Yours, Mine and Ours

by Jacqueline Diamond

  "I should leave." He stopped, startled, as an apparition floated toward them through the twilight.

  Silvery folds of gauze fluttered in the breeze around the ethereal being that coasted across the boardwalk. Ghostly arms spread wide as the creature swooped with inhuman grace.

  Nearby, a toddler stood frozen in fright and a dog yipped plaintively. Beachgoers in the midst of collecting their gear simply stared.

  The vision in silver jerked abruptly, flailed through the air and collapsed onto the sidewalk. "Oh, spit!" it exclaimed in a woman's voice.

  "Mother, please." Robin strode to the creature and helped her up. "Don't you think you're a little old for this sort of thing?" A veil had fallen to reveal shocking red hair and a rouged face that Flint recalled from the City Hall demonstration.

  "I was just getting the knack of these things," the woman said, lifting the edge of her gown to reveal in-line skates. "Some bozo left trash on the sidewalk for me to trip over."

  What kind of mother zoomed around wearing a ghost costume and in-line skates? Flint wondered. He answered his own questions: the kind who operated a fortune-telling shop.

  Evidently, Robin Lindstrom came by her eccentricities the honest way. She’d inherited them.

  "I'd better be going," Flint said, and was about to depart when the red-haired woman skated over and nearly collided with him.

  "I'm Gigi Lindstrom," she said. "How nice to see you again, Dr. Harris."

  "I apologize for stopping by uninvited,” he said to be polite.

  “It’s a public beach.”

  “Well, your daughter seems to think I'm following her around to make her life difficult."

  "You do tend to have that effect." Robin tried to pull her mother away. "Mom, let’s go fix dinner."

  "You’re here to offer her a job, aren't you?" Gigi said.

  "Actually..." Flint paused. He’d been on the point of blurting that, in his opinion, Robin was unsuited to work for him or anyone else. However, he'd been acting on impulse ever since he arrived, joining the volleyball game and trading barbs with Robin. It was time he regained control. "You're a very perceptive woman, Mrs. Lindstrom."

  "I knew it!" Gigi crowed. "The spirits predicted that you’d hire her."

  It struck Flint that this exchange was missing a logical connection. Gigi had no way of knowing why he'd come. He hadn’t even mentioned it to her daughter.

  Robin beat him to the punch. "Dr. Harris didn't offer me a job, Mother. The only job he has available is for a nanny, and Dr. Harris believes I am the last person on earth who's qualified to care for his children. Did I leave anything out, Dr. Harris?"

  What she’d left out, Flint reflected, was the fact that for two weeks his children had made his life a misery. Aaron sulked, Caitlin wheedled and Brick had resumed a childish penchant for throwing temper tantrums.

  The respondents to Flint's want ad had included three women who spoke no English, a man with shifty eyes, an eighteen-year-old girl with zero experience—of any sort--and an older woman who wore biker boots and chewed tobacco.

  The only likely prospect had been chased away by the children's rudeness. He'd never seen the triplets so determined and so unified about anything. Then Maureen announced that she was leaving shortly for a trip to Hawaii and he would have to shift for himself.

  While he might stick the kids in a day-care center and rely on teen-agers for the occasional night or weekend absence, Caitlin had threatened to run away if he did that. He wouldn’t put it past her.

  That left Robin.

  Before heading over here today, Flint had checked with the school, which gave her a glowing recommendation. The human resources director had noted that Robin was well-liked by students and parents.

  Nothing had fundamentally changed during the volleyball game, had it? The children still wanted her. The school still recommended her. Maureen was still leaving.

  With a little guidance, she’d learn to uphold his high standards. Flint knew how to supervise employees, and he was certain he could polish the rough edges off Robin Lindstrom.

  "I did come here to offer you a job," he said. “As my housekeeper and nanny. The pay may be less than you’re accustomed to, but I provide room and board, plus benefits after a trial period of two weeks."

  "Room and board? You'd expect me to live with you?" Robin said. "Dr. Harris, under no circumstances could I possibly—"

  "Wait!" Gigi waved a hand for silence. "Did you hear that?"

  "What?" said Robin.

  "There's someone in the apartment."

  Robin shrugged. "It's probably Julius, snarfing down your food."

  "I'll investigate," Flint offered. "Wait here, Mrs. Lindstrom."

  "No, no." Gigi blocked his path. "If you would just walk me to the foot of the stairs, I'll go up. Sometimes, you see, I am visited by mischievous spirits. If a stranger were to enter, there's no telling what they might do."

  "Honestly, Mother." Robin expelled an exasperated breath. "You can't expect a scientist like Dr. Harris to believe such hogwash."

  Flint was pleased that Robin didn't share her mother's metaphysical leanings. However, he had no problem humoring the old lady. "I'll escort you to the stairs, if it will set your mind at rest."

  Gigi smiled at him, linked her arm through his and pushed off on her skates so fast that Flint had to lope to keep up.

  At the foot of the staircase that ran between her establishment and a surf shop, she sat and removed the skates. Then she trotted upward, the skates bouncing over her shoulder, and disappeared.

  From where he stood, Flint could see Robin tapping her foot impatiently on the sidewalk. He marked it as a good sign that she wouldn't tolerate nonsense from his children, either.

  It puzzled him that he wanted to hire her when a short time before he had rejected the idea. Was it only the memory of the last two weeks of nanny wannabes that had inspired the change? With an inward smile, Flint realized his true motivation. He was going to save Robin Lindstrom from herself. Growing up with such a scatterbrained mother, it was no wonder she'd turned out to be unpredictable.

  Inside, he hoped, dwelt the soul of a schoolmarm. He would take this undisciplined woman and teach her how to make use of her talents.

  If only he could persuade her to accept the job.

  Then Flint received help from an unexpected source. Upstairs, he heard Gigi call out, "No, you mustn't!" just before a lace-trimmed undergarment soared out a window.

  "Mom, what are you doing?" Robin raced forward, snatching the item from midair. "That's my stuff!"

  "It's the spirits, dear," called her mother's voice. "They're in a terrible mood!"

  Two blouses and a skirt heaved themselves out the window next, followed by the flowered dress Robin had worn to the school board meeting.

  "Do stop! Do stop!" cried Gigi overhead, not very convincingly, in Flint's opinion.

  As Robin ran about collecting her clothes, two leotards and a pair of tights followed. Flint debated whether to embarrass her by helping, then decided she couldn't be any more distressed than she already was.

  Soon his arms were filled with a pink nightgown, a pair of jeans, an American Ballet T-shirt and a pair of low-heeled pumps.

  "Stop now! Stop!" cried Gigi inside the apartment as more items fluttered down. "Oh, dear!" She stuck her head out. "Is everything all right?"

  "I'll never forgive you, Mother," Robin yelled, her arms piled with clothes.

  "It isn't me, it's the spirits." Gigi waved her hands in distress. "I'm so sorry! I'll clean it all up, I promise."

  Robin bit her lip, tears of frustration glimmering in her eyes.

  "I’d rather you didn’t accept the job under duress," Flint said. "However, I would appreciate your giving my offer serious consideration. My children seem to have taken a strong liking to you."

  She sucked in a long, shuddering breath. "Well, Dr. Harris, it appears the spirits insist that I take the job. Or my mother does." She grimaced as a pocketbook fle
w toward them.

  Flint executed a catch worthy of his football days at the University of Southern California. "Yours, I presume?"

  "Let's go dump this stuff in my car," Robin said with what dignity she could muster. "Then I suppose it wouldn't hurt to talk to your kids."

  *

  Robin put on shorts and a loose shirt over her bikini. She couldn't believe she was dressing in the beach parking lot—and in front of Flint Harris.

  She also couldn't believe her mother had pulled that stunt. Restless spirits. Honestly!

  It soothed her temper to watch the military precision with which Flint folded her clothes into the trunk of her car. His strong hands aligned and positioned each dress and blouse to leave it wrinkle-free. Left to her own devices, Robin would have stuffed everything inside and regretted it later.

  Only when she noticed Flint manipulating her lingerie did it occur to Robin that this was becoming too personal. "I'll do that." She moved forward, brushing against him in her hurry to reach the undergarments.

  His mouth tweaked into a smile. "I have a daughter, you know. I'm not easily embarrassed."

  "Well, I am."

  Flint swung aside to provide access to the trunk. At this close range she could feel the heat rising from his skin. It occurred to Robin that she hadn't finished buttoning her shirt, which hung open to give a candid view of her bikini bra.

  It wasn't anything he hadn't already seen on the beach, she mused as she poked her underwear into a semblance of order. "My mother is on the flaky side, as I’m sure you noticed." Talking made her less self-conscious about Flint's powerful frame looming inches from her body. "I never know what she's going to do."

  "Does she actually earn a living telling fortunes?" he asked.

  "In a sense." Robin was relieved that her mother hadn't pitched down her laptop, which might have broken. “She holds classes and sells books and trinkets. People are fascinated by the occult."

  "Are you?" Flint's breath whispered across her neck. Why did he have to stand so close?

  "We all need to believe in something deeper than everyday life. But I don't buy all this gobbledygook about spirits." Intent on her words, Robin turned toward him, only to discover that Flint was even closer than she'd thought.

  His thigh pressed against hers, his throat was level with her lips, and she caught a whiff of after-shave lotion mingled with musk. It penetrated directly to her brain, leaving her powerless to withdraw.

  "So people feel a need for something deeper," Flint repeated in an amused baritone. "How about you, Miss Lindstrom? Are you looking for something deeper?"

  Annoyed that he was toying with her and even more annoyed with herself for responding, Robin slammed the trunk so hard Flint jumped back. "Is this a power play, Dr. Harris?"

  "Excuse me?" One eyebrow rose.

  "You're putting me at a disadvantage, looming over me this way," she finished. “If you expect me to work for you, you have to respect my boundaries.”

  "My apologies. I suppose, as a seismologist, I enjoy shaking things up." Flint scribbled on a notepad. “You can follow me, but in case you get lost, here’s the address.” After handing it to her, he walked to his Volvo a short distance away.

  As she strapped on her seat belt, Robin wondered what she was doing. She had no serious intention of accepting a job that involved living in the same house with Flint Harris. On the other hand, she needed a cooling-off period before she returned to confront her mother.

  She’d never met a man so exasperating, or so enticing. Over the years, she'd attracted her share of guys. The cute surfers tended to come up short in the reliability department, and the business types treated Robin like a trophy. She'd survived a few semi-serious relationships, but in the end she always chose freedom.

  No one had challenged her mentally and physically the way Flint did. If he weren't so rigid, she might be attracted to the man.

  That admission bothered her. What she needed was a job, not a boyfriend. Certainly not a boyfriend who was offering her a job.

  But despite his teasing, Flint had given no indication of seeking a romantic involvement. Robin was as far from his type of woman as anyone could be. His type was a hard-as-nails executive, or possibly a military drill sergeant.

  She felt a wave of sympathy for his cute kids. If they belonged to anyone else, Robin might enjoy taking care of them. While nanny duty hadn’t been on her list of career prospects, it appealed to her interest in teaching as well as her love of children.

  After a fifteen-minute drive, Flint turned into a housing development. The Spanish-style homes with stucco walls and tile roofs were painted in boring, look-alike earth tones. When the Volvo pulled into a driveway, Robin wondered how to recognize this house among all the others, and then reminded herself that she wouldn't need to.

  Flint unlocked the front door and ushered her into the living room. Pale carpet, white sofa and chairs, and not a TV in sight. Although Robin assumed there must be a den, she got the impression no one was home. It was hard to imagine three children occupying a house in such utter silence.

  "This way." Flint escorted her down a short hallway to a family room. It did have a TV, which was turned off. There was a low, tan couch, a desk with a computer, and a table covered with a maze and a glass box of dirt.

  "Where are your kids?" Robin asked with a twinge of concern.

  Flint frowned. "Do you smell…?" He strode to a connecting door and pushed it open.

  Her nose must have been stuffed up, because only now did Robin catch a scorched odor. In the kitchen, a large woman stood with arms folded, glaring at the stovetop. Dressed in a shirtwaist buttoned from throat to mid-calf, she appeared almost as tall as Flint and, if possible, sterner.

  Black goo covered the stove. "During my afternoon nap, Brick chose to conduct a scientific experiment that required the use of burners," the woman announced. "It does not yield to conventional cleaning methods."

  Flint let out an exasperated breath. "I was hoping they wouldn't get up to their old tricks. Aunt Maureen, I'd like you to meet Robin Lindstrom, our new nanny."

  "I never agreed—"

  The older woman gave Robin a disapproving once-over. Her gaze didn't miss one detail of the bikini bra straps or the tiny shorts. “Was this the best you could do?”

  “He practically kidnapped me off the beach,” Robin told her. “And I only agreed to an interview.”

  “You’ll have to take the job for now,” the woman informed her. “My trip’s been moved up.”

  “How much?” Flint asked in dismay.

  “The plane takes off in four hours.”

  “I thought you weren’t leaving till next week!”

  “Change of plans.”

  People didn’t simply advance their vacations by a week, in Robin’s experience. Maureen must be really, really mad.

  “I've been planning a trip to Hawaii for months and I plan to enjoy every minute of it. Pleased to meet you, Miss Lindstrom. I trust you'll dress more suitably in future."

  With a crisp farewell to Flint and a nod at the refrigerator, Maureen departed. Despite a measure of alarm, Robin gave the woman credit for outgunning her formidable nephew.

  Flint regarded a note magneted to the refrigerator. It said: “Tom will be here at one tomorrow. Leave a key under the mat.” To Robin, he explained, "Tom's our handyman. I’m glad she arranged that, but there’s no dinner." He scowled. "I like meals served promptly."

  The implication added to Robin’s discomfort. “You expect your nanny to cook?”

  “Nanny-housekeeper,” he reminded her.

  She knew how to make two things—spaghetti and macaroni. Both required packaged mixes, not that his dinnerless state was her problem. Still, she might as well point out the obvious. “Why don’t you order pizza?"

  "Miss Lindstrom." Flint draw himself up. He seemed larger than he had while his aunt was present. "We do not order pizza. We make it from scratch, using healthy, low-fat ingredients."

 
; "If you want scratch, you'd better find a housekeeper with an itch." Again, Robin noticed how empty the house felt. "Where are your children?"

  "In their rooms, I presume."

  “They’re awfully quiet."

  “Yes, they are. Too quiet.” He bounded out of the room.

  Robin followed him up the stairs. The first room they inspected clearly belonged to the boys. Plaques engraved with the names Aaron and Brick indicated which bunk bed belonged to which. In addition to a bureau and two small desks piled with tablet computers, polished rocks, test tubes and random pieces of paper, half-open sliding doors revealed a closet stuffed with additional paraphernalia of a scientific sort, as well as jammed-together clothing. It wouldn’t have surprised Robin to find small animals nesting in that closet.

  There were no children in sight.

  Next door, Caitlin's room featured pink flowered wallpaper and lacy curtains. On a window seat, a Lord Voldemort action figure anchored a stack of technical journals and programming manuals. There was no one here either.

  Grumbling under his breath, Flint stalked through the house. "Where the hell did those kids go?"

  For a man with a strict nature, he didn't exert much control over his offspring, Robin reflected. "Do they have friends in the neighborhood?"

  Flint shrugged. "I have no idea. Let's go see if their bicycles are missing."

  There were no bikes in the garage, and a side door had been left unlocked.

  "How far do they usually ride?" Robin asked.

  "They’re allowed to go two blocks in any direction." On his cell phone, Flint pressed a number. He waited grimly, then pressed another number, and a third. “They aren’t picking up,” he growled. “Let’s cruise the area.”

  “We could split up,” Robin offered. “Double our scope.”

  “I’d rather you rode with me. That way, I can drive safely and you can keep a sharp eye out.”

  Robin felt her resistance softening in response to Flint's obvious worry. “Sure.”

  They drove slowly through the development, stopping to ask a couple walking a dog and several joggers if they’d seen three children,. No one had.

  At the far edge of the search area sat a small shopping center. “Look." Robin indicated a shadowed corner by a gift shop that had closed for the evening. In the twilight, she made out the shapes of bicycles.