled her forehead. Possum’s ability? The child had used the same phrase the night she had met him. “I don’t understand.”
“Uncle Lucas said if we become a family, I won’t have a mother because there’s no one who’s a possum’s ability.”
“Ah-ha, I see.” Possibility? As a mother? Terrific, now the kid was going to rip out her heart straight through her rib cage. “I can’t be a possibility, Todd, because I don’t live here.”
“Are you going away?” His little voice cracked with disappointment.
“Not for a while, kiddo. Let’s not worry about it.” She stooped and bussed him lightly on the top of his head.
“Will you be home before I go to sleep?” A hopeful spark flickered in his eyes.
“I’m afraid not.” She squatted next to him and handed him the spaghetti he had abandoned on the counter in his excitement. “But I’ll check on you when I get in, and tomorrow morning you can tell me all about your first night in your new room. We’ll have breakfast together. Now go show Cindy, Fritz, and Uncle Lucas what you look like.”
He scampered away, and Elise gathered up her make-up and checked her watch. She wanted to be sure there was no delay in meeting Jack Morrison. The last thing she needed was any type of confrontation between Lucas and him.
With her purse slung over her shoulder, she headed for the hall stairs only to find Lucas propped against the doorframe of his room.
“Well, well, ready for the big date,” he drawled and sniffed the air. “And wearing another of good ol’ Chuck’s famous, sexy-scented waters. Cripes, the man must have bought out Bloomingdale’s.”
She halted, eyeing him as her stomach did a quick somersault. Even in his faded Levi’s and a worn blue tee-shirt, he was gloriously handsome. A six-foot-two specimen of lean muscle. “I thought you’d be returning Monique’s calls. What’s it been, five messages on the machine since yesterday?”
She tried to step around him, but he straightened his rock-hard body and blocked her path. She felt his smoky eyes take in every detail of her appearance.
“I thought you were just going to dinner,” he said.
She shrugged. “Afterwards, maybe dancing, maybe the Mohegan Sun Casino, maybe we’ll even try some country and western line dancing, who knows? I’ve never tried the two-step either.”
“Not in that get-up you won’t.”
She looked down at her jeans. “What’s wrong with what I’m wearing? Not an Oleg Cassini, but it’s got potential.”
“Too much potential. Even with the jacket on, that tank top is pushing respectability.”
“Come on, Lucas, it’s not. Would you tell me to change if you were taking me out?”
He grinned the kind of grin that made her heart slip clear into her matching red sandals. “Not on your life.”
“I rest my case.”
“But you’re not going out with me. You’re going out with sleazy Morrison.”
She shook her head wearily. “This Morrison thing is getting tiresome. I’m a grown woman, Lucas, and I’m going to be late.” She tried to push past him.
“Put a blouse on,” he instructed. His hands shot out and spun her around in the opposite direction. “This is not negotiable.”
She stared at him over her shoulder. She was beginning to feel herself losing control. Why did they always have the need to square off in opposite corners over every issue? “And if I don’t?”
“You’ll keep the scum bag waiting until you do.”
Biting back a burning desire to plow a fist into his hard gut, she whirled and stomped to her room. Tearing off the jacket, she removed a red silk blouse from her closet and jammed her arms into it, right over the tank top. Her hands shook with such fury she almost ripped off the buttons. Back in the hall, she faced him again.
“You are a total jerk. You need professional help! No, I take it back. You’re beyond even serious therapy.”
His hand came up to straighten her collar beneath the jacket. “Okay, so shoot me.”
“I’d consider it, but the time I’d spend explaining it to the police would hardly be worth the effort.” She paused, a slight smile on her lips. “Unless it was Ted Meyer, and then it would be pure heaven.”
That brought a quick response. His hand shot out, and he pulled her against his chest. “Admit, Ms. Springer, there’s chemistry between us. It’s tugging at me as much as it is at you.”
His head lowered to hers, but her fingers covered his lips to halt the kiss. “Listen, even if I were to admit there’s an attraction, this 007 agent isn’t letting you put me in any lip lock.”
“Why not?”
“Because it took me three tries to get this face and lipstick perfect, and you’re not ruining it.” She smiled and stepped around him, heading for the top of the stairs.
“Lizzie.” He halted her again.
“What now?”
“You did a great job on Todd’s room. The kid is ecstatic. I haven’t seen him giggle and laugh this much in weeks.”
She paused to search his face and saw unselfish warmth and affection in his eyes. The kid was getting to both of them. Big time. “It was fun, wasn’t it?” she asked and remembered how she had been caught with Lucas’s groping hands. She started for the steps, only to be halted a third time.
“Lizzie, be careful. Morrison might ask you a lot of questions. Don’t give him any more ammunition than necessary. I don’t know who we can trust.”
She sighed and clutched the handrail. “Lucas, I’m trying to get information, not give it out.” She hesitated a minute. “Do you really think Morrison might be involved?”
“I don’t know. I suspect he knows more than he lets on. He lied to you about not knowing Clarisse. I’d downplay any involvement with me.”
This time she laughed. “Lucas, I’m driving your thirty-five-thousand-dollar car. The man’s not particularly bright, but he’s not a complete dimwit either.”
“You’re driving a forty-five-thousand-dollar car. It’s loaded.” A smile made his ruggedly masculine fac
e appear more angular and alluring. His gaze locked with hers. “He’s probably clueless. If he asks, tell him you’re still trying to decide if you want to buy it. Tell him anything. Tell him you’re test-driving it before you decide to lay down cash.”
He tossed his head toward her bedroom. “By the way, I saw the drawings on your desk for the center’s new showroom. The idea of a semi-circular display never crossed my mind. It’s brilliant.”
“Lucas, I can’t afford that car.”
“I didn’t expect you to buy it. I’m giving it to you.”
“Whoa, no way will I accept it as a gift.” Her emotions warred between being elated by his praise for her work and irritated he thought he could manipulate her with an expensive gift. She glanced at her watch. “I’m going to be late. Don’t forget to read Todd the new book I left on the bed. Please see if you can get him hooked on something new. If we read The Fox and the Hound one more time, we’re going to start barking. And you and I need to talk. First thing, tomorrow.”
“If you say so.” He slipped back into his old familiar self. “Make sure you’re home at a respectable hour, Ms. Springer. We don’t want the neighbors to gossip. Your reputation is at stake.”
Her reputation? Oh, how she longed to smack him alongside the head. Oh, how she ached to remind him he was the one who had gained notoriety countywide for his reckless behavior.
“Be a good boy, Lucas,” she replied instead. “And don’t wait up. It may be a long night.” She hurried down the stairs.
His response filtered down just as she reached the bottom step.
“It better not be.”
****
Elise hated to make assumptions about anyone, but with Jack Morrison, she decided to dismiss her long-standing rule. He had, by far, the most hideous wardrobe of any man who walked the face of the earth. With black slacks and a lagoon blue sweater over a plaid peach shirt, he looked like a walking box of Crayolas.
She jerked open the door to his white Mercedes and slid in as soon as he pulled into the drive, not wanting to be under the scrutiny of Lucas Fisher any longer than necessary.
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