The Trouble with Twins

by Nancy Warren

“Dad, can we get bikinis? Ple-ea-ease?”

  “B-bikinis?” He glanced to Melissa for inspiration. “Aren’t you a little young?”

  “Everybody wears them, Dad.” And then, obviously following the line of his own gaze, his oldest turned to Melissa. “Right, Melissa?”

  She shot him a questioning glance, but he shrugged. Bikinis. What did he know? He knew one thing, it was going to be a hell of a lot better having Melissa around to help with the girls.

  She answered their question with a question of her own. “You girls know about sunscreen?”

  An eager “Uh-huh” duet was the reply.

  “If you promise to wear sunscreen every second we’re in Hawaii, I’ll talk to your father about the bathing suits.”

  They’d obviously already figured him for a total pushover. He could tell the way they were hugging Melissa and thanking her, then trying to decide whether they should buy the bathing suits before they went or get them in Hawaii. Damn it. He was their father. He felt a need to assert himself. “Not those things with shoe laces down the backside,” he commanded.

  “Wha-at?”

  “Do you mean thongs?” Melissa asked, a dimple teasing her cheek.

  Four identical eyes rolled heavenward. “Oh, Dad.”

  Matthew, who’d been practicing surfing on the couch cushions, crouched and leaped into the air, riding an imaginary wave. It dumped him soundly on the ground, where he rolled and bounced up again. “When do we go?”

  “In two weeks.”

  “Woo-hoo. Wait’ll I tell Ryan Doran. He thinks he’s so cool cause he went to Disneyland for Christmas. I’m going to Hawaii, and getting a new dad.”

  Something funny squeezed in Seth’s chest. It was pretty obvious he placed a distant second to two weeks in Hawaii, but Matthew seemed totally willing to accept him as a surrogate father. He and Melissa hadn’t got as far as figuring what the kids would think about them becoming a blended family. He’d mentally budgeted a few thousand for counseling fees, and here everybody seemed delighted.

  Everybody, that is, except Laura, who’d suddenly gone pale.

  “Two weeks?” she asked in a hollow voice. “Will we be in Hawaii on the nineteenth?”

  “The nineteenth?” He glanced at Melissa but she looked as puzzled as he felt. “No. We leave on the twenty-first. Why?”

  “The Bravo Boys,” Jessie said. “Their concert is on the nineteenth.”

  He felt his jaw clench. “And on the nineteenth you’ll be sitting here at home. Because there’s no way on earth I would let you two go to a rock concert.”

  Jessie opened her mouth and Seth gritted his teeth even harder, but he was saved by Laura, who took one look at his face and dragged her sister out of the room. He heard them whispering and muttering all the way up the stairs.

  “What?” He challenged Melissa, who was grinning helplessly.

  “I was wondering if we could postpone the wedding a little. Say, until they’ve finished being teenagers.”

  “At least with two of them, and two of us, the odds are a little more favorable.” He flopped down on his favorite chair, and wondered fleetingly whether Melissa would make him move it when she brought her own stuff over. He had to admit that what she hadn’t sold was in a lot better shape than his own stuff.

  He surveyed the living room, noting the dingy, finger-marked paint and how shabby the furniture was. Mostly because he let the kids pretty much have free run of the house when they were home. He couldn’t ask Melissa to move in with the place looking like this. They could have a decorator come in and put a new touch on the place. She’d like that.

  He watched her bend over and replace the couch cushions Matthew had upended before roaring off somewhere with Alice in tow. He opened his mouth to tell her not to bother, then closed it again and decided to enjoy the view. If it weren’t for four very good reasons all over his house, he’d be sneaking up behind his new fiancée right now and messing up those sofa cushions again.

  “I want you,” he said low in his throat.

  Her hands, busy smoothing the cushions into precise geometrical lines, stilled. He saw the diamond wink on her finger, heard her sharp intake of breath. Then she turned to face him, and he knew without words that she wanted him, too.

  He stood and in two strides had her in his arms.

  “We can’t,” she murmured into his ear.

  “Lunch tomorrow. Can you get a babysitter for Alice?”

  She sent him a teasing smile. “You have a meeting tomorrow, remember?”

  Puzzlement turned to self-conscious laughter as he recalled his crazy idea to get married on their lunch hour. “Right. I remember.”

  “But Alice and her little friend have play school on Tuesday, if you could take an early lunch.”

  “I’m hungry now. Okay. Tuesday, then. I’ll run home for a nooner.”

  She chuckled, a deep sexy sound that made him kiss the side of her neck and try to get a hand up her shirt.

  A slap took care of the hand. “Are you going to make a habit of nooners when we’re married?”

  “Damn right. Morning, noon and night. You and I have a lot of celibate years to make up for.”

  “Mmm.” She didn’t seem to dislike the idea, so he tried sneaking his hand back up her shirt and got another whack for his trouble.

  Regretfully, he gave up and pulled away. “Tuesday.”

  She smiled, her face slightly flushed. “Tuesday.”

  “Oh, well. If we can’t have sex, let’s eat. I’ll order some pizzas for dinner and we can celebrate with the kids.”

  “Well, all right. But we’ll have to leave early. I want to bathe Matthew and Alice tonight.”

  “You’re such a good mother.”

  She pinkened with pleasure at the compliment. “I’ll try to be a good mother to Jessie and Laura, as well.”

  “Don’t worry. We’re going to make this thing work.”

  He couldn’t help wondering who he was reassuring.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  A NOONER? Sex in broad daylight? Melissa felt both excited and foolish. She wasn’t even sure if he’d been serious when he’d suggested it. And really, she shouldn’t waste her time when she had the house to herself. She should be catching up on work.

  But then, she reminded herself piously, even she was entitled to a lunch break.

  Should she make him lunch? The etiquette of a nooner completely baffled her.

  Not to mention the correct apparel. Should she wear a negligee and stand at the bottom of the stairs holding a martini, a trail of rose petals leading to her bedroom? Or wear jeans and a T-shirt and give him a chicken sandwich, and let events proceed as they would?

  She sighed, following the paring knife, which went round and round the apple, spiraling like her thoughts. The telephone interrupted her reverie.

  “Hello?”

  The voice on the other end of the phone made her gasp and spoil the unbroken circle of peel. “Seth. I was thinking about you.”

  “Me, too. What are you doing?”

  “Making apple sauce cake. I’m peeling the apples.”

  “Peeling the apples.” He sounded like he was laughing at her. “Haven’t you ever heard of canned apple sauce?”

  She shook her head, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. It was a good thing she was marrying him. He needed her. “It’s not the same.” Suddenly inspired, she continued with forced casualness. “Maybe I’ll let you try a piece tomorrow….” She let her voice drift at the end, sort of like a half question. Hopefully his response would let her know if it was a negligee or jeans date.

  “Sweetheart, I can’t make it tomorrow. I’m sorry.”

  “Why not?” It suddenly didn’t matter what she was supposed to wear. She really wanted a nooner. Disappointment seeped over her.

  He sighed deeply on the other end of the phone. “Our bank financed a combination residential and commercial development in California that’s got a bad feel to it. I’m going to fly down and check
it out, meet with the developers before we advance any more funds. I leave tomorrow, and I’m swamped getting things cleaned up before I go.”

  “How long will you be gone?”

  “I don’t know. A few days.”

  The apple was wobbling in her fingers, and she realized her hands were shaking. It bumped into the sink and she put the paring knife down with a snap. He’s not like Stephen. He’s not. But the term business trip to her was synonymous with extramarital affair. And they weren’t even married yet.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Yes. I’m fine. Just, ah, disappointed.” I trust him. I trust him.

  “Me, too.”

  “Can you come for dinner tonight?”

  “No. I’m scrambling here to get everything ready.”

  “Oh.”

  “I have to ask you a favor.”

  She picked up the paring knife and started idly pressing it into the peeled apple in the sink. “What is it?”

  “Can I leave the girls with you until I get back?”

  “Oh. Sure, of course.”

  “You’ve still got a key to my house?”

  “Yes.” He’d given it to her a couple of months ago when one of the twins had forgotten her homework. He’d told her to keep it.

  “Sweetheart, I don’t even have time to pack the girls some clothes. Do you think you can manage?”

  “Sure.”

  “You sound funny. You’re not mad about tomorrow?” He lowered his voice and she imagined him sitting at his desk, with that awful Stella trying to listen from her desk outside. “If there was any way I could see you, you know I would.”

  “Yeah.” The pressure in her chest was increasing. She needed to be honest with him. “I have some trust issues around business trips. It’s not your fault.”

  “Oh, Melissa, I’m sorry. You know I’d never do anything to hurt you. You can trust me.”

  There was a pause. “I know,” she finally whispered.

  “Look, I’ll—” She heard an urgent voice in the background.

  “I’ll be right there,” he snapped. She heard the sigh of frustration. “I have to go.” He lowered his voice and murmured, “I love you.”

  “I love you, too,” she said, but he’d already gone.

  “DO YOU THINK Anne’s going to marry Gilbert?” Jessie wanted to know.

  “Blech.” Matthew made gagging sounds and accompanying retching gestures.

  “You are such a child,” Laura said. It wasn’t clear if she was referring to Matthew or her sister, younger by a couple of minutes. “Of course she’s going to marry Gilbert. He’s her soul mate.”

  Melissa smiled. “I’m not going to tell. I’ve already read all the Anne of Green Gables books.” She wasn’t sure how the routine had started, but since the first fateful day she’d tried to interest the twins in something other than the Bravo Boys and handed Laura Anne of Green Gables, the series of books about the turn-of-the-century orphan girl from Prince Edward Island had become part of their lives.

  At first, Laura had asked so many questions and read so many passages aloud that Jessie had wanted to read the book, too. Melissa ended up reading the book aloud, chapter by chapter, on afternoons when the kids were all together. She wasn’t sure that Alice understood a lot of what was read, but she curled up in her mother’s lap and copied the intent listening pose of Laura.

  Matthew pretended utter disgust, but even he’d laughed aloud when Anne, horrified by her red hair, had tried to dye it and it had turned green.

  “What did she use again to get it green?” he’d asked with interest.

  “Don’t even think about it,” Melissa had warned.

  “But all the teenagers do it.”

  “You can’t have a ring in your eyebrow, either.”

  “Aw, Mom.”

  He’d given up trying to get green hair, but he’d started paying attention to the chapters anyway. Now, with Seth away and the girls staying over, they’d taken to reading at night before bed. After they were done the Anne books, they’d decided they were going to reread the Harry Potter series. After Seth’s harried phone call earlier in the day, Melissa thought gloomily that they might get the whole series finished before he got back.

  She stilled the flutter of panic that occurred every time she thought of him so far away. He wasn’t anything like Stephen. He wasn’t off having an affair. She knew that. She trusted him completely, but she’d sure be glad when he got home and she could stop reminding herself a hundred times a day about how much she trusted him.

  “Gilbert loves Anne,” Laura continued. “Like my dad loves you, right Melissa?” It was amazingly warming that even his ten-year-old daughter could tell he was in love with her. Of course he wasn’t off on a spree.

  “Right.” She smiled.

  “When’s he coming home, anyway?”

  “He’s hoping to be home by the weekend. His meetings are taking longer than he thought. But think what a surprise he’ll get when he sees we’ve got your room all ready.” With the girls’ help, she’d removed the wallpaper in the guest bedroom. They’d chosen a bright apple-green color for the walls, and, unable to talk them out of their choice, Melissa had managed to convince them that it would look nice striped. And it did. A little bright, but nice. She’d painted white and green stripes on the walls, helped the girls brighten up an old wooden dresser by gluing on pictures out of magazines. She’d imagined something tasteful, like the Victorian decoupage she’d shown the girls from one of her decorating books. Instead, they’d covered every square inch of the dresser in little Bravo Boys.

  They’d learn a good lesson about the fickleness of fashion trends when they had to scrape off their decoration a couple of years from now. In the meantime, they were happy, and Melissa felt it was important to make them feel at home in their new room.

  She’d rummaged through the remnant pile at the local fabric store and raided her own stash of “someday” sewing projects for enough scraps to make each of the girls a new quilt for their beds. It was her idea of a house-warming for them.

  It was comforting to know that Seth would be leaving the painful memories in his house behind when they became a family. She wondered if they should redecorate her bedroom as a kind of symbolic gesture. She’d have to ask him when he got back.

  Once she had all four kids asleep, Melissa donned her pajamas and crawled into her own bed with the notes from her interview with one of the homeowners in the new subdivision.

  The homes there were gorgeous and, unlike a lot of new subdivisions, the developers hadn’t gone in and leveled every tree; they were working in as eco-friendly a way as possible. Her designs were a whole lot more interesting because she had some natural features to work with. This yard had some huge boulders in the backyard with a couple of big cedars brooding over top. She imagined a pond with a small fountain to keep the water moving. A stone bench, and a lot of shade-loving plants. Ferns, hostas. Some rhododendrons over here. She started scribbling, then stopped. Sure, the rhodos would love the shady garden, but weren’t they a little obvious? Who was going to pay for a design you could get from your local garden store clerk?

  With a sigh, she settled back among the pillows and let the unease she felt rise up and make its point.

  Seth had delayed his trip home by a couple of days. Big deal. He’d told her to trust him and she did. He’d told her he loved her and she believed him.

  And maybe if she kept reminding herself how much she believed him, one day she actually would.

  Knowing that rest wasn’t going to happen anytime soon, she got out of bed and wandered the house. After checking that everybody was asleep and tucked in, she padded to the computer in Stephen’s old home office. She’d found some excellent resources for plants and design ideas on the Web.

  Having asked Google for help, she visited a lot of garden sites, bookmarked a few, made some notes.

  Then she sat back, brooding. Maybe it was being here in Stephen’s old office, but she couldn’t
stop thinking about him tonight. Comparing him and Seth wasn’t fair. And perhaps she wasn’t comparing them. Maybe—in the same way Seth had needed to accept his wife’s death before he could move on—she needed to accept that Stephen had really gone, too. And yet he wasn’t dead—or was he? The idea sent a strange shiver down her spine. It was late at night and she was getting maudlin. Of course he wasn’t dead. She’d have heard something. Wouldn’t she?

  Her fingers started typing. Good old Google. She entered his name, certain it couldn’t be this easy to track down the man who’d yanked up the roots she’d so carefully planted and disappeared.

  It took her less than an hour to find him. His arrogance was astounding. He had a blog all about himself and his new business, exporting antiques and artwork from the Czech Republic. With his Czech partner, Vladka. The blog led to a Web site for their export business.

  She waited for her blood to boil, but strangely it didn’t. The feeling was more like a simmer.

  Naturally, a person wouldn’t have a Web site and a blog promoting their business without advertising an e-mail address. She wrote to him.

  Melissa sent an e-mail to her AWOL husband and imagined it traveling from Lakeview, Washington, to Somewhere Unspecified in the Czech Republic. What would he think when he read it? Would he reply?

  “DAFFODILS ARE THE HAPPIEST flowers, aren’t they?” Melissa said to Alice.

  Alice regarded the bright blooms in the vase thoughtfully. “They’re yellow.”

  “Yes, they are. I think yellow is a happy color.” Or maybe it was her mood that made everything seem bright. Seth was coming home tonight. And Stephen had replied to her e-mail as she’d somehow known he would. Oh, he was full of apology that he hadn’t been in touch, work had been busy, he was having a bit of a cash crunch, but of course he’d be sending her money soon, he sent his love to the kids, blah, blah, blah. Melissa had phoned around. She’d put her problem out there in the network of women, and she’d been referred to a lawyer who specialized in family law. A woman.

  For some reason, she felt, even if she never got another penny out of her ex, that a burden had been lifted off her shoulders.