Single in Suburbia

by Wendy Wax

  “No.” He shook his head and stepped closer, not beyond the bounds of propriety, but close enough so that she could see the slight stubble on his jaw. “Not common at all.”

  He dropped his gaze to her lips and she had the disturbing thought that they were both imagining what the other’s lips would feel like. “Pretty.” He raised his gaze back to hers. “Very pretty.” He reached toward her and she thought he was going to touch her, but he just set his wineglass on the counter beside her. “And very familiar.”

  Amanda swallowed.

  “I’m curious,” he said a long moment later. “What do you think of Solange?”

  “Think of her?” Amanda’s thoughts flew from the possibility of a kiss to the more immediate fear of exposure. “Me?”

  Her heartbeat kicked up a notch, not that being near him allowed for a resting rate in the first place. “I think she does a good job. She’s dependable and thorough.”

  “Doesn’t she seem a little…flamboyant…for a cleaning woman?”

  He was watching her closely and she was careful not to squirm.

  “Flamboyant?” Her voice broke on the word. “No, I, um, think she’s just got a lot of joy de verve.” This time she intentionally mangled the French, hoping to throw him off. “You know, an indomitable spirit. I think it’s very important to her to earn a good living under her own terms. Maybe she…”

  Realizing she was offering way too many insights into the possible workings of a maid’s mind, Amanda shrugged. “I don’t know her all that well, but I’ve been happy with her work.” She raised her glass and drained it in a single gulp.

  “Me too,” he said. “I’m impressed with her determination to raise her boys single-handedly. It’s not easy to be a single parent under any circumstances.”

  Amanda nodded numbly. This man not only noticed but had empathy for the maid. She was impressed despite herself. Impressed and worried. Because she was not only attracted to him, she actually liked him. And if he was going to be this observant, she and Solange had a problem.

  “Da-ad,” Julie yelled. “Samantha called me the ‘B’ word.”

  Hunter sighed and fell back a step. “Sometimes I think they need a referee more than a parent. It’s amazing how ugly they can be to each other.”

  She heard Wyatt yelp and assumed the older duo was fighting back.

  “When are we going to eat?” All four of them chorused from the backyard.

  With an apologetic smile, he refilled her glass then took a platter of raw hamburger patties out of the refrigerator. He placed a package of hot dogs in her hands. “Come talk to me while I cook,” he said. “We’ll get the kids to set the table and organize their drinks. Maybe if we keep them busy, we can avert a full-scale war.”

  chapter 21

  D on’t you think Mr. James is HOT?” Meghan asked on the ride home.

  “Hot?” Amanda swallowed. Scorching was more like it. “You mean as in attractive?”

  “Yeah. I mean for an old guy, he looks, like, incredible.”

  Unfortunately, Meghan was right. He was incredible to look at. And talk to. And be with. There was that edge of awareness that hummed underneath the simplest communication. But he was easy to be with too. Interested and attentive and completely tuned in to the person he was talking to.

  Amanda decided to focus on the age issue rather than the attractiveness factor; it seemed safer. “I don’t think forty-three is exactly ancient. It’s hardly middle-aged these days.” Which made her practically a spring chicken at not quite forty.

  Meghan rolled her eyes. “Whatever. The point is he’s totally hot.” Her tone changed. “And he seems kind of interested in you.”

  A small part of her wanted to ask her daughter why she thought that, wanted hard examples of the same thing she sensed, wanted to write his initials on her notebook and squeal with the other girls over him.

  Her own excitement made her discount the change in Meghan’s tone, because despite her fear of being exposed as Solange, the evening had been fun. Hunter had made a game of flipping the burgers and preparing the meal and had dragged the children into it, even getting them to clean up without complaint so that the two of them could sit and watch the sun go down while they finished the wine.

  He’d even made stripping down to her bathing suit and joining everyone in the pool afterward easy. His gaze had skimmed over her as she walked down the steps into the shallow end. His glint of interest had been apparent and gratifying, but he’d made no comment. He’d just asked some question about the girls’ upcoming ballet recital that had pulled her mind elsewhere and set her at ease. He was good at that. And undoubtedly good at other things too.

  “Oh, honey, I think he’s interested in everyone,” Amanda said. “In a nice way. But I don’t think it’s anything more than that.”

  “Well that’s good.” Meghan leveled a look at Amanda. “I wouldn’t want you embarrassing yourself or anything.”

  Amanda heard the warning this time and knew her daughter wasn’t ready for her mother to be interested in anyone—especially a good friend’s father. All the more reason to resist the obvious temptation.

  “Yeah, he’s cool,” Wyatt added from the backseat. “When we were watching the game, he told me neat stories about everybody. He said his heart used to pound real hard every time they called him up from the bullpen, just like mine does, even after he’d been in the majors for years. He offered to take a look at my pitching, Mom. How cool is that?”

  Meghan tossed her hair. “I think the party’s going to be awesome. But you and Mr. James have to stay in the background. Samantha says sometimes guys go all weird when he’s around. Maybe you can keep him occupied or something.”

  Amanda coughed. “I’ll, uh, do my best,” she said, determined NOT to think about all the ways a man like Hunter James might like to be occupied.

  She kept the accompanying shiver of anticipation to herself.

  Together Amanda and Brooke, make that Solange and her cousin Simone, cleaned houses. Wishing she could offer more, Amanda had made Brooke promise to take 15 percent of each week’s earnings and while the work didn’t get easier, with Brooke sharing the load two houses a day was manageable. By the end of the first week, they’d fallen into a comfortable routine. If Amanda had ever doubted Brooke’s family history, her competence confirmed it. It was like going onstage with one of the Barrymores—you were a little bit intimidated but you knew you were in good hands.

  “I’ve never seen anyone change sheets as quickly as you can,” she said to Brooke as she pulled the vacuummobile into the empty bay of Candace’s garage. “How did you get so fast?”

  Amanda removed the cleaning rags to take home for the wash but left the rest of the supplies in the trunk. Brooke pulled off her mole and stuck it in her pocket as soon as the garage door went down behind them. “I used to help my mother at the McGinty’s on Saturday mornings,” she said. “They had about a hundred children and I had to get all of the sheets changed and the new ones washed and dried and folded before I was allowed to leave. That’s when I came up with my system.”

  They walked through the garage door into Candace’s guest wing and began their transformations.

  “I’ll teach you how if you let Simone lose the hairy mole. Maybe she could have surgery,” Brooke suggested. “God, I’d love to waltz into Dr. LaPrada’s office with this honker on my face just to see his reaction.”

  “Sorry, no can do. You’re already getting closer looks than I’d like. It’s that damned body of yours. I should have put you in padding.”

  “Try it and Simone will be on the next plane back to France.”

  “Fair enough, but the mole stays. Have I mentioned lately how much I appreciate your help?”

  “Yes. A couple of thousand times.”

  “Well, I mean it.”

  “I know.”

  She looked at Brooke who was fast on the way to becoming her glamorous self. “Do you hate doing this?”

  Brooke shook
her hair out, her smile reflective. “In a strange way it’s helping me understand my mother a little better. And while it’s not exactly the East End Day Spa, I’m getting a more thorough workout than I was at the club. And it does keep me from sitting around worrying about whether Hap’s losing interest in me.”

  “In you? No way,” Amanda said.

  “I don’t know. I mean look what happened with Hap and Sarah. He made it thirteen years with her. We’ve only been married a year and he’s already treating me differently.”

  “Sarah was never you, Brooke. And I’m sure their relationship wasn’t similar either.”

  “But he couldn’t get enough of me and now he hardly ever wants to…” She sputtered to a stop, clearly embarrassed.

  “So this is when you look for other things to share, besides sex,” Amanda said. “That animal attraction doesn’t last forever. And I think the first thing you need to share with him is the real you. Your outside’s pretty impressive, but I think what’s inside is even better.”

  Brooke didn’t respond, but her look remained thoughtful.

  “Hiding your past from Hap is not a good idea. What kind of partnership can you expect to have if he doesn’t know who he’s dealing with? I think you’re selling yourself and Hap short.”

  Amanda resisted the urge to continue her lecture. Brooke would have to understand in her own time and her own way. She’d been married for eighteen years and was only just starting to understand herself and the man she’d married.

  Pulling out her wallet, she counted out Brooke’s percentage of the money they’d earned that week.

  Brooke shook her head. “I don’t want it. And I won’t take it.”

  “Oh no.” Amanda tried to slip it into her purse. “We had a deal.”

  Brooke handed it right back. “I’m doing this because I want to help you and that’s the way it’s going to be.”

  “But…”

  “I’m not even willing to discuss it, Amanda. Once you’re on your feet we’ll take a look at this and see what needs to happen next. Maybe I could help you train some other women.” She flashed a smile. “Maybe we can branch out and include other nationalities. If we’re hiring only French women it’s going to be pretty slim pickings.”

  “But I can’t just take from you. I won’t be an object of charity.”

  Brooke snorted. “Charity? Get real. Why don’t we call this my tuition? I’m learning a huge amount from you. I could never navigate the suburbs without you and Candace showing me the way. You help me keep my marriage intact and I’ll clean my little fingers to the bone for you.”

  “I think you may have chosen the wrong teacher,” Amanda said. “My marriage hasn’t exactly stood the test of time.”

  “Well that’s Rob’s mistake, not yours.” Brooke smiled—one of those full-out affairs that opened up her entire face. “I’m kind of hoping I turn out just like you when I grow up.”

  At Wyatt’s game on Saturday, Amanda automatically sat with her cohorts in grime. Susie Simmons sat up and over to the left and didn’t seem at all interested in the three of them. She was gossiping with a group of mothers who barely bothered to greet Amanda. It was as if she’d somehow fallen off the face of their earth and no longer merited their attention. A small sense of loss passed through her, but it was surprisingly easy to shrug off.

  Tiffany sat near Susie, but not really a part of the group. Amanda forced her gaze up to the girl’s face. It was still startlingly beautiful and was still framed by the lush swirl of blonde hair, but there was an unhappy downward turn to her lips. Perhaps she’d found out about Rob’s true financial situation. Or maybe she was tired of sitting in bleachers watching a child she hadn’t produced play baseball. Or maybe it was the fact that Rob was standing down at the dugout giving Wyatt last minute advice with his back turned toward her.

  Moments later the other team jogged out to their positions on the field. Their pitcher began to warm up.

  “Wow, look at that first baseman.” Candace leaned over to whisper. “I bet he drove the team bus.”

  “He must be six feet,” Brooke agreed. “Don’t they all have to be twelve or under?”

  “Yeah, and they’re supposed to have the birth certificates to prove it,” Amanda said. “But look at that catcher. He’s taller than Brett when he’s crouching.”

  Sure enough, the Mudhens’ lead off hitter moved into position in the batter’s box and even hunkered down in position, the catcher still towered over him.

  “I hope Dan is asking to see those birth certificates,” Candace said. “That pitcher looks like he needs a shave.”

  “We are in deep doo-doo,” Brooke said.

  They watched in silence as Brett struck out and another Mudhen stepped reluctantly up to the plate. Amanda was staring down at the field watching their next batter take a few practice swings, when Candace whispered, “Speaking of doo-doo…”

  Amanda followed Candace’s gaze. Rob was striding up the bleachers toward Tiffany but surprised them all by slowing to smile at Amanda as he passed.

  “What was that about?” Candace asked.

  “Beats me.” Not knowing what else to say, Amanda focused on the game. Their third batter struck out and the Mudhens took the field. Wyatt jogged out to the mound and from the first pitch it was clear he was struggling.

  He walked a batter. A moment later he’d filled the bases.

  Stepping off the mound, he removed his cap, put it back on. He took a deep breath and stepped back onto the mound.

  “Come on, Wy!” Rob shouted from behind her. “Bear down. You can do it.”

  “You have to admire the fact that Wyatt hasn’t given up,” Brooke said.

  “I know, but it’s so painful to watch. And with the stack of bills I’m trying to work through, I can’t even help him with lessons.”

  Wyatt managed to get the batter to pop up and Drew Donovan flipped off his catcher’s mask and snagged it.

  “Well, I can.” Hunter James’s voice took Amanda completely by surprise. Her gaze swung from the field to the man who’d somehow materialized beside her.

  A hush settled over the stands as other people began to notice him too. Murmurs and whispers followed as everyone realized who he was.

  “In fact, I’m kind of ticked off that you didn’t ask me. Especially after I threw myself on your mercy over Sam’s pool party.” He took a seat next to her, his thigh and shoulder pressing up against hers. “The way I see it, I owe you big time.”

  “No, you don’t. Why—”

  “Yes, he does,” Candace cut in smoothly. “And you’re going to have to let him work it off. Right after you introduce us.” She was already leaning over Brooke to extend her hand in greeting. “I’m Candace Sugarman. And I know exactly how hard it is to get her to accept any kind of help from her friends.”

  “Damn straight,” Hunter said affably.

  “I’m Brooke.” Extending her hand, Brooke smiled at Hunter. To his credit Hunter James didn’t point like a bird dog on the scent the way most men did around Brooke.

  “I’m Hunter. Nice to meet you.”

  Amanda was completely aware of his solid warmth beside her. “How’d you know about the game?” she asked.

  “Meghan.” His gaze moved to the field and Wyatt. “She told Sam how bad things were getting for Wyatt and gave Sam the game schedule. Your son didn’t say a word about it to me the other night when we were watching the Cubs.” His gaze stayed on Wyatt even as he chided her. “I guess he takes after his mother.”

  There was a thwack of a ball flying off a bat. A roar went up from the opposing bleachers and Amanda tore her gaze from Hunter’s arresting profile in time to see the ball sail over the left field fence. Silence reigned in the Mudhens’ camp while the home-run hitter trotted arrogantly around the bases behind the three runners he’d knocked in and stomped on home plate. His teammates rushed out to pound him on the back and swoop him up onto their shoulders.

  Wyatt stared down at the pitcher�
�s mound as if he’d never seen one before. Amanda’s gaze flew to the scoreboard. Four runs had come in.

  Dan Donovan called time and walked out toward Wyatt. His son, Drew, the catcher, trailed behind him. Amanda fought back the urge to run out onto the field and lead her baby off it.

  “Aw, come on, Wy!” Rob’s voice was too loud and too full of disappointment. “You can do better than that!”

  Out at the mound the coach put a hand on Wyatt’s shoulder and brought his face close to her son’s. They talked for a moment and Wyatt shook his head. Outside the right field fence one of the assistant coaches began warming up another pitcher. There was more conversation on the mound. Wyatt shook his head again, clearly unwilling to come out of the game.

  “That’s it, son. You hang in there,” Rob called out. “Strike ’em out and sit ’em down!”

  Rob’s voice drew Amanda’s attention and her ire. She wanted to take the baseball out of Wyatt’s hand and stuff it in his father’s mouth, but settled for turning and shooting a warning look up at Rob, who seemed to be splitting his energies between egging Wyatt on and contemplating Hunter James.

  “That’s rough,” Hunter said, his gaze on Wyatt. “But you’ve got to take the good with the bad in baseball; that’s one of the basic principles of the game.”

  “Well then I’d say we’re due for some of the good stuff,” Amanda said, thinking not only of Wyatt’s struggles on the mound. Way overdue.

  Hunter nodded his agreement. Then he focused his attention on the pitches that followed as Wyatt managed to draw grounders out of the next three batters to get the Mudhens out of the inning.

  “Why don’t you bring him by my facility up on Roswell Road tomorrow about two?” Hunter said. “I’m not normally there on Sunday, but I can work with him then. I’ll drop him at home when we’re done.”

  “That’s so kind of you,” Amanda began. “But I can’t afford—”