The Pregnancy Test

by Susan Gable

  “Where you going, Daddy?”

  “Just next door. I won’t be long.”

  Hurt flared in Brook’s eyes and her mouth tightened. “Go ahead. You’ll see I’m telling the truth.” She turned and stomped up the stairs, letting the porch door slam shut.

  “Should I still pick a DVD for later?” Ashley looked up at him.

  “Yeah, Peach. Even if your sister doesn’t want to watch, you and I will have our own Family Fun Night.”

  “Okay.” With a quick smile, she turned and skipped up the remainder of the sidewalk, entering the house with far less drama than her sibling.

  Sloan strode back to the jewelry store. A Closed sign hung in the middle of the door. Damn. But the woman had said she lived upstairs. Surely there was another entrance?

  He walked the length of the building’s front. The place next to Jenna’s store was a natural remedies and therapeutic massage office. The one on the far end was empty with a red-lettered For Rent sign in the window. But he found nothing that looked like an entrance to apartments on the upper story.

  He peered around the corner. Nothing on that side of the building but some gravel and a few stray blades of grass poking up between the stones.

  He retraced his steps along the front sidewalk, and turned down the side that offered more parking. At the far end of the building there was a metal door in the wall, with a doorbell and intercom box alongside. Sloan pressed the button. If that didn’t work, he could always climb the set of stairs that led up to a deck behind the building.

  “Hey, that was fast,” Jenna’s tinny voice declared from the box on the wall. “Bring it up.”

  A buzz and click announced the unlocking of the metal door. Sloan opened it, finding himself in a stairwell. A door to his left went into the shops. He climbed the stairs. On the landing at the top he found an oak coat tree and another door, which flew open.

  “Oh,” Jenna said.

  “Not who you expected?”

  “Unless you’re hiding some Mexican takeout, no, you’re not who I was expecting.”

  “You should really look before you open your door.”

  “Probably.” Her voice was laced with humor, causing a tightening in his stomach—one he hadn’t felt in a long time. It wasn’t that he’d consciously avoided women, just that there’d been little opportunity to pursue a relationship since his wife’s death.

  “But maybe I like to live a little on the wild side,” she continued.

  That he could believe. “There’s wild, and then there’s dangerous.”

  “Thanks, Dad.” She winked. “You wanna come in or are you going to stand on my landing all night?”

  “I just wanted to ask you something.” He entered her apartment and moved aside so she could shut the door behind him. The loft occupied the entire top floor of the building. To his left, a set of sliding glass doors led onto the deck he’d noticed from downstairs. A kitchen area butted against the outer wall to his right, with white cabinets and glass doors revealing turquoise and yellow dishes within. A butcher-block island boasted several tall stools with pink cushions. In the living area, another woman lounged on a sectional sofa, scratching the head of a small brown-and-white dog.

  Bright colors seemed to be the standard here—a rainbow-colored decoration that reminded him of a DNA helix hung from the ten-foot ceiling near the living area.

  “Margo, this is Sloan Thompson, my new neighbor. Sloan, this is Margo Weber, my good friend. She runs Natural Health, next to my place downstairs.”

  Margo waved. “Hi, there. Welcome to Erie. It’s nice to meet you.” She gave Jenna a look he couldn’t quite decipher.

  “Likewise, ma’am.” He inclined his head.

  Jenna sputtered. “You gotta stop that ma’am stuff, Tex. Makes us feel old.”

  “Sorry, sugar. Old is not what comes to mind for either of you. Sweet young things is more accurate.”

  “That’s better.” Jenna waggled her fingers at him while Margo snorted. “What can I do for you? Can I get you a drink?” She gestured toward the island. “Tonight the house special is margaritas, to go with the Mexican food that you weren’t delivering.”

  “No thanks, nothing. I just need to ask you a question.” He inclined his head toward the sliding glass doors. “Perhaps we could step outside a moment? No offense, ma’— Margo—” he glanced at her friend “—but I’d prefer to speak to Jenna in private.”

  “Oh, you two go right ahead.” Margo waved. “I’m fine.” She hid her amused expression behind the green, frosted glass in her other hand.

  Jenna glared at Margo, silently threatening to put an end to their Friday night ritual if Margo couldn’t keep her big mouth shut. As Jenna escorted Sloan to the deck, she thought she heard Margo chanting, “Flirting, little kid, flirting, little kid.”

  Okay, so discretion wasn’t Margo’s strongest suit. Jenna sighed. She wasn’t flirting, and she was well aware that hunky Mr. Texas had a little kid.

  The sliding glass door trundled shut behind them. “What can I do for you? I know every food place that delivers to the neighborhood, the best bowling alley, and fun spots. I can give you directions to just about anywhere. What do you need?”

  “I need to know if you gave my daughter a pair of four-leaf-clover earrings.”

  “Hmm? Earrings? Yes, I gave them to her. Why?”

  His features softened, his blue eyes taking on a look of relief.

  “That was very nice of you, but not necessary. I’m trying to teach my daughters the value of hard work. I’d appreciate it if you didn’t give Brook gifts in the future.”

  “Hey, now, just a minute. It wasn’t exactly a gift. Brook ran an errand for me. She also tamed the computer from hell, even if the taming didn’t last. I gave her the earrings to say thank-you.”

  “Oh.” His mouth pinched tight and his eyebrows drew down. “Guess that’s different, then.” He turned in the direction of his house, and Jenna could feel him drifting, thinking about his family.

  “She really is a sweet kid.”

  He didn’t move. “Wish she’d try a little of that sweetness out at home. I’ve gotta get back. Thanks.” Obviously distracted, he headed for the outside stairs and started down without a single glance her way.

  Jenna returned inside. Margo gave her a smug, smartass look. “I knew you couldn’t resist him. Did he ask you out?”

  “No, Miss Know-It-All. And I didn’t flirt with him, either.”

  “Did so. All those smiles. What were they?”

  “What do you want me to do? Scowl at him? Besides, he’s not my type. The man has not one but two, count ’em, two kids.” But he was definitely cute. A widower, poor guy. Brook had mentioned losing her mom. Jenna’s heart went out to him—to all of them. She could see he and Brook weren’t operating on the same wavelength. In fact, he reminded her a lot of her own parents: logical, structured, kind of intense. And Brook reminded her of herself, more of a free spirit, interested in things her father wouldn’t consider important at all. Maybe it was Brook she should be feeling sorry for. Jenna knew how overbearing parents could suck the life and joy out of a more zestful soul.

  “Don’t tell me you’re actually losing your touch? And admit it, I was right about his butt.”

  “Margo, just give it a rest,” she snapped. “Yes, he’s got a great ass. So what? Grow up.” Damn. Two minutes with the man, and she was actually channeling her parents.

  “Grow up? This from the fun-loving, female Peter Pan?”

  “Sorry, Margo. That was out of line.”

  “Yes, it was. But I forgive you.”

  The buzzer rang, announcing, she assumed again, the arrival of dinner. But Jenna didn’t feel much like eating now.

  SLOAN LINGERED in the hallway. After watching the movie with his younger daughter, he’d sent her off to bed and then lost himself briefly in video games, where virtual violence—crashing cars, shooting aliens, blowing things up—had relieved some of the tension coiled inside him. Enoug
h so that he felt calm enough to go talk to Brook again. Hopefully, this time he would get it right.

  He peered into Ashley’s room first. Curled on her side, she slept. How he longed for the blissful sleep of childhood.

  Outside Brook’s door, he could hear the muted sound of music spilling from her headphones, and the clackity-clack of her keyboard as she IMed her friends, no doubt expounding on what a shithead her father was.

  And that was exactly how he felt. He rapped on the door, though he doubted she could hear him over the music. After a few moments, he stuck his head inside. “Brook? We need to talk.”

  With an exaggerated sigh, she removed the earphones, letting the pounding beat spill out even louder. “What do you want?”

  “Turn that off for a minute, please. I want to talk to you.”

  “Why bother? You don’t listen when I talk to you.”

  “I’m sorry about the earrings thing, Brook. It’s just like I’ve told you before. Once a trust is broken, it’s very hard to rebuild it.”

  “Yeah, whatever.”

  “No, not whatever. It’s going to take time for me to trust you again. Running off without permission, without letting me know where you’re going, isn’t going to help. Picking the wrong kinds of friends isn’t going to help.”

  “You don’t know a damn thing about those kids I was with, and yet you’re judging them.”

  “I know I saw them smoking. That’s not the right kind of crowd, Brook.”

  “It was just a cigarette, not weed.” Her jaw set and her pink-frosted eyelids shuttered halfway, giving her a sullen, pouting look.

  “I don’t care if it was just a lit Q-tip, it’s still an indication that things aren’t right. You have a chance to start over, do the right thing.”

  Brook glanced at a picture on her dresser. “If Mom were here, she’d—”

  “Don’t. Don’t you dare invoke your mother. There is no way in hell she would have approved of you shoplifting or smoking cigarettes, weed or not. And since it was weed I caught you with—”

  “You’re never going to let me live down my mistakes, are you?” she yelled. “Just like you couldn’t let Mom live down her mistake. You come across all holier-than-thou, like you never messed up in your life!”

  Sloan had a hard time forcing speech past the tightness in his throat. When he finally spoke, his voice was soft. “I messed up with your mother.”

  “I’ll say. Maybe if you’d been a little more understanding, she’d still—”

  “Quit while you’re ahead, Brook. You think you know what happened between your mother and me, but you don’t. So I suggest you just stop right now before we both regret it.” His eyelid twitched, and he pressed a finger against it. He would not lose his temper like he’d done that night with Beth. He would not yell. He would do the right thing. “Shut down the computer and go to bed.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Do what I say.” He wheeled around and fled from the second story as quickly as he could, eager to put some distance between them. So much for his apology. He stormed out the front door and plopped himself down on the top step.

  The quiet of the night was broken by the sounds of intermittent traffic on Twelfth Street. He covered his face with his hands and sucked in a deep breath.

  His wife had died because he’d lost his temper and said things he shouldn’t have, no matter how justified he’d been. His anger had driven her out into a night far different from this one.

  He wouldn’t make the same mistake with Brook.

  CHAPTER THREE

  SHE WASN’T SPYING on him. Not exactly. It wasn’t as if she had binoculars or anything. Still, she really didn’t need them. Even in the dim light from the streetlamps and the moon, from her deck she had a clear view of the man slumped on the front step of his house. He looked like he’d lost his last friend.

  Which meant he needed one. Checking on him would be the good-neighbor thing to do.

  Being a good neighbor couldn’t get her into any trouble, right?

  Jenna slipped back into the loft and retrieved a purple leash from a hook by the door. “Princess? You wanna go for a walk?”

  The dog lifted her head from a pillow on the sofa, stared at her for a moment, then sighed, plopping her snout back across the cushion.

  “Oh, brother. Look, this suffering-martyr routine has to stop. I’m not that bad. I feed you, make sure you have water, attempt to play with you. I’ve mollycoddled you long enough. Tough-love time.” Jenna strode across the living area and snapped the leash onto the dog’s matching purple harness. “Gram wouldn’t have wanted either one of us to just mope around. Let’s go.” She tugged gently, but the dog didn’t budge. “Okay, then, have it your way.” She scooped the dog under one arm and headed outside.

  At the bottom of the stairs she set the spaniel down. Princess shook herself, offered Jenna a glance over her shoulder, hoisted her snout in the air— Gram had sure named her right—then trotted toward the sidewalk.

  “That’s more like it.” Resisting the urge to hum or do some other inane thing to look casual, Jenna followed the dog the short distance to Sloan’s house. “Well, hey, there,” she called out.

  He raised his head. “Hey yourself.”

  Princess scurried down the cement path that led to his steps, pulling Jenna along. Way to go, dog.

  Princess nudged his hands with her nose, tail wagging her entire butt.

  “Traitor, you don’t wag for me,” Jenna murmured as Sloan patted the dog. “Nice night for a walk.”

  “Mmm. I suppose.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Sure.”

  “So, this glum look is your normal one?”

  The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah.”

  “Bummer. That’s a terrible way to go through life. Did you make that face one day and it got stuck, just like your mom always warned you?”

  He chuckled. “I guess. You know, I think Mom did warn me about that.” He laughed again. “I haven’t thought about that in years. Thanks.”

  Being a good neighbor gave Jenna the warm fuzzies in a way flirting never had. “You’re welcome.” She rocked on her feet, toying with the end of the leash in her hands, trying to think of something else to say. Prying would just make her seem nosy. But still… “Something my gram used to tell my parents occurs to me.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. She’d say, ‘Fifteen—’or whatever age I was at the time‘—isn’t fatal. For the child, or the parent.’”

  “Easy for your grandma to say. She wasn’t raising Brook.”

  “I’m sure it’s even harder because you’re alone. Being a single parent has to be the toughest job on the planet. It’s got to be hard on Brook, too, being at this age and having no woman to talk to, confide in.”

  “That’s one of the reasons we moved. I was actually hoping to get a job in Pittsburgh to be close to my sister, but this is what came up.” Realizing he’d spilled too much, Sloan gave the dog’s soft head a final tousle, then wiped his hands along his jeans. He glanced up at Jenna, narrowing his eyes. What in the world had possessed her to stop and chitchat? “I don’t want to keep you from your walk.”

  “Huh? Oh, yeah. Our walk. Well, actually, there was something I wanted to discuss with you.”

  “Besides my parenting skills?”

  “Well, it sort of relates. Remember earlier you said you were trying to teach your daughters the value of hard work?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well, the holiday season is coming up, and I really could use some more help at the shop. If it’s okay with you, I’d like to offer Brook a part-time job.”

  He rose to his feet. Being an extra step higher made him tower over her. He found himself staring down at the freckles on the luscious cleavage exposed by the lace-up blouse. With a start, he forced his eyes to hers. “I don’t know about that.” He didn’t know if he wanted either of his kids around her. She seemed kind of…out there. On the wild side. More
honestly, he didn’t know if he wanted to be around her. A tempting distraction like her was the last thing he needed right now, what with Brook and all.

  Not to mention he didn’t need a woman like her doing the tempting. When he got involved again, it would be with a dependable, sedate woman. Not a flighty redhead. One burn had been enough.

  “Please? She’s great with my temperamental computer. Damn thing keeps freezing on me.”

  “Really? Glad to hear she takes after me in something.”

  “You’re good with computers, too?”

  “Chief engineer at a television station definitely requires strong computer skills these days.”

  “Great. Then I know who to come to when I feel like throwing the thing out the window. But honestly, I need the part-time help. I think it would be perfect for Brook. She seems to like jewelry.”

  Maybe, despite his misgivings about Jenna, a job would help teach Brook responsibility. And he wouldn’t have to worry about transporting her, either, since the job was next door. “I’ll think about it.”

  BROOK FINISHED wiping the last countertop and headed for the office to return the paper towels and Windex. Not exactly the thrill-a-minute job she’d envisioned when Jenna had approached her two weeks ago, but still, it sure beat staying home, baby-sitting Ashley every day. After finally agreeing Brook could take the position, Dad had enrolled her kid sister in an after-school program at the elementary school, leaving Brook with free afternoons when she didn’t have to work.

  Life was looking up.

  She found Jenna bent over the worktable in the office, a pair of tiny pliers in her hand as she strung a beach-glass necklace.

  “Okay, that’s done. Now what?” After stuffing in the cleaning supplies, Brook slammed the door of the storage cabinet.

  The doorbell chimed, and Jenna looked up at her. “Now you go and help that customer.”

  “If you actually want to sell something, you might want to do it yourself.” It was a good thing Jenna wasn’t paying her on commission. A great salesperson Brook wasn’t.