by Mata Elliott
“Thank you for welcoming him into our home,” Trevor said.
“Derek’s a good kid, and I despise the way Trudy treats him. He doesn’t deserve it. No child does.”
“I told Derek he had you pegged wrong.” Trevor smiled lightly. “The boy thought you didn’t like him.”
“I’ve always liked Derek”—Cassidy clutched the pillow lengthwise—“but I haven’t done a very good job of showing it.”
Trevor gazed into Cassidy’s eyes, looking for explanation.
“Derek looks so much like Minister that I actually see Minister when I look at Derek. But that’s my problem, not Derek’s.”
Trevor had heard the name “Minister” from Cassidy only once. He was somebody she’d met in college, a first serious boyfriend.
Now the instinct in Trevor’s gut and the conflict in Cassidy’s eyes suggested there were more chapters to the story about Minister. Trevor eased one of her hands from the pillow. “Would you like to talk about him?” he asked.
Cassidy clasped his fingers tighter, focused on his eyes, and parted her lips preparing to speak as Brandi let out a playful yelp. Trevor felt disappointment as what Cassidy was about to reveal sprinted back to the place where she kept her secrets. “I should get the girls out of Derek’s room so he can relax,” she said quietly, and walked away from Trevor and the question.
chapter thirty-six
Summer moved forward with sunny mornings, stormy afternoons, and humid nights. With Trudy’s permission, Trevor had sent Derek on the church youth retreat, a two-week stint in the wilderness that would afford Derek a change of routine, the right to breathe something other than city air, a chance to make new friends, and an opportunity to grow deeper in God.
Gripping the newspaper, Trevor retired to the living room, which Cassidy had redecorated in contemporary style. He sank into one of two plush and spacious chenille-fabric chairs that matched the sofa, love seat, and a huge ottoman. Brittney perched on the wide chair arm and leaned against his shoulder, and he opened the newspaper to the sports page. Cassidy and Trevor’s wedding portrait hung above the piano. Odessa’s rocker, which Cassidy kept in the guest room, was the only other piece of furniture Cassidy had brought along from her old house. Everything else had been donated to a local mission.
Cassidy joined Brandi on the piano bench. Brandi swung her small feet, excited about her lesson. As Brandi mastered “Mary Had a Little Lamb,” Trevor peeked over the edge of the open newspaper and regarded his wife. The majority of her braids were pinned up, but she’d left a few waterfalling along the side of her face. Her feet were bare, and she wore jeans and a short-sleeved shirt.
“Daddy, you’re not paying attention.” Brittney tapped him on the shoulder. They often took turns reading the paragraphs, and she reminded him, “Take your turn.”
He kissed her cheek. “Sorry. Where are we?” he asked. He followed her finger to the printed spot, read his part, and returned his thoughts to Cassidy. Although she’d committed to attending the marital counseling session with him and the pastor tomorrow, she hadn’t given any clues as to whether she’d changed her mind about seeing a therapist.
Trevor frowned as he worried about Cassidy. Most nights, she cooked the low-fat meals she preferred and he was growing accustomed to, yet she still wasn’t eating enough, the kids having more on their plates than Cassidy had on hers. Trevor didn’t know what Cassidy had eaten while in Denver, sure that if she ate there like she nibbled here, Oliver Toby had reprimanded her about it.
Brittney poked him with her elbow this time, and he took his turn, but if he’d been tested on his comprehension of the subject matter, he would have flunked. While Brittney read, Trevor clamped another glance on Cassidy and his younger daughter. From day one, Cassidy had loved and accepted the girls, referring to them as her daughters instead of her stepchildren. Cassidy’s maternal instincts were as natural as her beauty, and Trevor couldn’t think of anything more precious and holy than creating a child with her. During premarital counseling, she’d sanctioned the idea of having children with him. Now she was saying no to the prospect of pregnancy, and it left him feeling betrayed and rejected and worn-out with more questions. Why would Cassidy not want to have his baby? Was there something about him that led her to believe he was not a good father?
Brandi’s lesson normally lasted thirty minutes, but this evening it was chopped to fifteen as someone leaned a finger on the doorbell.
“I wonder who that is.” Brittney jumped down from the chair and sped to the front door.
“Do not open the door without looking out first,” Trevor called behind her.
Brittney looked through the side window and grinned. “It’s Auntie Kendall,” she screamed, and Brandi squealed as high as her vocal cords would take her.
Trevor unlocked and opened the right half of a glossy black double door.
“Hello, hello, hello,” Kendall McBride’s voice trumpeted through the large foyer. Brittney and Brandi rushed into her arms, between the shopping bags dangling from her wrists. Trevor was speechless and only able to blink as their surprise guest blew through his doorway.
Kendall put down her bags, dropped to her knees, and gave her godbabies kiss after kiss. When she was done, she stood up straight and stared at him. “Well, are you going to just stand there? Give me some of your love, too, gorgeous.” Her naturally gritty voice flowed over him as she made a half-moon with her arms. Trevor grinned, the way only Kendall could influence him to grin whenever she called him gorgeous. Brenda used to tease him about it.
Trevor stepped into the crescent shape of Kendall’s arms, sweeping her curvaceous, full figure into his, unable to ignore the striking scent of her perfume. He stepped back, and while Kendall smiled down at the children, he buried his hands in his pants pockets and gave her a discreet and rapid scan. Kendall’s heels put her close to the same height as Cassidy in bare feet. She wore a simple pair of black pants, not overly tight, but form-fitting, and a matching sleeveless vest with a V-collar leading to her cleavage. Beaded jewelry dangled from her ears, hugged her neck, and circled both wrists. A modest application of makeup accented smooth skin the color of earth just after a good rain. And her dyed-blond hair was cut as short as his. It was a style not every woman could pull off. Kendall wore it to perfection.
As if she could feel his perusal, her large brown eyes, as spectacular as he remembered, lifted and nested with his, and for one crisp second, Trevor desired to hold her again. “So how’ve you been, Kendall?” he succeeded in asking with casual air.
She walked forward, moistened his cheek with a lingering kiss, and whispered, “I’ve been just fine,” as the cabdriver appeared in the open doorway and cleared his throat. Trevor pulled a bill from his pants pocket and paid the man. “Thank you, gorgeous,” Kendall rasped, leaned close, and kissed Trevor’s other cheek.
Cassidy, who had taken the entire scene in from the living room, strolled into the foyer and halted near Trevor. She’d seen pictures of Kendall in the family album, so she’d known Kendall was an attractive woman. But pictures rarely captured the whole story, which was the case here. The living, breathing Kendall McBride was stunning.
“What’s inside all these bags?” Brandi bubbled, peeping inside the largest one.
Kendall flashed a flawless smile. “Honey love, why don’t you and your sis take them into the living room and find out?”
The girls joyfully obeyed, leaving the adults alone, and Trevor’s long fingers gently snaked around Cassidy’s elbow. “Kendall, I’m pleased to introduce you to my wife . . . Cassidy.”
Cassidy narrowed the space between her and the other woman and extended her hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. The children talk about you quite often.”
Kendall took Cassidy’s hand, but the shake was tepid and brief, on both their parts. “The pleasure’s mine,” Kendall said. She touched Trevor’s hand and remarked, “She’s lovely,” before strutting off.
An immediate strong dislike for
Kendall sharpened Cassidy’s temper. She followed their visitor into the living room. “Would you like to sit down?” Cassidy asked courteously.
“Oh, no,” Kendall said, kneeling on the plush carpet with the children. She had bought the girls a jewelry-making kit, a cosmetics-making kit, toy cell phones, CD Walkmans, and a stash of CDs. It was a bit extravagant, Cassidy assessed, but then again, Kendall was their godmother and Cassidy supposed godmothers splurged naturally, especially if they didn’t have children of their own.
Cassidy rested in one of the chenille chairs and watched the children play with their gifts. Trevor lowered himself onto the ottoman. It wasn’t long before Kendall got up off the floor and planted herself next to him, elbow-to-elbow, thigh-to-thigh.
“So what brings you to our half of the country?” Trevor asked as the girls quarreled over a CD.
“I came to see you,” she said, then rolled her twinkling gaze toward Cassidy, “and your new wife.” Kendall smiled at her, but Cassidy felt as if she’d been stabbed in the back. “On a serious note, though,” Kendall went on, “Granddaddy figured it was his time again. A couple of days ago, he had chest pains and was admitted for observation, and overreacting, he had Aunt Wynona call all the family in so he could impart dying words of wisdom. By the time I got to the hospital this evening, he was sitting up in bed, flirting with the nurses, and demanding that the doctor release him. I’ll be flying back to L.A. in the morning.”
“How’s Body Divine doing?”
“Wonderful. You know L.A. is America’s beauty kingdom. You can never have too many spas. How’s Seconds doing?” Before he could answer, she said, “I think the way you’ve decided to honor Brenda is fantastic.”
Trevor smiled. After much soul-searching, he’d decided to open Parent Place. It was a room in the bakery, open on Saturdays from eleven to two. It was set up like a café, and moms or dads who’d lost their spouse to death could come and sit or read while having a cup of coffee. A grief counselor from the church volunteered his services, and he was there for up to two hours to help anyone who needed it. Cassidy thought Parent Place was a wonderful creation, and she’d praised Trevor for it on several occasions.
Brandi’s eyes were happy and proud. “My daddy’s making a cookbook.”
“I’m thinking about it,” Trevor said.
“You should do it, gorgeous.”
Cassidy stiffened with resentment. That was the third time Kendall had called Trevor gorgeous. And the third time Trevor had strung that goofy-looking grin across his face.
“Thank Auntie Kendall for the presents,” he told the children.
“Thank you,” they chorused.
“I’d like to thank you for the crystal vase, Kendall. It’s beautiful.” Cassidy and Trevor had sent Kendall the traditional thank-you note following the wedding, but a bonus expression of appreciation seemed appropriate now that she was here.
“You’re welcome. Thank you for the DVD of the ceremony. I’m sorry I missed it.” Kendall ambled over to the wedding portrait.
“I’m glad you’re feeling better.”
“Yes. Much,” she answered Cassidy. Kendall moved a little to the left and studied one of the new paintings Cassidy had selected. “I see you’ve made quite a few changes to the living room.” She gazed at Cassidy. Cassidy thought she might have been reading too much into Kendall’s glance and comment, but it seemed as if Kendall wasn’t happy about Cassidy making changes to the house. Well, Brenda was gone, and Kendall would have to accept that the house belonged to Cassidy now. Trevor and the children hadn’t complained about any of the changes she had made to the rooms. And of course, Cassidy had been sensitive to Brandi’s and Brittney’s feelings and not altered their bedrooms, which Brenda had fixed up for them over the years.
“Can I get you something from the kitchen, Kendall?” Trevor asked.
“Now, there’s no way I could travel all these miles and not indulge in one of your delicacies.”
“Sweet potato pie, okay?”
Kendall showed her toothpaste-ad smile again. “Sounds delicious.”
“I’ll take care of it,” Cassidy said, seeking escape from the room.
When Cassidy returned, she placed an elegant silver tray on the glass cocktail table, then she and Kendall took seats on the sofa. The girls knelt on the carpet, one at each end of the table. Trevor poured the hot tea, put the girls’ milk-filled glasses on the coasters Cassidy had set out, and served the pie before sitting in one of the chairs facing the women.
Kendall steadied her eyesight on Cassidy. “Aren’t you having any pie?”
Brandi swallowed the glob of pie in her mouth, mak-ing a gulping sound. “Cassidy doesn’t eat sweet stuff.”
Kendall reared back in amazement. “Girl, you mean you don’t partake of this man’s culinary creations? Tell me how you can stand not to.”
Cassidy pulled her lips into a tight smile. “Somehow I manage.”
“Cassidy don’t eat french fries, either,” Brandi chattered.
“Doesn’t eat,” Trevor corrected.
Brandi kept going, “And you hate pizza, right, Cassidy?”
“I don’t care for pizza,” Cassidy confirmed, passing Brandi the glass of milk her short arms couldn’t quite reach.
“Well, I guess that’s why you’re so trim. My body’s going to be at least five pounds heavier after eating this,” said Kendall.
A white mustache hung like a rainbow over Brandi’s top lip. “You’ve got big boobies like Mommy had.”
“Brandi,” Trevor cautioned, and Brittney giggled to the point of almost choking on her pie. Cassidy admonished both children with her eyes, and Brittney settled down.
“Would you like some more tea, Kendall?” Cassidy offered, surprised she was able to pump as much hospitality into her tone as she had.
“That would be lovely,” Kendall said.
Cassidy refilled Kendall’s cup as their guest had another bite of pie. Kendall smoothed her tongue over her top lip and rolled her eyes as if she had tiptoed into paradise. “Thank you,” she said to Cassidy, then picked up her teacup and sipped.
Cassidy watched Trevor shift in his seat and glance at the ceiling, trying to pretend he didn’t notice every time Kendall leaned herself over, giving him a flash of her “big boobies.”
“I used to tease Brenda,” Kendall said to Cassidy, “about how fat she was going to get once she married this man.” She looked at Trevor. “Do you remember how you used to bring those luscious desserts to Brenda’s dorm room when we were in college? Banana puddings, peach cobblers, double-decker pound cakes with thick creamy fudge frosting.” She glanced at Cassidy again. “Me and the other girls were so jealous of Brenda and her domesticated man.”
“What’s a domesticated man?”
“It’s a man that knows how to do more than make the babies,” Kendall answered Brittney.
“I thought the mommy made the babies.” Brandi’s eyes were bright with curiosity.
Kendall winked at the little girl. “Your parents will talk about it with you later.”
“Thanks, Kendall,” Trevor said lightheartedly.
Cassidy slid all the way back in her seat and crossed her arms. She stayed quiet mostly, listening as Kendall babbled about old times—memories that linked Kendall and Trevor. Before the first hour merged with the second, Cassidy had to admit she was envious of the camaraderie between Kendall and Trevor. She was thankful when Kendall finally announced she had to leave.
But more than an hour later, Kendall was still in the living room. “I can’t believe that cab’s not here.” Kendall peered at the small crystal clock on the end table. “It’s getting late, and I have an early flight tomorrow.”
Trevor stood. “Why don’t I take you back to the hotel?”
Cassidy stared at Trevor.
Kendall stared at him, too. “I don’t want to be a bother.”
“It’s no bother. Let me get my keys.”
“Okay.” She smiled.
“Are you ready?” Trevor asked, returning with his car keys and wallet.
Kendall kissed the girls repeatedly, and Brittney asked, “Can we go with you to the hotel, Daddy?”
“No, you may not. You have to be at day camp by eight o’clock tomorrow, so you’ll stay here and be in bed when I get back.”
“Aw, man,” Brittney mumbled.
“Our camp is going to a carnival tomorrow.” Brandi blasted Kendall with the news.
“That sounds like fun, sweet feet. I wish I could go.”
“We wish you could, too, Auntie Kendall.” Brittney hugged Kendall good-bye.
Kendall hugged the younger Monroe child next. “Thanks for a lovely evening,” she said to Cassidy moments later.
“It was nice having you,” Cassidy said with manufactured enthusiasm.
After Trevor and Kendall pulled off, Cassidy helped the children prepare for bed. Then she came downstairs and loaded the soiled china dishes on the tray and carried everything to the kitchen. She filled the stainless-steel sink with warm water and squeezed in pink detergent. Cassidy washed one plate and let it glide back into the sink, her hands collapsing as her concern mounted. The concept of Trevor being intimate with another woman had never pervaded her mind until she’d seen how he acted around Kendall tonight and how quick he’d been to offer her limousine service. Cassidy had heard it prophesized more than once that a man will eat out when he’s not getting fed at home. Last night, like so many nights before, Trevor had wanted to be close, but Cassidy had turned him away. So if her husband turned to Kendall, there was no one to blame but herself.
chapter thirty-seven