Daddy Next Door

by Carol Voss

  “You should be glad I didn’t get my ears pierced when I was twelve.”

  “There is that. What is it about kids getting their ears pierced anyway? Is it because other kids are doing it? Is it a rite of passage, something that makes them feel more independent and grown-up?”

  “There are probably lots of reasons. By the time I did it, it was a practical solution. Those clip-on earrings really hurt.”

  He studied her. “Yours look nice, by the way.”

  “Thank you.” She felt her neck and cheeks heat up. Oh, please. She needed to get over herself.

  He took a drink of milk. “Thanks for being concerned about her in spite of the way she’s been treating you.”

  “Of course, I’m concerned. She’s sharing you with my boys and me 24/7.”

  “But I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Why can’t she see that?”

  “I don’t know. I doubt she knows what’s wrong either. She just feels it and acts out.”

  “I’m really sorry about her rudeness.”

  “I can take it. I’m a big girl, you know.”

  “I know.”

  Heat flushed her neck and cheeks. Again.

  “I also know a big girl’s feelings can be hurt just like a little girl’s. I’m sorry my daughter’s hurting you.”

  The sincerity in his eyes made her tremble inside. He truly cared how she felt.

  Oh, she was in so much trouble. Had he noticed?

  The tension in his jaw softened into a smile that kept getting broader.

  He’d noticed, all right. Wasn’t that a comforting thought?

  * * *

  “Elegant? It’s straight out of the seventies. Are you sure that’s the one Fred told us to look at?” Alyssa pointed through the gloom of Fred’s Antiques and Collectibles at an old couch covered in very large gold, green and brown floral fabric.

  Ben strode to the couch, lifted one of the cushions and turned to Alyssa. “Yup. This is the brand Fred said lasts forever.” He pushed on the firm back and springs as if proving his point. “And it’s a hide-a-bed. What it lacks in beauty, it makes up for in function.”

  “The store owner’s interpretation of ‘elegant’ is more than a little alarming,” she grumbled.

  Joey sneezed.

  The dusty shop made Alyssa want to sneeze, too. Balancing Robbie in one arm, she grasped a tissue from her purse and helped Joey blow his nose.

  Ben had whipped out a tape measure and was measuring the ugly couch.

  Alyssa glanced at the door, ready to chalk up her one-and-only trip to a thrift store as a waste of time.

  “It should fit your space perfectly.” Ben looked up from the drawing of the cottage floor plan Alyssa had sketched.

  She shook her head in distaste. “But it’s so...ugly.”

  “Don’t you plan to sew a slipcover for it?”

  “I’m going to try.”

  “Then it will be beautiful as well as functional.”

  “Well, passable maybe. You have more confidence in my sewing abilities than I do.”

  “It’s all about seeing beyond first impressions.” Fred strolled up to them. “It’s fun to see what fabric and paint and imagination combined with elbow grease can do to transform ugly into beautiful. And for not much money.”

  Alyssa tried to visualize the couch as anything but the beast it was and failed.

  “Trust me, this is a real find,” Fred assured. “And the price is already good, but I’m always disappointed if I don’t get the chance to bargain with my customers.”

  Remembering Della’s comment about Fred, Alyssa shot Ben a look.

  He smiled.

  Immediately, everything seemed better. How did he do that? “Tony will have the cottage ready to move into in less than a week,” she said. “The problem is, I’ll have to use the sofa like it is until I have time to sew a slipcover. And I don’t see that happening before Thanksgiving.”

  “Well, it has good Thanksgiving colors,” Fred pointed out.

  “Hmm. You’re right. I didn’t think of that,” Alyssa admitted. “The cottage will be mostly neutral shades, so I suppose...”

  Ben lifted Joey to straddle his shoulders. “Why don’t you think about the couch while we look around? Maybe we can find more great stuff.”

  “Like what?” Alyssa asked uncertainly.

  “I don’t know yet. Let’s use our imaginations.”

  “Have fun. Let me know if you need me.” Fred drifted away to talk to another customer.

  “What about this?”

  “The lamp?” She looked at the tattered lampshade with a skeptical eye.

  Ben whipped off the shade. “See? If you like the lamp, you can buy a new shade.”

  She squinted at the lamp as if that might help. It did have good lines, didn’t it? “You’re right. It could be great, but where would I buy a new shade?”

  “I’ve seen a few at the hardware store. Pretty reasonable.” He held up the price tag for her to see. “Don’t forget, Fred likes to bargain.”

  She nodded. “Sold.”

  He laughed. “Want to see what else he has?”

  “What about that old trunk over there? If I polish it up, I think it will make a perfect coffee table. It will even add storage in the living room.”

  “Clever.” He shot her a grin.

  She grinned right back. “I think I’m beginning to see possibilities.”

  “I never doubted you.” He peered around the store. “What about that large piece of furniture against the wall?”

  “The armoire? It’s amazing.” She walked over to get a closer look.

  Ben stroked the beautiful dark wood. “Looks like walnut to me.”

  “It’s so rich-looking. It would be perfect in my bedroom for storage. The closet in there is so tiny.” She turned over the price tag. “A little pricey, but I really like it.”

  “Want to see how much we can bargain the price down?”

  She nodded. After adding a couple battered, wooden chairs and a pair of funky car bookends for Joey, she decided the couch was growing on her. So Fred, the friendly proprietor, began bargaining with her until she wanted to just write a check and be done with it.

  That was when the determined and thrifty Ben she hadn’t seen before took over and hung in there until he got a low price for the lot plus free delivery when the cottage was ready.

  As it turned out, they wouldn’t need his truck to haul things after all. Alyssa had fun with Ben and even learned a few things about him. And about bargaining. And they all walked away satisfied with the deal.

  She still didn’t have a clear vision of cottage chic, but it sounded fun and within her budget. A winning solution to her furniture problem.

  * * *

  Thursday afternoon, with the smell and humidity of fresh paint making her nose itch, Alyssa stretched to roll paint on her bedroom wall. She’d accomplished a lot while the boys napped, but there was still way too much to do to be ready to move into the cottage Saturday. The biggest problem? She was feeling shaky about leaving Ben and his wonderful home. How strong was that? Gram would be ashamed.

  “Anybody home?” Ben’s deep voice came from the hall.

  He triggered a sense of anticipation in her before she even saw him. Not good. “You’re home early.”

  “I thought maybe I could help out with something before your big move Saturday.” He walked into the small room and glanced around. “Wow!”

  “It’s mango punch. Do you think it’s too bright?”

  He shrugged. “Should be a cheerful color to wake up to.”

  “I’m picking up one of the minor colors in Lou’s quilt, just in case I can afford to buy it. I love most shades of pink. But I wanted more punch than
feminine.”

  He looked around. “I like it.”

  She grinned. “You have no idea what I’m babbling about, do you?”

  “Decorating stuff, you mean?”

  “Decorating stuff?” she teased.

  Grinning, he threw up his hands as if at a loss. “You’re making a lot of progress here.”

  “Now that I’m getting the knack of it. I put stew in the crockpot for dinner.”

  “Great. I love stew.”

  He was so easy to please. “I’m trying to finish painting before it’s time to put dinner on the table.”

  “Do you want help to speed things up?”

  She shot a grateful look over her shoulder. “Would you mind?”

  “That’s why I’m here.” He whipped off his jacket, stashed it in the hall off the bedrooms, then picked up a brush and the open paint can and began cutting in around a door. “The boys’ room looks great.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Obviously, you’re one of those people who can do just about anything well.”

  “You know me better than that.”

  “Oh, that’s right. You’re not good at stringing popcorn or accepting a compliment,” he teased.

  “Not when it’s untrue.”

  “Nothing untrue about it. You’re a great mother, you’re teaching Hope to cook fantastic dinners in spite of her behavior toward you, you’re a dynamite committee organizer, terrific office manager according to Nick and you can paint. Plus you’re a good friend who knows how to listen with understanding and compassion. I can go on.”

  “Please don’t. I’m a little on edge...just too much to do.” She kept rolling paint as if there were no tomorrow and making lists in her head of all the things she needed to accomplish before bed tonight. Tomorrow loomed like a giant cavern of tasks that would never end.

  Ben concentrated on painting. A companionable silence stretched between them.

  More lists scrolled through her mind, sending her anxiety level rocketing. Okay, enough. It was time to concentrate on logic. So she was feeling a little insecure about leaving Ben’s. Granted, life had gotten a whole lot better in his cozy, secure place.

  Oh, come on, Alyssa. What about your struggle the past few days to keep your feelings for him to yourself?

  There was that. Plus the fact that she had dealt with lots of problems before she’d even met Ben. And since as well, right? And she was still in one piece, and so were her boys. She’d made mistakes, but she’d done okay.

  And she’d make mistakes in the future, too, but she’d be okay anyway. Besides, if she got in real trouble, Ben would be right next door. She smiled at that thought. So what was she worried about? She thought about her plans for Thanksgiving. “Will you and Hope share Thanksgiving with us?”

  “Love to. You need to let me bring something.”

  “Are you kidding? You’ve been sharing your home with us for two weeks. The least you can let me do is have you over for a meal.”

  “Thanks. I look forward to it. And it will be nice to meet your parents.”

  “You can tell them about the fire.”

  “You haven’t told them?”

  “There was no point in worrying them needlessly. I figure it will be better for them to see we’re all right before I tell them we were actually in a fire. Can you explain what happened without making it sound like total incompetence?”

  “You didn’t know, that’s not incompetence. Anyway, your parents of all people are aware of how capable you are.”

  “I haven’t always lived up to their expectations. Or my own, for that matter.”

  “I can’t imagine you doing anything too shameful.”

  “Very disappointing would be more accurate.”

  “How so?”

  She kept on painting. Did she really want to tell him about her past?

  “You sure it won’t help to talk about it?” Ben asked after a while.

  “I’ve made mistakes. Can we just leave it at that?”

  “Nope.”

  She blew out a breath. Why in the world had she brought up the whole thing? Where would she begin? He didn’t need her life story, but she did need to frame things if he was going to understand. But what if he couldn’t understand? She shook her head.

  His silence hung between them until she couldn’t stand it any longer.

  “Fine.” She cleared her throat. “You know how some people talk about being born with silver spoons in their mouths?” She glanced at him uneasily. “Well, mine was a political spoon, so to speak. My father always told me the sky was the limit for me.”

  “He’s right. It still is.”

  She let out her breath in a whoosh. Maybe...if she’d been strong enough.

  “Please go on. No more comments, I promise.”

  “Well, my parents sent me to the right schools, expected me to excel in my classes. My father was always most interested in the ones that stressed debate or public speaking or critical thinking. I tried hard to make them proud.” Her voice wavered.

  “I’m sure they were proud.”

  “Not always.” She rolled paint in automatic mode, reaching for courage to admit to Ben what she hated admitting to herself. Dragging a breath, she dipped her roller in the paint pan and went back to rolling it on the wall.

  Ben didn’t pressure her. He just kept on painting.

  She didn’t want to continue. But she couldn’t very well stop now, could she? “To get to the point, I...I graduated from Harvard Law School right on schedule. But I was four months pregnant with Joey.”

  Ben slowed his painting.

  “My father was not pleased.”

  “Mothers have successful careers all the time. I’m sure he knew that.”

  “But I’d accepted a position with a prestigious New York law firm, which was supposed to lay the foundation for my future political endeavors. They’d promised to put me on the fast track to a partnership, provided I live, eat and breathe for them.”

  She rolled a swath of paint across the wall. “They’d made it very clear there would be no room for distractions like marriage or pregnancy or babies. So, of course, they withdrew their offer. I don’t know if my father’s ever forgiven me.”

  “I’m sure that’s not true.”

  “I think he wants to. I mean he tends to listen to me more now. I just wish I’d been able to stand up to him in a better way.”

  “Stand up to him? You think you got pregnant on purpose?”

  “I wish I knew. It took my therapist a while to get me to admit that moving to New York on my own terrified me.” At least, admitting it now didn’t make her stomach hurt. What Ben would now think of her did that.

  “But you were in love with Joey’s father, weren’t you?”

  “Cam was in my life for a long time. We dated off and on, and we worked together on projects we both cared about. But marriage wasn’t in our plans. He planned to save the world. I understood that. It’s just that I’m not sure I knew how to let him go.”

  “So you married him.”

  “Yes. Of course, he insisted. So did my father.”

  “Not the best way to start a marriage, I assume.”

  “Could have been worse, actually. Cam was sweet. And Daddy recognized him as a worthy and ambitious man he could mentor. So Cam and I worked together on his first political campaign. I was mostly behind the scenes raising funds, which is where I’d always preferred to be. Joey was born the day Cam was elected to the state Senate.”

  “Sounds like quite a day.”

  “Joey was so tiny,” she said wistfully. “Cam dived in to continue his fight to help low-income families. And I worked alongside him the way I’d done through college.”

  “Important work.”

 
“It is. I acted as Cam’s liaison with the Wisconsin Council on Children and Families, the Head Start Association, and WISCAP.” She took a breath. “It was fascinating, challenging work I absolutely loved.”

  He stopped painting and turned to her. “Sounds like you found your calling.”

  “Maybe.” She stopped painting and faced him. “But then Cam died. And Joey seemed so lost. Actually, we were both lost for a while.”

  “That’s understandable. But you’re both doing great now.”

  “We are. Thank you for all your help.”

  “I didn’t do that much. Don’t you dare sell yourself short.”

  He still had faith in her? Even when she’d admitted how weak she’d been? Drained and sad, she stood there shaking, not knowing how to stop.

  Ben laid down his paintbrush and closed the gap between them. He grasped her paint roller, laid it aside, gently took her into his arms.

  She laid her head on his shoulder, drawing strength from his solid presence.

  He stroked her hair the way he had the night of the fire. “You seriously need to give yourself a break. Didn’t you tell me to try to think of my mistakes as experience? Hopefully, we learn. What else can you expect from yourself? Can’t you see how wonderful you are?”

  She gave him a self-deprecating little laugh. “Please don’t tell me what you think I want to hear.”

  “Is that what you think I do? Tell you what you want to hear?” He lifted her chin. “You know better.”

  The intensity in his eyes sent her heart beating so fast that she could scarcely breathe. She reached to touch his jaw, his slight stubble tickling her fingertips.

  “Alyssa,” he whispered. Slipping his fingers into her hair, he drew her closer.

  She focused on the look in his eyes. Her pulse beginning to dance, anticipation bubbled through her.

  He turned his face to kiss her fingertips. Then he bent closer and kissed her lips.

  She answered his kiss. Gentle but commanding. Filled with longing. Soft and loving and so intense. She couldn’t catch her breath. She’d never felt such a kaleidoscope of emotions in her entire life.

  When he broke the kiss, she wanted to protest.

  “Wow,” he whispered against her ear.