Ashley let herself in through the back door that led to the kitchen.
“Perfect timing. Lunch is almost ready,” Sylvia Manning, resident housemother, said while she cut tomatoes for a salad.
“Sorry I’m late. The meeting ran long, and then the flat tire set me back a bit.”
“No worries. All’s good here, but Tanya mentioned something I wanted to run by you.” Sylvia took eleven bowls down from the cabinet and set them on the island.
Ashley dropped her bag on a chair, hopped up on a stool, and snagged a carrot stick. “Oh? What’s up?”
“There’s been another Randy encounter,” Sylvia said.
Randy was Tanya’s ex and the father of her baby. An alcoholic, drug user, and dealer, Randy also got off on knocking Tanya around when he was high or drunk. Although Tanya had cut off ties prior to when she came to New Beginnings five months ago, it was the second time she’d run into Randy this month—something that didn’t sit well with Ashley.
“Where this time?” Ashley asked.
“Outside the library. Walter cut him off before he could talk to her,” Sylvia said.
Walter was Sylvia’s husband and stood a formidable six foot five. No one was getting anything past Walter.
Ashley crunched on the carrot and frowned. “I don’t believe in coincidences. We need to find out more about this Randy person. After lunch I’ll talk with Tanya. Maybe we should file a restraining order against him.”
“That may be a help, but what happens if Walter isn’t around the next time Randy shows up?”
Sylvia had a point. One of the programs they talked about starting was self-defense for pregnant women. Finding someone who could provide instruction was on Ashley’s long “to do” list.
“I’ll step up my research on self-defense programs. Later today, I’ll review tips on how to handle these situations with the girls.”
“That’d be good.”
Ashley stood. “I’m going to check voice mail.”
“Lunch in ten,” Sylvia said.
In her office, Ashley sat in her desk chair. After jotting down notes from four messages, she added more items to her list. Staying busy would keep her thoughts from straying to her encounter with Nick.
Something she couldn’t avoid much longer.
Pulling out her smartphone, she shot a text to Patty asking if she was free after dinner.
Ashley had made a bad decision and now needed to figure out how to break the news to both Sean and Nick. Patty was the only other person who knew Sean’s father. Hopefully between the two of them, they’d come up with a plan for telling them.
In the meantime, Ashley needed to stay far away from Nick DiFrancesco.
****
Nick pulled into the lot of Chartwell Academy and parked. The private school was out of his way but close to the house Franny and the kids had moved into with her boyfriend over the summer. Nick hadn’t seen the need for a fancy private school—public school had been good enough for both of them—but when Daniel Carmichael III offered to foot the bill for both Nick’s kids to attend Danny’s alma mater, Franny was like cheese on a pizza and wouldn’t take no for an answer.
He found Franny and Gina outside the principal’s office.
His ex gave him the once-over and rolled her eyes. “When was the last time you showered?”
His long work hours and frequent disheveled state had been a sticking point with Franny during their marriage.
He met her gaze with a steely one. “Why does it matter?”
Nick flicked a glance over to his fourteen-year-old daughter who sat on a chair, her arms crossed over her stomach. She had the long slender legs of her mother, brown curly hair of his sister, Kate, and a pout identical to his sister, Vicky, at the same age. From what Nick had experienced the past year, ever since Gina hit puberty, the teen was going to be a handful—also like Aunt Vicky. While Nick was accustomed to his sister, he was treading new water with his daughter.
“Hey, peanut. What’s going on?”
Gina took in her father’s appearance and gave an eye-roll similar to her mother’s and resumed staring at her sneakers.
Nick sighed, resigned that they were going to do this the hard way.
“The principal’s talking with the guidance counselor,” Franny said.
The door opened, and a woman who looked to be in her early thirties stood in the doorway. “Mr. and Mrs. DiFrancesco. I’m Ms. Peterson, one of the guidance counselors. Please come in.” She stood away from the door to allow them to enter.
A middle-aged man with dark blond hair sat behind a desk. He rose when they entered.
“Mr. and Mrs. DiFrancesco. I’m Robert O’Neil, headmaster here at Chartwell Academy.” Handshakes were exchanged, and Ms. Peterson joined Mr. O’Neil by his desk.
O’Neil…what were the odds?
Mr. O’Neil gestured to the chairs in front of his desk. “Please have a seat.”
Franny and Gina sat while Nick stood off to the side.
“I’m sorry to call you down here, but we need to discuss Gina’s behavior. It’s her third incident since school started a month ago,” Mr. O’Neil began.
Franny grasped Gina’s hand. “My daughter is fragile right now. Her father and I have just divorced, and she and I have recently moved into a new home.”
And in with her boyfriend who didn’t give a rat’s ass about Nick’s kids.
“While I agree Gina’s home environment is delicate, she needs to respect authority and school property,” Mr. O’Neil replied.
“She’ll own up to the damage to the school,” Nick replied. “What do you suggest for punishment?”
Shit, talk about an embarrassment to be a detective and have his daughter busted for vandalism. Wait until the guys at the precinct heard. Was this Gina’s way of getting attention? If so, she sure as hell did.
“She’ll need to clean the lockers, naturally,” Mr. O’Neil said.
“We also feel she needs an outlet for her creative energy,” Ms. Peterson added.
“Such as?” Nick asked.
“Working with the drama club on set design. She has artistic talent, and we’d like to help her channel it in a more productive manner,” Ms. Peterson replied.
Gina sat up and leaned forward. “I don’t want to hang out with drama geeks.”
“You’ll be working with the set crew and not the cast. I’m sure we can arrange with Mr. Carroll to give you something independent,” Ms. Peterson said.
“That seems reasonable, Gina,” Nick added.
In addition to the stubborn scowl on Gina’s face, Nick saw the firm set of her jaw. They were going to need to come up with something more effective than set crew and cleaning lockers to adjust her attitude.
“Plus a month of Saturday detentions,” Mr. O’Neil said.
“That’s ridiculous,” Franny snapped. “She’ll miss dance class.”
A large expense Nick didn’t think his daughter even cared about, which was confirmed when what looked like relief passed across Gina’s face.
“Gina needs to understand this type of behavior is serious. If another incident happens, more drastic measures will need to be taken, including suspension or expulsion from school,” Mr. O’Neil countered.
Franny jumped to her feel. “You have some nerve. My fiancé is paying primo dollars for my kids to come to your fancy school, and that’s in addition to the more than generous donations he gives the school each year.”
Fiancé? It seemed more than living arrangements were changing for his ex-wife. And he, for one, was bound and determined to prevent his children from expecting special treatment because their soon-to-be-stepfather had money.
“I have a suggestion,” Nick said. “My sister’s fiancé is working through Habitat for Humanity to replace the playground in Franklin Park. What if Gina worked off her detention hours volunteering there?”
Hadn’t his mom always said busy hands kept them out of trouble?
“We could have se
veral kids in detention each week,” Ms. Peterson said.
“Bring them all. The more the merrier.”
Ms. Peterson and the headmaster exchanged glances.
“Interesting idea, Mr. DiFrancesco. We’d have to get permission from the parents of the other students to participate, but I like the idea,” Mr. O’Neil replied.
“Great. I’ll get you the information,” Nick said.
“Gina, do you have any questions?” Mr. O’Neil asked.
Gina shook her head.
“Don’t you have something to say, Gina?” Nick said with a pointed glance.
Gina sighed when she met his gaze before turning to the principal. “I’m sorry, Mr. O’Neil, Ms. Peterson.”
It wasn’t the most gracious of apologies but would have to do.
“What about the other kid?” Franny asked. “Gina mentioned a boy was with her.”
Mr. O’Neil stiffened, and Ms. Peterson looked uncomfortable.
“The other student didn’t get caught doing damage to school property,” Mr. O’Neil said.
“How do you know he wasn’t the one who dared Gina to paint the mural?” Franny countered.
This was the first Nick heard of another student being involved.
“The other student will be questioned and dealt with appropriately,” Mr. O’Neil said. “I believe it prudent to handle your own child, Mrs. DiFrancesco, and let us worry about the rest of the student body.”
Nice job, Nick thought, and stepped forward. “Thanks for your time, and we apologize for Gina’s behavior.”
He held the door open for Franny and Gina and allowed them to exit before turning back to the headmaster. “By any chance are you related to Ashley O’Neil?”
Mr. O’Neil nodded. “Ashley’s my daughter. Do you know her?”
“We graduated high school together,” Nick said. He would have offered details about the flat tire, but he didn’t want Franny to overhear. Since their separation, he gave Franny as little information as possible about his private life.
After saying goodbye to Gina and Franny, Nick headed home. As he passed the spot where he’d seen Ashley, he thought back to how she looked in the short skirt and smiled.
She may have blown him off, but Nick was going to find a way to run into Ashley O’Neil again.
Soon.
Chapter Two
Ashley juggled two environmentally friendly grocery bags while unlocking the front door to her house. The quaint two-story Tudor was nestled in the Wyndmoor part of Pennsylvania, a step up from the neighborhood in the Northeast section where she grew up.
The house was over eighty years old, with small rooms that were sure to be drafty in the winter. The grounds, while not large, were well-tended, and the interior had been renovated over the past decade. The previous owners had maintained the original hardwood floors and upgraded the kitchen, not that Ashley made a lot of use out of it—a fact both Sean and her father appreciated.
The notes to Beethoven’s “Für Elise” drifted from the living room—part of Sean’s ritual to practice the piano before dinner.
Ashley furrowed her brow the third time Sean made a mistake and repeated the measure. Similar to her, he had an ear for music and little difficulty playing complicated pieces. He only stumbled when something was distracting or bothering him, especially with a piece he’d learned in the fourth grade.
She wound her way to the kitchen and dropped the bags on the island. After storing the cold items, she turned to let her family know she was home with dinner when her father appeared in the doorway.
“I was listening to Sean play and thought I heard the front door,” her father said.
“Sorry I’m late. We had a last minute training review with the girls, and I stopped at the store for a few items and dinner.
“We’ve kept busy.” He walked with care across the room, using a cane for assistance. He’d changed out of the business suit he wore to work and was dressed in a running suit and sneakers.
“Are you in pain? You’re moving slower today,” Ashley said.
“Sitting all day makes my leg stiff,” he said.
An avid runner, her father had fallen down a hillside ravine and had fractured his leg twelve weeks ago. Thanks to physical therapy, he was able to return to work, but he needed to continue daily exercises.
“You’re still recovering. Did you get up and move ten minutes of every hour like you’re supposed to?”
He winced, which told her he hadn’t been following the instructions of his physical therapist.
“I’ll soak in the Jacuzzi after dinner,” he said.
She shook her head and wagged a finger at him. “I’m going to tell Carole on you.”
The private physical therapist had come to the house every other day during the peak of her father’s recovery. Now that he returned to work, they’d cut back to twice during the week and once on the weekend.
Sean entered and made a beeline for the bags. “Hi, Mom. What’s for dinner?”
Ashley winced with the guilt of a mom who relied more on take-out and pre-made meals than cooking from scratch. “I got a rotisserie chicken.” She reached into one of the grocery bags and withdrew baking potatoes and a bag of frozen mixed vegetables. “I just have to get this ready. Why don’t you set the table?”
While Sean was busy gathering plates and silverware, Ashley scrubbed three potatoes and put them in the microwave to cook. “How was your day?”
“Do you want to tell her, Sean, or should I?” her father asked.
Sean stuffed his hands in the front pockets of his jeans and took a sudden interest in his sneakers. “Grandpa gave me detention.”
Ashley crossed the room. “Whatever for?”
At Sean’s silence, her father spoke up. “A fellow student was caught painting a mural on the lockers. Sean was with her.”
“What?” Ashley said.
“I wasn’t helping her,” Sean cried. “I was on my way to the music room to rehearse for orchestra, and Gina was there.”
“He was found holding a spray can and rag,” her father added.
“Oh, Sean,” Ashley said.
“I was trying to get her to stop and clean it up before she got caught. I took the can from her and was going to throw it in the trash, but then Ms. Peterson found us.” He stepped forward and met her gaze with an earnest one. “I didn’t do anything wrong, Mom. Do you believe me?”
Ashley raised Sean to take accountability for his actions. He’d never been the kind of child who’d lie to avoid getting punished. If he’d done something wrong, he’d admit it.
She rested her hands on either side of his shoulder. “I believe you.”
Relief filled his eyes. “Thanks. What about the detention?”
“That’s up to Grandpa,” Ashley said.
“You know I can’t give you preferential treatment, Sean. I only gave you one day of detention while Gina received a month’s worth. That’s the best I can do,” her father said.
“Fine. I’ll read ahead on my lessons,” Sean grumbled.
“Not necessary. The detention is helping to build a playground in Franklin Park,” her father said.
“That could be okay, I suppose,” Sean said.
“Next time you see someone doing something wrong, what should you do?” Ashley asked.
“Find a teacher and not take matters in my own hand,” Sean grumbled in a way that told Ashley her father had drilled him on the ride home.
“You got it.” Ashley ruffled his hair and pulled him into a hug. “Come, let’s eat. And after you can play ‘Für Elise’ the way I know you can.”
****
Nick drove down Roosevelt Boulevard and turned onto Harbison Avenue toward the station. Thoughts of yesterday’s incident with Gina weighed on his mind. He’d tossed and turned most of the night, not falling into a deep sleep until the early morning hours.
After leaving the school yesterday, Nick had returned to his apartment and showered. Too keyed up to sle
ep, he dragged his laundry to his parents’ house and between washing clothes, helped his father with repairs around the house.
He returned home with a bag of leftovers, compliments of his mom.
Score.
It was good to feel useful, and Nick knew his parents appreciated the help. He’d enjoyed puttering around the house he had shared with Franny. There was a certain satisfaction in painting walls, fixing nail pops, and even maintaining the small patch of lawn in the front of the house.
As often as he grumbled at the endless list of projects Franny had pushed on him, Nick missed the work and spending time with his kids. He wasn’t a back-seat parent and while he still went to Joey’s ball games and Gina’s dance recitals, it wasn’t the same.
They weren’t the same.
The divorce had impacted all of them. Joey was quieter and more serious than an eleven-year-old should be. Gina was more defiant and rebellious and given her recent artistic demonstrations, Nick was growing more concerned. Of course, whenever he tried to broach the subject with Franny, she told him it was his imagination. And unless there was an act of God, Gina was not going to open up to him.
He swung onto Levick Street and into the lot for his precinct. Philadelphia Police Department 11th District had been his home for almost fifteen years. He spent more hours there than he’d like to think, a contributing factor in his divorce, according to Franny. A cop’s life was hard, but Nick got satisfaction from busting the bad guys—something Franny never understood.
He nodded at a couple guys coming off shift and wove through the maze to his desk.
“Hey, man.” Nick dropped into his chair.
His partner, Damon Morales, spoke while typing at his computer. “You skipped our workout this morning.”
Nick knew his best friend would bust his chops for not showing up at the gym for their usual six a.m. workout.
“Don’t give me shit.” Nick flipped on his computer and sat back in his chair, taking a sip of the coffee he’d picked up on the way in. The sludge they brewed at the precinct made his stomach churn. He slid a second cup across the desk to Damon’s, which backed up to his.
Awaken My Heart Page 2