It was when she bent to kiss Avery that she noticed what he was wearing. “Is Avery going to clown school today?” she asked. Then she wanted to bite her tongue. Would she never learn to stop being negative?
But Will just laughed. “Not a great combo, I admit. But Avery picked it, didn’t you, pal?” He plopped a wad of gray slime into her bowl. It was like oatmeal, but worse, and she had never been able to eat oatmeal without gagging. There was no way she could eat it and no way she couldn’t. Will sat back down and resumed feeding Avery, who seemed to love the slime. Of course, Avery loved everything Will did.
“We don’t have any chocolate milk,” Will said. “I had to go down to the Heavenly Confections kitchen and steal chocolate syrup from Lanie to make some for Avery.”
“You did what?” Arabelle stopped with her coffee cup in midair.
“I didn’t think she’d mind. I just took a little. I’ll give her a dollar if you think it’s a problem.”
Arabelle shook her head. “What possessed you to give Avery chocolate milk?”
Will frowned. “He asked for it. Should I not have?”
As if he knew what this discussion was about, Avery grabbed his sippy cup and turned it up, sucking every drop down like a drunk on an island with the last dram of rum that would ever be made.
Arabelle willed herself to be patient. These things took time. “It’s a lot of sugar, Will. Avery always asks for it after spending time with my father. He plies Emma, John Luke, and Avery with chocolate milk to make them love him.”
“Does it work?” Will raised an eyebrow, got up, and began to load the dishwasher.
“Yes.” She folded her napkin into her lap and picked up her spoon. “But don’t get any ideas. Avery already loves you plenty.” She dipped her spoon into the mess in her bowl. Might as well get it over with. But something stopped her. There was a stillness in the air.
She looked up and Will’s green eyes were wide and his lips parted. “Do you think so, Arabelle? Do you really think that’s true?” His voice was a whisper.
She put down her spoon. “Yes, Will. I do. He adores you.”
Will nodded. “I thought maybe it’s just that I’m new … And I buy him trucks.”
It was the honest angel dancing on her shoulder that forced her to say, “No. Avery doesn’t like new. He likes what he knows, what’s familiar. It was different when you walked in. He took to you.” She looked at her coffee cup. “It was almost like he knew.” She swallowed. “Sometimes I feel like the odd woman out.”
Will shook his head. “I’ll never catch up. I’ll never have what you had. But I have let that go. This isn’t a contest.”
“I doubt you have let it go. And sure, this is a contest,” she said. “I agree that it shouldn’t be but we both feel it.”
He nodded. “Maybe you’re right. But we need to try to get past that.”
“Yes,” she agreed. “What’s important is what’s best for Avery.”
“Absolutely.” He reached across the table and took her hand. “The best thing we can do for Avery is to be good to each other. I’m going to do that. And I hope you will too.”
It would have been wistful thinking to hope they could do that for the sake of each other. But still, the idea of less strife, for whatever reason, lightened her heart. “I feel like this is the most honest conversation we’ve ever had.”
He smiled. Slow. Sweet. Kind. “This is where we start.”
Avery slammed his sippy cup down. “Chocolate milk!”
“No!” Arabelle and Will said in unison. And they laughed, even if Avery didn’t.
His hand still on hers, Will ended the laugh and squeezed her hand. “I’m headed to the woods to work. I’ll drop Avery off across the hall.”
“No—” That was her job. But wasn’t that contrary to what they had just agreed to?
Will lifted Avery from the highchair. “Arabelle. He’s eaten. He’s dressed, even if it’s for clown school. Allow yourself to eat and dress in peace.”
She nodded.
“Give your mama love.” Will put Avery in her arms.
As they walked away, Arabelle called, “Will. Be careful of your hand. Don’t do too much. And call me if you have any pain.”
He nodded.
Arabelle dumped her cereal down the garbage disposal and put her dishes in the dishwasher, where Will had already put his own and Avery’s. She thought again what a good thing it was that they were staying in this apartment. There were sure to be bumps ahead but maybe the worst was behind them. Here, in this safe, familiar environment, she could weather them.
She had forgotten how quickly she could shower and dress without worrying about what Avery might be doing. She was really going to work on not feeling threatened, but to appreciate the help. As she finished her makeup, her stomach growled. Lanie had baked goods delivered fresh every morning to sell with coffee. If she hurried, she could get a pastry to take with her to work before they were gone.
A little wave of shame went over her. She should thank Lanie for the help with the wedding and for keeping Avery while she and Will were gone. And maybe she’d ask when the next book club was. She couldn’t change everything in a day but she could start the change. Wasn’t that what she told her patients who needed to make healthier choices?
Feeling better than she had since before Will found out about Avery, she stepped out the door. She considered popping in across the hall for a last goodbye kiss for Avery, but thought better of it. He didn’t have a sense of time and if he saw her he might think it was lunchtime or, worse, the end of the day.
That’s when she saw the boxes. There were a dozen cardboard boxes stacked neatly against the wall. From the looks of them, they had come from candy making supply companies. Odd. Why would Lanie store supplies up here when she had a huge storeroom right off the candy kitchen? She lifted the lid of one. Empty. They all appeared to be empty. That made even less sense. Lanie always had boxes broken down and left to be recycled.
She shrugged and made her way to the bottom of the stairs where she met Phillip Pearce, who ran Lanie’s coffee bar and did marketing.
“Morning, Dr. Arabelle,” he said with a wink. He was way too charming. “Can I fix you a coffee to go? Mocha, skim milk, no whip, one pump?” Phillip prided himself on remembering everyone’s favorite order.
“That would be great, Phillip. And do you have a scone or a cinnamon roll left?”
“I have orange rolls this morning.”
“Even better,” she said.
“Sure thing. Did you see the boxes I left you?”
It almost got past her. She was already headed toward the kitchen where Lanie would be making candy, already planning what she would say. But she stopped.
“Boxes? For me?”
He nodded. “Not that anyone is trying to rush you. I still have a month and a half on my lease but Lanie said we should start saving boxes so you’d have plenty when you’re ready.”
“I see.” And she did. Lanie had assumed she was moving and had rented the apartment to Phillip.
He continued down the hall toward the storefront. “I’ll get that coffee and orange roll ready for you.”
Lanie was pouring hot syrup into heart shaped lollipop molds. She looked up and smiled. “I was surprised to see that you and Will stayed here last night.” She moved on to some molds shaped like lips. “Can you believe it’s almost Valentine’s Day?”
Arabelle did not point out that it was a good three weeks until then which did not constitute almost.
“Lanie,” she said evenly. “Did you rent my apartment to Phillip?”
“Yes!” Lanie said happily, still pouring syrup. “I was fretting about getting someone who wouldn’t complain about the kids across the hall—all the noise and comings and goings. Phillip said his lease was running out. He has one of those duplexes across town and he hasn’t been real happy there. Something about the plumbing. Anyway,” she babbled on, “Phillip has an MBA and he only promised to st
ay eighteen months when I hired him. He’s been here longer than that already and I’m thrilled that he’s willing to stay another year. And won’t it be great not to have to worry about someone complaining about the kids?” She put her empty pot down and met Arabelle’s eyes. “I want them to be able to play on the balcony once it gets warm and make all the noise they want. Phillip won’t care.”
“I see. When do you want me out?”
“There’s no hurry. I think Phillip has to pay rent where he is until March 1. I had assumed you’d want to move to Will’s house as soon as possible. What were the two of you thinking?”
“Soon,” she said. “This weekend.” Might as well.
She did not feel light anymore, or hopeful. She was going to have to take her child and move to an alien environment, to Daddy’s turf.
She left without saying any of the things to Lanie that she had intended to say and without remembering to get her coffee and orange roll.
• • •
Will left his workshop earlier than usual because he wanted to get back to the apartment and cook dinner before Arabelle got home. They had parted on a positive—even hopeful—note this morning and he wanted to keep that going. His plan was to run through the shower, fetch Avery from across the hall, and make vegetable lasagna.
But when he entered the apartment, it was clear he was not alone because there was music and other noises coming from Arabelle’s bedroom. She had her back to him and was folding clothes from her closet into a box. There were more boxes against the wall and the shelves that had held pictures, books, and other little trinkets were empty.
His heart sped up but he talked himself back to calm. Just yesterday, she had promised she wouldn’t take Avery and run. He needed to find out what was going on before he accused her.
“Hello,” he said.
She looked over her shoulder. “Oh. Hello. I didn’t hear you come in.” She finished folding a sweater, placed it in the box, and hit pause on the MP3 player. “I didn’t expect you this early.” She looked surprised to see him but not panicked and not guilty.
“I stopped work early. I thought I’d cook dinner, since you did last night.”
She resumed moving clothes from the closet to the box. “That’s nice. You should probably gradually ease into a full workday anyway. I’ll look at your hand later.”
Obviously he was going to have to come right out and ask her. “What’s going on here?” He gestured to the boxes stacked against the wall.
She sighed and placed a hand on her hip. “It would seem we are homeless.”
“Homeless?”
“Yes. Lanie assumed we were going to live in your house so she rented the apartment to Phillip.”
Relief surged through him. She wasn’t leaving and he wasn’t going to have to live in town. Maybe. Or maybe she intended to move to some other congested little place.
“So what’s the plan?” he asked, careful not to sound pleased.
But he didn’t fool her. “What do you think the plan is? You’re going to get what you want. We’re moving to the woods, this weekend if I can manage to get everything packed. I’m taking off a couple of hours here and there, while Avery’s not here.”
She didn’t look pleased but she didn’t look angry, either. She looked resigned. It was a familiar look.
“I’ll help you,” he said. The sooner they were packed, the sooner he could get out of this dollhouse and out of that miniature bed. And maybe he could get Arabelle into his bed, even if it was only to sleep. That would be progress. “Maybe it would be more productive if I use my time to pack instead of cooking dinner. We can get a pizza.”
She nodded. “There are empty boxes in the hall. Start with the DVDs and CDs. I don’t want to disassemble Avery’s room until the very last minute. All the books say that makes transition easier for a child.”
“Sure thing.” He waited until he left the room to smile. This would be better—so much better for all of them. He was sure of it.
Chapter Fourteen
It was Thursday night, almost two weeks since Arabelle had moved to the woods. The walk up the sidewalk to Tolly Scott’s front door was interminable. Not literally, of course. It just seemed that way because Arabelle did not want to go to book club. Will had made good on his promise to go to church and Rotary. Tonight, he had informed her he was taking Avery to the diner with the guys and the other kids while she was at book club—of course, without asking if she intended to go to book club. So here she was. Will had a point about giving Avery a normal life and she had come to terms with needing to be more social—but why did it have to be tonight? Today was Carrie’s birthday. No. It would have been Carrie’s birthday. And no one even knew that. If Luke remembered, he’d showed no signs of it when she saw him at the daycare apartment at lunchtime. He had picked up Emma at kindergarten and was in a fine frame of mind. She doubted if Lanie even knew it. And would Emma ever know when her mother’s birthday was? No, because it would be Lanie’s birthday she celebrated.
Tolly opened the door of her big, rambling, 1930s Tudor house. Her smile was sincere, if a bit reserved.
“Come in, Arabelle. I’m so glad you came.”
“Thank you for having me.”
So polite, so formal. She had seen the four of them greet each other and it was more like a middle school cheerleader reunion than lady of the manor admitting a tea party guest.
“It’s cold out.” Tolly led her down the hall to an inviting room with a fireplace and a wet bar. Two matching sofas flanked the fireplace with a large coffee table between. Missy and Lucy sat curled up on one of the sofas across from Lanie. The half empty wine glass indicated that Tolly had been seated beside Lanie. Cozy.
There was a chair at the end of table—a chair that did not belong there and was clearly meant for her. It had been dragged from a now empty corner and its present location upset the balance of the room.
“Arabelle,” Lucy said with some surprise. “I’m so glad you’re here.”
“Glad to be here.” She let herself down into the chair. At least it was comfortable.
“We were just getting ready to talk about the book.” Tolly put a glass of wine in her hand and settled back into her spot.
“Really?” Arabelle searched the faces around her. They never read a book. They used to, at least, pick out a book and pretend. They didn’t even do that anymore.
“No,” Lanie said. “But we were talking about how maybe we ought to get back to reading. You know, it’s January. Everyone is reasonably settled.”
That got a laugh from the room.
“Well, at least no one’s in crisis,” Lucy said.
“Speak for yourself,” Missy said, getting up to pour another round of wine. They were ahead of her.
Yeah, Lanie. Speak for yourself when you haven’t been blackmailed into marriage and been forced to move to the middle of nowhere, when someone else wasn’t calling all the shots. She shook off the thought. It wasn’t productive.
“And just what crisis are you having, Missy?” Lucy asked.
Good point. When had Missy Jackson Bragg had one bit of trouble?
“Lulu has no interest in toilet training but is refusing to wear a diaper and my washing machine broke down today. Believe me, the two do not make friendly companions.”
“That’s not a crisis,” Lucy said. “Those things are inconveniences.” She turned to Arabelle. “How are you enjoying your new house?”
Her new house? It took a second to realize that Lucy meant Will’s house. And, indeed, it was that. No house had ever been better suited to a human being and he’d been thrilled that she’d been forced to move in there—but she didn’t feel like it would ever be her house.
“It’s a beautiful house. Lots of space. Very nice.” And all those things were true. And it would be so nice if she could find a way to be comfortable there.
“It’s a work of art really,” Lucy agreed. “Such wonderful workmanship. Will doesn’t compromise on quality. I
t would win an award if he would allow someone in there to photograph it.”
“I’m going to photograph it,” Missy said. “And I’m going to tell everyone it’s mine, that I designed it. If there’s any money to be had, I’m going to win it.”
Lucy rolled her eyes at Missy but otherwise didn’t respond. “Brantley is thrilled that Will has agreed to work with him on the church in Sercey,” Lucy said.
Arabelle nodded. “He’s trying to finish up a few projects so he can give it his full attention. He was behind after hurting his hand.”
“Ah, the injury that brought the two of you back together,” Lanie said.
They had embroidered on the story and claimed that it was when he’d come into her office bleeding that they had decided they were wasting time and gotten engaged.
“I thought we’d get to see that house when Arabelle moved,” Lanie went on. “But they insisted they didn’t need any help.”
It was true. “Apart from Avery’s baby furniture, I didn’t own any of the furniture in that apartment. It was all Lanie’s.” Except for most of the bedrooms, Will’s house was mostly furnished anyway. Though the day they had moved in, she had been shocked when Will brought in a box containing an unassembled dining table and a set of chairs that he had bought at a big box discount store. Not his style at all.
“This is temporary,” he had said as he set about putting the table together. “I know it’s not nice but I just don’t have the time to build one right now or even commission one. And we need a place to eat. When my schedule clears up some, I’ll build what we want.” Of course, he meant what he wanted. He was so damned particular about what went in that shrine of a house. Though, to be fair, if he’d asked her what she wanted, she wouldn’t have been able to tell him.
Except for one thing, and she wasn’t getting that—though she’d been hopeful when they had agreed that she should share his room partly because there wasn’t another furnished bedroom and partly because it would look odd if she had a room of her own. But those were lame excuses and she had thought it was just a less awkward way to help them move a little closer toward the fire that was burning between them. But nothing. The galling part was that they slept together every night, never touching, and it didn’t bother him one bit. So maybe the fire was only hers. That made her feel pitiful and desperate.
Secrets Gone South (Crimson Romance) Page 14