by Nancy Warren
“You’d better tell me about it, Laura, before I agree to any party. And you can do it right side up.”
With an angry grunt, Laura hauled herself up on the bed and glared at him. “Tracy Moore said Benny lip-synchs. She called him a cheater.”
Benny? She was championing a guy called Benny? “Benny who?”
Laura rolled her eyes around in her head. “Benny Samson. The Bravo Boy.”
He raised his eyebrows and waited, forcing his expression to remain calm. Every time he thought about those mini men from Glad, he mentally ground his teeth together. His daughters were ten. Ten. At ten, he’d been playing marbles, not thinking about the opposite sex. This whole boy thing was starting way too young.
He glanced over at their identical Raggedy-Ann hair and faces. If his girls had to start having preteen crushes, he could maybe handle it if they gushed over the latest James Bond, or one of the young Russian hockey players. Any normal, redblooded man. Anyone but those nauseating Bravo Boys. “Maybe he does lip-synch.”
“He does not! And that’s what I told Tracy, but she just kept going, ‘Benny is a cheater, Benny is a chea-eater.’”
“And for this, your teacher wants an interview?”
Silence.
“Laura?”
Silence.
“Jessie?”
More silence.
“Your teacher will only give me her version. You’d better tell me yourself what happened.”
“I might have called her stupid.” Laura’s breath started getting uneven.
He kept his mouth shut and waited, knowing from the way her lips were working that there was more to come.
“Then she told me she’s not allowed to play with us anymore ’cause her mom said that ever since our mom died we’ve turned into little m-monsters.” She choked on the last word and her eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, Red—”
“So I told Tracy I’d rather have no mother than a stupid bitch like hers.” With a sob she tore out of the room and a moment later he heard the bathroom door slam.
Jessie’s head hung down, and he could see she was fighting tears.
“Jess?”
“Everybody has a mom but us,” she mumbled to the floor. “Even the kids whose parents got divorced still get to see them both.”
He knew he should be outraged that his daughter had called a classmate’s mother names. But the thing was, he agreed with Laura’s assessment of Tracy Whatever’s mother. And he could think of a few other adjectives to add to stupid, like heartless, sanctimonious and freakin’ lucky to be alive.
With a sigh, he got up and wandered to the closed door of the bathroom. “Laura?”
“Go away.”
“Honey, I’m not mad at you. I’m glad your teacher wants to see me. I’ve got some things to say to her, as well.”
He heard some shuffling and a loud sniff on the other side of the door. “You’re not mad that I swore?”
Parenthood was a constant minefield, and he’d just stepped on a good one. “Of course, I’m mad that you swore. But I understand. Sometimes I swear, too, when I’m really mad.”
“Yeah. You say sh—”
“Okay, okay,” he interrupted. “I shouldn’t do it, either. Can you come out now?”
He heard water running, then it stopped and a moment later the door opened. Laura stared up at him with a mixture of belligerence and pleading.
Maybe he should give her a lecture, a grounding, force her to apologize. The hell with it. He opened his arms and she tumbled into them, squeezing him so hard he thought both their hearts would break.
“Seth? Are you up there?” Melissa’s voice floated from downstairs.
He whispered into the tangled red mass of Laura’s hair, “We’ll sort this out later, huh?”
She nodded and pulled away to scamper back to the others.
“Hi, Melissa.” He stood upright and ran lightly down the stairs to where she waited at the bottom, a look of suppressed excitement on her face.
He realized with a shock that she was beautiful with that hopeful glow highlighting her features. Every time he saw her, there seemed to be a line of worry marring her forehead. “I got here a few minutes ago, but you were on the phone.”
“Oh, sorry. My head’s in a whirl.”
He smiled at her. She looked years younger. It was easy to see what a knockout she’d been before her life had turned sour.
“Looks like you got some good news.”
She twirled like a princess at a ball. “I got the job of landscaping the display home in that new upscale subdivision down on Essex Street.”
“That’s great.” In the three months that she’d been looking after the girls, he and Melissa had become friends. She’d sent the baking to Jessie and Laura’s class for the Christmas party, and she and Seth had sat together at the annual winter concert, where all the kids but Alice had had a part.
He realized he’d come to look forward to picking up the girls, when he and Melissa would share a little of their day.
“Well, it is great. Because, if the people who buy into the subdivision like what I do, they’ll hire me, too, right? This could lead to a lot of work for me. I’ve even been toying with the idea of expanding my services to include doing the actual landscaping.” He followed her as she walked to the kitchen.
“That’s a pretty big job.”
“I know. And I’d need employees and things.”
“Capital.”
She grinned at him. “Good thing I am on such excellent terms with my local banker.”
“Have you thought about—”
“Oh, don’t worry. I won’t do anything until Alice is in school full-time. Right now, the design work is keeping me busy. It’s amazing how many people know people. Word gets around.”
“It’s not that I’m not supportive of the idea, because I am, but I don’t want you getting any more strung out financially than you can help.” He frowned, hating that he had to bring their business connection into her kitchen. “The thing is, you don’t have much of a cushion if anything goes wrong.”
She slumped into one of her torture chamber chairs, and he reluctantly sat opposite. Her fingers tapped the wavy glass of the table. “I know. Believe me, I know. It keeps me awake at night.”
“This is a pretty big house for three people, Melissa,” he said gently.
She rubbed at her forehead. He’d noticed she always did that when she was stressed. “Do you think I grew up with this? Scaling down is the story of my life.” She glanced around the kitchen as though for the first time. “I grew up in a crummy old run-down house that seemed like a palace once we got thrown out. I was seven, and that was the first time we scaled down.”
“Melissa, I…” What? What could he say to make any of this easier?
“It was always somebody else’s fault when my dad lost a job. His drinking had nothing to do with it.”
He suddenly pictured Melissa as a little girl, a little girl who looked a lot like Alice, living in squalor, and his belly squirmed.
“We played the same scene over and over. He’d get fired, then hang around home drinking. Mom worked as a cashier and waitress to keep food on the table. She always made excuses for him. It was because of his war injuries, she used to tell me.”
“What war?” He calculated swiftly. “Vietnam?”
She shook her head and the overhead light reflected gold in her hair. “He did a short stint in the military, but got thrown out after a drunken brawl. His real war was against anyone who told him what to do.”
“Like a boss, for instance?” Seth was getting a strong mental picture of Melissa’s father, and he didn’t like what he saw.
“Yep. After a while we didn’t move for jobs anymore, we just moved to cheaper places. I don’t think I ever did more than a single year at any one school.”
Her index finger traced patterns idly on the glass. Seth fought the urge to take her restless hands in his.
“By the t
ime I was a high-school sophomore, my mom came into a little money from an aunt who’d died, and she bought the trailer we were living in. My dad’s still in it. It’s an awful place, in a derelict trailer park across the highway from Big Bull Auto Wrecking. But, by some quirk of fate, the high school I got bussed to was pretty good. That’s where I met Stephen.”
He didn’t want to talk about Stephen. He didn’t really want to talk about her past, either. For some reason, it made him feel guilty. But it explained so much about this mania she had about keeping her house. “How did you get to be a nurse?”
“I won a scholarship. Lived in a dorm and swore I’d never go back to that trailer park. I married Stephen the year I graduated. Mom was so happy the day I got married, but when we moved into this place, I thought she’d burst with pride. I’m glad she passed away before Stephen left me.”
Seth put a tentative hand out and touched her shoulder. Such slender shoulders for such a heavy burden. “I’m sorry, Melissa.”
“Well, I inherited a lot of things from my mom. The work ethic, the love of cooking and bad taste in men. Stephen took out a million-dollar life insurance policy right after Matthew was born. He said if anything happened to him, he wanted to know his family was looked after. How could anyone change so much? How could he do this to us?”
There was no answer. How could any man desert a woman as special as Melissa? He sure as hell wouldn’t.
“Not all men are bad, you know.”
“I know.” She sighed and leaned back. How did she do that without armor? “My friend Pam up the street? She’s never lost the extra pounds from her last child. Her husband tells her not to diet. He likes her exactly the way she is. Imagine.” She rose and went to the oven to check on something that smelled amazing. As he watched her in the kitchen, he noted one of the cupboard doors hanging askew. She liked things so neat and organized that he knew that must be driving her nuts.
He got up and followed her, moving the door back and forth. “Looks like you need a new hinge.”
She sighed. “Among other things. I wish I was handy.”
“What other things?”
She was bent over an oval baking dish, turning chicken pieces that were in some kind of Italian tomato sauce.
“I’ve got cracks in some of the walls from when the house settled. The upstairs bathroom faucet leaks. One of the boards on the back veranda seems soft.” She shrugged. “Little things I need to figure out how to fix. Dumb things.”
“Was Stephen handy?”
She gave a snort of laughter. “Not remotely. But when he was around, we could afford to hire people.”
He took another look at the hinge. “I think I could fix that.”
She glanced at him over her shoulder. “Thus proving that you are a better man than Stephen?”
“You already know I’m a better man than Stephen,” he said evenly. He’d never been violent, but he was aware of a strong impulse to pound the long-gone and unlamented Stephen Theisen.
“Yes,” she said, turning away quickly. “I do. You’re one of the good guys, too.”
He stared at her back, so straight and elegant. He was aware of an urge to kiss the junction of her shoulder and neck where the skin looked so soft he almost knew how it would feel under his lips—warm and silky.
“Have you even dated anyone since he left?”
Her hands stilled. “No.” She bent to replace the casserole and when her head was practically inside the oven she asked, “You?”
“Two dates. One very bad blind date and one awkward dinner party where I was paired with a single woman I’ve known socially for a while.”
“Oh.” Did she sound relieved that he wasn’t dating?
Was he relieved that she wasn’t?
Something was definitely between them, some spark of attraction that they both pretty much ignored.
Maybe it was time to stop ignoring it.
CHAPTER NINE
“BE CAREFUL NOT TO scratch it,” Melissa cried out as two hefty guys in blue overalls manhandled the gleaming burled walnut dining table out the front door.
Not that she should care. It didn’t belong to her anymore. A beam of sunlight hit the surface and reflected the deep colors of the wood: brown and amber and a swirl of butterscotch. The rich patina was due not only to the quality of the walnut and the age of the piece—she had to take some credit for the hours she’d spent polishing that table in the years it had been hers.
“What are you doing?” Seth O’Reilly’s unmistakable voice carried through the open door a moment before she glimpsed him hurrying up the front path.
“Redecorating,” she called out breezily. Darn it, she’d especially booked the pickup for midday when everyone from curious neighbors, to questioning kids, to nosy bank managers should be otherwise occupied.
“Hold it right there,” Seth ordered the guy closest to him, who paused and turned inquiring eyes on Melissa.
“Nonsense, keep going,” she said, making forward motions with her hands, and glaring at Seth, who fumed on the other side of the walnut barrier.
“This is crazy. You can’t sell your furniture.” Seth stood in the middle of the steps directly in front of the table.
“Would you keep your voice down?” She checked up and down the street, but Seth’s yelling hadn’t brought curious heads poking out windows. She breathed again. “I’ve already sold it,” she said. And given herself an emergency financial cushion that she’d appreciate a lot more than a dining table she rarely used.
Seth’s face flushed, “You can’t—”
“Look, pal, this thing weighs a ton. How ’bout you kiss and make up after we go, huh?”
After glowering at the man, then at Melissa for another moment, Seth stepped aside and watched in silence as the men eased the table the rest of the way out the door and headed for the truck waiting at the curb.
As soon as the table was clear of the door, he strode over the threshold. “What are you doing?”
“I needed a change. I’m tired of the traditional look— I decided on a more minimalist style.”
Seth glanced into the dining room, where a lone table lamp sat on the floor. China was stacked neatly along one wall. He could see indentations in the blue carpet where the furniture had been. “Minimalist, huh?”
“I decided on a Bedouin dining room. My guests will eat cross-legged on the floor.” She glared back at him, daring him to say one more word.
A reluctant grin tugged at the grim line of his lips. “Maybe you’ll set a new trend.”
“I got five thousand bucks for that dining suite, so if you’re here to evict me, you’ve wasted the trip.”
He smiled, one of those rare smiles of his that made her go weak at the knees. “I came to see if I could take you and whatever kids are in residence to lunch.”
“Oh.” She took a step backward. The hall seemed to have shrunk since he’d started looking at her with that warm expression in his eyes. “Lunch.”
“It’s a common custom to eat something in the middle of the day.” The expression turned teasing. “Even the Bedouins take lunch, I believe.”
She stalled for time. “I’ve only got Alice home today, but she isn’t very good in restaurants.”
“That’s why I had the deli pack us a picnic. It’s such a nice day, I thought we’d eat by the river.”
He’d arranged a picnic lunch. That was so thoughtful of him, but also ambiguous. What did it mean? Was this like a date? How did she feel about going on a date with Seth? While she stood there not knowing how to respond, he said, “I want to talk to you about the girls.”
“Oh. Well, in that case.” She stopped herself and then caught him grinning at her. “I’ll get Alice.”
MELISSA LICKED a dab of mayonnaise from her lip and sighed, lifting her face to the spring sunshine warming her skin. The river burbled its way past the park where they were sitting at a picnic table watching Alice tackle the jungle gym in the adjacent playground.
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nbsp; The weather was surprisingly warm for early March, and, after weeks of rain, it was beyond nice to feel the sun on her face.
Odd to feel so content when she’d parted with one of her prized possessions, but Melissa was a lot less bothered by the loss of her precious dining suite than she’d expected to be. She’d spent months searching for the right furniture, and that suite had fit perfectly into the dining room. It was old and grand, and if she tried hard enough, she could pretend it had been in her family for years.
Stephen had told their dinner guests that once. He always insinuated that Melissa came from a privileged background. She used to believe it was to save her embarrassment. Now she knew better. He’d wanted to impress on their friends and his business associates that he’d won a prize in Melissa. The real Melissa apparently wasn’t enough of a prize.
There was a lightening somewhere in her chest. Maybe getting rid of that table with its twelve matching chairs, buffet and china cabinet was like setting a lie straight. Cleansing.
And she’d save hours in polishing time. She breathed deeply of the soft spring air. “Thanks for bringing us here.”
“I’m enjoying it myself.”
This impromptu picnic was like a miniholiday, as pleasant as it was unexpected. She glanced at her companion and provider of the feast. With his white shirt rolled up at the sleeves and his tie loosened, he looked exactly like what he was, a businessman father stealing away from the office for lunch in a park.
Only Alice wasn’t his child, and she wasn’t his wife.
She gazed at him, at his black hair lightly threaded with silver, the straight nose and firm jaw, the deep smile lines in his cheeks. A nice face, an attractive face. She wondered what it would be like if appearance was reality and he was hers.
He sat facing the playground, as she did, his back against the table top. He took a bite of his sandwich and she watched his square hands with their blunt-tipped fingers. Strong hands for a desk jockey. Her eyes traveled to his forearms, muscular with black hairs catching the sun. “How do you stay in shape?” she found herself asking.