Jake arched his brows and leaned his elbows on the freshly washed table. Had she blushed? This side of Charlotte was new to him, and he liked it. Underneath the cool, confident exterior, there just might be a lonely soul, looking for a friend.
He wasn’t sure if he should burst her bubble or let her down gently. “Well, let’s see. There’s Mrs. Brown. Her son gave her a computer for her eightieth birthday, so she doesn’t go out much anymore. The Borden sisters across the street are friendly enough, but they hate kids. Then there’s Jeremiah Hamner, your neighbor to the right. His hearing aid doesn’t work…”
“Wait a minute.” Charlotte interrupted before he could get to the busybodies at the end of the street. “Are you saying I’ve moved to Geriatric Row?”
“It’s you and me, babe.”
He’d expected her to laugh, but instead, she walked toward the window to stare into the darkness. “I thought it would be different.”
For a moment he thought she might cry. He had a choice: try to comfort her and have her run like a scared rabbit, or see if he could make her laugh.
“What am I?” He twirled her around by the shoulders so she’d have to look him in the eye. “Chopped liver?”
“I meant another woman.”
“Will it help if I string a clothesline across the back yard? We can meet daily for a good gossip.”
“Say what?”
His brows wiggled. “Is noon good for you? I know some good stuff.”
She almost laughed. “I’ll just bet you do. But as much as I’d like to stay and listen, it’s late, and I have movers coming in the morning.”
“A local company?”
She scratched through her purse and pulled out a wad of keys big enough to pass for a weapon. “It’s three college guys. I can’t afford a company.”
The thought of some hunky, bare-chested Romeos flexing their muscles in front of Charlotte wasn’t exactly to his liking. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?”
“What?”
“You know… college guys,” he said, trying not to say what he meant. “Have they done this before? What if they break something, and what about insurance? Are they insured?”
Her chin shot up, and he knew without a doubt he’d hit a sore spot when her eyes flashed. “Excuse me?”
“I don’t want you getting ripped off.”
“I may look like I fell off the turnip truck,” she said, as soon as the girls had finished their goodnights. “But I assure you, I can hire movers without any help.”
“What in the… what’d I say?”
She paused at the door, reluctant to leave, or was it his imagination? He wanted to roll back the clocks so she would stay.
“I’m perfectly capable of handling my own affairs.”
“You think I’m trying to tell you what to do?”
“Aren’t you?”
“No.”
“Then why the third degree?”
He wasn’t about to admit he’d been slapped by the green-eyed monster. There wasn’t a jealous bone in his body. Well — maybe one.
“I was just being neighborly,” he said, giving the only reasonable excuse he could think of. “Neighbors look out for each other. Sorry if I was prying.”
Her frown disappeared and for the first time in years, Jake found himself wanting to be close to another woman in more than just a physical way. Not just any woman, but this woman with the green eyes and porcelain skin. He’d noticed when she wiped the table she was still wearing the plain gold wedding band. Taking his ring off had been a heart-wrenching decision to make. It was like losing Betty all over again, and it took three tries before he found the courage to leave it off. Charlotte’s ring remained in place. It was possible she couldn’t let go of Mitch.
He watched the indecision in her eyes. She remained a closed book, and he couldn’t get a grip on his curiosity. So far he knew she worked two jobs, liked pizza, flowers, and chocolate. If she had the big house Bruce had mentioned, why would she move to Robins Lane? It didn’t make sense.
CHAPTER FIVE
Fear, along with self-doubt, had plagued Charlotte since Mitch’s death more than two years ago. There’d been no shortage of well-intended advice. While her parents wanted her to move back home, her in-laws pointed out she had a home at Hidden Hills — with a mortgage. As true as it was, she hadn’t needed reminding. Her obligations were nightmares she couldn’t shake.
Finances had always been her strong point, but she’d raised no objections when Mitch had offered to handle their bank account after buying his grandfather’s estate. A larger home had meant more foster kids, and while it had been a noble gesture in theory, the reality had been frustrating; breakfast had taken twice as long, buying groceries had become a weekly three-hour ordeal, and getting everyone ready for school had compared to a marathon. The chore of doing laundry had gone from two loads a day to six. In addition, there’d been afternoon snacks, homework to complete, and supper to prepare.
With Mitch managing the finances, she’d had one-on-one time with their girls, but she’d missed family time with just the four of them. Looking back, she admitted it hadn’t been fair to lay all the blame on him. They’d tried to handle more than was humanly possible without help.
Mitch had wanted the foster kids to have the advantages of a stable home life, something most of them had never had, but since he’d been working long hours to make partner, it had fallen to her to make sure it happened. She’d known he loved her and his heart was in the right place, but communication between the two of them had become almost nonexistent. It wasn’t long until she’d become wiped out both mentally and physically.
Before moving to Hidden Hills, they’d always had time to sit down and discuss the budget. All large purchases had been agreed on ahead of time, and if they couldn’t agree, then it was a pass. It had been different after Mitch took over the books, partly because he was too controlling and partly because she was always busy. It wasn’t until the hot July morning when she’d stopped for gas and had her credit card rejected that she’d begun to worry.
“No problem,” Mitch had assured her when she‘d asked about the card. “I just forgot to tell you I lost it. They’ve issued new numbers, but it’ll take a few days for the cards to arrive.”
Mitch had his faults like everyone else, but he’d always been honest with her, so she’d had no reason for doubt. Then a few days later the bank had called. They were overdrawn.
“What’s going on, Mitch?” She’d confronted him the moment he’d walked through the door. “First the credit card, and now the bank.”
“Let it go,” he’d replied, sounding more like his father than the man she’d married. “We agreed I would handle our finances — and I’ll handle it.”
“Don’t lie to me, Mitch! We’ve only been here six months. Are we broke?”
“No,” he’d argued. “We aren’t broke, just a little short of cash.”
“To me, that’s broke!”
“When I get my partnership…”
Unshed tears burned Charlotte’s eyes as shame consumed her. The mention of the elusive partnership had set off the worst argument of their married life. A week later Mitch was gone, and their house of cards lay crumpled at her feet. Since then, she’d put herself on a tight budget and was ever so slowly climbing out of debt.
She couldn’t afford the luxury of living at Hidden Hills. The decision to move to Robins Lane had been the last of her cost-cutting measures. Money saved on gas would pay the rent, and the house, which was smaller in size, would be easier to manage.
Although the dark hardwood floors needed stripping, a damp mop had sufficed. As for the walls, she’d done the best she could with some old paint found in the attic. The house was solid and she’d felt a special bond the moment she’d walked in. For the first time since Mitch’s death, she was able to close her eyes at night and feel safe.
Circumstances had changed her over the past two years. Not in looks, but in perspective. The
boxes stacked in every nook and cranny would have been daunting at one time, but not now. She would survive with God’s help. He’d already seen her through her darkest days and given her strength when she had none.
“Mama!” Becky shouted from the top landing of the stairs. “Those mover guys put Maggie’s bed in my room!”
“See if she’ll trade with you.”
“I don’t like her bed!”
“Then see if she’ll switch rooms with you.”
“Cool!”
Charlotte doubted the beds were the only mix-up. She hated to admit it, but Jake had been right. Some of her furniture had made the trip without a problem, but other pieces appeared as if she’d bought them at a scratch and dent shop. One of the bedside lamps hadn’t survived at all. The old saying “you get what you pay for” was true, but in her case, she’d got what she could afford — the guys were cheap.
Everything she owned had fit into the panel truck except her plants. There wasn’t any hurry as long as she got those before the house sold. It had been on the market for over eighteen months without so much as a nibble. She knew it was unrealistic to hope Mrs. Wilson could do any better, but hope was all she had. Time was running out, leaving her with money for only three more payments before the unthinkable happened.
Charlotte forgot her search for a clean cup when a bushy green plant floated past her kitchen window. She checked her reflection in the toaster and ran her fingers through her unruly hair. The pale face staring back was distorted, but there was no denying the dark smudges beneath her eyes. After splashing some water, she grabbed a dishtowel to wipe away the mascara, then realized she wasn’t wearing any.
“Hey lady, this thing’s heavy. Do you have to take all day?”
The voice was grumpier than she remembered, but the rest of the guy was familiar enough through the screen door. She unhooked the latch. “It’s beautiful, Jake.”
“You think so?” His lopsided grin let her know what he thought of her taste. “I wanted to get roses, but the girls at work said this was more neighborly, and since I’m not much at picking flowers — except roses — I like roses.”
Charlotte led him around a stack of unopened boxes, trying to keep her attention on the flowers instead of his blue eyes. “This is a Peace Lily, and I love it.”
“Then I guess it is neighborly.”
She found herself wondering how many women he’d bought roses for since his wife passed away. Jake wasn’t handsome in the regular sense. His hairline was receding, and his shoulders seemed too wide for his lanky frame, but the man had the most incredible royal blue eyes she’d ever seen. Even his smell had her spirit reaching out for him in a most unneighborly way.
Why was this happening to her? Why now, with this man? Others had tried to flirt with her, and she’d felt nothing. Now a skinny guy brought her a potted plant, and she swooned like a heroine in an old movie. She cut her eyes away from his before she did something stupid. “I feel like a fraud.”
“You do — why?”
“Because I’ve got all sorts of flowers just waiting for a ride,” she admitted, hoping she didn’t sound ungrateful.
“One more won’t hurt — will it?”
“No, of course not.” The smell of his cologne was playing havoc with her nervous system. She inhaled deeply, breathing in his fresh male scent. “There’s always room for one more.”
He sat the pot on a large box and surveyed the room. “The store’s closed tomorrow. We can use the van if you want to.”
“You’re offering to move my plants?”
“Sure, why not? It might be fun.”
It should have been so easy to say yes, but something held her back. If he’d been a woman, she wouldn’t have hesitated, but he was a man, and men had ulterior motives, especially the great smelling ones like him.
“What store are we talking about?”
“Bett’s.”
“The clothing store? You’re sure they won’t mind?”
“I’ve used it before.” He rummaged through a box on the kitchen counter and turned with a grin, holding up two Alabama coffee mugs. “I knew you were a fan.”
Charlotte cleared a place on the table and emptied a couple of chairs, while he poured the coffee. It was the first break she’d had all day.
“So you work in a store.” She was surprised at his occupation. The boys complained all week of him spending too much time with his blueprints, and she’d pegged him as being an engineer. “I guess we have more in common than noisy kids.”
“Could be.” He moved his Peace Lily to the sink and gave it a good soaking. She watched him remove the foil, letting the excess water drain through. For someone who knew nothing about flowers, he seemed to know what he was doing. Afterwards, he unpacked three boxes of dishes, putting them in the cabinets before joining her at the table.
“I’m a checker at Milner’s Market,” she said, then remembered he’d been in her checkout line. “Of course, you already knew that.”
“And do you like it there?” A cookie disappeared into his mouth.
“It’s okay.”
“But it’s not your life’s dream?”
Charlotte hugged the warm cup with both hands. Glancing up, she found herself staring into his probing blue eyes, wondering how much she could reveal before he burst out laughing the way her father-in-law had. She wasn’t being fair to Jake, and she knew it. Any man who’d offered to meet her at the clothesline for a good gossip deserved the truth.
“I’m also a cosmetologist,” she said, noting his puzzled expression. “John Milner offered me a job when our insurance coverage at Mitch’s firm ran out. I work part-time at the Beauty Boutique.”
“Milner?” Jake dropped into the chair to her right. Leaning back, he reached for another cookie, popping it into his mouth. The teasing light in his blue eyes dimmed. “Is he a special friend?”
She knew what he meant, but decided to take the high road. “Oh, he’s special all right, one of the kindest men I’ve ever met. His wife thinks so too, so you can get your mind out of the gutter.”
“I didn’t say anything.”
“For your information, my husband won a difficult case for Mr. Milner several years ago, and this was his way of thanking him.”
“I wasn’t prying.” His dark blue eyes filled with mischief. “Yes, I was. You seeing anyone on a regular basis?”
“Two girls, two jobs, and a mountain of bills… when am I supposed to have time for a man?” She flipped the tables. “What about you? Any special ladies in your life, right now?”
“Touche’.” He laughed, avoiding her question. “How long have you been a beautician?”
Was this a truce or just another tactic for prying into her personal life? She had nothing to hide, but some things were just hard to explain without making Mitch sound like a control freak. “About a year. I was in cosmetology school when Mitch and I married. I went back last year… got my diploma and passed State Boards.”
“Good for you.” He lifted the coffee mug in salute. “Here’s to determination.”
She was touched. It had taken a lot of hard work and no one, other than her parents, had cared. To her in-laws, anything short of a university degree was a waste of time.
“Someday I plan to own a string of shops.” She waited for him to laugh at her dreams, but he didn’t. Instead, he crossed his legs and relaxed, as if he was in for a long visit.
“Who watches the girls?”
“Kimmie Jones,” she said, wondering if Jeremy had mentioned sitting to his dad. “She works with me at the shop, but our hours are the same sometimes.”
“And then you’ll need Jeremy.”
He’d said it as a statement — a done deal from which he’d been excluded, and it wasn’t what she’d meant by asking the boy. It was time to smooth any feathers she might have ruffled. “Only if it’s okay with you.”
“It is,” he agreed. “Provided his grades stay up. I might as well tell you he’s not one for stu
dying.”
“I won’t ask him on a school night.”
He didn’t say anything as he stood up, pushing his chair away from the table as if he was leaving. Had he forgotten about her other plants? She hated mentioning it again, since she’d side-stepped giving him an answer, but…
“About my plants?” She watched him closely. “It’s a long ride, almost to Wills’ Junction.”
At first his expression was blank, as if he’d forgotten what she meant. Then he grinned, looking pleased with himself. “What time do you want to leave tomorrow?”
CHAPTER SIX
The morning sun streaked across the room, shining directly into Charlotte’s eyes. She moaned, snuggling deeper under the covers, every joint in her body aching from shifting heavy boxes. Sleep, she needed sleep — restful, mind-numbing sleep.
It was no use. She raised her head at the sound of voices coming from the hall. Her bedroom door flew open, followed by her girls bouncing onto her bed. Their giggles put the sun to shame.
“Mama, Mama,” Maggie said, patting Charlotte’s cheeks. “I sleep all night in my bed, and I didn’t get scared!”
She yawned. “Good.”
“And Mrs. Parker didn’t make any noises at all,” Becky added between bounces.
Raking the hair out of her eyes, she raised herself on one elbow. “Becky, Mrs. Parker isn’t here anymore. She’s in heaven, just like Daddy.”
“But Bruce said…”
“Forget what Bruce said. He was just trying to scare you.”
“Oh.”
“How would you girls like some breakfast?”
They flung themselves into her outstretched arms. “Pancakes!”
“Of course, it’s pancakes. Today is Sunday, isn’t it?” Hugs from her girls were the best part of the morning. She had started making the special breakfast shortly after Mitch’s death as something for them to look forward to.
“Are we going to church?”
“Not today,” Charlotte replied, smarting in her shoulders and lower back. She eased into her old housecoat. “I’ve got too much to do.”
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