The Man She Should Have Married

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The Man She Should Have Married Page 12

by Patricia Kay


  “I’m just... I’m not interested in him that way. And I’d like to avoid potential awkwardness on Saturday.”

  “Why aren’t you interested in him? Are you blind?”

  “No. I realize he’s attractive and sexy and all that, but you know, I’m just not...interested,” she finished lamely.

  “All right, if that’s your final word. But I think you’re nuts.”

  “That’s my final word. Besides, don’t you need to get back to work?” Stella was a sales rep for a software-related company.

  Stella laughed. “Nice way to change the subject. Okay, fine. What time do you need me on Saturday?”

  “Can you come by at six?”

  “Sure.”

  “Thanks, Stella. I’ll owe you one.”

  “Yes, you will.”

  After exchanging “I love you,” the sisters hung up.

  Olivia sat there for a long moment, then, with a sigh, placed her final call.

  “Good morning,” Matt said when he answered.

  She couldn’t help smiling. “Yes, it is.”

  “If you’re calling to thank me, it’s not necessary.”

  “Thank you? For what?”

  He chuckled softly. “For great sex?”

  “Matt!” She could actually feel herself blushing.

  “What? My door’s closed. No one can hear me. And it was great, wasn’t it?”

  “Yes, it was.” Her stupid heart was beating too fast.

  “Maybe we could have a repeat performance.”

  Now she laughed. “I told you. We have to be cool. We can’t do anything to jeopardize the custody suit. Which brings me to the real reason I called. The caseworker phoned me. She’s going to come and do her interview and home inspection Friday morning.”

  “Good. Glad it’ll soon be over.”

  “I thought maybe you could check her out for me. See what kind of reputation she has.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Joan Barwood.”

  “I’ve heard of her. I’ll do some checking today and call you later.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  “So when is the afternoon shift over?”

  “Friday’s my last day. I have the weekend off, then go back on days Monday.”

  “How about letting me take you and Thea somewhere fun on Saturday?”

  “Matt, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, I have a prior commitment on Saturday.” She hoped he wouldn’t ask what the commitment was because she didn’t want to lie to him, but she also wasn’t in the mood for any kind of argument.

  “How about Sunday, then?”

  “What did you have in mind?”

  “Maybe a picnic at the park. Or we could drive to San Antonio, take a boat ride on the river, have some good Mexican food. Maybe look around at El Mercado.”

  Because Vivienne wasn’t likely to hear about a visit to San Antonio, and Olivia loved going there, she agreed to this plan, and Matt said he’d come by and pick them up around ten.

  By the time their phone conversation was over, it was time for her to get ready for work. Hopefully, when she got there, it would be so busy she wouldn’t have time to worry about anything.

  Chapter Ten

  For at least the tenth time, Olivia checked the house to make sure she’d left nothing undone. The furniture shone with polish, the floors were immaculate, the air smelled fragrant with the scent of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the tempting richness of the pumpkin muffins she’d taken from the oven only minutes earlier, and Thea was happily playing with her dollhouse—a birthday gift from Eve and the twins.

  Everything was ready for the caseworker’s visit.

  The thought had no sooner formed than the doorbell rang. Olivia’s heart knocked painfully. She took a deep breath before going forward to answer the door. There’s nothing to be nervous about. Just be honest and straightforward with the woman. You have nothing to fear.

  So why then did she feel as if she were headed to the guillotine? Actually, she knew why. It was because so much was at stake. If this interview went well, the Barwood woman would recommend the court let Thea remain with her mother. If it didn’t go well, who knew what could happen?

  Forcing herself to smile normally, Olivia opened the door. Standing on the stoop was a tall, thin woman with a narrow face, wispy brownish-blond hair pulled back into a tiny bun and a too-long nose. She was dressed in a drab brown skirt, white blouse and olive green jacket. Olivia’s heart sank. The woman didn’t inspire confidence.

  “Hi,” Olivia said. “I’m Olivia Britton. And you’re...”

  “Joan Barwood,” the caseworker said. She smiled.

  The smile changed her face, made her seem much warmer and friendlier. Olivia’s spirits lifted a fraction. “Come in,” she invited.

  The Barwood woman stepped inside and looked around. “Lovely,” she said. “I liked the look of the house from the outside, too. Small but inviting.”

  “Yes, that’s what Mark and I thought when we bought the house. It looked like a happy family would live in it.” The memory caused Olivia a twinge of sadness, but she shook it off. “May I take your jacket?”

  “Thank you.” Joan Barwood removed the jacket and handed it to Olivia, who hung it in the tiny coat closet in the foyer.

  “I thought we could sit in the living room,” Olivia said, gesturing toward the open doorway to Ms. Barwood’s left.

  “It would be easier if we sat at the kitchen table. I have forms that need to be filled out as we talk.” Ms. Barwood looked into the living room as she spoke. “Oh, I see your daughter is playing in there.”

  Olivia smiled. “Yes. Thea, honey? Come out and meet Mommy’s friend.” She breathed a sigh of relief when Thea immediately obeyed. Lately, it wasn’t a certainty that she would. She’d begun showing quite a streak of independence.

  “Hi,” Thea said, grinning up at Ms. Barwood. “I’m Thea. I’m four years old.”

  “I can see that. Quite a big girl, aren’t you?”

  Thea nodded proudly. “I look like my daddy.”

  “Do you? Well, you seem to have your mommy’s eyes.”

  “But I have his hair and his nose and his ears.”

  Joan Barwood smiled. “He must have been a very nice-looking man, your father, because you’re a very pretty little girl.”

  “I know,” Thea said.

  Both Olivia and Joan Barwood chuckled at the remark.

  “She’s not shy, I see,” Joan Barwood said. Her pale blue eyes met Olivia’s.

  “No. Not in the least. In fact, sometimes she’s too friendly. I’ve been warning her about that tendency.”

  “Mommy says I shouldn’t talk to strangers,” Thea said. “But I like talking to people. They’re inner-esting.”

  “Interesting,” Olivia said.

  Thea gave her a long-suffering look and sighed dramatically. “That’s what I said, Mommy.”

  “A mind of her own, too, I see,” Joan Barwood said.

  “Yes,” Olivia said. “Thea, why don’t you go back to playing with your dollhouse while Ms. Barwood and I go into the kitchen to talk.”

  “Okay.” But Thea seemed reluctant, because she frowned a little. But she turned and went back to her toys.

  “This way,” Olivia said.

  A few minutes later, with Joan Barwood settled at the kitchen table, her paperwork on the table in front of her, Olivia poured two cups of coffee and brought them, plus a small pitcher of half-and-half and a bowl of sugar to the table. “I have fresh muffins,” she offered. “They’re still warm.”

  “No, thank you,” Joan Barwood said. Then, softening a bit, she added, “Maybe later.”

  Olivia sat across from her. Their eyes met again.<
br />
  “I like your home,” the caseworker said. “Is it paid for? Or do you have a mortgage?”

  “It’s paid for. Mark bought a separate insurance policy to cover it, just in case.” Olivia thought about how she’d argued against doing that because the premiums were so high. But when Mark had been killed, she’d been very grateful to him for his thoughtfulness.

  “That was smart.”

  “Yes, he was pretty sensible when it came to me.”

  “And you have a full-time job?”

  “I do. At the Crandall Lake Hospital. I’m in Admitting.”

  “On the day shift, right?”

  “Yes, but I do fill in for the afternoon shift when they’re shorthanded.”

  “Is that a requirement of the job?”

  “No, but it pays time and a half, so that really helps financially. My mother watches Thea when I take those shifts.”

  Barwood nodded thoughtfully. “But I would have thought your husband left you quite well off. I mean, the Britton family is very wealthy.”

  “Yes, but that’s his parents. Mark had other insurance—aside from the policy that paid off the house—and it was substantial, and Thea gets social security until she’s eighteen, but my working is really helpful. I really hope to keep his insurance intact for Thea. To finance her education, and to help her get a good start in life when she’s older.”

  “That’s commendable, but surely the complainant, her Britton grandparents, would provide for her, if necessary? She’s their only grandchild, isn’t that correct?”

  “Yes, that’s true. But—” Olivia hesitated, then plunged ahead. She had to be honest. She didn’t know any other way to be. “But if they were paying, they would want to control everything. As Thea’s mother, I’d have no say. And frankly, Ms. Barwood, I’m not sure Thea would, either. I don’t want that for my daughter. I want her to continue to grow up strong and independent, and to form her own ideas and opinions, not be told how to live and what to think.”

  Now that Olivia had begun to explain, she couldn’t seem to stop. “Anyway, Thea loves going to day care. And I don’t think it’s harmful. She’s learned to share and get along with other children. She’s very social, and she’s made so many friends.”

  Joan Barwood nodded, then made some notes on her forms. When finished, she looked up again. “The complainant, your in-laws, have stated that you aren’t as careful about Thea’s welfare as you should be. That she fell and split her lip last year and had to have stitches because you had left her alone in your backyard.”

  “I didn’t leave her alone. I simply walked into the kitchen to get the sandwiches I’d made for our lunch. I wasn’t inside for more than two minutes.”

  Glancing again at her notes, Barwood said, “Yet in that two minutes, she fell and cut her lip and knocked out a tooth.”

  Olivia sighed. She still remembered how frightened she’d been when she’d seen the blood gushing from Thea’s mouth. “Yes, but accidents happen. I wasn’t neglecting her. Why, her father told me that he once fell off the sliding board in his backyard. Actually, he said he jumped. He thought he was Superman because he was wearing a Superman cape. Was that his mother’s fault? I mean, she was sitting right there and she couldn’t stop him falling and hurting himself. He broke his arm! Had to wear a cast for weeks.”

  “I don’t know the circumstances of Thea’s father’s accident. But we’re not discussing that. We’re discussing what happened to Thea.”

  Olivia should have known that episode would be on Vivienne’s list of grievances against her. “What else do my in-laws say about me?” she said, trying not to sound bitter.

  Barwood consulted her notes again. “They mention an incident last year where Thea darted into the street where she could have been struck by a car.”

  Olivia wanted to scream. Vivienne had been out of sorts that entire day because it was Thea’s birthday and she’d wanted to have an elaborate party for her at the Britton home. But for once, Olivia had stood up to her mother-in-law and held the celebration at her mother’s house. “Did they also mention that they were both with us at the time? And that Thea had spied a baby rabbit? And that none of us were able to grab her in time to prevent her running after it?”

  Barwood’s eyes again met Olivia’s. “No. That detail isn’t here.”

  “Well, they were. And I immediately went after Thea and caught her before any harm came to her.” She’d brought her back to their group kicking and screaming, but Olivia decided not to say so. Thea’s stubbornness was an ongoing problem, and would probably only get worse as she got older. She was a strong-willed child; she would cause Olivia to become prematurely gray, Olivia was sure of it. Yet Olivia wouldn’t have her any other way.

  “Let’s talk about Thea’s eating habits,” the Barwood woman said after making a few more notes.

  “Oh, brother,” Olivia said, rolling her eyes.

  “Is there a problem?” Joan Barwood said.

  Olivia just shook her head. “No. Not for me or for Thea. But I should have known Vivienne would bring up my daughter’s food preferences.”

  “Such as?”

  “Well, she doesn’t like meat. She’s pretty much a vegetarian.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m not. I like just about everything, and I’ve tried to get her to at least taste things, but she’s got a mind of her own, that one.” Actually, not for the first time, Olivia thought that Thea’s strong opinions were directly related to the genes she’d received from her paternal grandmother.

  “So she doesn’t eat any meat at all?”

  “No. She likes fish, though, and she gets plenty of protein in beans and nuts and dairy. She has a very healthy diet, despite what my mother-in-law thinks.”

  Joan Barwood nodded thoughtfully. After glancing at her notes again, she said, “The day care issue seems to be primary. That, and the odd hours you sometimes work. Your in-laws feel Thea would be much better off in their home, with a normal, structured schedule, under the proper guidance of a full-time nanny.”

  “They’re entitled to their opinion, but I don’t agree. Thea belongs here, with me, her mother. But if my working really is a major issue, and you agree with that, then I’ll quit immediately. Nothing in the world is more important to me than my daughter. Nothing.”

  The caseworker’s eyes met hers. “I worked when my children were small,” she finally said.

  Olivia breathed a mental sigh of relief. Surely the Barwood woman was telling her something without actually telling her. Wasn’t she?

  They talked awhile longer, and then Ms. Barwood asked to see the rest of the house, and Olivia showed her around. The woman spent the longest time in Thea’s bedroom, looking around, opening the closet door, the drawers to Thea’s chest and small dresser, and her toy box. “It’s a lovely room,” she finally said.

  Just as they were ready to go back downstairs, Thea appeared in the doorway. “Why are you in my room?” she demanded.

  “Miss Barwood just wanted to see it, honey,” Olivia said. “Because I told her how pretty it was.”

  “It is pretty,” Joan Barwood agreed.

  “I like it a lot,” Thea said, frowning.

  “What’s wrong?” Ms. Barwood asked.

  “It’s my room.” Now Thea’s frown grew darker.

  Olivia almost smiled. Her daughter was showing her colors right now. And her possessiveness.

  “This is where my mommy tells me the daddy story,” Thea said. The statement was almost challenging.

  “The daddy story?” Ms. Barwood said.

  “At night. When I go to sleep,” Thea said.

  “I always tell her how her daddy is looking out for her, and how much he loves her,” Olivia said. She kept her voice neutral, but inside she was angry. Angry that she had to
share something so intimate. Something that was no one’s business except hers and her daughter’s. Angry that Vivienne had brought this unjustified ugliness into their lives.

  “He’s my garden angel!” Thea said, glaring at Joan Barwood.

  The caseworker nodded. Then she knelt down, and took Thea’s hand. “I’m sorry if I upset you, Thea. I can see you love your daddy and mommy very much, and that the daddy story is very important to you. Thank you for telling me about it.”

  Thea’s frown slowly disappeared. “You’re welcome.”

  “Such a polite little girl, too,” Ms. Barwood said. “Your mommy has done a good job, that’s very clear.”

  Olivia wasn’t sure what to say...or do. But Joan Barwood obviously realized this, for she rose, then turned to Olivia and said, “I’ve enjoyed visiting both you and Thea, Olivia. Thank you for having me. Now I think it’s time to get going.”

  Five minutes later, she was gone. After shutting the door behind her, Olivia felt as if the weight of the world had been lifted from her shoulders. No matter what the Barwood woman recommended, and Olivia was pretty certain the interview had gone well, Olivia was just glad to have this part of the custody suit behind her.

  Now all she could do was wait.

  * * *

  After Olivia told him about the interview with the caseworker from Children’s Protective Services, Matt decided to do some digging of his own. Knowing Paul Temple, the lawyer he’d wanted Olivia to use instead of Austin, would have inside knowledge of the way CPS worked, he called him to see what he could find out.

  “I know Joan Barwood,” Temple said. “She’s one of the old hands in the department, very thorough, very conscientious and fair.”

  “Do you know her well enough to ask her about Olivia’s case?”

  There was a pause on the other end of the line. “I wouldn’t normally do that,” Temple finally said.

  “As a favor to me?”

  Another pause. Then a sigh, clearly audible. “Okay, Matt. As a favor to you.”

  “I’ll owe you, Paul,” Matt said.

 

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