Summer Girl

by Boeshaar, Andrea

  Travis chewed the corner of his lip in contemplation. “Hmm. . .it’s tempting.”

  “Think about it.”

  “I will.”

  Their meeting lasted a while longer, then Travis escorted Bella into the lobby.

  “Tell Jena hello for me.”

  “Will do.”

  Bella paused before exiting the firm’s office suites. “You know, Travis, I really should give you fair warning. I plan to steal your summer girl. Joe and I are mulling over the idea of purchasing a daycare center. There are big bucks in daycare these days, and Jena would make an awesome director. I have no doubt that she’d hire the most competent staff.” Bella gave her abdomen a loving pat. “And I’m going to need responsible, caring people to watch Junior. . .”

  Travis did his best to act nonchalant. “Jena’s a free agent.”

  “So she is.” Bella’s red lips curved into a broad smile. “Tah-tah for now, Travis. Get back to me soon about that contract.”

  He nodded and watched the impeccably dressed woman sashay to the elevators. Then, turning, he made his way back to his office deciding that Bella Minniati would steal his summer girl over his dead body. Lifting the telephone, Travis called home.

  ❧

  “Hi, Jen, how’re things?”

  “Fine.” Sitting in the yard, holding the cordless phone, Jena smiled. “Mandi and Carly are watering the flowers we planted. It’s so cute the way they carry around their toy watering cans.”

  A chuckle came forth from the other end of the line. “You’re staying out of the sun, I hope.”

  “Yes. . .”

  “Say, listen. I’ve been thinking. You’re working out great, the girls adore you—

  “I adore them too.” Jena meant every word. Sure, Mandi had her whiny moments and Carly had her three-year-old meltdowns, but Jena was rapidly learning how to deal with both girls without feeling frazzled.

  “I can tell you’re fond of my daughters. That’s why I wondered if you would consider staying on in the fall.”

  “No, I can’t. I have one semester left of school, and I’ve worked too hard and too long not to finish my degree.”

  “I understand. I’m not asking you to drop out of college. We’ll work around your classes.”

  “That might be difficult since I attend a school that’s more than an hour away.”

  “You’ll have a car and a rent-free apartment. Won’t those two perks make up for the long commute?”

  “Hmm. Maybe.”

  Jena heard Travis’s deep laugh. “I’ll draw up a contract and bring it home tonight.”

  She frowned. “Contract? We don’t need a contract.”

  “Oh, yes we do. With people like Bella Minniati in the world, we need a contract.”

  “Bella? What’s she got to do with my working for you?”

  A pause. “Nothing.” Travis’s tone turned somber. “I’ll see you tonight.”

  “Okay.” Jena felt totally confused. . .and a bit worried. “Travis, did I do something wrong?”

  “Not at all. You’re the best, Jen.”

  She rolled her eyes.

  “By the way, what are you making for supper?”

  “Anything you want,” she quipped, figuring she would appeal to the appetite side of him, and maybe he’d snap out of whatever funk he’d gotten into. “Name it.”

  “I’m not picky,” Travis replied. “Just don’t make anything. . . Italian.”

  She frowned. Didn’t he like Italian food? “All right. . .”

  “See you later.”

  “Bye.” Jena pushed the OFF button on the phone and decided that was the weirdest call she’d had in all of her born days.

  Seventeen

  True to his word, Travis had a contract drawn up, and Jena signed it. The terms were obvious. For the next twelve months, she agreed to take care of Mandi and Carly and, in return, he promised to allow her to finish college, pay her the same salary she presently earned, along with providing her room and board and unlimited use of his car. What a deal! How could she go wrong? But Jena knew she would eventually have to begin a career. Working for Travis, however, would enable her to finish school and save some money in the process. Then, during the last few months of her employment, she could do some job hunting. By this time next year, Jena hoped to be working in her field of expertise.

  “Are you from around here?” Travis asked as he folded his copy of their signed contract. “I don’t recall you mentioning your family.”

  “No, I’m from California.”

  “Really?” Travis sat back in his handsome leather desk chair. “You’re a long way from home, little girl.”

  “I’m not so little. I’ll be twenty-seven at the end of August.”

  Travis grinned at her tart reply. “I talk to my parents almost every day, and Meg’s folks call from Minnesota at least once a week.”

  “Consider yourself blessed, Travis. My family isn’t close. We never have been. Each of us has always operated independently. I talk to my parents once a month—if I can catch them at home—and I’ve only gone back to California once since I started college. Wisconsin is my home now.”

  “That’s too bad—about your family, I mean.”

  “Yes, but I can’t change them. I can only determine to do things differently when I get married and have kids.”

  “When?” Travis lifted one dark brow. “Is there something I should know?”

  Jena laughed. “I just signed a one-year contract to work for you. What do you think?”

  “Just checking.” He smirked and sat forward. Pursing his lips, he regarded her in a thoughtful manner. “Hey, I’m curious. . .and I mean no offense by this, but it seems to be taking you an unusually long time to finish college. Did you change your major a couple of times?”

  “No. I just didn’t want to take out any loans.” Jena had become accustomed to people questioning her lengthy college stint. Where once she felt embarrassed about it, she now held her head up with dignity. “I’ve paid my entire way through school, with the exception of grant and scholarship money. God provided me with the job opportunities and the classes to fit my budget each semester.”

  “Quite commendable.”

  “I think so. I read somewhere that the average grad ends his college career more than thirty thousand dollars in debt. I decided long ago that if I ever married a man in the ministry, I wouldn’t want to burden him financially with my school loans. So I made up my mind to pay my own way.”

  “I’m impressed, Jena.” Travis tipped his head. “A man in the ministry. . .is that what you’re looking for in a husband? You want a guy like Rusty?”

  Jena lowered her gaze and deliberately skirted his question. For some odd reason, she didn’t want to discuss boyfriends—or lack thereof—with Travis. “Rusty is interested in Star.”

  “Yeah, I kind of wondered after seeing them together yesterday. Are you upset?”

  “Not at all.” She meant that too. Sure, she had been disappointed at first. But she’d soon gotten over it. Now she felt happy for her friends.

  Jena glanced at her wristwatch and realized Star would be knocking at her door any minute. Tuesday nights were reserved for their discipleship lesson, although last week they hadn’t met because Jena was still settling into her apartment and adjusting to her new job.

  She stood. “I should get going. Star’s coming over tonight.”

  “All right.” Travis stood also. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “Good night.”

  His expression couldn’t be easily defined, although a soft light appeared in his brown eyes. “’Night, Jena.”

  ❧

  As the week advanced, Travis found himself easing into a comfortable routine. The girls were happy, and Jena proved to be a master at organization. She even clipped coupons before grocery shopping. The cupboards were stocked, the refrigerator full, and each bathroom had a convenient supply of toilet paper beneath its vanity. Oddly, those common necessities of
ten fueled veritable crises while his sister Glenda was in charge. But since he no longer had to fret about his home situation, Travis put more effort into his career. He won a long-shot lawsuit, and with that victory, came the praise of his colleague, Craig Duncan.

  “Trav, I think you’re back to your old self. I’ll admit I was worried for a while.”

  Placing his attaché case on his desk, Travis glanced over his shoulder and grinned at the older man. “I was worried for a while too. But now that I have a summer girl. . .”

  “Oh, yes, Susie Homemaker herself.”

  “Hey, don’t knock it.”

  “I won’t, I won’t. If it works for you, great.” Clearing his throat, Craig took a seat in a nearby armchair. “Now, correct me if I’m wrong, but did I hear you talking to someone on the phone about attending a. . .a Bible study?”

  “You’re a seasoned eavesdropper.” Travis laughed. “But, yes, to answer your question. Derek Ryan leads the study once a week in his home.”

  “Derek Ryan. . .do I know him?”

  “Yep, he works for Liberty International.”

  “Oh, that’s right. He’s one of those guys obsessed with religious freedoms.”

  “Somebody’s got to do it.”

  “I suppose.” Craig yawned.

  Travis placed his hands on his hips. “Not to change the subject, but did you read the contract Bella dropped off last week?”

  Craig snapped his fingers. “Yes, and I signed both copies. So did Josh. I’ll go get the paperwork. I meant to give it to you yesterday.”

  He signed it? Travis felt himself gape as he watched his business partner stride to his own office and return with the contract.

  “Here you go.” He tossed the papers onto Travis’s briefcase.

  “And you, um, read the whole thing?”

  “Sure. If Bella wants you to act exclusively on the behalf of the Mavericks, that’s fine by me.”

  Travis rubbed his jaw. Craig had obviously stopped there and didn’t read the rest of the contract’s terms. “You want to read it over once more—just to be sure everything’s in order?”

  “What for? Now, look, Travis. I might be pushing sixty-five, but I’ve got my wits about me. Do you doubt that?”

  “Nope.”

  “Well, okay then. Give Bella her copy. . .and I’m glad it’s you who has to deal with that woman and not me. How ’bout we celebrate your recent successes by stopping at The Black Tie and having a few drinks before going home?”

  Travis shrugged. “Okay. Sure.”

  “Great. I’ll let Josh and Yolanda know. . .and maybe Marci will even want to tag along.” Smiling, Craig walked out of the office.

  Travis lowered himself into his chair and loosened his tie. He felt more concerned than ever about his affiliation with Duncan and Duncan. It bothered him that Craig skimmed through the Mavericks’ contract. Craig’s lackadaisical attitude could cost the firm everything.

  So what do I do now? Part of Travis wanted to keep his mouth shut and toast the hard-earned signed contract while another part of him didn’t think that would be right. Still, another fraction of his being urged him to accept Bella’s offer and get out of this partnership before things got ugly.

  “Okay, God,” he said reclining in his chair and gazing at the ceiling. “Derek said we’re supposed to come to You with everything? So. . .what do You think?”

  Inhaling deeply, Travis wondered how long he’d have to wait for a Divine reply.

  He glanced at his watch. Just after four. His stomach moaned in protest to eating only a chef’s salad at lunchtime. Picking up the phone, Travis called his home number. Jena answered, and he could hear some kind of uproar in the background.

  “Hi, Travis.”

  “Hi. What’s going on over there?”

  “Oh, your parents stopped by to see the kids, and Star came over just to say hello. She’s got an important catering job tonight, and Rusty is going to help her.”

  “Good. Speaking of food, what’s on the menu for tonight in the way of our dinner?”

  “Well, fish, I think. Your dad brought over some rainbow trout that he caught this morning. Now he’s attempting to teach me how to clean the things, but it’s totally grossing me out, and Star thinks it’s hilarious.”

  Travis chuckled, imagining the scenario. “Listen, you happen to be speaking to the master chef of fried trout. I’ll cook the fish, you make everything else.”

  “It’s a deal.”

  “Great.” Travis grinned. “Put my dad on the phone, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  Several moments lapsed, then Travis heard the gravely voice of his father. At seventy years old, retired from a local foundry where he’d sweated away forty-plus years of his life, Reuben Larson now enjoyed his well-deserved free time. “Hello, Son.”

  “Hi. I understand you’re traumatizing my summer girl.”

  A jolly guffaw filled the phone line. “Oh, a little fish guts won’t scare her off. She works for you, doesn’t she?”

  “Touché.” Amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth, and suddenly Travis longed to be there, visiting with his parents and teasing Jena. He wanted to tickle his daughters and laugh along with them. “Stay put, will you, Dad? I’m leaving the office right now.”

  “Okay, Mother and I will hang around and pester Jena a little while longer.”

  Disconnecting the call, Travis grabbed his suit coat and attaché case, locking his door on the way out.

  “Hey, where are you running off to?” Craig asked as Travis passed his office. “I thought we had plans to go to The Black Tie.”

  “Another time.”

  “Well. . .all right. Josh, Yolanda, and I will be there if you change your mind.”

  “I won’t, but have fun.”

  After a parting nod to the firm’s secretary, Travis left the office suites of Duncan, Duncan, and Larson for that haven called home.

  ❧

  The month of June sped by, and on the morning of July third, as she made a pot of coffee, Jena mulled over the comment Travis’s mother had made only yesterday. I haven’t seen my son this happy since before Meg got sick. . .and it’s all because of you. While Jena knew she should feel flattered, she felt oddly unsettled. But maybe she was reading too much into Carol Larson’s remark—and perhaps she was imagining those long looks that Travis often sent her way. Time and time again, Jena found him watching her, and it was all she could do not to feel nervous and self-conscious. What in the world could he be staring at?

  Star, of course, had the answer. “He’s crazy about you. Can’t you tell? I can. . .and so can Rusty.”

  But Jena had trouble accepting that piece of logic, largely because she’d never known any man to be “crazy” about her. Except, she prayed for that very thing—a man to love her and one she could love right back.

  Giggles and heavy footfalls on the steps signaled the Larson family’s descent from the second floor. Within moments, Travis, wearing blue jeans and a red polo shirt, strode into the kitchen with Carly perched on his shoulders. Mandi skipped in behind him.

  “Good morning.”

  She smiled. “Good morning, Travis.” Grabbing Carly’s foot, she gave it a gentle tug, and the three-year-old blew her a soupy kiss that drizzled into her daddy’s dark hair.

  He groaned, lifting her off his shoulders, and Jena laughed.

  Mandi hugged her around the waist. “Know what, Miss Jena?”

  “What?” She kissed the top of the girl’s head.

  “My daddy’s face is very scratchy when he wakes up.”

  “Oh. . .” Jena tried not to react, but embarrassment soon engulfed her.

  “Get over here and sit down, Mandi. Miss Jena doesn’t want to hear about my face.”

  Her own was flaming at the present. She turned around and pressed the button on the coffeemaker so Travis wouldn’t see.

  “And my face is not that scratchy.”

  “Yes, it is, Daddy.”

  Mandi�
��s matter-of-fact tone struck Jena’s funny bone, and she was hard pressed to contain her mirth. Hearing Travis’s approach only made things worse.

  “I see you laughing.” He gave her a playful nudge.

  Jena swallowed the rest of her amusement. “Sorry, Mandi cracked me up.”

  “Yeah, she’s been known to crack me up too.” Leaning his back against the counter, Travis folded his arms, and while she put away the bag of coffee, Jena could feel the weight of his stare, although she couldn’t get herself to meet his gaze. A heartbeat later, he reached over her and pulled down a box of cereal from the cupboard, giving Jena a generous whiff of his spicy aftershave. If she didn’t know better, she could almost swear that he purposely tried to get her attention—just like when Jeff Sawyer used to pull her hair in the fifth grade because he had a crush on her. Maybe men weren’t all that different from boys.

  “So what’s the plan for today?”

  “The plan?”

  His arm brushed against hers for the briefest of moments as he retrieved three bowls. “You mentioned something about a parade and a block party. . .”

  Well, if my brain hadn’t just turned to mush, I could tell you.

  “Bella invited us to the top of her penthouse for the fireworks tonight. I told you about that, didn’t I?”

  “Um, yeah.”

  Jena suddenly felt like they were playing house. Travis was the daddy, and she was the mommy. . .

  Oh, Lord, help! My thoughts are in a jumble.

  “Everything okay, Jen?”

  Travis stood beside her again, and this time he touched her shoulder. Jena didn’t even try to avert her line of vision and looked full into his face. She allowed her gaze to roam over his clean-shaven jaw and nicely shaped mouth before her eyes met his. She thought she could drown in their deep brown depths. But then, she became aware of the tiny mar of concern that indented his dark brow. She forced a smile, and his frown disappeared.

  “I’m fine,” she reassured him. “I think I just need my morning cup of coffee.”

  Eighteen

  Jena glanced around the Minniatis’ crowded penthouse. Bella really knew how to throw a bash. The kitchen, dining room, living room, and outdoor patio had been decorated in reds, whites, and blues, complete with streamers and balloons. Bella, herself, resembled an American flag as she mingled with her guests, most of whom were strapping young men. Jena presumed they represented the Mavericks indoor football team, and it appeared many had brought their wives and children along. In addition to a myriad of hors d’oeuvres and relish trays, the caterers served grilled tenderloin finger sandwiches. Jena thought it a shame that Star had already been booked for tonight, although she might not have been able accommodate this crowd.