Finding Perfect

by Susan Mallery

  “I knew you’d find someone wonderful,” Denise told her. “You’ve always been such a lovely girl. After all you’ve been through with your parents.” She cleared her throat. “There’s no need to talk about that. Anyway, you’ve found your happy ending. From all I’ve heard, Raoul is very special. And handsome. He’s giving Josh a run for his money.”

  Pia laughed. “I don’t think there’s a competition.”

  “Then you haven’t had your hair done at Julia’s place lately. There was a very heated discussion about the two of them just last week.”

  Pia thought about the talk at the city council meeting—the argument about who had the better butt. “We need more to think about in this town.”

  “There are those men coming to town,” Denise said. “There’s a subject. Have you noticed they’re everywhere? Just yesterday two men whistled at me.” She sounded both outraged and faintly pleased.

  “I have no idea what we’re going to do with them.”

  “I thought there were already several events planned.”

  “A few, but what are they going to do the rest of the time? Troll the streets, looking for easy conquests?”

  Denise laughed. “I’m old enough to be your mother, so it’s not right that I’m the one to point out that no one says ‘easy conquests’ anymore.”

  “Okay, you’re right, but still.”

  Denise still looked amused. “I’m sorry you’re not excited about the influx of men, but that’s because you’ve already found someone wonderful. I wonder if any of the men will be older.”

  Pia had been caught up in the fact that everyone assumed she and Raoul had fallen madly in love and wondering if they should say anything. But she found herself distracted by Denise’s last comment.

  “You’re interested in a man?” Pia asked.

  “Interested is too strong a word,” Denise said with a shrug. “I’m…curious. Ralph has been gone a long time. My kids are old enough to deal with me dating. I like my life, but sometimes I think it would be nice to have someone else around.”

  “Way to go,” Pia told her. “I think that’s great. I have no idea about the ages of the men arriving, but I can let you know if I see any good ones.” She grinned. “What about someone younger?”

  Denise sniffed. “I’m not a cougar.”

  “You could be.”

  Denise was pretty, with her short dark hair and bright eyes. She had a body that someone fifteen years younger would envy.

  “I’d prefer someone around my age,” the other woman said. “Then there’s less I have to explain. Do you really think anyone who wasn’t there could understand the thrill of hearing ‘Rhinestone Cowboy’ on the radio?”

  “Probably not,” Pia admitted. “Point taken. We’ll find you a nice man who remembers the seventies.”

  Denise looked worried. “You’re not taking me on as a project, are you?”

  “No. And I won’t mention anything to your daughters. I’ll let you tell them you’re on the prowl.”

  Denise laughed and held up her hands. “No prowl. I’m thinking. There’s a difference. Enough about me. Remember, I’m here if you have any questions. Also, when you get ready to register for your shower gifts, we should talk. Some things you really will need three of, but others you won’t.”

  “Okay.”

  Shower gifts? As in baby shower? Pia wasn’t prepared for that. Of course, as she’d already figured out, there was moving and getting married to contend with, as well. Compared with that, a baby shower should be easy.

  “All right, my dear,” Denise said, hugging her again. “I’m delighted. You deserve every happiness.”

  “Thanks.”

  Denise waved and pushed her cart toward the front of the store. Pia completed her own shopping, then took everything home and put it away. When she left her apartment again, she headed for Raoul’s office, rather than her own.

  Ten minutes later, she found him alone in the big, empty space.

  “You really need to get some more furniture,” she told him as she walked to his desk, her heels clicking on the cement floor. “Maybe a few employees.”

  “I have Dakota. She’s at lunch.” He rose and smiled at her. “This is a nice surprise.”

  “We need to talk.”

  He settled on the corner of his desk. “Should I be worried?”

  “No. Nothing’s wrong.” She drew in a breath. “You do realize that word is spreading. Everyone in town is going to know we’re getting married.”

  “I figured that out. Josh violated the guy code.”

  “Did you tell him not to mention the engagement?”

  “Yes, but it didn’t do any good.”

  “This isn’t like Dallas or Seattle. Everybody knows everyone else’s business.”

  He stood and pulled her close. “Is that a problem?”

  “It’s not something that can be changed.”

  “I meant are you upset people know we’re getting married?”

  Standing there, feeling the heat of his body against hers, wrapped in his strong arms, it was tough to be upset about anything.

  “I’m not upset, I just thought we’d have more time to get used to it ourselves.”

  He touched her cheek with his fingers. “Meaning people are coming up to you and saying stuff.” She nodded.

  “Want to change your mind?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Good. Me, either.” He lowered his head and brushed his mouth against hers. “I meant what I said, Pia. I’m all in.”

  Until he said those words again, she hadn’t realized there was a knot in her chest. It loosened and suddenly it was easier to breathe.

  “Thanks,” she whispered. “Me, too.”

  “Good.”

  He kissed her again, lingering this time, making her body heat up from the inside.

  “Want to come over for dinner?” he asked. “I’ll cook.”

  “You know how?”

  He shrugged. “I’ll barbecue. Fire good.”

  She laughed. “It’s cold outside.”

  “It’s in the forties at night. I’ll survive the time it takes me to grill a couple of steaks.” He pressed his mouth against her ear. “There’s this new thing called a jacket. I have one.”

  “You’re so cutting-edge.”

  “Tell me about it.” He straightened. “Was that a yes?”

  “I’ll be there.”

  “Great. I’m heading up to the school now, but when I’m done there, I’ll go get steaks and some salads. Does six work?”

  “Sure.”

  He kissed her one more time before she left and headed back to her own office. As she walked, she felt a faint tingle on her lips—the lingering effect of his mouth on hers. The man could sure get to her.

  She liked him. Considering they were getting married, that was a good thing. But Liz was right—she had to be careful. Liking him too much would leave her vulnerable. She’d already been hurt enough in her life. She didn’t need to go looking for trouble. Most of the time, it seemed to find her without any help.

  RAOUL ARRIVED AT THE CAMP just as the kids were let out for afternoon recess. It was cool but clear, with blue skies visible between the breaks in the trees. He found himself in the middle of a rush of children wanting to make the most of their twenty minutes of playtime.

  “Hey, Raoul,” Peter called as he ran past. “Come play.”

  He’d seen the boy a few times since they’d had lunch together. Peter was smart, friendly and interested in sports. There hadn’t been a hint of any kind of abuse. Maybe Raoul had imagined Peter flinching that first day during the fire. Or maybe the fire itself had made the boy nervous.

  He followed the kids onto the playground. The noise level grew as the play began. There were shrieks and calls, along with plenty of laughter.

  Looking around, he was pleased at what the camp had become. This was right, he thought as several girls tried to coax him into turning one end of a jump rope. Finally he agree
d.

  They lined up to be the next one to jump.

  “Faster,” a little girl with curly hair demanded. “I jump really good.”

  He and the teacher holding the other end obliged, spinning the rope more quickly. The girl kept up easily, laughing as she jumped.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw several boys on the jungle gym. A flash of red caught his attention. He turned and saw Peter climb to the top. In a moment that was like something out of the movies, Raoul saw what was going to happen, even as he knew he was too far away to stop it.

  Peter started to lower himself down. His hand slipped. Raoul took off running, the boy grabbed for the bar, slipped again, screamed and tumbled to the ground. Despite all the noise around him, Raoul would have sworn he heard the thunk of the fall. Peter landed on his arm, and Raoul knew before he reached him that it was going to be bad.

  “Stay still,” he instructed as he reached the kid’s side.

  Peter looked more stunned than hurt. He started to get up, then his face went pale and he gasped. Raoul saw the awkward angle of Peter’s forearm.

  The boy’s face screwed up. “It hurts,” he said and began to cry.

  “I know. It’s your arm. Do you hurt anywhere else?”

  Peter shook his head. Tears spilled down his cheeks.

  He helped the boy shift his arm against his chest. Peter screamed once, then continued crying. Raoul gathered him up in his arms and stood.

  A bunch of students had gathered around. Teachers came running.

  “He’s broken his arm,” Raoul said as he walked. “I don’t know if he’s hurt anywhere else. I’m taking him to the hospital. It’ll be faster than waiting for an ambulance. Call the hospital and let them know we’re coming. Call the police and see if they can meet me at the bottom of the mountain to escort us to the hospital, then find his foster parents.”

  Peter weighed practically nothing, Raoul thought, hurrying out to the parking lot. One of the teachers had come with them and fished his keys out of his jacket pocket. She opened the door. He crouched down and carefully slid the boy onto the seat.

  Mrs. Miller appeared on his left. “I’m coming, too. I’ll drive my own car and follow you down.” She bent down and smoothed her hand over Peter’s face. “You’re going to be fine. We’ll take care of you.”

  The boy continued to cry.

  Raoul fastened the boy’s seat belt. Mrs. Miller stepped back and he closed the door.

  “You know where the hospital is?” she asked as Raoul hurried to the driver’s side.

  “Yes.”

  “I’ll meet you there.”

  NEARLY TWO HOURS LATER, Raoul sat in the emergency waiting room. Peter had been seen almost at once. X-rays showed a clean break that should heal quickly. He was off getting a cast on, while Mrs. Miller waited to talk to the social worker who had been called. So far Peter’s foster parents hadn’t shown up.

  “Mr. Moreno?”

  He looked up and a saw a tall, blonde nurse with a chart. “Yes,” he said as he rose.

  “Hi. I’m Heidi. Peter’s going to be just fine. They’re finishing up now. I wondered if I could talk to you for a minute.”

  “Sure.”

  He followed her into an empty examination room.

  “How do you know Peter?” she asked.

  “Through the school. He goes to the one that burned down, so all the kids are up at my camp. I’ve played ball with him and his friends a few times. Why?”

  She pressed her lips together. “He’s very thin for his age. We have some concerns about the food he’s getting. His bones aren’t as dense as we would like. From what Mrs. Miller told us about the playground, he shouldn’t have broken a bone in that fall. Do you know if he gets enough to eat?”

  He shook his head, ignoring the rage that bubbled inside of him. He had no patience for people who didn’t take care of the kids entrusted to them. He’d been through plenty of that himself as he’d been growing up.

  “Are you going to do any tests?” he asked.

  “We need to talk to his parents about that.”

  “Foster parents,” he corrected. “He lost his parents a while ago.”

  “I don’t like the sound of that,” Heidi said. “Now I know why Mrs. Miller wanted us to call social services. I’ll talk to the caseworker when she gets here and ask her to follow up.”

  Raoul looked at her. “Are there any signs of physical abuse?”

  “We didn’t see any. Do you suspect that something’s going on?”

  “I was there during the fire. Peter was one of the last kids to leave. When I went to help him out of the room, he pulled away. It could have just been one of those things, but…”

  “Maybe.” Heidi didn’t sound convinced. “I’ll mention that, as well. It doesn’t hurt to be cautious.” She made some notes. “Thanks for the information.”

  He and Heidi walked out of the room. He saw Mrs. Miller hurrying toward him.

  “Can you come to Peter’s room,” the teacher asked as she approached. “He’s not doing well.”

  “What’s wrong?” Heidi asked. “He was fine a few minutes ago.”

  “The cast is on and they’ve given him something for the pain,” the older woman said. “It’s not his arm.” She lowered her voice. “Apparently the last time he was in the hospital was after that horrible car accident that killed his parents. He keeps talking about them and asking for you.” She looked at Raoul. “I think seeing you would make him feel better.”

  “Sure.”

  “You go ahead,” Heidi told them. “I’m going to check on the caseworker and see when we can expect her.”

  As Peter was due to be released in an hour or so, he hadn’t been given a room on one of the regular hospital floors. Raoul followed Mrs. Miller through the maze of hallways that made up the E.R. Peter sat up on a bed, looking small and pale. The cast went from his wrist to his elbow and was Dallas Cowboy blue. But the kid looked anything but okay as he covered his face with his free hand and tears ran down his cheeks.

  “Hey, buddy,” Raoul said as he walked into the room. “What’s going on?”

  “I want to go h-home,” the boy cried.

  “We’re getting ahold of your foster parents,” Raoul told him.

  “N-not them. I want my mom and dad.”

  Raoul swore silently. This was a problem that couldn’t be fixed. He looked at Mrs. Miller, who was obviously fighting tears of her own, then back at the boy.

  Raoul moved to the bed and pulled the boy into his arms. Then he carried him to the chair in the corner and sat down, holding Peter close.

  The kid clung to him, wrapping his uninjured arm around Raoul’s neck and crying into his shoulder.

  He was so damn skinny, Raoul thought. All bones and angles, too light for a kid his age. He held Peter, rubbing his back, not saying anything. After a few minutes, the crying softened and the kid seemed to go to sleep.

  “I feel so bad for him,” Mrs. Miller whispered. “I’ve called all the numbers his foster parents left and there’s no answer. Mr. Folio’s employer said the man was out of town for a few days. But if that’s true, who’s looking after Peter?”

  Raoul didn’t have any answers. He knew the situation with the boy wasn’t all that unusual. That being underage and alone in the world was never a good thing. There were excellent foster parents out there, but plenty of them were only in it for the money.

  An older woman entered. She looked worn and tired, with her gray hair pulled back and glasses hanging from a chain around her neck.

  “I’m Cathy Dawson,” she said, then saw Peter and lowered her voice. “Is he all right?”

  “The break was clean and, according to the doctors, he should heal quickly,” Mrs. Miller said. “I can’t get ahold of his foster parents, however.”

  The social worker frowned, then put on her glasses and read the papers in her hand. “I see there is also some concern about his physical well-being. He might not be getting enough to eat.�
�� She sighed. “All right. Give me a few minutes.”

  Just then Peter stirred and sat up. He blinked at Raoul, then turned.

  “Hi, Mrs. Dawson,” he said, then yawned.

  “Hello yourself. It looks like you fell.”

  Peter nodded. “I broke my arm.” He held up the cast, then glanced at Raoul. “It’s Dallas Cowboys blue.”

  “I noticed that,” Raoul said. “Are you going to let me sign your cast?”

  “Uh-huh.” The boy smiled shyly.

  “Good.”

  Mrs. Dawson pulled up the other chair and sat across from them. “Peter, where have you been staying for the past few days?”

  “With the lady next door.” He gave the name.

  “How long have your foster parents been gone?”

  Peter shrugged. “A while.”

  Mrs. Dawson’s expression stayed friendly. “Since the weekend?”

  Peter wrinkled his nose. “Before that, I think.”

  “I see. Do you know when they’ll be back?”

  He shook his head, then cradled his arm against his chest. “Are they gonna be mad because I got hurt?”

  “Of course not,” she said firmly. “They’ll be happy you’re all right. We all are.” She paused. “You know what I think?”

  “What?” Peter asked suspiciously.

  “I think you probably need a little ice cream. I know they have some down in the cafeteria. If you don’t mind, I’m going to get you some.”

  Relief showed in Peter’s expression. He grinned. “I don’t mind.”

  “That’s very nice of you. But you know, it’s a big hospital. Would you mind if Mr. Moreno showed me the way?”

  “Okay.”

  Raoul wasn’t sure what the social worker was up to, but he stood and put Peter back on the bed. “I might have some silver-star stickers at my office,” he said. “I’ll check tomorrow and if I do, we can put some on your cast.”

  The boy grinned.

  Mrs. Miller moved toward him. “I’ll wait for you here,” she said.

  Raoul followed Mrs. Dawson into the hallway.

  “The cafeteria is that way,” she said, pointing.