For Sale By Owner

by Marlene Bateman

  Clenching his jaw, Allen stared into his daughter’s eyes and ground out, “I know.”

  His daughter caught her breath. She swallowed deeply. Obviously, it was difficult for her to process that he knew the full story. “But how?” she whispered. “Who told you?”

  “Nobody told me. I heard a word here, a comment there. Sometimes it wasn’t as much what was said as what wasn’t and how it was said. I finally put two and two together.”

  “I made Mom promise not to tell you.”

  Ah yes. That promise had been a real sticking point in his craw—one that had angered him for a long time. It wasn’t right for her to ask Elaine to keep a secret like that from him. Still, Allen admired Kenzie for not shirking from telling him the truth. Nearly a year ago, when Allen finally confessed to his wife that he knew about Larry’s infidelity, Elaine had wept in his arms. It had been hard on her to keep silent. Never before had there been any secrets between them. Elaine explained why she had agreed to it—tearfully saying Kenzie needed someone to talk to but that she wouldn’t, not unless her mother promised to keep it a secret. And so Elaine had promised—so she could comfort her child. And now, Allen had lived with it long enough to flush the anger out of his system.

  Kenzie spoke softly, “You never said anything.”

  “I figured I’d already said enough to last a lifetime.” Allen rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m sorry I made it sound like the divorce was your fault. I was only trying to fix things—to think of some way you could save your marriage. I didn’t know back then that Larry was with someone else. You said you still loved him, and if you wanted him back, then that’s what I wanted. So I tried to think of things you could do to make your marriage work. But, as usual, I worded things poorly.”

  “It hurt to think you blamed me for the divorce.”

  “I’m sorry. I must have been exceptionally thickheaded that day. I didn’t mean to say it was all your fault.”

  “So many times the things you say come out badly—and I say that with all the love in the world.”

  A corner of his mouth twitched upward. Ah, Kenzie was sharp all right—she could always get the best of him. “I liked Larry, sure, but I knew you. There was no way it could have been all your fault.” Allen paused. “I must have been thinking out loud—always a mistake. You’d told me what long hours you were working, and the thought crossed my mind that you might have grown apart because you were gone so much. If Larry had been here instead of you, I would have said the same thing to him. I was trying to think of how you could salvage your marriage.”

  “It wasn’t possible to salvage it.” Kenzie’s voice was low. “Not when he’d left me for another woman.”

  Although Kenzie sounded reconciled, Allen was still furious at Larry. “I’ll never be able to understand it. Larry had the most beautiful, loving wife in the world, and it wasn’t good enough for him? He had to go find another woman? He was a blinking idiot.” One who had caused his daughter endless pain.

  Although Elaine had tried to shield him, Allen knew about the midnight phone calls and Mandy’s hurried trips to Chicago. He knew about the therapists and the antidepressants. He’d also seen—albeit from a distance—how Kenzie had thrown herself into her work and knew it came from an attempt to dull the pain. Allen had sorrowed over their estrangement yet was hamstrung when Kenzie rebuffed his clumsy attempts to make things right. Whenever Elaine wanted to drive up to see Kenzie, he’d gone, but there had been times Elaine had gently told him she would make this or that trip by herself. It pained him to be left behind—to know that was what Kenzie wanted—and he tried not to get angry over it. But he’d never been able to control his anger at his former son-in-law.

  Allen wagged a finger at Kenzie. “Larry was crazy as a loon. I can’t think why he didn’t know or appreciate what he had at home. One day, he’s going to look back and kick himself. He’ll wake up and regret it—you mark my words.” Allen’s words skidded to a stop. “I’m probably saying the wrong thing again.”

  “Actually, you’re saying all the right things,” Kenzie said softly.

  When he looked at her, Allen saw that his daughter’s face had changed, softened. Her shoulders had relaxed. And when she spoke, it was as if some of the ice around her heart had melted.

  “I’ll tell you something I haven’t even told Mom yet. Larry called me about four months ago. He said he was sorry and wanted to know if we could start over, try again.”

  “So his lady love left him, huh?” When Kenzie nodded, he said, “I hope you told him where to go and how fast he could get there.”

  A small smile hovered around Kenzie’s lips. “Something like that.”

  “Good for you!” Allen stood and went around the table. He was pleasantly surprised when Kenzie rose so he could give her a big hug. He held on, ignoring stares from nearby customers. “I’m so sorry, Kenzie,” he whispered into her hair, feeling her tears soaking into his shirt. “I was a fool for saying those things and a triple fool for letting this go on so long.”

  “I’m sorry too. I had such a hard time after Larry told me he wanted a divorce. And then, when I thought you were blaming me for everything, I had a little bit of a nervous breakdown.”

  He pulled back to look into her face. “I didn’t know they came in sizes.”

  Kenzie smiled then—a real smile. They sat, and Allen called the waitress over to warm up his lunch. As they continued to talk, and without either of them fully realizing it, the long road between them shifted and rearranged itself until there wasn’t any distance at all.

  * * *

  5 The recipe for Thumbprint Cookies can be found at the end of the book.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Peeved, Jared frowned at the KitchenAid mixer as if it were a wayward child. Taking off the cover, he peered into the bowl, debating his next course of action. His first impulse was to toss it in the garbage can. But surely the cookie dough could be salvaged. Right now, the Sugar Cookie6 dough was too crumbly, which meant he needed to add liquid. But milk or water? And how much? Corey stood on a stool beside him, anxious to spring into action with his pile of cookie cutters. He appeared hypnotized as the metal spokes sliced their way through the dough.

  Without stopping the machine, Jared splashed a bit of milk in. Suddenly bits of watery dough started flying through the air. Corey shouted with laughter as his father turned the machine off.

  Jared groaned. Why hadn’t he put the cover on? He began picking blobs of cookie dough off the counter and throwing them in the bowl. Then he fit the cover on tightly and let the machine grind away for a minute or two. He didn’t like making sugar cookies. The only reason he did was because his wife had made it a Christmas tradition and he didn’t want to disappoint Corey. But he was frustrated today and had been ever since Tom had told him that his last hope, the couple who saw the house yesterday, wasn’t interested in it.

  He stopped the machine then yanked off some paper towels and cleaned the bits of dough off the floor. When he checked the dough, it seemed too sticky. He tossed in more flour, then put the cover on and pushed the button. When the doorbell rang, Corey was off like a greyhound.

  A woman’s voice said, “Hi, Corey. Is your dad home?” It couldn’t be, but it sounded like Kenzie Forsberg. What could she be doing here?

  “Yeah, he’s in the kitchen. I’ll get him.”

  Running in and doing a hockey stop without skates, Corey slid on some spilled flour and would have fallen if Jared hadn’t grabbed him. “Sara’s mom is here,” he announced.

  Jared scowled. Great. The cherry on top of a perfectly rotten day. And he hated cherries. Jared had no interest right now in talking with anyone, least of all McKenzie Forsberg. Reluctantly, Jared walked into the front room, wiping his hands on a towel tucked into his waistband. Corey followed like a little shadow.

  Huddled in her black coat, Kenzie stood by the door, hands deep in her pockets. Her hair fluffed out from under a black cap. The cold made her cheeks charmingl
y pink.

  “Hello,” Jared said politely.

  “Looks like you’re doing a little baking.”

  He was surprised. “How’d you know?”

  “Um, you’ve got a little bit of flour there.” Kenzie brushed her jawline to indicate the spot.

  Jared rubbed at his face furiously. Must she always put him at a disadvantage?

  “You got it,” Kenzie assured him. “Any harder and you’ll hit bone. I, uh, was passing by and wondered if you were going caroling tomorrow afternoon.” When Jared hesitated, Kenzie added, “Sara and I are going with my parents to Heritage House—our group is the Candy Canes. I don’t know what group you were assigned, but really, you can go with any of them.” Kenzie was forced to take a breath; then she went on. “I also wondered if you’d like to come over to my parents’ home afterwards. Mom and Dad always have a little get-together—but then you knew that, didn’t you?” Her cheeks turned pinker. “Anyway, so I stopped by because, uh, Mom wanted to get an idea of how many people were coming so she could have enough, you know, cookies and hot chocolate.”

  Why was Kenzie rambling on and on? It wasn’t like her. There had to be something behind it. He’d gone to the Dahlquists the past couple of years and was already on their list of invitees, so her pretext of stopping by to invite him was pretty thin. She had stopped by for a reason—but what? She must feel pretty secure to step into the lair of the enemy, the person who was trying to buy the house she wanted.

  “We’re going, aren’t we, Dad?” Corey piped up.

  Turning so Kenzie couldn’t see his face, Jared directed a frigid glare at his son. Then, in a firm voice that brooked no dissent, he said, “I haven’t decided yet.”

  “But we went last year!” Corey whined.

  “I said we’d see.” Jared spoke in a stern parental voice.

  This seemed to fluster Kenzie. “Oh, well, of course. It’s a busy time of year, isn’t it? So much to do—but we’d love to have you come if you can.”

  Why would she love him to come? So she could gloat over getting Tom’s house? No, even though Jared was upset, he couldn’t quite imagine Kenzie as the kind of a person who would gloat.

  When Kenzie glanced at the book, Christmas Magic, which was on the end table, Corey noticed and went over and picked it up. “Sara lent me this book. Have you read it?”

  “Oh, yes, about a hundred times to Sara. I love it.”

  Opening the book, Corey pointed out a group of singing animals. “I like that picture.”

  Jared took a step closer to see, but his thoughts were not on the book. He was irritated by his inability to figure out why Kenzie had come by and invited him to the party. Then again, perhaps he was making too much of it. Perhaps Elaine had asked her to stop by.

  As Kenzie listened to Corey go over his favorite parts, Jared remembered how he and Kenzie had talked at his café and the night they’d spent together when Sara sprained her ankle. He’d enjoyed her company immensely. And how pretty she looked, bent over the book with Corey.

  Then Jared shook himself mentally. He would not get sucked in by her again. He had to remember Kenzie was responsible for him losing the chance to buy the house he and Corey had set their hearts on. A little voice crept in, telling him the Perezes might not have bought his house even if they had seen it again, but he pushed it away. As he eyed Kenzie, it occurred to him that it was possible Kenzie didn’t think she’d done anything wrong. That riled him. Boy, she had a lot of nerve coming here.

  Closing the book, Corey handed it to Kenzie. Clasping it to her chest, Kenzie asked Jared, “How did it go yesterday?” He was puzzled until she added, “Tom was going to show your home.”

  “Not good. Tom said they weren’t interested.”

  Kenzie frowned, looking regretful, but surely he was misreading her expression.

  “I, uh, was wondering if we could talk.” Kenzie glanced at Corey, who stood watching them. “About your house and what happened with Tracy Perez.”

  Oh boy, he didn’t need this. Jared had heard all he wanted. “I’m kind of busy right now. Corey and I are making sugar cookies.”

  She smiled, and Jared steeled himself against the unexpected warmth that came from her bright, interested expression. “That sounds like fun! And it explains the—” She made a swishing motion by her jaw.

  Self-consciously, Jared rubbed his jaw again. “Yeah, I’m good at making messes.”

  “Need any help?”

  What was this? Kenzie had managed to steal the home he’d made an offer on, and now she wanted to be friends? Didn’t she understand how low-down and underhanded she’d been? And now she was acting as if she’d done nothing wrong!

  “No, thanks.” His voice was chilly. “We got it.”

  Her face flushed, and she shifted weight from one foot to the other. “Oh, okay. Well, I better get going then. Hope to see you at the caroling and then at my folks’ afterwards.” She turned to Corey. “Now don’t eat all the cookie dough, okay?”

  After the door closed, Jared squared his shoulders and stalked into the kitchen. His insides were roiling. He didn’t bother to check the dough again but dumped it onto the counter. The dough had had its chance. He wasn’t going to fuss over it anymore. Corey climbed on the stool.

  The dough was still a bit sticky, and Jared threw flour on and attacked the dough with the rolling pin, rolling in short, angry bursts.

  “What’s the matter, Dad?”

  “Nothing.” A piece of dough rolled itself around the rolling pin, and Jared peeled it off and threw it on the counter.

  Corey looked at him doubtfully. “Why can’t we go caroling and over to Sara’s house for hot chocolate and cookies? We did last year.”

  There was an accusing tone in his son’s voice that Jared didn’t like. “I’m not sure I feel like going.”

  “Because you’re mad at Kenzie?”

  Taking a deep breath, Jared stared at the dough, which was thin in some places and thicker in others. It took all his willpower not to gather it up, mash it into a ball, and throw it across the kitchen. “Yeah.”

  Corey eyed his father stoically. “Because she’s going to buy our house?”

  Jared cut his eyes toward his son. “That’s it.”

  “We can find another house, can’t we?”

  If Corey wasn’t going to start cutting out cookies, then he would. Jared grabbed a star and pushed it into the dough. “I don’t want another house. I wanted Tom’s house.”

  * * *

  6 The recipe for Sour Cream Sugar Cookies, which is different than the one Jared has trouble with, is found at the end of the book.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The pungent smell of lemon ammonia filled the air as Kenzie scrubbed the tile floor in the kitchen. She worked fast, knowing her mother might wake from her nap at any time and protest that Kenzie was working too hard. Yesterday, Kenzie had dusted all the blinds, and earlier this morning she’d vacuumed, knowing her mother would appreciate a sparkling-clean house for the party. Kenzie had also found time to play Monopoly with Sara, who was ecstatic at finally being able to sit up. Two of her friends, Kaylee and Ali, had come over to play games with her.

  Done.

  Kenzie poured the bucket of rinse water down the sink drain and put the mop in the utility room. Checking on the giggling girls, she reminded Sara to prop her leg up on the ottoman. “I’m going for a walk in the woods and then into town. Grandma will be up soon, and Grandpa’s in the office if you need anything.”

  She kissed Sara, told her father good-bye, then grabbed her coat off a hook in the utility room. After putting her purse in the car, she went around the side of the house and through the backyard gate. It would be good to have a few quiet moments to think things through one last time. Kenzie hated people telling her she acted impulsively. She determined that this was not going to be one of those times.

  Walking through the oak, maple, hickory, and pine trees was like being cocooned in an oasis of solitude. The air was
so still and windless that the whirring of a magpie’s wings overhead was audible. She rounded the bend and neared the pond, which was surrounded by a light coating of shimmering snow. How often she and Tyrone had come here and spent delightful hours skating. How utterly remarkable that he had come back to Lake Forest. But then, maybe not so amazing. Tyrone had told her a number of times that he wanted to live here forever. A number of crows flew over, their raucous cries loud in the air. A few lit in a gnarled oak tree and tilted their heads at Kenzie as if curious to know why she was ambling around the pond.

  She thought back to the unexpected lunch with her father and how they had opened up to each other. It was still hard, in a way, to realize that her father had only been trying to fix things, that he hadn’t meant to blame her. Her breath fogged the air as she considered. She certainly hadn’t taken his words that way at the time. And yet Kenzie couldn’t doubt his sincerity yesterday. She didn’t like to think that she’d exaggerated the incident, but in her emotional frame of mind it was possible. Had she built it up—going over and over it—until reality had become twisted and distorted?

  The past two years had been such a struggle to simply hold on. It had been so easy to focus her pain and anger on her father. Someone who couldn’t talk back because she wouldn’t allow him to be part of her life. Perhaps she had used him as a scapegoat, someone she could direct her grief and anguish toward. And now, after talking with him, Kenzie believed him when he said he’d only been searching for solutions. That was her father—Mr. Fix-It. While growing up, Kenzie had learned not to go to her father if she wanted to talk something out because he was always set on finding a solution rather than listening to how she felt. For answers, she might turn to her father, but for heartfelt discussions she had gone to her mother.