Right from the Start

by Jeanie London

  She was so close. Close enough that she had to tip her head to meet his gaze. Close enough that he might slip his arms around her and pull her even closer.

  And Kenzie was aware, too. She was gauging him, assessing why he would make an appearance now after a week of painfully casual contact. He wondered what she thought. Whatever might be going on inside that pretty head of hers, she swallowed hard. Her chest rose and fell on a hard breath as she took a careful step away and set aside the face mask, removed her gloves.

  Friends? Right. More like awkward wannabe lovers in full-on denial. A week hadn’t cured her of their chemistry, either.

  “Listen, Sam’s mom is at the house spending time with him since he’s home from camp, so I don’t have to rush anywhere to pick him up. You want to grab a beer?”

  She smiled. “Are you asking me on a date, Will?”

  He could hear the laughter in her voice. She clearly didn’t believe he’d changed the boundaries of their relationship, and in that moment, he resented his inability to be a man. Nothing but a man who wanted to become involved with a beautiful woman.

  “Friends can go out for a drink, can’t they?” He tried not to sound defensive.

  “I’ve got nothing on the agenda tonight but the windowsills.”

  “Great. Do you care where we go? There’s the pub up the street. We can walk.” He wasn’t ready to tackle the intimate quarters inside the cab of his truck.

  “Great,” she said, following his lead.

  “I’ll take care of the equipment if you want to go grab anything or lock up.”

  “Thanks.”

  Slipping out of the room, she vanished without a word. By the time Will had unplugged everything and gathered the bucket she’d been using to store discarded paint, she still hadn’t returned. He headed outside through the side door and disposed of the bucket’s contents in the construction Dumpster he’d had parked in the lot for Angel House’s debris.

  Will hoped he wasn’t setting himself up to fail the test of being with her. He needed to give her a heads-up about the media storm about to break, needed to reassure her that her agency wouldn’t get caught in the fallout. That’s what a responsible council member would do since he’d involved her in the Family Foundations project in the first place.

  That’s what a friend would do.

  And they damn well needed to get to some reasonable place where they could function for the duration of this project without winding up with their hands all over each other.

  Still, when Kenzie appeared in the reception area with her hair freed of its ponytail and a purse slung over her shoulder, Will thrust his hands into his pockets to resist the urge to touch her. He wouldn’t even trust himself with a simple hand on her waist to guide her through the door. The gesture might be instinctive but it was so dangerous given how tempted he felt right now.

  He held the door open with his foot instead, a desperate jerk trying to do the right thing for once. He didn’t have to wonder why so many people let their desires lead them through life—it was a hell of a lot easier.

  Kenzie locked up, and then they were on their way up Main Street, walking side by side, him measuring his pace so he didn’t force her to run.

  “So what’s up, Will?” she asked as he’d opened his mouth to comment about the city’s efforts with downtown renewal. “Should I be worried?”

  “No. That’s why I’m here. To give you fair warning so you don’t worry.”

  Her step faltered and she glanced at him, her beautiful features golden in the spill of light from the streetlamp. “What’s going on?”

  “You want the good news or the bad news first?”

  “Good news, always.”

  “I go for the good news first, too.” The observation popped out of his mouth, a shared bond he shouldn’t be pointing out.

  “My mother always says to remember the blessings first so we can accept the disappointments graciously.”

  “I like that,” Will said. “I’ve got a friend who always wants to feel good before he gets knocked down. Swears it doesn’t hurt as much.”

  Kenzie’s gaze widened. “Sounds like quite a character.”

  “He’s that, all right. He’s also the uncle of the kid who drywalled over your outlet.”

  She didn’t get a chance to reply because they were suddenly crossing Main Street to reach the pub on the other side. Will did touch her then, just a hand on her elbow as they stepped off the curb against the light. Then he grabbed the pub’s door and she swept past.

  They were led to a booth not far from the bar, but with enough privacy they could talk.

  “Are you hungry? I know it’s kind of late but it occurred to me I missed dinner.” Nothing like feeling stupid to remind him this get-together wasn’t a date.

  “Peanuts and a protein bar don’t last long, do they?” The corners of her mouth tipped up, almost a smile. “They have a dessert here I love. The Irish Crème pie. I could splurge.”

  “Go for it. You work hard.” She probably ordered only so he wouldn’t feel rude eating alone. But he liked that about her, liked the way she thought of others and came up with equitable solutions.

  That ability was some gift.

  She ordered the house cabernet, explaining, “This is actually a good vintage and it’s not too high on the alcohol count, which is good because I need to be able to think in the morning.”

  “I’m going with a Guinness, since I don’t have to put my son in the truck.”

  “Nice to hear. Alcohol around children can be one of the tougher points of negotiation between a divorcing couple.”

  “I had no clue. Kind of sobering to think there are that many alcoholics.”

  She made a face and laughed. “Often one parent will have a problem the other parent is concerned about. Sometimes one parent wants to micromanage the other, and alcohol is a convenient target. Sometimes parents simply have differing opinions about what constitutes acceptable consumption. Some people feel as long as they’re below the legal limit, it’s okay to get behind the wheel. Others feel even one drink is too many when there’s a child in the car. I guess I know where you fall on that topic.”

  “And you, too. Kids can be distracting under the best of circumstances.”

  That earned a soft smile, approval if he read her right. “So you were about to share the good news...” she prompted after the waiter had delivered their drinks.

  “Right. The good news is your agency is officially the long-term tenant of one of Hendersonville’s historic buildings with first option on renewing the lease,” Will said. “The renovations will continue until they’re completed and whatever happens with the rest of the building won’t impact you.”

  “And what’s happening with the rest of the building? Please tell me there isn’t a problem with Angel House.”

  He took a long draught and let the cold brew take the heat out of his admission. “A friend who covers a beat with the local paper told me today that a controversy could be brewing. There were some letters to the editor about Family Foundations that sparked an interest in the recipients of the city’s funds. Naturally, they’re calling attention to Angel House’s religious affiliation and questioning why a group should be eligible for public money. The first of the series of articles will run in Sunday’s edition.”

  “Will there be fallout?”

  He shrugged. “Probably, but the mayor’s office has a plan in place—has from the beginning. The
bad press isn’t unexpected. That’s why we worked so hard to cover all the demographics with Family Foundations. People get touchy about religion.”

  “But Angel House serves all children, right?”

  “Any race, religion and socio-economic group. If a kid needs the services Angel House provides, that’s the only qualification. The parents also must provide transportation—we don’t have buses or vans to transport kids. Yet, anyway.”

  “I really don’t think where a program began should impact the way the city provides services.”

  “Personally, I don’t think it should, either. People affiliated with religious organizations are still a segment of the population with the same rights as everyone else. Unfortunately, that’s not mainstream opinion right now. The minute religion comes up, the media uses it as a platform for social issues. Then people get riled up.”

  She folded her hands on the table, considering. “And the mayor and the council back up the choice of Angel House?”

  He nodded. “I wouldn’t have pushed for any of this without their support. It’s going to be tough enough to overcome the negative.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that. You don’t think they’ll withdraw their support if the public backlash gets too loud, do you?”

  “Not if they can help it. The mayor understands the need and knows the services are not being provided at the levels of current demand. It’s her job to provide for all segments of her constituency. It’s all our jobs whether we’re career politicians or average Joes like me. We’ve agreed to represent the people of Hendersonville. Not just the ones whose issues are garnering the most media attention. It’s pretty black and white. That said, I can’t realistically expect her or any of the council members to damage their reputations by going to bat for my cause.”

  “I really don’t like the sound of that. It’s called bullying, and it’s an unacceptable way to handle any situation. There are ways to negotiate difficult compromises.”

  “You’d be the expert on that. Let’s hope Angel House gets a chance to overcome the opposition.” The thought of that opposition and having to defend their position put a big dent in his appetite.

  “What happens if they can’t, Will?”

  He reached for his glass, took a fortifying swig before admitting the simple and brutal truth. “It’ll be the end of the road for Angel House. We’ve tapped out our resources. We rely on the church’s support, several grants we have in place and fund-raising, but it’s not enough in this economy. There’s a waiting list for enrollment a mile long, but we’re not able to continue services for our kids now without more financial help. I’ve found a grant we’re eligible for, a big one that will put us on solid financial ground so we can cover our overhead. If we can get this grant, we’ll be relying on fund-raising and donations to grow the program rather than simply maintain it.”

  “What’s the catch?”

  That she read between the lines made him smile. “We have to have a permanent location that serves the community.”

  “Family Foundations.”

  “You got it. No other way to make it happen. We can’t continue on the income we’re bringing in now. You’ve got to realize that as a ministry, we’re already circumventing a lot of the basics. The church gave us the house we’re located in, so we don’t pay rent. The woman who runs the program doesn’t take a dime for a salary, and with the exception of the certified faculty and staff, the rest of the paraprofessionals like classroom aides and dietary and custodial staff are volunteers who are willing to undergo extensive training. Most of them from the church.”

  Kenzie shook her head, clearly disbelieving. “The government couldn’t possibly provide that level of care, and yet people would rather sacrifice all those services because a church is involved?”

  “All I can tell you is parents of kids with autism are all about believing in miracles. Church involvement is not an issue.” He hadn’t expected this conversation to become a tell-all, but Will wanted Kenzie to understand, needed her to know the reasons he couldn’t drag her into his world even though he wanted to.

  And he wanted more than he had ever had before.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  KENZIE WAS A huge believer in being in the right place at the right time, but she had no clue she was stepping into one of those situations on her way outside to unload the paint scrapings into Will’s construction Dumpster.

  She’d pushed open the door to the parking lot when a shout stopped her in her tracks. In one startled instant, Kenzie took in the unfamiliar car parked in the lot, and the dark-haired child barreling toward her at full speed.

  “Sam!” a voice rang out, and Kenzie saw a blonde woman lunge around the front of the car.

  The former Mrs. Russell.

  That was Kenzie’s only thought as she leaped into Sam’s path, which had him aiming right for Main Street.

  He crashed into her with surprising force, and the bucket clattered to the asphalt, knocked from her hand. She stepped backward to balance herself, steadying both of them with a hand on Sam’s shoulder as she knelt in front of him, ready to stop him if he attempted to take off again. But by then his mom was there, grabbing him by the arms and pulling him close.

  “Oh, my God, thank you.” She exhaled the words on a breath, then did a double take as she glanced at Kenzie.

  They didn’t get a chance for reminders about where they’d previously met because Sam began to struggle against the restraint, huffing with obvious frustration and sounding as if he was trying to say something.

  “It’s okay, honey,” Melinda formerly Russell said. “It’s all right. Let’s go find Daddy.”

  Sam wasn’t having any part of her reassurances. He struggled in earnest until his movements threatened Melinda’s grip on him. His actions were accompanied by noises that were getting louder and louder.

  “Come on, honey. It’s okay. Don’t be upset.”

  Kenzie stood there unsure how to help, so she scooped the dried paint peelings into the bucket. A couple jogged down Main Street past the parking lot, their gazes locked on Melinda and Sam. They couldn’t have been much older than Kenzie, and they ran with their dog on a lead.

  “Can’t figure out why some people bother to have kids,” the man commented loudly as they passed.

  Kenzie overheard the comment. So did Melinda, judging by the stricken expression on her lovely face. She glanced at Kenzie, who felt a pang. This woman was so, so beautiful.

  A perfect match for Will, in appearance, at least.

  “He doesn’t want me to leave,” Melinda explained as if Kenzie, too, might pass a similar judgment.

  Then hanging on to Sam with a death grip, she maneuvered him around to face her. “Honey, Mommy has a work function tonight. I have to go. I’ll come back in the morning. I promise.”

  Kenzie recognized two things. The first was that there was a noticeable difference between the way mom and dad handled their son. Mom tried to reason verbally with Sam. Kenzie remembered Will being noticeably concise, every interaction of minimum words.

  The second thing she realized was that Melinda could use some backup.

  “Would you like me to get Will?” Kenzie asked. “He should be working inside.”

  “Oh, please. Would you mind?”

  “Not at all.” Kenzie set the bucket on the curb and took off, letting herself in the unlocked side door to Angel House.

  She found Will in the labyrinth of rooms that occupied what used t
o be Madame Estelle’s prized recital hall.

  Will was crouched in a corner working with a saw. When she got close, she recognized the miter box. A professional version of the ten-dollar plastic one she’d used for her baseboards.

  “Kenzie.” Will glanced up and saw her. “What’s going—”

  “Sam’s mom could use a hand outside.”

  That was all she had to say. The electric saw ground to sudden silence, and he was on his feet without another word. She didn’t run to keep up with him, knew she’d helped the little bit she could. Her place wasn’t with their family.

  And that knowledge ached inside her. Ached.

  Slipping back outside, she intended to quietly grab her bucket, but the scene she walked out on was an intimate one.

  Will and Melinda kneeling in front of their son, Sam’s mouth working so hard to speak, maybe to share what he felt. Kenzie didn’t know. She only knew the little boy was frustrated and angry because he pushed against Will’s restraint when Melinda said, “We went for ice cream and had a good time.”

  Will only nodded. “Wave goodbye, Sam.”

  Sam clearly wasn’t having any part of waving or anything else right then. He flailed wildly until Will finally hoisted him into his arms and told Melinda, “Go ahead. Don’t worry. I’ll text to let you know when he settles down.”

  Melinda looked so torn in that moment, raw emotion obvious on her features. Then she nodded.

  Will caught Kenzie’s gaze and inclined his head in a silent thanks before disappearing with his son inside Angel House.

  Melinda had tears in her eyes as she watched them go. Then she blinked past them and turned to Kenzie.

  “It took me a second to place you, but I recognized the name of your agency. Thanks for your help.”

  “I hope everything worked out,” Kenzie said softy. “You have a very lovely family.”

  Tears welled again, then Melinda circled her car and climbed in.