“Mommy, this pudding has bugs in it,” Miranda whispered as she dragged her spoon through her pudding.
“They’re raisin bugs, sweetie. Try one and I’ll bet you’ll like it,” her mother said with a grin at Foster.
“Remember, you helped me open the raisin boxes and dump them in the bowl? They look a little different, but they’re the same raisins,” Foster said gently as he prayed she would at least try the pudding and not just turn her nose up at it.
“Yeah, but they didn’t look like this when we opened the box,” Miranda said. Carefully using her spoon, she lifted two plumped-up raisins from the bowl. She squinted as she studied them, her lips pressed together and her mouth twisted to one side. It was as if she was trying to make up her mind whether she would even try rice pudding or not.
“Well, if you don’t want them, give them to me,” Harper said, reaching over and plucking the two raisins from her daughter’s spoon. Popping them into her mouth, she chewed and swallowed before moaning a dramatic, “Yum, yum.”
When she tried for more, Miranda twisted away so her mother couldn’t reach her bowl. Without another word, she scooped up a raisin with some pudding and ate it. Eating his own pudding, Foster watched as Miranda’s eyes grew bigger and bigger.
“Oh, my, it’s wunnerful,” she said with her mouth full. “Even the bugs are yummy.”
With that, she stopped talking and focused on her pudding. Only when her mother had taken the bowl away from her when she started licking it did she look at Foster. “Mr. Mafe, you was right. Those raisin bugs were really good. Can you make it again tomorrow?”
Foster laughed and shook his head. “Not tomorrow, but we’ll have it again soon.”
Miranda thought about it and nodded. “Okay, but I think we should have it every night for dinner.”
“But tomorrow we’re having pizza and salad,” Harper said before Foster could come up with an argument as to why they couldn’t have dessert every night for dinner.
“We are?” Foster and Miranda asked in unison.
“Yes, we are. And we’re going out instead of making it here,” she said with a tone that kept Foster from arguing that he could just make them pizza here.
He met her gaze and saw a determined light in her eyes, so he nodded. “We are,” he agreed softly.
He only hoped they didn’t go to one of those loud, noisy, game-centered places where kids ran wild and played the kinds of games that would give him nightmares for days. He wasn’t sure he could handle it.
But, for Harper and Miranda, he would certainly try.
For the Ellis women, he would try anything, at least once.
Chapter Thirteen
Late the next morning, Foster helped Harper load the wedding dress, still on its dress dummy, into the back of his SUV. The dress had been carefully wrapped in a king-size white cotton sheet to keep it clean and neat. Harper had a carryall bag on her arm with thread, more beads, and anything else she might need to make alterations on the dress before turning it over to the bride and her mother.
She was dressed for success in her best black slacks and a silk blouse that she had come to think of as her professional business uniform. She’d even taken the time and energy to put on makeup that morning.
When she moved to get in the driver’s seat, Foster grabbed her and pulled her into his arms. “The dress is beautiful. She’s going to love it. No doubts, no fear.”
Harper smiled and then murmured, “She is going to love it. No doubts. No fear. I love you.”
Foster froze and looked stunned. Nearly as stunned as she felt. She hadn’t meant to just blurt the words out like that, but her mouth spoke before her mind had fully engaged.
Looking up at the man, she blinked when his kissable lips spread wider and wider in the biggest grin she had ever seen. “I love you, too,” he said before bending and kissing her stupid.
Finally, when all she wanted to do was drag him back inside and upstairs, Harper forced herself to turn her head and break the kiss. “I’ve got to go or I’ll never get this dress delivered.”
“Yes, you do need to go, or we’ll be spending the rest of the day in the bedroom and Miranda will go out and try to take over the world because there’s no one to stop her,” Foster said before brushing another kiss on her lips. “I love you. The dress is amazing. And we’ll celebrate those three little words tonight, after Miranda goes to bed.”
Harper could only grin back and blink back tears. The last thing she needed was to cry, no matter how happy she was. Climbing into the driver’s seat, she mentally ran through her list of what she needed to take with her one last time. “Oh, no. I forgot the invoice,” she said as she jumped back out and ran to the house.
A minute later, she was back, having grabbed it from the printer where it waited for her. Climbing in once again, she closed the door, started the engine, and pulled out. She waved to Miranda, who was jumping up and down and waving both arms from the porch. Her daughter was dressed in the purple and turquoise princess dress she had made her a few months before. She wore it with red cowboy boots and a white cowboy hat.
The outfit made Harper smile. Her daughter’s sense of stylish flair more often than not caused Harper to scratch her head, but as long as Miranda liked what she wore, she was happy.
Driving out of the neighborhood, Harper turned her attention to her upcoming meeting.
****
Two hours after Harper left for her meeting with the billionaire bride, a knock sounded at the door. Foster and Miranda had finished the day’s chores and were in the living room hanging out. Miranda was coloring and Foster was reading a book.
Foster had barely put down his book before the knocking began again, heavier, louder, causing him to frown as he stalked across the room. The only people he knew who knocked like that were cops and military, and they weren’t in a war zone.
Opening the door, he expected to see a couple of cops. Instead, there was a short, almost delicate-looking man standing on the porch. He wore a pair of ill-fitting slacks and an oxford shirt that pulled at the buttons across his beer belly. His tie was decades old and ugly as sin. His hair was slicked back from his face, emphasizing a growing widow’s peak and the thinning mud-brown hair. He reminded Foster of the slick-talking used car salesman he almost bought his first car from.
“Hello. Can I help you?” Foster said.
“Where’s Harper?” the man demanded as he pushed past him and entered the house.
He frowned as the smaller man looked around as if taking a visual inventory of everything he could see. Since Harper hadn’t said anything about a used car salesman stopping by, he went on guard and moved to stand between the man and Miranda.
“I’m sorry, she’s not here this afternoon. Can I tell her who stopped by?” Foster asked as he shifted to keep the stranger from entering the living room.
The man ignored his question and kept looking around. When he saw Miranda sitting at the coffee table coloring, he froze. His eyes went wide for a moment and then he scowled.
“Excuse me for asking, but just who the hell are you?” Foster asked, this time grabbing the man’s arm when he tried to push past him. He had a foot of height and probably a hundred pounds on the man, so it wasn’t difficult to pull him into the hall before he got too close to the little girl.
Glancing over his shoulder, he caught Miranda’s eye as she watched the two men. Then she shocked him when she said, “He’s the ’perm donor,” before returning her attention to her coloring book and exchanging a blue crayon for a red one.
It took Foster a moment to translate. Sperm donor. The man who provided half of Miranda’s genes. Then he remembered a small photo in a frame hanging in Miranda’s room. The man in that picture had been slimmer, cleaner, and looked about ten years younger than this man. Time hadn’t been good to Miranda’s sperm donor.
When the man jerked his arm, Foster tightened his grip until he gasped. Finally, the man answered his question. “I’m Brad Ellis, Ha
rper’s husband and I’m here for my daughter. Who the hell are you?”
“He’s our mafe,” Miranda said proudly. Foster glanced at her and saw she had abandoned her coloring and was standing in the living room doorway. She looked so cute in her princess-ballerina-cowgirl outfit with her feet set, hands planted on her hips and her face set in a no-nonsense expression of disgust. “Now, you need to go away and leave us alone. We have to get back to our plans to take over the world before Mommy comes back and stops us.”
“Mafe? What the hell’s a mafe?” Brad asked as he tried once again to jerk his arm free from Foster’s hold.
Miranda pointed at Foster. “He’s a mafe. Now go away.”
Shaking himself out of the shock at the man’s announcement, Foster forced the man another two steps toward the front door. “You’re going to have to leave and come back when Harper is home.”
“No, I don’t think so,” Brad said. “I think you need to go. I’ll take care of our daughter while I wait for Harper to return.”
“No,” Foster stated flatly. If you want to wait, you can wait in your car.” Foster dragged the man two more steps toward the door before the short man turned and threw a punch.
He saw it coming and was able to clench the muscles of his abdomen, which had the man howling in pain once his fist connected with Foster’s hard, washboard belly. When the man raised his aim, Foster had had enough and threw a single punch to the man’s jaw. He kept his movements controlled, not wanting to kill the man, just get his attention.
Brad’s head snapped around and he fell to the floor, unconscious. After checking the man was still breathing, Foster opened the front door then dragged the man out of the house and down into the grass where he left him.
Returning to the house, he shooed Miranda back inside from where she had followed him outside. Once they were back inside, he closed and locked the door before turning his attention to the little girl.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She smiled up at him, her entire being radiating approval. “That was so cool,” she said before throwing herself into his arms.
Foster lifted her to his chest and hugged her tight, the adrenaline of anger and shock at the thought that Harper was still married vying for his attention. Though he was tempted to go back outside and beat Brad Ellis to a pulp, he took several deep breaths and pushed down the anger. It was bad enough he’d hit the man in front of Miranda. He didn’t want her to think he was a bully for going out and beating the snot out of a man so much smaller than he was. Besides, he had no idea if Harper was still married to the man, or if he was lying.
Then he remembered the moments before Harper’s departure that morning and embarrassment added to the mix of conflicting emotions that swirled within him like a tornado of massive proportions. He wasn’t sure if he wanted the man laid out on the front lawn to wake up and go away voluntarily, or for Harper to come home and deal with him.
For the first time in his life, he felt like a giant chicken, afraid of what her husband’s return would mean to his and Harper’s relationship. Would she allow the slimy piece of flotsam back in her life? If she did, he knew he would have to leave his position as the family mafe, which hurt almost as much as the thought of losing Harper.
“Mr. Mafe, can you read me a story?”
“Sure thing, Empress,” he said, accepting the storybook the little girl held out to him.
He smiled as she curled up in his lap. Before she settled, she leaned up and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Mr. Mafe. I think you should marry Mommy and let me ’dopt you as my daddy.”
Foster smiled, hoping to keep the sadness out of his voice. “That’s a nice thought, little empress.”
If only it could happen.
Opening the book, he began to read, not surprised when Miranda quickly fell asleep as he read of the adventures of a teddy bear and the family he protected. Though she was asleep, he continued reading until he reached the end of the story. Only then did he close the book and lay it on the end table.
Laying Miranda on the couch beside him, he stretched his legs out and laid his head back. Staring at the ceiling, he tried to decide what to do with the revelation Brad Ellis had given him. Though he had come to think as the Ellis women as his, he didn’t fool around with married women.
****
Harper couldn’t wait to get home. As expected, the meeting with the billionaire’s bride went just as she had dreamed it would. The woman, her mother, soon-to-be mother-in-law, and six bridesmaids were all ecstatic at the dress. It fit like a dream and didn’t even need any alterations, for which Harper was most grateful.
Once the bride had been dressed, and then undressed, Harper was able to escape, after promising to be at the church in three days’ time to help dress the bride for her wedding. She left with a check for the final payment for her work in her pocket. Instead of heading home, she went straight to the bank. A check for that much money needed to be deposited immediately so she didn’t lose it.
Once she finished at the bank, she decided to treat herself to a little shopping before returning home. Instead of going to a dress shop, she went to the fabric store, where she stocked up on material and notions for new clothes not only for her, but for Miranda as well. She also picked up some clearance fleece and faux fur pieces, her mind already seeing the crazy stuffies she and Miranda could make and either list on her website for sale or take to the children’s hospital for the children there.
When she pulled into the driveway, she frowned at the sight of a car she didn’t recognize parked at the curb in front of her house, and a man lying face-down in the grass. Grabbing her work duffel, she climbed out. She kept the keys in her hand while she hit the automatic lock button and closed the door. Slinging the duffel’s strap over her shoulder, she looked from the front door to the yard.
Not sure whether to go into the house or check on the man in the grass, she opted for the man first. As she approached the unconscious figure, her frown deepened. About the time she reached him, he groaned and rolled onto his back. She stopped and crossed her arms as she recognized the man.
“What the hell are you doing here?” she said with a growl.
Brad opened his eyes and slowly pushed himself into a seated position with an audible moan. That was when she noticed the puffy swelling and discoloration that was beginning to develop on one side of his face.
He glanced around blankly for a moment before looking up at her. In the blink of an eye, the smarmy super-salesman side of his personality flicked out. The side that had talked her into the marriage, talked her into a baby, then disappeared the closer she got to her delivery date. And then, while she and Miranda were still in the hospital recovering from delivery, he walked away.
“Harper, honey, that animal you have babysitting in there attacked me and knocked me unconscious. You shouldn’t allow him near our daughter.”
“What do you want, Brad?”
Harper refused to answer his not-so-subtle accusation of being a bad mother. The only way to find out what the man wanted was to stay focused on her own agenda, which meant to keep asking the question until he finally answered.
“Can’t a man come and check on his wife and daughter?” The man winced as he slowly worked his way to a standing position.
Chapter Fourteen
Harper wrapped her arms around her middle and hugged herself to keep from throwing a few punches herself. “Not when you walked away five years ago and then had divorce papers delivered a few months later. Thank you for that, by the way. So, why are you here now?”
Brad stiffened and his smile grew brittle. Not good. “I want my kid,” he said as if he were talking about the weather. “And you, too.”
His words were so out of the blue that Harper froze for several seconds as she repeated them to herself. “You want what?” she whispered, for surely, she had not heard him right.
“I want my kid. Since custody was never discussed in the divorce papers, my lawyer says I h
ave a better than good chance of winning custody. But I figured since you’re still single, maybe we could make a second try and keep it out of the courts. That way I can help you with your business, too.” Even with the darkening bruise on the side of his face, Brad looked too confident and full of himself.
Harper remained silent for a full ten count, stunned by the man’s announcement. Then she spoke from the gut. “No. No, no, no, no, no. No way. No way in this or any other plane of existence would I ever agree to such a thing. And no way will you ever get custody after walking out on us like you did.” Harper found herself yelling and not caring who heard their business. “You have got to be four kinds of delusional to think that I’d let you back in our lives in any way, shape, or form.”
Brad’s face grew red as she spoke, and then he took a step so he was close enough to grab her arm. Squeezing it tight enough that she knew there’d be bruises later, he jerked her closer.
“You will do what I say, or I’ll go to the courts and have them take the kid away from you because you’re unfit to be raising a child,” he said, his tone the deadly serious one that scared her because she’d never been sure how to take it.
“And you think they’d give you custody? A man who has never seen his child and never paid a penny in child support. I bet you don’t even remember if we have a son or daughter,” Harper hissed back before jerking her arm from his grip. She took two steps back so he wouldn’t try to grab her again. “Get off my property and never come back, or I’ll call the police. And they respond fast since the chief lives right down the road.”
Her heart pounding in a combination of rage at Brad’s gall, and fear that he’d try something, Harper turned and headed to the house. She forced herself to keep her head up, her shoulder back, and her pace a steady march, though she was tempted to run. She didn’t turn back as she twisted the front doorknob and found it locked. She took a few precious seconds to pull out Foster’s keys and find the one to the door.
Help Wanted: Mafe Page 7