by Julia London
“Yes,” Riley said and immediately put down the blush.
Jane and Riley spent the morning looking for the shop—it wasn’t on Simpson Road as Carla had directed but on Sandhurst Road—and then discovered that Molly’s Closet had swimsuits for little girls. Not for teens, which Riley would be in a matter of days.
“Let’s get out of here,” Jane said softly and put down a truly horrible pink suit.
“Thank you,” Riley breathed and headed for the door.
In the car, Jane said, “Remind me never to ask Carla where to shop for swimsuits.”
“That was epic bad,” Riley agreed.
“Where is the closest mall?”
“You mean like Barton Creek?” Riley asked uncertainly.
“Yep. Like that. Where’s Barton Creek? In Austin?”
Riley nodded.
Jane glanced at the clock and sighed. “It’s too late to go today—we won’t have time to shop before we have to come back to get Levi.” She looked at Riley. “Tell you what. We’ll go early tomorrow and make a day of it.”
Riley’s face suddenly brightened. “Really?”
“Yes, really!” Jane said and started her car.
“Cool!” Riley said happily.
The radio station was blaring an ad, and Riley grimaced. “They’re always shouting like we’re deaf or something.” She punched a button and Janis Joplin came up, crooning “Piece of My Heart.”
Riley paused a moment, listening. “Who’s that?” she asked as Jane pulled out onto the road.
“Who’s that? That is Janis Joplin, the mother of rock and roll.”
“I never heard of her,” Riley said.
“Are you kidding?” Jane cried. “She’s classic. She was from Port Arthur. You know where that is, don’t you? Down near Corpus?”
They listened a few moments. “She has an epic voice,” Riley said. “Is she on the radio?”
“Not anymore. She died a long time ago, before even I was born.”
“What happened to her?”
Jane looked at Riley. “Heroin overdose. Janis had a rough life.”
“Why?”
“Well, I think because she was really gifted, but when she was growing up, kids in school gave her a hard time. She wasn’t part of the in-crowd, and they made fun of her.”
“Oh,” Riley said. “Like me.”
“I don’t think like you, Riley. But you know, it’s true that sometimes really talented people have a hard time fitting in because they’re not like all the rest. They’re special. You’re special. You’re really smart and you have a lot of talent. So was Janis. She went on to be a rock legend, paving the way for other female artists, like Madonna. But here is the difference—Janis had a lot of emotion in her and didn’t know how to release it in a positive way. A lot of people like her release it through music or art, and she did, too. But she dulled a lot of it with heroin. She destroyed herself with it. But I think it’s really cool to be different and talented and not one of the herd.”
“That’s really sad,” Riley said. “I like her voice.”
“You should see The Rose with Bette Midler. It’s the story of her life.”
They listened to the end of the song. When it was over, Jane turned down the volume. “So who do you like?”
“I don’t know,” Riley said. “I like Amy Winehouse. I like her voice. And I like Lady Gaga, too. I like her outfits.”
Jane laughed. “She’s very creative with them, isn’t she? She’s got a new song out, did you know?”
“No,” Riley said.
“Maybe we can download it later.”
“That would be awesome,” Riley agreed.
The rest of the morning with Riley was surprisingly easy. Even when Linda Gail called to suggest Friday as the date for the pool party, Riley was very cheerful in her announcement that she would not attend.
Jane, on the other hand, felt herself increasingly on edge. She was hoping to hear from Emma, and every time her phone rang, her heart skipped a beat. Only Emma did not call. Jane was the recipient of one wrong number, a call from Vickie asking where Jane bought the cute pair of boots she wore a few months ago, and the last from Tara.
“Hi, Jane, hope your day is going well,” Tara asked as if they were chatty friends.
“So far so good. What’s up?”
“Asher is going to be held up tonight, and he wondered, could you please feed the kids?”
Jane’s jaw dropped. He’d made it two whole workdays before breaking his promise to her that he’d not take advantage.
“Now, before you say anything, he is fully aware that you will not be happy with this, and he promises to make it up to you,” Tara added quickly.
“Really? How so?” Jane asked.
“Umm . . . I’d say that’s between the two of you. But honestly, Jane, he was blindsided this morning by a very big problem.”
Jane sighed heavenward, but she thought of how tired he’d looked the other night. “Okay,” she said reluctantly.
“Oh, great! Thanks so much, Jane!”
“But he owes me!” Jane reminded her.
“Sure, sure,” Tara said, but she was already hanging up.
Jane was inclined to be miffed, given her testy mood, but her other option for that evening’s entertainment was working on her thesis.
Her thesis only mocked her now. She couldn’t remember what she’d already written, couldn’t remember why she’d landed on children and loss as a topic. It was obviously too broad, too . . . uninspired. Watching the kids was a lot easier than trying to think her way out of that debacle.
At least Carla tried to make it easy for Jane by leaving a dish of fish and vegetables for them, but when Riley and Levi saw the dish, they both protested.
“But that’s dinner,” Jane said. “We don’t have anything else.”
“No, I don’t want it!” Levi insisted.
“Can’t you make something?” Riley asked.
“Me? Oh, you guys, I am horrible in the kitchen. You have no idea how horrible.”
“But you can make spaghetti,” Levi said hopefully.
“Everyone can make spaghetti,” Riley echoed.
Jane gazed at their expectant faces and sighed. “On one condition,” she said, pointing at them. “You’re both helping me.”
“Yeah!” Levi said and rushed into the pantry.
As they prepared the meal—Levi stirring the bottled sauce, and Riley making a salad—it occurred to Jane that this was the scene Susanna had seen most nights of her life. She would have stood where Jane was standing, watching her children, talking to them about their day. She would have seen her husband, too, when Asher had come in from work. This had been hers. A perfect picture. Susanna Price must have been a very happy woman.
Jane and Levi were playing Chutes and Ladders, and Riley, who had deigned to grace them with her presence that evening, was painting her nails blue when Asher arrived home at a quarter to nine.
Levi heard his car and bounded for the door just as Asher walked through. He put down his briefcase and kissed the top of Levi’s head. “How was camp today, kiddo?”
“Good,” Levi said, and followed him into the den.
“Hey, baby girl,” Asher said, running his hand over the top of Riley’s head. He paused, looking down at her fingers.
“It will come off, Dad. Don’t freak,” Riley said, lifting her head when he leaned down to kiss her cheek.
“I won’t freak,” he promised her and collapsed into a chair. He smiled ruefully at Jane. “Thanks,” he said, loosening his tie. “I owe you. Again.”
He looked exhausted, and Jane took pity on him. “Do you want something to eat?” she asked.
His expression was one of sheer gratitude. “Do you mind? I’m beat and I’m starving.”
“Carla made fish. But they ate spaghetti.”
He grinned. “Fish is perfect. Thanks.”
As Jane warmed a plate, the kids chattered away—Levi about camp, Riley abou
t how lame Molly’s Closet had been. Levi began to tell how Jackson had been stung by a bee at camp today, and mimicked his cry. Jane laughed and looked up; her gaze met Asher’s. She realized he was watching her, and a flush spread quickly through her body. He held her gaze a moment before turning his attention back to his son.
A little flutter tickled Jane’s belly. “Soup’s on,” she said, her eyes on the plate.
“Great,” Asher said.
He walked into the kitchen and Jane offered him the plate. When Asher took it, his fingers brushed hers, and Jane felt that touch spark all the way to her toes.
“Smells great,” Asher said. “Thanks for helping out, Jane. I know you need your space.”
“No problem. Really.” She pushed her hair back, wiped the countertop. “Another tough day, huh?”
“Definitely,” he sighed, taking a seat at the island. “Sometimes I wonder why I thought this would be a good business to get into.”
“I know the feeling,” Jane said.
“Don’t you like teaching?” he asked, forking a bite of fish.
Jane hesitated. She didn’t know anymore. She couldn’t remember all the fine details of why she’d become a teacher. Everything had felt so fluid and up in the air for so long that she didn’t know what she liked or disliked.
Asher looked up, expecting an answer.
“I don’t know,” she said. “Maybe. I mean, I love the kids. And I love to see them learn, but for me . . . I don’t know. I feel like I’ve been looking for the right fit . . .” Her voice trailed off. It was too difficult to explain.
“What about the degree you’re working toward? Is that what you want to do?”
“Child psychology?” She laughed sheepishly. “I’m not even sure about that anymore. I’m not making the progress I ought to be making—” She fluttered her fingers at her head. “Can’t seem to find my mojo. Does that ever happen to you? Do you ever lack creative juice?”
He considered that as he took a bite. “Not really,” he said with a shake of his head. “For me, work has become my sanctuary.”
Sanctuary. What an interesting choice of words. And what an interesting sanctuary his work was, seeing as how it seemed to be eating him alive. What sort of refuge was that? And a refuge from what, exactly?
“Jane, I can’t make this turn!” Levi cried, fussing with one of his Transformers. Jane helped him transform the robot back into a motorcycle. When she was done, Asher was standing.
“Thanks for this, Jane. I feel like a new man,” he said. “If you want to go, I’ll take it from here.”
Jane blinked. She looked around. “I’ll clean up. You’ve had a long day.”
“So have you,” he said. “And you’ve already gone above and beyond. We’ll be fine here. The kids will help me.”
“Not me,” Riley said instantly.
“Especially you, smartypants.” He smiled at Jane. “See you tomorrow, right?”
“Okay,” Jane said uncertainly. She didn’t want to go. She wanted to remain in this perfect picture.
“Bye, Jane!” Levi said. Riley waved her blue fingers at Jane.
Asher opened the door for her. She stepped past him, her body moving dangerously close to his. She looked back at him. “Good night,” he said softly, his gaze on hers, and Jane felt that little flutter again.
“Good night.” She walked on. But halfway to the guesthouse, she glanced back, saw Asher in the kitchen with Riley and Levi. Levi was leaning across the island, and Riley was holding out her hands, examining her fingers, while Asher put his dishes in the dishwasher. He was talking to them, no doubt asking after their day. It was a little fairy tale in there, and Jane hadn’t realized that she’d even wanted in on a fairy tale.
She turned away and walked on. “Don’t kid yourself, Janey,” she muttered. No matter how much she imagined to the contrary, she was the nanny here. Nothing more.
18
Riley, in fine spirits, was up before everyone the next morning, ready for a trip to Barton Creek Mall in Austin. She hurried Levi through his waffles and up to his room, then chastised Jane for not moving faster.
“You know that Barton Creek will be there all day, right?” Jane asked laughingly after they dropped Levi off. She’d downloaded some Lady Gaga and Amy Winehouse for them to listen to on the way into Austin.
“Right, but we don’t have all day. And I don’t want to miss any time, because I never get to go there, not since Mom died,” Riley said. “Dad’s never around to take me.”
“So you like to shop, huh?”
Riley shrugged. “I guess. It was fun to shop with Mom. She liked to buy stuff for me.”
Jane wondered if she’d bought six of everything for Riley.
“Once she took me out of school and we went to the mall and bought a bunch of clothes, and then we went to Six Flags in San Antonio,” Riley said.
“She took you out of school for that, huh?” Jane asked. She had parents like that, parents who thought nothing of taking their kids on little excursions instead of leaving them in school.
“It was awesome.” Riley giggled. “Dad was so mad.”
“How come?”
“Because he didn’t know where we were. Mom forgot to tell him. And we didn’t come back until the next day. But Dad . . . you know, he doesn’t like stuff like that. He’s not fun like Mom was. Mom was cool.”
She forgot to tell him? Jane looked at Riley, who was twisting her hair around her finger. “I wish I had a sister,” Riley said suddenly and looked at Jane.
“Me, too.”
Riley stopped twisting her hair. “Do you have a brother?”
“I have two,” Jane said. “Matt and Eric. They’re younger than me and they both work at the restaurant.”
“What restaurant?”
“The Garden,” Jane said. “It’s the restaurant my family owns and operates in Houston. President Bush eats there sometimes.”
Riley’s jaw dropped. “Your family owns a restaurant?”
“What?” Jane asked. “Is that weird?”
“I mean . . . no offense, but your spaghetti wasn’t that good.”
Jane couldn’t help laughing. “Hey, I warned you—I am a terrible cook. But I’m adopted, remember? I don’t have the cooking gene.”
“So what’s that like, being adopted?” Riley asked.
Jane shrugged. “It never bothered me. I have a great family and we’re all very close. But sometimes . . .” She looked at Riley again. “Sometimes, it feels a little like you’re outside looking in through the window.”
“That’s totally weird,” Riley said.
She asked Jane more questions about her life in Houston. Jane told her about Nicole, and about teaching second grade, which seemed to interest Riley. She laughed when Jane told her some stories about her kids, like Trystan Walsh, who had an obsession with Hannah Montana, and Lily Criswell, who was double-jointed and would sit at her desk with her legs folded back.
Riley’s good mood was infectious. But once they reached Barton Creek Mall, her good humor dissolved with her impossible standards. By lunchtime, Jane and Riley had been to half a dozen stores with no luck in their search for a new bathing suit. They were all too yucky for Miss Riley Price.
At one of their last prospects for suits, Jane found a cute bikini in blue plaid, which seemed to be all the rage this year. She showed it to Riley.
“No,” Riley said.
Jane sighed. “Okay, look, Riley. The Graebers are coming over whether you want them to or not. Are you going to sit on the edge of the pool dressed in black jeans and a hoodie?”
“Maybe.”
“Come on, give me a break. Look, I’ll make you a deal. You find a swimsuit and promise me you’ll wear it, and I’ll take you to get a henna tattoo.”
That brought Riley’s head up. “Really?”
“Really.”
“Dad would kill me.”
Jane winked. “He’s never here, remember?”
Riley suddenly
grinned. “What’s your tattoo?” she asked.
“A Celtic cross.”
“Mom had a half moon with stars around it on her shoulder. She and Dad always say they love us to the moon and back, and she said that’s why she got the moon and the stars, to remind her how much she loved me.” Riley looked at the swimsuit. “That’s what I want, too, the half moon and the stars. Okay?”
Jane held out the swimsuit. “You know the deal, so you tell me if it’s okay.”
“Deal,” Riley said. She snatched the plaid swimsuit Jane was holding and disappeared into the fitting rooms.
An hour later, Jane carried a bathing suit that looked fantastic on Riley and another one she’d picked up for herself.
In the car, Riley leaned over to admire the tiny henna moon and star pattern on her ankle. “I can do that, you know,” she said. “I can draw pretty good.”
“I know. Levi told me. Do you draw now?”
Riley’s expression changed almost imperceptibly, but Jane noticed it. “Not really,” she said and bent over her lap, her hair sliding down to hide her face. “I wasn’t as good as Mom. She was a real artist.”
“I bet she started out by drawing.”
“No, it wasn’t like that. Mom was really good.”
If you liked the sort of overdone paintings Jane had seen. “Do you have a sketchbook?” Jane asked. “I know a cool website where you can get a bunch of different ones.”
Riley shifted her gaze out the window. “I don’t want to talk about that now.”
She didn’t want to talk about sketchbooks? Why did that make her uncomfortable? Jane wanted to ask more, but her cell phone buzzed.
“Miss Aaron?” a woman said when Jane answered. “This is Charlotte, from the explorer day camp?”
“Is Levi okay?” Jane asked instantly, imagining Levi lying on the ground, his leg broken. Or worse.
“He’s fine. But I must ask that you come get him. He threw a rock at a child.”
“He what?”
“He can’t stay the rest of the day. In fact, I need to talk to his father about his continued participation in our camp.”
“Wait—did something happen to him? Did someone say something to him?”
“He and Jackson Harvey had words again, but I can assure you we are dealing with Jackson just as firmly. Is Levi’s father somewhere I can reach him?”