“You hate babysitting.”
“Yeah, but I like making money.”
Something in the boy’s babbling clicked — two jobs. Now why would a lawyer’s widow need to work two jobs, especially with small children? There should have been a boatload of insurance. Of course, she could have blown the wad on — on what?
It was his job to know clothes, and while hers had been of good quality, they’d seen better days. He pictured the porcelain skin with the perfectly arched brows and clear green eyes, adorned by the longest lashes in town. Hers was a natural beauty, not the high maintenance type of woman he dealt with on a daily basis.
“What else did she say?”
Jeremy shrugged as if he’d already lost interest in the subject. “She likes chocolate.”
“Most people do.”
“Dad,” Bruce said, not wanting to be left out. “Becky says they live in a big house, and they’ve got a swimming pool and a creek in the yard. Boy, if we lived there, I’d never want to move. We could swim and fish all the time.”
A whiff of Andy’s hair was another gentle reminder of Charlotte’s closeness. She hadn’t been the least bit forthcoming about herself. If Bruce was right and they lived in a ritzy neighborhood, then why would she want to move to Robins Lane? He’d bet money there was more going on than a change of scenery.
****
The house came alive after school each day. Jeremy washed windows while the younger boys made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches for everyone. Other than their initial battles, Bruce remained a perfect gentleman, and even though she hadn’t asked for help, she wasn’t about to turn it down either. As for the girls, they’d managed to avoid any more accidents since she’d put the upstairs bathroom off limits and explained in no uncertain terms what would happen if anyone leaned out a window or slid down the banister.
The week flew by with her aching body crying “foul” along the way from the cleaning and packing. Now there was nothing left to do except let the movers in at the other house. She glanced around with pride at a job well done.
Taking the checkbook from her purse, she frowned at the balance. Everything would have to fit into a single load, since it’s all she could afford.
Bruce sniffed the air. “You’re right, Charlotte.”
“About what?”
“This house. The old people smell is gone.”
She put away her checkbook. “Then we’re finished. Let’s call it a night.”
“Do we have to?”
“I’m afraid so. Tomorrow’s the big day.”
“But, Dad said to keep you here until he got home.”
“Why would he want me to stay?”
The eight-year-old crossed his arms, heaving an exaggerated sigh of the put-upon. “I don’t know, but we’re in big… uh, trouble if you don’t.”
Charlotte frowned at the kid. “Oh, yeah? Well, you’re in bigger trouble if you don’t watch your mouth. Are you guys afraid to stay by yourselves?”
“Shucks no — I mean no, ma’am. We do it all the time.”
She glanced at her watch when Jake came through the door with his feet dragging. He tossed his keys on the counter and picked up his youngest son.
“It’s about time!” Bruce said, as if they’d been waiting for hours instead of minutes.
He shifted Andy on his hip. “Sorry I’m late. Can you wait a little longer? There’s something in the truck.”
What could he possibly have she might need, other than a million bucks? Since his house appeared to be an updated version of this one, she ruled it out.
It wasn’t long before he and the oldest boy brought in a large, cardboard box and set it at the foot of the staircase. Standing up, Jake grabbed his back.
The younger kids gathered around for a closer look, but Bruce backed away, staring at his dad with eyes full of hurt. Was he jealous of the girls? It was understandable, if he feared losing more of his dad’s time. From what she’d seen this past week, the poor kid had precious little to spare. Her heart went out to him as memories came to mind of Becky, fighting for Mitch’s attention when the foster kids happened to be boys.
“Would someone tell me what’s going on?”
“It’s a gift,” Jake replied. “Actually, it’s a toilet.”
Things costing so much usually had ulterior motives attached. She studied his dark blue eyes, but came up blank. “Well, it’s a nice gift, but I’m afraid I can’t accept it.”
“Why not?”
“Because it’s too expensive.”
“Expensive?” Jake clutched his heart, staggering backward. “It’s just a toilet, not a jet plane. Would it make you feel better if I said it was stolen?”
Charlotte shook her head at his ridiculous antics. Jake Weatherman could possibly be the best neighbor in the world, but it didn’t change the fact he was a man. To her dismay, he ignored her protest.
Crossing his arms, he rocked back on his heels and grinned. “Girls, would you like a new commode?”
“Sure,” Becky replied. “Mama likes flowers and candy.”
His dimples sank deeper into the lean cheeks as he winked at the girls. “I’ll have to remember that, won’t I?”
“About the commode.” She pointed to the large box in the hope of getting the subject away from her likes and dislikes. “As I was saying, I can’t afford it now, but…”
“It’s not costing you a cent.” The interruption came before she could finish her excuse for not accepting the thing. “Remember, you’re renting. I’m sending the bill to John Parker. He’s known for years the commode needed replacing. Besides, this was a window display. I was able to get it at a discount.”
She didn’t know what to say. Why was it so hard to trust him? “You’re sure it’s not stolen?”
He burst out laughing. “I’m sure. Haven’t you ever given something because it was needed? You’ve got to be the most skeptical woman I’ve ever met.”
“Maybe so,” she said, her past a constant reminder. “But I learned a long time ago not to expect something for nothing.”
He shook his head. “Well, this is the exception to the rule. The only catch is you’ll have to help me install it.”
“I haven’t said…”
“I’m not listening to your excuses,” he said, interrupting again. “Maggie’s running around with her arm in a sling because of the monstrosity upstairs. Now we’re installing this commode before somebody else gets hurt.”
He had a point, even if he did have an attitude to go with it. The grin had been replaced by the stubborn resolve a man gets when he knows he’s right. Charlotte knew it was time to stop looking her gift horse in the mouth.
“Thank you.”
He blinked. “What?”
“I said thank you.”
“But…”
She walked away, returning shortly with an old shoebox. Most of Mitch’s tools had disappeared shortly after his death, and she’d assumed his father had taken them, but without proof, it was wiser to say nothing and make do with the few she had left. “Here’s my toolbox.”
“Never mind,” he said, after seeing her hammer and bent nails. “I’ve got my own tools.”
“Then we only have one problem left. The kids ate peanut butter sandwiches after school, but it’s almost suppertime. They’re probably getting hungry.”
The kids giggled when Jake scratched his head, making funny faces while pretending to study the situation. Fingers snapped over his head, indicating the light bulb clicking on, and he reached into his pocket, took out his cellphone and tossed it to Bruce. “You know the number. Order enough pizza for everyone.”
The boy’s eyes lit up. “We’re going to the Pizza Plate?”
“Not tonight, son. We’ve got a commode to install.”
CHAPTER FOUR
The shiny white commode fit the décor in the fifties-style bathroom with its claw tub and pedestal sink. Even the linoleum floor appeared in good shape, except for a slightly worn traffic area.
Looking around, she made a mental note to pick up some lace curtains to cover the blinds on her next trip to the thrift store.
“Dad’s back with the pizzas. Come on, slowpoke. Everybody’s at our house.”
“I’m coming,” she said, using both hands to lift the heavy tool box. She knew from experience how picky Mitch had always been with his tools, so she’d made sure Jake’s were all accounted for before closing the lid. It was the least she could do.
The cellphone rang, creating another distraction when she went through the kitchen. Thinking it was the kids, she sat the toolbox on the counter and fished the phone from her pocket. “Hello.”
“Charlotte.”
The distinctive voice of her father-in-law hit a raw nerve. Her eyes rolled. Had she checked the number, she would have ignored the call. Now it was talk to him or risk him showing up on her doorstep again. “How are you?”
“I believe I should be asking you that,” he said, the cultured cadence grating on her nerves like chalk on a blackboard.
“Why?”
”I heard you’re leaving Hidden Hills. Is it true?”
“It is,” she replied, wondering how he’d found out since no one, other than Mrs. Wilson and the utility companies, knew she was moving. “I’ve rented a house in Reader. It’s close to the girls’ school.”
“That’s no reason to move.”
She bit her tongue to keep from telling him to mind his own business. “Look, Judge. My girls need other children to play with.”
“Those girls are fine. You need to focus on your obligations to this family. If you can’t afford your mortgage, just how do you plan on paying rent?”
“It’s my problem, not yours,” she said, ready to stand her ground. She’d thought long and hard before making her decisions, even though the money she’d save in gas would cover the rent. The last thing she needed was Mitch’s arrogant, silver-haired father giving her orders.
“Don’t even think about neglecting the mortgage.” His demanding voice was accompanied by what sounded like a fist, pounding on a table. His angry tone had her imagining purple veins popping in his forehead and his blood pressure skyrocketing. “It comes first, and I’ll not let you give the impression our family’s in financial trouble. Everything you do reflects on me.”
“I’m not neglecting anything.”
“Well, I’d like to know what you call it!”
“Survival.”
“Don’t get sassy with me, girl!”
“Then don’t preach to me! If you hadn’t dangled the fake partnership in front of Mitch, I wouldn’t be in this mess.”
“The partnership was real, but he still had to earn it. Nothing is free in this world. It’s a concept a little gold-digger like you wouldn’t know anything about!”
“Earn it?” she said. “Mitch spent the better part of his life trying to earn your approval. It wasn’t until he married me that he realized your approval wasn’t worth having!”
“I’m going to ruin you,” he said. “Do you hear me? When I get through with you, nobody will give you the time of day, much less any kind of a loan. You’ll be lucky to buy a piece of gum!”
“You do it, old man. And I’ll see what I can leak to the local papers.”
“Now you listen to me, young lady,” he said, biting the words out. “I’m running for state senate next year, and I’ll not have the family name dragged through the mud. And another thing, don’t even think about filing bankruptcy! Do you hear me? Don’t even think about it!”
“You old goat! Why don’t you leave me alone?”
Charlotte snapped the phone shut before he could start on her other debt, the one he’d claimed was due today. Mitch had told her the money was a gift, a part of his inheritance. She’d known it was a golden carrot dangling in front of his nose to get him to accept his legacy of Hidden Hills. Why had she given in? There would be no freedom from his family until she repaid every cent.
“You’ll get no help from me!” Tom McGregor had stated emphatically when she’d asked for his help, shortly after Mitch’s death. She’d needed legal advice, not his money. By turning her down, he’d blown his chance. Whatever decisions she made concerning the estate had nothing to do with him.
With the economy in the pits, a lot of people had opted for bankruptcy instead of waiting for the foreclosure on their loans. But it was a choice she couldn’t afford. Mitch occasionally worked at a reduced rate, if a client was desperate or broke, but the only lawyers she knew cost money. Maybe, as a last-ditch effort, it was something to consider. She wasn’t trying to hurt Mitch’s family, but the money from his life insurance was almost gone — and then what?
****
Crumbs, along with dirty napkins and paper cups, littered Jake’s kitchen table, the pizzas now a pleasant memory. Their kids lay spread-eagle in front of the television set, while he and Charlotte cleared the table.
“I’ll bet you didn’t think I could install a commode.”
She stopped. “Tell you what, since you did such a nice job on our pot, I think I’ll let you clean up this mess.”
“You’re all heart.” Jake sat, rotating the empty glass in front of him. They’d made a good team, working side by side, installing the commode. She’d even agreed to pick up the tools while he went for pizzas. Now to sit and relax at the table with her seemed right. He hadn’t been this comfortable with a woman in a long time.
The dishtowel landed next to him. “Make yourself useful.”
He couldn’t shake the feeling something had upset her while he was gone, but he wouldn’t press. They’d just met, so her private life wasn’t his business — yet. The questions would be answered in due time, but it didn’t stop him from wondering. There had to be a way to get her to confide.
She stacked the empty boxes, stuffing them into the garbage can along with the napkins and cups. “Do you realize how much cheese our kids just ate? Three large pizzas seemed like a lot of food, but they had no problem wolfing it down.”
Jake thumped his chest in hopes of relieving the heartburn brought on by too much pepperoni. “I know… I’m stuffed. Just look at them, sprawled on the floor without a care in the world.”
“Peaceful.”
His mind drifted back to the days when his family made a meal off one pizza. “I wonder what Betty would think of her boys now…”
“Was she your wife?”
It took a moment for him to realize she was talking to him. The green eyes gazing into his held a world of understanding, as if he’d found a kindred spirit.
Charlotte crossed to the sink where he’d filled the coffeepot and reached into the cabinet, removing two mugs. He wondered if being in his kitchen felt as right to her as it did to him.
“Jeremy said his mother died when Andy was born.”
“It probably seemed that way to him.” His somber tone had come from thinking about Betty. He seldom talked about her or how she’d died, but for some reason, it seemed okay to tell Charlotte. “It happened a week later. I was at work when she had an aneurysm. By the time we got her to the hospital, it was too late.”
“You must’ve had your hands full.” She poured coffee for each of them before sitting down. “Raising three boys, and Andy being a newborn, how did you do it?”
He watched her add cream to the cup, slowly stirring with a teaspoon before taking a sip of the strong brew. “I’ve had some help. The grannies deserve jewels in their crowns. Then the ladies from our church pitched in, and I can’t remember how many housekeepers we’ve had.”
“Well, somebody’s done a good job,” she said, looking up from her coffee. “We couldn’t have managed this week without their help.”
“My boys? It’s an uphill battle to keep dirty socks in the hamper.”
She nodded. “Well, all I’ve heard this week is yes ma’am and no ma’am.”
He frowned, glancing from her to his boys and back again. “My boys?”
“I don’t see any others.”
&
nbsp; He shook his head. “They’re up to something.”
“Talk about me being skeptical. At least I’ve got a reason.”
“And I don’t?”
“Not that I can see.” She picked up the dishcloth he hadn’t touched and leaned close, wiping crumbs into a pile.
Jake fought the urge to take her in his arms, taste her soft lips, and feel her silky hair slide through his fingers. Her pale skin was inches away, but he didn’t dare; she was already skittish. If he worked too fast, she might think he was a scumbag and with good cause. She moved away, leaving the faintest hint of pine and honeysuckle in the air.
He thought about telling her some of the stunts the boys had pulled, but he knew she wouldn’t believe him. One thing for sure, she wasn’t the prissy pushover he’d first thought. Maybe being around her would be the steady influence his boys needed — a woman’s soft touch when they needed it, but firm if they goofed up. Knowing she’d send them home in a heartbeat might make a difference.
“You’re too quiet. What are you thinking?”
“If you’re going to let me in on it.”
“On what?”
“Your reason for being skeptical,” he said, determined to learn something about her, even if it took some old-fashioned meddling. “You act like nobody’s ever given you anything just for the joy of giving.”
“It’s been a while.”
“How long?”
“Long enough,” she said. “And if you’re interested, Mitch and I weren’t close to any of our neighbors.”
“Why not?”
“Our house was rather isolated.”
“Not like this place?”
Charlotte released a lengthy sigh. “Is something wrong with me?”
He took the opportunity to stare openly at the curves he’d been admiring all week. “Not from where I’m sitting.”
“Not my body!” She threw the dishtowel in his face. “I’m talking about me. I’ve spent entire afternoons here this week, and you’re the only neighbor I’ve seen.”
Hidden Hills Page 5
