“Angie’s plotting something.”
“So what else is new?”
“She’s determined that she and Rulli are going to live with Pat.”
Clarissa made a face. “I think the kids are probably better off with somebody else. I don’t think Pat has the slightest idea what’s up with kids. They’d run him ragged.”
“True.”
“Don’t think he had the slightest idea what was up with you, either,” Clarissa added.
Trisha pulled a form off the stack and began to study it intently. “Oh, I don’t know about that. I think we understood each other very well.”
“Then why’d he take off?”
“Who said it was his decision?” Trisha asked. “Maybe it was mutual.”
“Sure. And getting the flu’s a mutual decision between you and the bug.”
“We both had our own lives and it was time to lead them.”
“So why are you moping around like a kid who lost her dog?”
“I’m not,” Trisha pointed out, then glanced out her window. “Uh-oh.”
Clarissa turned also. “It’s just your mother.”
Trisha’s mother marched into her office. “You poor dear,” she said and seized Trisha in a giant hug.
Suddenly Trisha felt like a ten-year-old who’d scraped her knee and had run to the sanctuary of her mother’s arms. The scrape didn’t go away magically but it felt better. Everything felt better.
Everything felt worse. She had the sudden urge to burst into tears and cry on her mother’s shoulder for years. She wanted to sob about how hurt she felt and how alone. And how she had no idea why he’d left like that.
But she was a grown woman and grown women didn’t admit to being dumped.
“Hi, Mom.” Reluctantly, Trisha pulled herself out of her mother’s embrace. “What are you doing here?”
“Visiting.” Her mother sat down in the chair next to Clarissa. “Is there some kind of a law against a mother visiting her child?”
There was a lump in Trisha’s throat and her lip was borderline quivering, so she thought it best not to trust her mouth to words. Silently she shook her head.
“Good,” her mother said, then turned to Clarissa. “And how are you?”
“Just fine, thank you.”
With the pleasantries out of the way, the three of them leaned back and let a silence swallow them up.
“So, has he come to his senses yet?” Trisha’s mother asked suddenly.
“Nope,” Clarissa answered as if Trisha weren’t even there.
“Men can be such fools.”
“Tell me about it.” Clarissa sighed.
“They seemed like such a perfect couple.”
“He seemed more human around her. Not such a stuffed shirt.”
Trisha waved her hand in the air. “I am here, you know.”
“He must have run scared,” her mother went on.
“My thought entirely. Got to liking the coziness a little too much and it scared him.”
“Maybe it was a mutual decision,” Trisha said for the second time that afternoon.
“He’ll come back,” her mother told Clarissa and got to her feet. “Just needs a little time.”
“You think so?” Clarissa shook her head. “I don’t know. He might need a boot in the butt first. He’s a pretty stubborn fool.”
“Maybe I don’t want him back,” Trisha said loudly. “Maybe I don’t have the time for a relationship like that. Did you ever think this is what I want?”
They turned to stare at her then. But only for a moment.
Clarissa shook her head as she followed Trisha’s mother out the door. “I bet if she went to see him, he’d fall in line like a homesick puppy.”
“What’s with this puppy nonsense?” Trisha called after them. “I’m a cat person, remember?” Besides, she was not going to go see Pat. It was over.
* * *
Pat pulled the shiny, new van up near the door of the Boys and Girls Club. He turned the ignition off and leaned back a moment, savoring the vehicle’s new-car smell.
But as much as he tried to hold on to that scent, reality came stomping in, crushing the pleasant softness surrounding him beneath large, unfeeling feet. He should have let the dealer deliver the van. Then he wouldn’t have to see Trisha.
Shaking his head, he almost laughed out loud at that thought. That was how this whole mess got started. A van was delivered to the wrong address and before he knew it, Miss Trisha Stewart—her smile, her laughter, her womanly scent—had claimed ownership of his life.
If that hadn’t happened, he wouldn’t be in the pain he was in now. But then, neither would he have found Angel’s kids, so he couldn’t be totally sorry.
He looked around the parking lot and the surrounding streets. It was four in the afternoon. Everything was empty around him. There was no one here to see him. And Trisha was probably inside.
That meant he could probably sneak over to the door, ease it open, throw the keys in and run. But that was more than a little cowardly.
Maybe what he ought to do was leave the keys in the van, walk over to Western and catch a bus downtown. Back at his office, he could call Trisha. Though there was a chance that the van would get swiped, there was a smaller chance he’d get caught.
Which made it even more cowardly than the first option. No, he was a man and he should act like one.
He took the keys out of the ignition and put them in his coat pocket. Then he took a deep breath, straightened his tie and walked in the door.
The scene was typical, everyday. Some kids were playing Ping-Pong while others sat with tutors and studied. Angie and Rulli were in the study room and when Rulli looked up, Pat waved. Instead of returning his wave, the boy turned back to his studies.
For a moment, Pat’s firm resolve danced on the edge of crumbling, but he told himself that maybe Rulli hadn’t seen him. The kid probably needed glasses. And even if he had seen him and still rejected him, he would just have to deal with it. Pat was doing the best he could.
He looked toward Trisha’s office. She was inside and Clarissa was just outside her door, looking for something in a filing cabinet. Holding his head high, he strode over. “Hi, Clarissa.”
The woman looked over her glasses and examined him carefully, as if he might be an impostor. “Hello, Mr. Stuart,” she finally said. “How are you?”
“I’m just fine.” His voice was vigorous and confident, thanks to the sales training his job had given him over the years. “Is Miss Stewart available?”
Clarissa took her glasses off, letting them hang over her ample chest, and put her head in Trisha’s office. “Are you available for a Mr. Patrick Stuart?”
“What does he want?” Trisha asked without looking up.
“What is the nature of your business, sir?”
This was a tad stupid, but he could play the game as well as anyone. “I have a gift that I would like to present to Miss Stewart.”
“He’s got something for you.”
“Actually it’s for the club. But I want to present it to Miss Stewart as a representative of—”
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes,” Trisha snapped. “Just get in here and quit wasting our time.”
Pat considered pointing out that he hadn’t started this little charade, but he was old enough to know that women were not enamored of logic. He stepped into the office and sat down.
“All right, Mr. Stuart,” Trisha said. “How may I help you?”
“Actually I’m here to help you,” Pat replied, as he dropped the keys on her desk. “They’re for your van.”
“I don’t remember asking for it.” She looked out the door. “Maybe Clarissa—”
“I said your van.”
She turned back to stare at him.
“Your very own van,” he said. “That you don’t have to share with anybody. Unless you want to.”
Her glance flickered down at the keys. “You were able to secure funding?”
&nbs
p; “Here’s the title.” Pat leaned forward and laid the document on the desk next to the keys. “It’s all yours.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Pat unfolded the title document. “The van’s registered in the club’s name. There are no liens on it. You guys own it free and clear.”
She stared at him a long moment, then down at the keys and document on her desk.
“I had it fitted out just like you wanted,” he said. “Bench seats, easy-clean fabric, seat belts—everything. All the stuff you picked out when we—” He paused a moment to swallow. “It’s just the way you wanted it.”
“Thank you.”
There was nothing more to say. He should just turn on his heel and walk out, but he didn’t. He was finding it harder and harder to breathe, though. It was as if the oxygen were being sucked out of the air and no more was coming in.
Suddenly the phone rang and Trisha snatched it up, obviously wanting to get it before Clarissa could. From the conversation it appeared to be one of Trisha’s board members.
“I’m going to look in on Angie and Rulli,” he murmured.
Trisha continued to concentrate on her phone conversation.
Shrugging, he made his way out into the study room. He would have preferred to run. Get out and find himself a nice bar and test those depths of alcohol where his father had found solace.
But the kids were his responsibility and he had to keep in touch with their progress. Besides, he wasn’t like his father. Never was and never would be.
“Hi, guys,” Pat said.
Angie looked up and a sudden smile covered her face. “Uncle Pat,” she cried. “Hi.”
She flew out of her chair to grab him in a clumsy hug. Pat was stunned, but recovered enough to return the embrace. What was she up to?
She let him go enough to turn to her brother. “Rulli, look. It’s Uncle Pat.”
Rulli frowned at his sister. “I thought we didn’t like him anymore.”
Angie laughed and came pretty close to sincerity. “He’s our uncle,” she said, her voice almost sweet and reasonable. “And kids always like uncles. Uncles are nice.”
“Oh.” Rulli turned to Pat. “Hi, Pat.”
“Hi, kid. How’s it going?”
Rulli just shrugged and looked back down at the math paper he was working on. “Okay.”
“Rulli got an A on his science test,” their tutor said.
“Good job, Rulli.”
“Hey, Uncle Pat,” Angie said, tugging on his arm. “Look what I got.” She held out a scrap torn from the newspaper. “It’s a coupon. You buy one cheeseburger dinner and get another one free. And I got two of them. What d’ya say we all go out to dinner? You know—you, me, Rulli and Miss Stewart. It wouldn’t cost you hardly nothing.”
Except his peace of mind. “That place is a grease pit,” he said instead. “Your arteries will be clogged shut by the time you’re thirteen if you eat there.”
“Okay.” She stuffed the coupon back in her pocket. “So where do you want to go?”
He’d thought she’d been accepting defeat too easily and he sighed. “Nowhere. I’ve got plans and your aunt is probably expecting you for dinner.”
“You got plans?” Angie’s thin veneer of joviality was gone and her usual belligerence was back. “What d’ya mean you got plans? What kinda plans?”
“I have a life, you know,” he pointed out. He was not about to tell her his plans were a carryout pizza and a rented video.
Angie took a deep breath and recovered a bit of her former sweet self, but only a bit. If Pat hadn’t known better, he’d have thought her eyes had looked almost scared for a moment there.
“Sure,” she said. “I know you got a life, but we’re related. If you’re going to give us an aunt, you should tell us first.”
Ah, light dawned, but with it came a small niggling of pain as he answered. “I’m not going to produce an aunt. You don’t need to worry.”
“Hey, who’s worrying? So how about tomorrow? That good for you?”
Her maneuverings were about as subtle as a Mack truck, but he didn’t mind. Up to a point. He wanted to spend time with them. “Sure, tomorrow’s fine. The three of us can go get some dinner. Maybe even—”
“No, the four of us,” Angie corrected. “Miss Stewart’s coming with.”
“She’s busy,” Pat said.
“No, she’s not,” Angie said. “All we gotta do is ask.”
“No, we don’t have to ask. I know. It’ll be the three of us.”
She sagged back into her chair. “Gee, that’ll be a lot of fun.”
“It could be,” he pointed out.
“So could getting a shot, but it ain’t.” She pulled her book over toward her. “I got homework to do.”
“So, are we on for tomorrow?” Pat asked.
“I am,” Rulli said. “How about we go for spaghetti?”
“No, we ain’t,” Angie said and glared at Rulli. “It’s a school night and we gotta study.”
Pat just sighed. At least things were back to normal with her. “Well, maybe over the weekend, then,” he said.
“Sure, Pat,” Rulli said. “That’d be great.”
“We’ll see,” Angie added darkly.
Chapter Fourteen
Pat sat there and stared at the frozen-food meal before him. The barbecued chicken dinner was no more edible than the pizza he’d bought for dinner last night. It all tasted like cardboard—bad cardboard at that.
It was probably the damned rain. He turned his irritation toward the dark, gloomy scene framed by his kitchen window. The weather had been nice for about a week after Halloween, but early this morning, the rains had hit, bringing a bone-chilling wetness to the area. The forecast called for at least two more days of the same. Hot dog.
He took a sip of his tea, then made a face. Hell, even that tasted like dishwater. Maybe he was coming down with a cold. Well, he picked a good time to have one. He was going to be in town the rest of the week.
Just as he pushed his plate away, there was a loud banging on the front door. “What the hell?” he muttered in the silence.
He went to the door, turned on the porch light and looked out the sidelights before quickly pulling the inside door open. “What in the world are you doing here? I thought you never went out on a school night.”
“Let me in,” Angie shouted at him as she gave the storm door a good, solid kick. “I’m drowning out here.”
He opened the storm door and stood back as she came in, shoes squishing loudly and clothes dripping enough water to form puddles wherever she walked.
Worry took over. “What are you doing out on a night like this? Is something wrong? Where’s Rulli?”
“Rulli’s home.” She kicked off her shoes, pulled off her socks and dropped them on the floor, then dumped her coat on top of them. “You’re my uncle, remember? Can’t I drop by for a visit?”
“You ever hear of a phone?” Pat asked. “It’s a marvelous invention. You can talk to people without going out in the rain.”
Instead of paying attention to him, Angie was sniffing the air like a bird dog on scent. “What’s that smell?”
“And you should have my number,” Pat said. “I left my card with your aunt Rose.”
“Are you making dinner?”
Pat shook his head. Women. The kid was ten years old and she was already controlling the conversation, answering only the questions she felt like answering.
“Yeah, I made dinner.”
“Did you eat it all up?”
“I just had one bite.”
“No good, huh?”
“It’s fine,” he snapped. “It’s something I usually like. I just wasn’t hungry tonight.”
“How come?”
He closed his eyes a moment and wiped his brow. What had he done to deserve this? “I don’t have an appetite. I think I’m coming down with the flu or a cold.”
“Don’t breathe on me.” Sh
e brought her arm up across her mouth and nose. “Germs travel through the air, you know. I learned that in school.”
“That’s good,” Pat said. “Too bad you never learned what happens when you walk around in the cold and wet.”
But Angie was already gone. Pausing to clench his jaw tight, he followed her into the kitchen. She had seated herself at the table and was enthusiastically digging into his barely touched dinner.
“This is awful stuff,” she said around a mouthful of food. “You eat this all the time? You need somebody to cook for you.”
“I’ll put that on my list,” he said.
“You do,” she said. “You need to get married. I read that married men live longer and are healthier. Me and Rulli don’t want you kicking off. We ain’t got no other relatives.”
“I’m touched that you care,” he said. “But once I get the trust fund set up, you’ll be taken care of, no matter what.”
She frowned at him. “Money ain’t the only thing.”
She was serious, and sincere. It surprised him more than he wanted to admit. And touched him, too.
“No, it isn’t,” he admitted.
That apparently covered, she glanced around her. “Got any pop?”
“There’s tea in front of you.”
She looked in the cup and made a face. “How about hot chocolate?”
“I have milk. Take it or leave it.”
“If you had a wife, she’d buy some pop when you ran out,” Angie grumbled.
“I can buy my own soda, thank you.”
After pouring her a glass of milk, Pat returned to the table and put the glass in front of Angie. He sat down across from her. There were just a few scraps on her plate in spite of her complaint that it was awful. Then she picked up the glass of milk, looked at it and made a slight face before draining it.
“All right.”
Angie wiped her mouth with her sleeve as she glared at him with those hard little eyes set in a face of angelic innocence. Pat swallowed hard. God, she looked exactly like Angel. How the hell could he have missed that?
“Now we’re gonna talk.”
Pat bowed slightly.
“I guess I’m supposed to like you because you’re my uncle,” she said.
He took a deep breath and slowly let it out. “You don’t have to.”
Kisses And Kids (Congratulations Series #1) Page 24
