by Jamie Beck
Meanwhile, Ryan’s messages had cycled from concern to dismay to anger. Deep down, she’d known he deserved much better. And instead of the relief she’d expected after cutting herself free, she’d limped through those early weeks as if half of her was missing. But as weeks had turned to months, she couldn’t then reach out and apologize. When Peyton had informed her that he’d taken up with Val, that had sealed their fate.
How foolish of her now to think they could be friends. “I don’t trust you.” Given her behavior, she could hardly blame him. She got cramps whenever she imagined how he’d felt to be blindsided with that freezeout. Even now, she buried her face in her hands and drew a deep breath.
The squeak of the kitchen door opening caused her to look up. Emmy Quinn wandered outside, leaving the door wide open.
“What’s a ‘special’ friend?” Emmy’s precocious gaze glided over Steffi for the second time that day. Her coloring and face might resemble her father, but her impudent personality had to come from Val. Ryan didn’t usually provoke others for a thrill. Emmy clearly did.
“I’m not sure.” Steffi had never had intimate conversations with kids, and she didn’t need her first time to be with Ryan’s daughter.
Emmy huffed. “Memaw says you were my dad’s special friend.”
“Oh.” Had Molly lost her mind? “Well, we had a lot in common. We both played soccer for our high school, and we both liked to go sailing, so we hung out a lot back then.”
Emmy pursed her lips as her gaze slid to Steffi’s Timberland work shoes. She wrinkled her nose. “You don’t dress like a girl.”
Steffi smothered a smile while deciding Emmy needed a little lesson in feminism. She made a show of patting her overalls and tool belt. “Hmm. I’m a girl, and I’m wearing clothes, so I’m not sure I understand what you mean. Far as I know, there’s no such thing as dressing ‘like a girl.’”
Emmy’s head dipped backward as her eyes rolled heavenward. The child was petite despite her age, her diminutive size at odds with a big personality. She waved her hands at her pink floral swimsuit and sparkly flip-flops. “Girls wear pretty colors and dresses.” Then she scowled at Steffi’s footwear again. “And fancy shoes.”
“I suppose some girls do.”
“My mom does.” Emmy’s eyes filled with challenge.
Steffi couldn’t care less about Val or the woman’s clothes, but she knew how it felt to lose your mom before you’re ready. Steffi had been twelve; Emmy was barely nine and scared and probably in a whole lot of pain.
“I met your mom once.” Steffi reflected back six years ago when she’d bumped into Ryan and his young family at the town “Caroling on the Green” on Christmas Eve. Dainty but buxom, Val turned heads with her blonde curls that framed cool blue eyes and a sensual smile. “She’s very pretty.”
Emmy nodded, and Steffi could see little pools forming in her eyes. Shit.
“Hey, while you’re here, I could use some help.” She tossed the tape measure at Emmy, who seemed too surprised by the gesture to catch it. It clattered to a halt at her feet. “I’ll be blasting through this wall here, and I need to know how big the opening should be. Want to be my assistant?”
Emmy stooped to pick up the tape measure and then began playing with it. Tears gone. Mission accomplished.
“This whole wall?” she asked.
“That would be nice, except I’m pretty sure the stairs are right behind this part.” Steffi pounded on the wall. “I think I can only open up that side.”
Emmy stretched her skinny arms as wide as she could. “Like this?”
“Yes, about that wide.” Steffi pulled her notepad back out, pretending to take her seriously. “How many inches is that?”
Emmy stretched the tape measure the full span of her arms. Oddly, she rose onto her tiptoes while doing so, causing Steffi to cover another smile. Emmy then set the tool on the floor and squatted to read the markings. “Forty-nine and two little marks.”
Steffi pretended to write that down. “That’s a good size.”
Emmy smiled and pushed the tape back into the roll.
“Don’t shove it. Just press that black button and it will roll right up.” Steffi pointed.
Emmy squeezed it with both hands, grinning when the metal measure snapped back into place. She then pulled it out and snapped it back again.
“Don’t play with it. It’s a tool, not a toy.” She extended her hand. “I’ll take that back now.”
“How will you break the wall?” Emmy asked.
“With a sledgehammer.”
Emmy looked like she didn’t believe Steffi. “You can’t hammer down a whole wall.”
“I can with a sledgehammer. It’s this big.” She used her hands to estimate its length and the size of the head. “You need both arms to swing it.”
“Cool!” Emmy craned her neck to get a better look at Steffi’s tool belt. “Can I try?”
“We’ll see.”
“Emmy!” Ryan’s holler made its way outside before he did. He appeared, hair still damp from a shower, wearing khaki shorts and a formfitting gray T-shirt. He’d opted not to shave the little bit of stubble on his jaw. The shock of seeing him again, up close and personal, made every part of her body thrum. She held her breath, waiting to hear what else he would say. “What are you doing out here? I asked you to come help me unpack boxes after you finished cleaning the cookie mess.”
Emmy cocked her hip and crossed her arms. “I helped Miss Lockwood measure.” She gestured to the shingled wall. “We’re going to tear down this whole wall with a sledgehammer!”
Ryan slid Steffi a side-eye glare. “That doesn’t explain why you came out here in the first place.”
“She says you took her sailing, Dad,” Emmy replied, throwing the counselor’s interrogation offtrack. “Will you take me sailing?”
For a second, Ryan’s face paled. Steffi wondered if he was thinking of the picnics they’d packed, or the beer they’d sneaked, on the used 1980 Pearson 26—Knot So Fast—that Ryan’s dad had bought him for his sixteenth birthday. Eyeing his daughter, Ryan hitched his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the door. “March upstairs and shower. We can talk about sailing after you unpack your boxes.”
Emmy stomped her foot. Had she learned that from her mom, or did all little girls play that card? “You don’t have to yell.”
Ryan raised his arms from his sides. “I’m not yelling.”
Emmy tossed Steffi a “Can you believe this guy?” look, at which point Steffi gave up trying not to laugh at the tiny spitfire who would cause Ryan to gray prematurely.
Following a nonchalant shrug, Emmy sauntered inside, leaving Steffi alone with Ryan.
“What are you doing?” He peered at her with the same irritation he’d had when she’d accidentally bleached his soccer shirt. Funny how, despite the years and tears, his expressions were still so familiar.
“She came out here asking me questions about the past. What was I supposed to say?”
“How about ‘I’m sure your dad can answer that for you,’ or something like that?”
“I’m sorry, Ryan. I was being friendly. She’s got to be confused and lonely and scared.” She turned her palms upward in question. “I thought it’d be nice to give her some attention and make her feel helpful.”
He crossed his arms and stepped closer, lip curled. “On the surface, that does sound nice—thoughtful, even—until I remember that you’re great at making people feel like they matter to you, until they don’t. I don’t want my daughter getting attached to you when I know you’ll vanish from her life once you get bored.”
Although Steffi admired Ryan’s desire to protect Emmy, she also refused to be his dumping ground.
She pushed at his shoulder. “Enough already. I’ve apologized for the past. I’m not proud of how I acted back then, but I can’t change it, either. I was nineteen, for God’s sake. How about you at least give me a little break for being a stupid teenage girl who was in over her head
? As for now, your mom hired me to do a job. I’ll be here every day for six to eight weeks, so I’m going to run into Emmy. I won’t go out of my way to involve her, but I also won’t ignore her if she comes to talk to me. If you don’t want to try to be my friend, that’s your choice, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like gum under your shoe. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to find your mom and say goodbye.”
She brushed past him before he could smack her with another hurtful retort.
Molly wasn’t in the kitchen or living room, so Steffi decided to text her a note and be on her way. Once she got outside, she found Molly weeding her flower beds surrounding the hydrangea bushes. “Oh, there you are. I’m done for today. I’ll work up a bid by tomorrow.”
Molly waved a hand. “Just a formality. And I’m not too worried. My mother left me some money when she died two years ago that’s itching to be put to use. The key is to get started right away.”
Steffi smiled, grateful that Molly didn’t hold a grudge. She welcomed the opportunity to rebuild some semblance of their old relationship, and she needed the work. On the other hand, her being here could make things very hard on Ryan. “Molly, I appreciate this chance, but I’m not sure my working here every day is something Ryan’s too jazzed about. Maybe I should recommend someone else for the job.”
Molly stood and removed her gardening gloves. “Nonsense. I love my son, but he’s got to learn to let go of things.”
“Like you managed to do?”
“Honey, you were a young girl. Young girls make lots of mistakes . . . this I know from experience.” She winked. “Some of us need to go far and wide before we find our way home. With a limited supply of old friends in our lifetime, it’s worth giving them a second chance, don’t you think?”
“Thank you for that.” Steffi nodded, although she’d pretty much blown any right to call Ryan a friend, and he surely didn’t see her as one. He didn’t trust her. Maybe he never would, but maybe she owed it to him to try, even if he rejected her. At the very least, that kind of penance might help her overcome lingering guilt about the way things had ended. “I’ll shoot you an estimate and some window options, and then we’ll go from there. Red oak floors for that space will cost a couple grand, plus labor. Do you want those, or do you want to use a seal over the flagstone floor?”
“I suppose there’s a certain charm to keeping the stone floor, and it never hurts to save a few dollars.”
Overhead, a window squeaked open, and Emmy pressed her face to the screen. “Memaw, can you help me unpack my boxes?”
Molly looked up, shading her eyes with one hand. “Close that window unless you want your room to turn into a sauna.”
“What’s a sauna?” Emmy bounced her nose off the screen a few times, apparently enjoying the springy sensation.
“Never mind. Just close the window. You’ll split that screen. I’ll be up in a minute.” Molly looked at Steffi once the window sash slammed shut. “I hope I’m not too old for all this. I love my son and Emmy, but there’s a reason women my age can’t have kids.”
“Good luck!” Steffi smiled, thinking she liked little Emmy Quinn a lot.
She slid into the driver’s seat of her sweltering car, its leather practically fusing with the skin on the back of her thighs. Before starting the engine, she checked her calendar. She’d promised her brother Benny she’d be his training partner for the New York City Marathon this fall. He’d scheduled a four-mile circuit for tonight, so it shouldn’t be too bad, even in this heat.
Ben was the youngest of her three older brothers and the only one who still lived nearby. They thought alike: efficient, calm, can-do spirits. Their eldest brother, Matt—a typical firstborn overachiever—lived in Miami and worked as an orthopedic surgeon. He’d never married. Neither had Chris, who currently worked as an assistant strength-and-conditioning coach at the University of Mississippi. Ben—also unattached—worked with their dad at Lockwood Hardware.
Nobody gave a second thought to the fact that none of her brothers were in serious relationships, but she felt pressure—like there was something wrong with her for not finding love.
Sometimes she thought life would be easier if she’d been born a guy. She seemed to fit in better with their humor and sensibility than with that of most women she knew. Well, other than Claire and Peyton, which was another reason why she couldn’t turn her back on Peyton. Molly’s advice about old friends drifted back.
People hurt each other and made big mistakes now and then, but if they felt remorse, the mistakes shouldn’t erase every good thing they ever did. And maybe if Steffi could help Claire forgive Peyton, then there was hope that Ryan might one day forgive her.
Ryan loved Campiti’s pizza. Salty cheese. Tiny pepperoni that crisped into little shells filled with puddles of spicy oil. Cherikee Red cherry soda, an old favorite and still just as delicious. The smell of tomato sauce and teen hormones mingling together in the venerable joint. All these things triggered a sort of time warp, reminding him of being young and hopeful, for a change.
The place retained its original decor. Black-and-white-block vinyl floors. Bold yellow Formica booth-style tables aligned along a wall with a poorly done mural of a scene from Naples. Pizza still served on waxed paper. He’d spent a lot of time here with his teammates and Steffi. Good memories. The kind that made the bad ones that much harder to understand.
Emmy sat across from him now, her short legs swinging from her bench seat, face smeared with the orange hue of pizza grease.
“Do you like it?” He wiggled his brows and took a huge bite, having waited long enough to know that the cheese wouldn’t burn the roof of his mouth.
Emmy nodded. “Yes, but it’s loud in here.”
“You’re right.” He took another mouthful, noticing the hum of the exhaust fans, the barking laughter of a group of kids, and the cashier yelling a takeout order to the pizza maker. “Fun, right?”
Emmy shrugged. “I wish Mom was here. She might like this pizza.”
Ryan almost choked on his drink, so he pounded the center of his chest. The only food Val liked to consume involved lettuce, sushi, or wine. She might be willing to try fancy artisanal pizza in a high-priced Italian restaurant, but he’d only gotten her past Campiti’s front door one time.
“If she visits, you can bring her here.”
Emmy smiled broadly. “Let’s call her now and ask her.”
He still hadn’t figured out how to handle conversations about Val with Emmy. After explaining the divorce to their daughter, he and Val had told Emmy she’d be living with him for “a while.” He hadn’t liked Val’s hedge, but Emmy had been so distraught that he hadn’t had the heart to take away all her hope at once. Truthfully, he couldn’t bear to see the pain of a mother’s rejection in his daughter’s eyes. For now, he’d let Emmy believe that her mother might change her mind. Maybe Val would surprise him and ask for shared custody.
Ryan pushed aside his pizza, unable to enjoy it, thanks to a healthy case of indigestion. “It’s Friday evening, honey. I doubt she’s available.”
“Try, Dad.” Emmy frowned. “I miss Mom.”
Every time he heard those three words, he disliked Val a little more.
“You’re what?” Ryan sank onto the corner of the bed while his wife packed her last suitcase. He knew he should be unhappy about the end of his marriage, but they’d been treading water for the past three years for Emmy’s sake. This latest pronouncement, however, stunned him.
“I’m leaving Emmy with you. John doesn’t want the responsibility of raising her right now. We’re young. He wants to travel and enjoy his early retirement.”
The forty-two-year-old ex-banker and his golden parachute were making off with Ryan’s wife. La-di-da. He couldn’t give a damn, except that his daughter’s heart would be shattered into pieces he might never be able to mend.
“Val, you can’t abandon Emmy.”
Val zipped up her bag. “I’m not abandoning her. I’m leaving
her with her father. I put in nine years here, managing the day-to-day while you pursued law school and your career. Now it’s my turn to have a life.”
“Fine.” He rose from the bed. “But you tell her. I won’t be the heavy.”
He should’ve known Val would wiggle her way out of a confrontation with vague answers that left Emmy with an inaccurate understanding of how her life had been turned upside down. Unfortunately, that small crack had left enough room for Emmy’s hope for some kind of reconciliation to flourish.
“Dad?”
“Sorry.”
Emmy stuck her hand out, palm upward. “I want to call Mom.”
Reluctantly, he withdrew his phone and dialed Val, then handed Emmy the phone and prepared for the worst.
“Mommy!” Emmy’s face lit up as she instantly reverted to the sort of baby talk Val had always encouraged as cute.
He couldn’t make out what Val was saying, but the mere sound of her voice on the other end of the line made his stomach burn.
“Can you come visit us soon?” While Emmy drew a breath, he winced at her use of the word “us.” “We can bring you to this funny pizza shop. It has yellow tables and a bad painting on the wall.”
Ryan watched Emmy’s hopeful expression melt like a candle giving in to the flame.
“Can I come to London? I want to see Princess Kate!” Her little brows puckered as she struggled not to cry. Seeing his daughter tying herself into a pretzel for her mother’s affection snapped something inside.
He gestured for the phone.
“Daddy wants to talk to you. Will you come visit after London?” Emmy’s chin wobbled at whatever Val said next. “Okay.”
She handed Ryan the phone and then toyed with her pizza.
“Val,” he said, rising from the table to march outside and tell her off.
“Ryan, I’m running late. I can’t talk now. I’ll call Emmy tomorrow. In the future, Friday nights aren’t the best.”
He burst through the swinging door, onto the sidewalk. “Oh? Please share with me a list of convenient times to converse with your daughter. I’m sure that will do wonders for her self-esteem, you heartless—”