by Karen Tuft
Jackie was so much like their dad in temperament. Soothing and affable, easygoing. Her low, husky voice continued. “Mom is ready to remodel her entire main floor. Suzie is talking about a live band and dancing. That could be interesting, don’t you think? It’s close enough to Halloween that she’s even talking about costumes. If you have any feelings on the matter, you’d better get your two cents in now, or you may be showing up at Mom’s a week from Saturday dressed as a Smurf.”
Over his dead body. “I’m sure Suz can be made to see reason. Tell Brett I plan to make it to at least a couple of his games; I have to go over my schedule first.” He ignored the sigh his sister attempted to muffle. “And give Lexie a big smooch from her favorite uncle. I assume everybody in between is doing well?” Jackie and her husband, Rick, had five kids in total.
“We’re all great. I’m actually off to watch Jason’s soccer game right now. I spend half my life sitting in the stands at sports events these days and the other half driving to and from sports events. Glad you’re back in one piece, Mac. I’ll catch up with you later, hmm?”
“Yeah. Talk to you soon. Love you.”
He was ready for seconds on the soup and another roll. The food tasted great and really felt good in his nearly healed stomach. Did Suzie cook well enough to be responsible for his dinner? She probably could if she was motivated enough, although Caesar salad and grilled prawns would be more her forte.
Suzie didn’t answer her phone; Ross left a message. Just as well. He would have been tied up in conversation with her too long for his still-recuperating psyche. He then tried his mother.
“Hey, beautiful,” he said when she picked up.
“Oh, Ross, you sweet dear. You’re home?”
“Yup. Got in this early this morning.”
“Do you get to be home for a while now, honey? No. No, Susan, not that one. The big pewter one on the top shelf. Put that other one back. Sorry, Ross. Susan’s been with me all day. We’ve been trying to get the details worked out for the party she thinks I need to have. I keep telling her I just want a nice, simple dinner with my family, but—” Ross could hear his sister’s voice in the background. There was enough bite in the tone to suggest the party planning hadn’t been smooth sailing in all ports. “Don’t talk to me like that, young lady. I’m still your mother. Ross, tell her.”
Ross looked heavenward. It was times like this when he especially missed his father.
“Ross! So glad you’re back. Talk some sense into her, will you?” Ross figured their mom had handed Suzie the phone so he could reprimand her. “A person doesn’t reach a milestone like this every day. We don’t get to do a golden anniversary with Dad gone”—he could hear the choked sound in the words—“so I think we should really do it up big for this. She’s just being unreasonable and stubborn.”
The corners of Ross’s mouth inched upward. He didn’t doubt the stubbornness had been two-sided all day long, if he knew his family.
Law school should have offered more classes in family mediation.
“Suz, listen. We’ll do what we can to make it nice and memorable, but it sounds like Mom’s getting a little overwhelmed. I just got in today—we’ll talk in the next day or two, you, me, and Jack, and I’m sure we’ll come up with something nice, and we’ll still have time to get out the invites. Let me talk to Mom again.”
“Okay, but before you do, I talked to Megan Howard. Did you listen to your phone messages?”
“Yup.” He ladled out more soup, heavy on the homemade noodles.
“Well, Megan talked to Ashley—she’s Megan’s sister-in-law—and Ashley says she wants to meet you, but, of course, who wouldn’t.” Suzie paused, expecting a reaction of some kind from Ross. He just took another bite of soup. “So I told Megan I would send her an invitation to Mom’s birthday party, and she’s going to bring Ashley so you two can meet.”
Ross coughed on a piece of chicken. “Whoa, Suz, back up. I thought we just agreed to talk about the party plans tomorrow, and I’m pretty sure Mom would rather this be a nice, intimate, family gathering. Maybe meeting this Ashley at another time would be better.” He would do whatever it took to get out of this forced lineup with an audience, a large audience to boot, everyone watching him with high, hopeful expectations.
He heard her quick exhale of breath. “You made a promise to Mom and Dad, and we are making darn sure you keep it.”
He wished his promise wouldn’t keep rearing its ugly head at him. A few of those heads actually had been ugly too, as his tenacious matchmakers seemed to be dragging over every available female within a hundred miles to parade in front of him. A very skinny radiology tech with questionable hygiene came to mind. She’d talked incessantly about her cats. He’d let Suzie have it after that one. Did she not know her own brother at all?
There was enough soup left for a quick snack tomorrow. And it was time to end this particular conversation.
“I haven’t forgotten my promise to Mom and Dad, Suz. I’m just not sure it’s a good idea to set something up during Mom’s party when I would rather concentrate on her. Let me talk to Mom again.”
He knew his sister well enough to know he really hadn’t won this battle; he had only bought himself a little time. He could hear her murmuring on the other end of the line.
“Here’s Mom. Just remember, Ross, nothing would be a better birthday present for her than for you to get married.”
All right. She wasn’t going to let it drop. It was time to enforce a few of his own rules. “I haven’t forgotten what I told Mom, Susan. But as an attorney, I am forced to remind you that the particular clause of my promise dealing with lineups does not go into effect until I am forty. That being said, I will endure the well-meaning introduction on occasion. But I am not going to bind myself permanently to or endure a social engagement with just any warm body that happens to be available. I have definite standards, and I expect that if I am to endure these imposed introductions, you all try to adhere to those standards.”
“Those being?”
“Well, more than merely being female and breathing, for a start. Attractive. Beautiful, preferably. Intelligent, college educated. That means college degrees. Advanced degrees wouldn’t hurt. Successful in her chosen career. LDS, of course. Family oriented. Likes children. Young enough for us to have children of our own but not so young that I have to babysit her as well.” He paused. “Single, never married.” It didn’t sit comfortably with him to think that he might be compared to a past husband.
“Let me see if I have this straight, Ross.” He could hear the sarcasm in Susan’s voice. It hissed loud and clear through her clenched teeth. “We’ll be looking for a beauty pageant winner who was a college valedictorian and is now a self-made millionaire but she’s willing to give up everything to become barefoot and pregnant for you.”
Ross stuffed the last of his roll in his mouth.
“Just a little clarification—does pageant runner-up count?” she continued. “What if she wasn’t valedictorian but is a member of MENSA? What if she has two undergraduate degrees but no postgraduate work? What if her portfolio took a dive, and she is only fabulously wealthy instead of filthy rich? What age is old enough to be mature and young enough to be sufficiently fertile?”
Ross swallowed the roll and waited for Susan to catch her breath. “Not up to the task, sis?”
“Oh, I’m up to the task, but now I know exactly how I need to describe you to these women when I ask them if they’d like to meet you.”
“You’ll say I’m your smart, successful, good-looking older brother?” He knew it was a smart-aleck answer, and he could tell Susan wasn’t in a great frame of mind, but he didn’t really expect that a day spent haggling with their mother would push his sister to the edge of her patience. It didn’t compare to two weeks with the German Angels or his hellish night flying the friendly skies.
“More like, you’re my older brother, getting older by the day. You are so smart you won’t allow yourself to look
the fool. You are so successful you set standards too high for others to reach, and that absolves you of ever making a mistake. You used to be fun and have a sense of humor, but now you are so rigid they could use you as a template for yardsticks.” She paused, and Ross heard her sigh. “You aren’t really serious about all that stuff, are you?”
Her assessment of him was a little too close to the mark for Ross’s ego and comfort. And not feeling altogether patient on the subject himself, Ross remembered every lineup his sisters and friends had made him suffer through. He remembered every cookie, every casserole, every homemade card, and every apple pie from what seemed like every LDS girl he’d ever met. Then he remembered all the other girls and everything they had offered. They hadn’t been offering cookies. He’d had to set standards, build those walls his coworker Allen had accused him of.
“I’m serious, Suz. I really won’t be settling for anything less. But I’ll keep my end of the bargain. If you’ll use discretion, I’ll be the epitome of politeness. Now let me speak to Mom.”
“All right. I’ll be more selective if you’ll loosen up a bit. Here’s Mom.”
“What is it, Ross, dear?” His mother’s voice had a low, gravelly quality that was somehow soothing, like the rough tongue of a mother cat.
“Nothing, beautiful.” Ross rinsed his bowl and stuck it in the dishwasher. Susan had been with their mother all day. That ruled out both of them as the soup donors. “Just wanted to say I love you before hanging up. I’ll see you soon.”
“I hope we can get on top of all of these party plans. I keep telling Susan I want simple, simple! But she brushes me off and comes up with more names for the invitation list. The idea of so many people coming over to my house, Ross! The walls should be washed, the carpets! Those big windows on the west side will get all the sun, and every single water spot will show.”
“Don’t worry, Mom; let us deal with all of that. You are the guest of honor, not the hostess, even if it is in your own home. Relax; make a list when you see something that needs doing. Suz and Jack and I will take care of things or find someone who can. Talk to you soon.”
One last phone call before he called it quits and got his schedule organized. Scrolling through the contact list on his cell phone, he located the number for Esther Johnson, his housekeeper, and called her from his landline. She picked up right away.
“Mrs. Johnson, this is Ross McConnell.”
He heard her quick intake of breath. “Mr. McConnell, you’re back in town. I hope you got my message.” He could hear the worry in her voice.
“I did. I guess my first question is, how is Mr. Johnson?”
After a quick rundown on Esther’s husband, Ross said, “You mentioned the name of the person who has been cleaning my home. I wonder if you can give me her phone number. And an address if you have one.”
Esther produced both for him. “I hope there isn’t a problem, Mr. McConnell. I was in a bit of a tight spot when I first called her, what with Burt going into surgery. I didn’t feel right about sending a total stranger though, and I did manage to meet her later that week. I figured if I met her, I would be able to tell if she was on the up and up, you know? Her references sounded good, but you never can tell about those things.” She paused. He was sure she was waiting for some form of reprimand. When it didn’t come, she continued. “Mrs. Forrester seemed very honest. I’m sorry, Mr. McConnell, if you feel I betrayed your trust. Mrs. Forrester called me today and said you weren’t happy with the arrangements. If you need me to find someone else—”
“Bad timing, Mrs. Johnson, that’s all. Let me worry about that; you worry about taking care of Mr. Johnson, okay? I’m sure I can work things out at this end. When exactly did this Mrs. Forrester start working?” He was sure he owed both women money. After ironing out the details with Esther, he looked out the kitchen window, then glanced at his watch. It was early evening, even though it was getting darker faster these days. He decided it was still early enough to run one small errand.
Chapter 9
The best way to overcome setbacks, Natalie thought, was with chocolate. She could really use some right about now. Chocolate chip cookies, fresh from the oven, the chips warm and melting through each soft, chewy bite, would work. Opening the can of fudge frosting she had hidden from the girls in the back of the pantry would be good too. Rocky road ice cream could do it. However, her kitchen was teeming with giggling teenagers up to their elbows in sugar-cookie dough. Not chocolate chip. The girls’-choice dance at the high school was in November, and Emma and a few of her friends were decorating freshly frosted cookies with candy shots, spelling out their names so they could ask the boys to the dance. The last few batches of cookies were on the cookie sheets awaiting their turn in the oven, or cooling, so the girls had temporarily abandoned decorating the cookies so they could decorate each other with flour.
Natalie’s wonderful day of freedom had turned into a nightmare. First, the new boss she’d never met until today had caught her—not working diligently scouring toilets and detailing the grout in his kitchen tile with a toothbrush but tap dancing. Tap dancing! Her face flushed instantly at the memory. This great extra job she’d hoped would pay amazingly well was toast now, she was sure. A high-powered attorney like Mr. McConnell would want an actual housekeeper, not a whirling dervish or a really bad I Love Lucy episode.
Then she had come home to find a voice mail message from her ex-husband. He’d said he knew he’d promised to help financially with Ryan’s mission, but he and Sandy decided to remodel their kitchen, and it didn’t look like he’d be able to help now. Sorry. Wade wasn’t Ryan’s real father, but Ryan had only been a toddler when Natalie had married Wade, and Wade and Ryan had formed a bond as the two males in the family . . . If Ryan were to find out, Natalie was sure it would break his heart. At the very least, it meant she would be lucky if she could save even a little each month, maybe only taking one class each semester. She would just have to get through school more slowly, after Ryan got home from his mission. It would have to do for now.
She had still been mulling over Wade’s phone call and the pathetic role men seemed to play in her life when it dawned on her that the angry bear of a man who had threatened her that morning hadn’t looked well. He’d been sleeping in his clothes, obviously, and his coloring had been a little green, not that she’d had a lot of time to really study his appearance. She’d been too mortified; her adrenaline from the shock had been off the charts. To make amends, Natalie had decided she’d make some chicken noodle soup for her and the girls and sneak some into his refrigerator. Not that she would tell him it was from her—that would be groveling. But it would ease her conscience a little at being caught derelict in her duties.
Natalie’s thoughts came back to the present when a handful of flour exploded next to her nose and Emma and her friends Kate, Heather, and Tess squealed. In addition to the girls, Natalie’s kitchen was also decorated with flour and pink frosting. As was Natalie. She couldn’t help grinning at the girls as she brushed a hand across her cheek, sending up a cloud of flour. If she couldn’t overcome setbacks with chocolate, who was to say a good food fight wouldn’t work just as well?
Emma lobbed another huge salvo of flour at Natalie. Natalie blinked the worst of it from her eyes. She was covered from head to foot in flour, her hair and face coated with the stuff.
Emma bent over like an old woman and hobbled after Natalie. “You look like a granny!” she said in a squeaky voice. The other girls shrieked with laughter.
“Says you,” Natalie replied, then chucked a handful of flour back at Emma.
Callie had been working on a big homework project at a friend’s house and was missing all the action—at least until she walked through the kitchen door and got a fistful of flour in her face from Tess, Emma’s best friend. Snorting flour like a baby dragon, she immediately grabbed a wad of dough from the nearest cookie sheet and mashed it on Tess’s head.
Chuckling, Natalie scooped a bowlful of soup f
rom the still-simmering pot on the stove and set it on the counter—away from the shenanigans. “Here’s dinner, Cal-pal. Eat up.”
Callie noticed Natalie for the first time and sent up a shrieking laugh, pointing at her.
Not to be outdone, Tess pulled the wad of dough from her hair and fashioned a goatee out of it around her mouth. It stuck amazingly well. In a wobbly tenor, she crooned, “Then I’m an old gramps.” She linked arms with Natalie and waggled her eyebrows. “You’re looking mighty tasty there, missy!”
Natalie grinned and dished out soup for the other girls. Tess grabbed a spoon and, still in old-geezer mode, intentionally let soup dribble down her chin.
“Tess, you are so gross!” Heather exclaimed as she sat at a kitchen stool and tried to form a false nose on her face out of cookie dough.
“You should talk,” Emma replied to Heather, laughing. “You should see yourself. Come on, Kate, let’s go get the hand mirror.” She grabbed Kate by the elbow and dragged her down the hall to the bathroom.
“I knows what I’m doing,” Heather yelled after them. “Get it? Nose what I’m doing?”
Natalie could hear the answering groans from down the hall.
The doorbell rang just as the oven timer buzzed, so Natalie, still grinning, bent over to pull the cookies out of the oven. “Get the door, will you, Cal?” Giggling, Callie ran to answer it. Natalie set the sheet on top of the stove and grabbed the spatula to start moving the sugar cookies to the cooling rack. Sensing a change in atmosphere—as in from total silliness to utter silence—she paused, spatula midair, and turned. And gasped.
Standing in the kitchen doorway, hands shoved deep into his pockets, was a man—a not-totally-unfamiliar-looking man—but then again, Natalie was momentarily disoriented. Men didn’t show up unannounced on her doorstep. She could count the number of men who had ever shown up at her house on one hand, and this man wasn’t Wade, Gorilla Doug, or the disgusting Mr. Childs. This man was tall, with dark brown hair and eyes. His shoulders were broad, and his muscles were well defined under the baby-blue polo shirt he wore. He had a bemused expression on his face, but there were a few crinkles at the sides of his eyes.