Tate nodded. “Yes. The house was sitting on a pretty substantial easement—or right-of-way, if you prefer—and the city wanted the land to complete their award-winning fitness program. A program they boasted would rival that of big cities like Cincinnati and Columbus.”
“They took his land?”
Again, he nodded. “There was a little-known clause in the city’s charter that enabled them to purchase his land at fair market value to better the city as a whole. With or without his consent.”
The gist of his story hit her like a splash of cold water. “Whoa. Wait a minute. Mrs. Applewhite, the Haskells, the Jorgens…they expected you to stop it?”
The look on his face was all the confirmation she needed. “How could they honestly think you had a say?” she cried.
“Problem was, without consent it would have slowed the process somewhat. Suits could have been filed, heated town meetings would’ve taken place—the whole nine yards. But it still would’ve happened. It was the law.”
“You lost me.”
He inhaled loudly, as if trying to find the the courage to share the whole story. The good, the bad and the ugly. “I was given the task of researching the deed. I found out it was in the name of Mr. Walker’s eldest son.”
“And he gave consent, right?”
Nodding, Tate balled his left hand into a fist and cracked his knuckles. “I was just doing my job. I’m not the one who gave the go-ahead.” He raised his fist to his mouth and exhaled against his skin. “Looking back, I guess I should have withheld that piece of information, but someone would have found it anyway.”
“You were doing your job, Tate. The decision to go after it was the city’s. Not yours.”
“Maybe. But your neighbors thought I’d committed something akin to treason. And when I failed to stop the takeover, I was done.”
“You were an apprentice, Tate.”
“True. But for some reason my—I mean, your neighbors thought that by my mere status as a city employee, I had clout with the mayor and the zoning board.”
Phoebe gasped. “But that’s preposterous. What were you—twenty-two, maybe twenty-three?”
“Twenty-three.”
The pain in his face made her heart ache for this man who’d been unfairly judged.
“Maybe I could make them understand—realize they made a mistake in holding you responsible.”
“No!” The word shot from his mouth, surprising him as much as it did her based on the shock she saw in his eyes. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry at you, Phoebe. But I tried to explain, to make them understand. Numerous times. Again and again. But it didn’t matter. They lost sight of everything they knew about me in favor of some grandiose idea they had about my power as a college graduate. Let them think what they think.”
Phoebe studied him as he lowered his head into his hands once more. There was so much she wanted to say, to point out, but she remained silent. She knew about pride. And she knew the way misunderstandings could continue on an unending trail if left uncorrected.
She opened her mouth to speak but was cut short by a noise from Kayla’s monitor.
Tate’s head shot up, his eyes wide. “Did you hear that?”
She laughed. “It’s just Kayla giving me the ten-minute warning.”
His eyebrows rose in an upside-down V. “Ten minute-warning?”
“Uh-huh.” Phoebe glanced at her watch and grinned. “Right on time, as a matter of fact.”
He still looked puzzled.
“That noise was from a rollover, possibly a stretch. She’s shaking out the cobwebs of sleep. And in about ten minutes she’ll be calling for me.”
His posture changed as the heaviness of their conversation dissipated. “She’s a beautiful baby. It must be hard to raise a little one on your own.”
“It is,” Phoebe answered honestly. “But she is truly the sunshine in my days. She smiles from the moment she wakes up until she puts her head on the mattress at night. She’s taught me how to be a mom and is endlessly patient when I mess it up.”
“I, uh, I sorta noticed you don’t wear a ring.” He motioned around the room before looking back at her, his face slightly red. “And it’s easy to see there’s nothing real guyish anywhere. Was it hard going through a divorce so young?” He leaned forward in his seat once again, his full attention on her.
It was an odd feeling. In a nice way.
“There was no divorce because we never married.”
The silence that ensued was something Phoebe should have expected. She’d had people respond that way since she’d started showing with Kayla. Yet it still hurt.
Pushing herself off her chair, she walked to the window that overlooked the hedge of chrysanthemums on the south side of her home. Part of her wanted to end the conversation right there, to let him think what he wanted. But to do so would be to give in to the pride he, too, needed to abandon.
She parted the white sheer curtain enough to peer outside, and offered Tate the truth, straight up. “Doug and I dated in college. Only he went to the Ivy League school on the other side of town. He was from money. I was not.”
She leaned her forehead against the glass, reveled in the coolness against her skin. “We continued dating after college, though we were both busy trying to establish our grown-up lives. I’d met his family a few times, but they weren’t at all approving of my blue-collar background.”
Tate snorted.
“My grandmother warned me it would be an issue, that I was going to get my heart broken…but I didn’t listen. Then when she died—”
Phoebe choked back the sob that threatened to spring from her throat, squeezed her eyes shut as she heard Tate’s footsteps move in her direction. “I was devastated. My grandmother was the only family I had. Doug tried to comfort me. He was there for me. And it helped. Somewhat. Then I became pregnant with Kayla. It wasn’t what we’d planned, of course, but we’d always talked about getting married.”
She could feel Tate’s breath on the back of her head and she inhaled slowly. “But talking and doing were apparently two different things. And, well, here I am. A single mom.”
A lone tear escaped from each eye as Tate’s hand gripped her shoulder and turned her around to face him. “You’re doing a great job. All anyone has to do is look at Kayla to know that.”
Phoebe closed her eyes as he cupped her face and used his thumbs to gently wipe away the wetness. She tried to speak, to say something, but as her lips parted he drew her in for a kiss. A sweet, gentle touch that made her knees weaken and her heart pound. Never in all her life had she felt the kind of intensity that was winding its way through her body at that moment. An experience she wanted to last forever—
“Ma-ma.”
Or until Kayla woke up.
Slowly Phoebe pulled back to see his eyes meeting hers and a smile lighting his face. “I guess the ten minutes are up, huh?” he murmured.
“I—I have to…” She knew what she wanted to say, knew what she needed to do, but it was as if her ability to act intelligently had shut off the moment he pulled her into his arms.
He gestured toward the hallway. “I know. I’ll wait. I’d like to see that sweet face again.”
She glanced over her shoulder as she approached the stairs, smiled shyly at the man whose taste still lingered on her lips. There was a lot to think about. To consider and digest.
The connection she felt to Tate Williams at that moment was both surprising and wonderful all at the same time. The man he’d allowed her to see today was nothing like the man her neighbors had portrayed. Or the one she’d wrongly assumed him to be based on where he lived.
Proof once again that misunderstandings, left unchecked, were capable of unbelievable destruction and heartache.
IF HE KNEW FOR SURE the baby monitor wasn’t a two-way gadget, he’d have given in to the impulse to let out a yell in celebration.
For the first time in a week he’d finally managed to get through a conversation with Phoebe withou
t drowning in his own stupidity or shooting himself in the foot. That alone was a step in the right direction.
But the kiss? Well, that was an unexpected thrill on so many levels. Sure, he’d thought about it, even daydreamed about it many times, but to have the gumption to actually do it?
Unbelievable.
Phoebe’s voice wafted down the stairs, its happy lilt widening the smile on his face as he looked around the meticulously kept room. The furnishings were different and the colors lighter, but the overall effect wasn’t far removed from what his mother had achieved a decade earlier. Only here—in Phoebe’s house—there was no daily infusion of negativity, no mood-zapping coldness.
The sound of footsteps interrupted his thoughts. Turning, he moved into the hallway, anxious to see Phoebe’s face once more. She’d been gone less than five minutes yet he was eager to see her again. Her long, bare legs descending the staircase only upped the desire.
Kayla popped her pale yellow pacifier out of her mouth and grinned at him from the safety of her mother’s arms. “I—I—I.”
“I—I—I,” he repeated, his face scrunched up like a pirate.
“Um, we haven’t gotten to the pirate books yet. ‘I’ is just Kayla’s way of saying hi.” Phoebe brushed a kiss on her daughter’s temple, then set her on the ground.
He laughed. “Oh. Missed that one. Well…then hi yourself, Kayla.”
The baby giggled and took off, crawling furiously toward the kitchen. “Where’s she going in such a hurry?”
“To find Boots.” Phoebe followed her around the corner, motioning for him to follow. “It’s her first postnap escapade every day.”
“Do they make boots for feet that little?”
Phoebe stared at him, the corner of her mouth twitching.
“Seriously, do they?”
“Boo! Boo!”
Tate looked down as a flash of something orange-and-white shot past him and into the hallway, Kayla crawling after it at lightning speed.
“Boots?” he asked sheepishly.
“Boots.” Phoebe pulled the dish towel from the handle of the oven door and playfully hit him in the arm.
Tate grabbed it and turned it back on her. She squealed and ran into the hallway, the physical similarity between mother and baby startling. Kayla’s hair was lighter, but their eyes were almost the exact same hue, and their smile started in the same place.
It had been ages since he’d felt this carefree, this happy. And he didn’t want to screw it up again.
Carefully, he returned the dish towel to its spot and headed in the direction Kayla and Phoebe had gone. He found them in the hallway, looking out the front window together, an irritated Boots watching warily from a few feet away.
“I bet Kayla’s a big hit around here.” Tate stopped beside them, tried to see what was so fascinating while resisting the urge to drape an arm across Phoebe’s shoulder. He didn’t want to push it too far, too fast.
She bounced her daughter on her hip. “Oh, she is. They adore her. It’s like having five or six different grandparents around at any given time.”
A pair of tiny arms shot out in his direction, brushing him on the shoulder.
“She wants you to hold her,” Phoebe said with a sparkle in her eye.
“Gladly.” He put his hands under the baby’s arms and pulled her to him, blowing softly against her cheek before looking at Phoebe once again. “Hey, what was going on next door when I arrived? The whole street seemed to be there.”
“They were. I feel bad for them. They want desperately to hold on to that land.” Phoebe stepped back from the window and leaned against the antique table, her long, slender legs claiming his attention once again.
He swallowed hard, forced himself to focus on something besides Phoebe’s legs and how it would feel to have them wrapped around him. “What land?”
“The green space.”
He caught the baby’s pudgy hand in his as it made its way up to his mouth. “What’s wrong with the green space?”
Phoebe waved in the air. “Apparently, if we don’t come up with a way to beautify the space in some unique way, the city is going to take it over and turn it into a citywide park.”
He stared at her. “They can’t do tha—wait, strike that. They can. And they have. As you now know.” He turned Kayla around to face the outdoors, his left arm under her bottom, his right hand supporting her calves. “But why? Why would they want it?”
Phoebe shrugged, her eyebrows rising. “It’s part of their Clean Up Cedarville campaign.”
“But that land has belonged to Quinton Lane for decades.”
He watched as she brought her palms to her face and exhaled. “I know. And trust me, we’re trying to come up with anything we can to hang on to it.”
“Such as?” Kayla squirmed in his arms and he shot a question in Phoebe’s direction. At her nod, he set the little girl down, Boots disappearing once again, Kayla in hot pursuit.
“I don’t know yet. Right now we’re just trying to figure out how to raise funds so we have a chance. You know these people. They have no money.”
He peered out the window once again, his attention settling on the two or three houses he could see from where he stood. Homes that held the secrets of all who’d lived there. But the green space had always been the one place where the people of Quinton Lane had come together. For birthday parties, graduation ceremonies, summer picnics and winter bonfires. A simple, yet perfect place that had been the backdrop for the kind of memories people held dear. Including him.
And while he would never consider living on or around Quinton Lane again, that didn’t mean he could forget the good times he’d had here while growing up. Or the role the green space had played in fostering them.
“Tate?”
Phoebe’s soft, tentative voice broke through his woolgathering and he turned to face her. He’d give anything to continue their kiss, to slide his hands down her arms, to feel her breasts in his hands. But the reappearance of Kayla made that difficult. As did a desire to keep from being thrown out on his ear.
“I found an address for your father so Kayla and I are going to pay him a visit today. To deliver his letter.” She reached behind her back and plucked the envelope from its perch against the table-mounted mirror. “I’d gotten so wrapped up in finishing the portrait that I wasn’t able to deliver it any sooner. Now that I’m done, I want to make sure to get it to him. We’d love to have you come with us. I could even make some dinner afterward if you like spagh—”
“No! Absolutely not!” His words reverberated through the foyer with a fury he didn’t intend, yet couldn’t control. An intense outburst riled only by the subsequent sound of Kayla’s frightened cry.
Chapter Six
It had taken every ounce of willpower Phoebe possessed to push Tate Williams out of her thoughts. And it still hadn’t worked. Not really, anyway.
He was there as she printed up directions to the Garden View Retirement Village. He was there as she slipped a pale yellow sundress on Kayla and pulled her hair into two tiny pigtails. And he was still there now, as she stopped at the visitor’s desk for a guest pass to meet his father.
The kiss alone was hard to forget, but it was more than that. He’d been so compassionate when she’d shared her background with Doug, so open when he’d spoken of the rift with her neighbors and the hurt that still remained. And he’d gone out of his way to apologize for comments that weren’t even entirely his fault.
Yet the notion of visiting his father was so incredibly appalling he’d scare her baby half to death then walked out the door with barely a look backward.
“Men.”
“You can say that again.”
Phoebe froze, her mental cloud clearing as she looked around the desk for a person to go with the voice. “Excuse me?”
“I’m sorry. I don’t usually make a habit of eavesdropping on our guests. But your voice, and what you said just now—well, I get it. Boy, do I get it.” A college studen
t sporting a white T-shirt with a big yellow smiley face pointed at her name tag. “I’m Jeannie. How can I help you? Short of eliminating the offending gender, of course.”
Kayla reached out and waved her hand wildly, her pint-size squeal echoing through the two-story atrium.
Jeannie nodded, her expression serious despite the glint in her eye. “That’s right, little one. Save yourself the trouble and just stay away from all men. Who needs ’em, anyway? Well, except maybe for…well, that…”
Phoebe’s lips twitched. “I’m not entirely convinced they’re even worth that.” She rested Kayla’s bottom on the countertop as she extended her free hand toward the receptionist. “I’m Phoebe Jennings and this is Kayla. I called earlier this morning to see if it would be possible to pay a visit to one of your residents—Mr. Bart Williams.”
A quick scrunch of her eyebrows was followed by a tap of her pen on the desk. “Right. I remember. Here…take this.” She handed a green laminated index card to Phoebe, then wrote something in a small green book beside her desk phone. “It lets security know that you’ve checked in and have permission to be in our independent living wing.”
“Independent living?” Phoebe asked.
The girl nodded. “Residents in that section of our village are simply senior citizens who’d rather live in this type of setting as opposed to a more traditional apartment complex. Less noise. More opportunity for making friends. And the peace of mind that comes with knowing you’re in a safe place.”
“I see.” Phoebe gave the card to Kayla and lifted her into her arms once again. “Thanks, Jeannie. Now which way do I—”
The girl stepped out from behind her desk and motioned down the long hallway. “Take this all the way to the end, then turn right. Mr. Williams’s apartment is at the end of that second hallway. You can’t miss his flag.”
Kayla waved bye-bye as Phoebe headed in the direction indicated. They hadn’t gone more than ten feet when Jeannie called out to them one last time. “I’m glad you’re here to see Mr. Williams. He seems awful lonely and I think that baby of yours will make his day.”
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