by Kylie Brant
“Miss Rose, Miss Rose, watch this! Watch me, Miss Rose!”
Chloe did a somersault off the low diving board, and a tiny tidal wave threatened to capsize Kate’s water mattress. She didn’t release her breath until she saw the little imp’s head break the surface again and Chloe began to dog-paddle toward her.
She clapped dutifully. “Very good, Chloe. You’re getting better all the time.”
The little girl reached the mattress and took hold of the edge. “I’m getting hot. Can I take this off?”
“No,” Kate said quickly. “The life jacket stays on or we have to leave the pool area.”
“That’s what my dad always says,” Chloe sighed. She slanted a glance up to Kate. “Did he tell you to make me wear it?”
“Yes, he did, and he’s right. It’s not safe for you to be around the water without one.”
But Chloe’s mind had already fixed on another topic. “This was a good idea Daddy had, wasn’t it? For you to come swimming with me at our house.”
Kate slid her sunglasses to the top of her head and turned to smile at the child. “It was an excellent idea.”
“I’m a good swimmer, aren’t I? Daddy’s been teaching me.”
“You’re a very good swimmer, but even good swimmers need life jackets until they’re bigger.”
Chloe appeared lost in thought. Cocking her head, she asked, “Am I going to see you more this summer, Miss Rose?”
Suddenly feeling on shakier ground, Kate said cautiously, “Yes…you’ll see me sometimes.”
The little girl beamed. “Good. I already knew I would.”
Kate arched a brow. “You did, did you?”
Nodding enthusiastically, Chloe said, “Uh-huh. ’Cuz Daddy promised me I would, but it had to be a secret. Oh!” She clapped one hand over her mouth, then giggled. Her eyes twinkled with amusement. “I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone.”
Kate couldn’t prevent a wry smile. “You want me to tell you a secret? Sometimes your daddy isn’t as sneaky as he thinks he is.”
Chloe beamed. “I knew he would keep his promise. He says daddies always keep their promises, especially to their little girls.”
The words, simply spoken, threatened to shatter Kate’s heart. Whatever Michael’s accomplishments in the business world, she reflected, emotion clogging her throat, whatever pinnacles he achieved, nothing would equal what he had accomplished with his daughter. He’d managed to raise her in an atmosphere that assured her of his love and acceptance. Surely that was a feat to be proud of.
“All daddies don’t keep their promises, though, Miss Rose.”
Shock held Kate silent for a moment as she stared at the child. Seven-year-old wisdom shone in Chloe’s eyes.
“That’s what Amy Wiltsie says, ’cuz her daddy always says he’ll come and get her on Saturdays, but he never does. He always gets too busy. People shouldn’t make promises if they’re not going to keep them, right, Miss Rose?”
Kate blinked and said slowly, “No. People shouldn’t make promises they can’t keep.”
Chloe chattered on. “Daddy says a promise is like a present, and you can’t give it to a person and then take it back. That would be mean. Do you think that’s why Amy’s daddy breaks his promises, Miss Rose? Because he’s mean?”
Kate took a deep breath and released it unsteadily. She wouldn’t be nervous at the thought of facing four of her professors for her oral graduate exams, she thought. The experience couldn’t possibly be as emotionally draining as a conversation with a first-grader. “No,” she said finally. “He probably doesn’t do it to be mean. He’s probably just…” She glanced at the little girl, who appeared to be hanging on to her every word. She didn’t think she was equipped to explain adult selfishness to a seven-year-old, and there was no reason to do so. Chloe would never have to deal with it, not from her father. “He probably just isn’t as smart about some things as your daddy is.”
Chloe released the side of the mattress and paddled around it, sending up steady splashes. “I’m going to have two daddies now.”
Used to the child’s penchant for bouncing from subject to subject, Kate followed her train of thought seamlessly. “You mean when your mother gets married.”
The little girl nodded. “He won’t be my real daddy, though. Mommy says I can call him Jeffrey.” She wrinkled her nose. “That’s a funny name.”
Feeling on uncertain ground, Kate asked, “So you met Jeffrey at your mother’s house the other day?”
Chloe took a huge breath, plunged her face in the water and came up sputtering a few seconds later. She was nodding her head even as she struggled to wipe the water from her eyes. “Uh-huh. He has white hair, but Mommy says he’s not old, he’s premature.”
Kate battled to withhold a laugh. “You mean he’s prematurely gray?”
Shrugging, Chloe said, “I guess. He had a ring on his little finger that was sparkly red, and he was wearing a monkey suit.”
Even applying all her powers of translation, Kate still couldn’t grasp Chloe’s meaning. Suspiciously, she asked, “Chloe, did you…I mean, are you sure?”
The little girl nodded. “It had a black coat and a little black tie and tiny black buttons. His shirt had folds in it.”
This time Kate did laugh. “That’s called a tuxedo, honey.”
“A tucks—what?”
“A tuxedo. Men wear them when they get really dressed up.”
“That’s not what Daddy calls them,” Chloe said stubbornly. “He said they’re monkey suits and that he has to wear one when he’s going to a zoo with other men.”
Torn between exasperation and amusement, Kate muttered, “Sometimes your daddy is too funny for his own good.” Because Chloe looked unconvinced, she changed the subject. “Your mother and her…Jeffrey…must have been going somewhere very fancy.”
Chloe bobbed her head in agreement. “They went to a ’gagement party, ’cuz they’re gonna get married. They musta got in love, right, Miss Rose? Amy Wiltsie says you gotta get in love and then you get married.”
Amy Wiltsie, it appeared, was an authority on any number of subjects. “That’s the way it’s usually done,” Kate replied weakly when it became clear that Chloe was waiting for a response. She couldn’t tell the child that she was hardly an expert on the subject. There had been no love to observe between her parents, only a worn sense of obligation.
A memory sliced across her mind as clear as the summer day. She’d been just as curious about the concept of love and marriage as Chloe, but she hadn’t been a little girl. She’d been fourteen or so, and it had been during her Romeo-and-Juliet stage. She’d been caught up in the sheer romance of the story and had startled her mother by asking her if she had been hopelessly in love with Papa when they’d gotten married. The dull astonishment on her mother’s face had made more of an impression than her answer.
Wherever do you get such nonsense, girl? You better forget your silly ideas. Marriage is lots of hard work.
Something had made the teenage Kate persist, a notion, however vain, that her father must once have had some heroic qualities for her mother to have married him. Her mother had looked discomfited at her tenacity before answering her dismissively. Your papa ain’t a bad man. He works steady, don’t drink much, and he’s never laid a hand to me.
The memory left her with the same mingled regret and shock she’d felt that day. Even at fourteen she’d known that there had to be more to marriage than anything her mother had experienced. With the brash certainty of youth she’d vowed to herself never to settle for less than love. Only with the onset of adulthood did she begin to have doubts about being able to recognize it if it was offered to her.
Blessedly, Chloe interrupted her depressing thoughts. She heaved herself up onto the mattress, nearly toppling Kate off in the process. “I’m never gonna get in love.”
A small smile crossed Kate’s lips. “You’re not, huh?”
Chloe shook her head, her hair spraying water drops. “Uh-uh.
Boys are gross! One time at recess Tommy Sherman in second grade ate a worm.”
Kate was fascinated in spite of herself. “You’re kidding!”
“No, I’m not,” Chloe said dramatically. “It was so sick. And he said the next time it rained he was going to do it again, so I was really glad it didn’t rain anymore before school got out.”
The two looked at each other and then started laughing. Suddenly, the warmth returned to the day for Kate, and the chill of her memories subsided. She leaned closer to Chloe and murmured, “You know what? I’ll bet Tommy’s stomach was even gladder that it didn’t rain.” Mirthfully, they let the giggles take over until they were both hanging on to the mattress, helpless with laughter.
It was almost eight-thirty by the time Kate got close to home, and her energy was fading as fast as the daylight. Keeping pace with Chloe was an exhausting feat, but she’d enjoyed every moment of the day. After spending the entire afternoon swimming, they’d made tacos and pudding, Chloe’s choice, for supper. Then Chloe had insisted that they visit the stable. Kate had, however, withstood the little girl’s wheedling pleas for horseback riding. Hank hadn’t seemed to be in the vicinity, and Kate knew nothing about horses except that the big one, Diablo, made her especially nervous. She’d managed to coax Chloe into a bike ride instead, using Michael’s bike to accompany the little girl up and down the long drive.
When she’d left the house, Chloe had been in bed but not asleep. Kate, though, was weary enough to drop where she stood. She’d left the little girl in Mrs. Martin’s care and headed home.
She guided the car into a parking space near her condo and turned off the ignition with a satisfied sigh. She’d had a vain hope that Michael might be able to get away from his meeting and join them, even though on the phone this morning he’d told her that his meeting would run until late.
As she got out of the car and slammed the door, her thoughts were still preoccupied with Michael. It seemed too long since she’d last seen him, and despite her reassurances to herself that a little time apart was for the best, she couldn’t deny the truth.
She missed him. She missed his crazy humor and that glint in his eye that told her he was teasing. She missed the way he felt about his family, unabashedly proud and protective. And she missed his strong arms, his mouth on hers…. Sternly she reined in her thoughts. Thinking along those lines could only get her in trouble. And it wouldn’t do to let him know just how much of a hold he already had on her. She knew him too well. Give the man an inch and he’d take a light year. She’d meant it when she’d told him they needed to keep their relationship simple, although she was truthful enough to admit that she wasn’t quite sure how to accomplish that. There wasn’t anything simple about Michael Friday. But one thing she was sure of. Simplicity could only be assisted by distance. So these meetings of his were really a blessing in disguise.
Engrossed in her thoughts, she was halfway up her walk before she noticed the man crouched on her porch. She stopped abruptly, shock congealing into wariness. As if already aware of her presence, the man turned to look at her over his shoulder.
“Evening, ma’am. I’m just about done here, and then I’ll be out of your way.”
“Done?” Kate repeated cautiously, watching him with a careful eye. Her mind registered the khaki uniform he was wearing and the tool belt around his waist. Some of the tension seeped from her muscles, but she didn’t take a step closer.
“With your door, ma’am. The boss wanted us out of here by six at the latest, but we ran into a little glitch. It’s all taken care of, though.”
The boss. Of course. She released a breath. The landlord must have decided finally, after months of fielding her complaints, to fix her doorbell. She hadn’t thought it would be a difficult task, but she’d have to take this workman’s word for it.
The man put away the screwdriver he’d been wielding and stood up. It was only then that Kate noted what he’d been working on.
“There must be some mistake,” she said.
He looked at her quizzically.
She gestured toward the door. It had been replaced with a stout, obviously expensive one. “I asked him for a new doorbell, not a new door.”
Looking puzzled, the man scratched his balding head and glanced back at the doors and then at her. “A doorbell? No, ma’am. He didn’t mention a doorbell.”
Kate sighed. Apparently there was some mix-up, one that was going to take a phone call to her landlord to resolve. No doubt the work had been done on the wrong condo. A slow grin spread over her face. Her landlord wouldn’t be pleased, but she would end up with a new front door. That should more than make up for this misunderstanding.
“Could I see your work order?” she asked politely.
The man squinted at her. “Don’t have a work order, ma’am. Just got our orders from the boss and came right over here.”
At that moment, her front door opened and two other men, also in uniform, came out of her condo carrying some windows. Kate stared hard. Her windows.
“What should we do with these?”
“Put ’em in the van.”
Kate’s gaze swung to the parking lot, finding the oversize van the man was referring to. As she read the logo on the side, comprehension dawned slowly. And with it came simmering temper.
Dodging the men, she stalked up the front steps into her condo, stopping short in amazement once she got inside. Slowly, she moved in farther, her gaze swinging from side to side. All the windows were new and had thick glass with tiny, almost indiscernible wires tracing through it. She strode into the kitchen and found that window replaced, as well. In addition, a new back door had been added, one with a sturdy dead bolt. Swinging around, she walked back through the condo. Two of the men were tidying up and gathering their tools. The man she’d first encountered stood just inside the front door, watching her placidly.
“If you’d just come over here, ma’am, I’ll show you how to work the alarm system and the new door locks. Then we’ll get out of your way.” With a sense of resignation she followed his gaze to the box that had been installed inside her foyer wall. Lights blinked from within its confines like tiny red eyes.
The anger bubbled over and threatened to scald her with its intensity. Michael had done this. Without her knowledge, without her consent, he’d seen fit to make this decision for her. She took a deep breath and released it slowly, wishing she could exhale the fury as easily.
“Get rid of it,” she told the man flatly.
His face was blank with astonishment. “Ma’am?”
She waved a hand around the condo. “The windows, the doors, the…alarm thingee, all of it. Get rid of it. I didn’t order it and I don’t want it.”
The worker shot a glance at the two other men, who raised their eyebrows and looked away, clearly agreeing that the woman was a clown short of a circus. Seeing no help in that direction, the man looked back at Kate helplessly. “Ma’am, the boss said—”
“I don’t care what he said.” Her voice was level, but the words were measured. “This is my home, not Michael Friday’s, and he had no right—” Abruptly she cut herself off and jammed her hand in her hair with disgust. It was no use arguing with this poor man. He had only been carrying out orders, after all. Michael’s orders. She’d reserved the brunt of her fury for the man who deserved it. Anger traced its tentacles throughout her muscles and stiffened her spine. She smiled grimly. She’d have plenty to say to Michael when she saw him.
“See, the thing is, ma’am, we couldn’t undo this if we wanted to. I’m afraid the doors were damaged when we removed them. We didn’t see much use being careful when we were just going to haul them away.”
“All right.” Kate gave him a tight smile that did nothing to reassure him. “I understand. And you people probably want to be getting home.”
Her abrupt reversal had him shooting another look at the two men and then back again. Cautious relief filled his voice. “Yes, ma’am.”
Stoically K
ate watched as he demonstrated the locks. Then, at his urging, she gave him a list of numbers to set the alarm with. He wrote the numbers down on a tablet and handed it to her.
“You might want to keep this in a safe place, at least until you have it memorized.”
She watched as they took their leave with almost comical haste and then shut the door, the new front door, after them. She leaned her forehead against its smooth surface. Damn him. Her throat knotted with tears, tears she refused to shed. She wasn’t going to cry, not over a man. She’d known from the first that Michael wore power and control as comfortably as he wore those battered tennis shoes. She wasn’t disappointed, not really, because she hadn’t hoped, hadn’t started to believe…
She whirled away from the door and away from the little inner voice calling her a liar. She reached for the anger, stoked it, preferring its heat to the numbing pain. So he was as adept at wielding that control over the lives of others as he was over unsuspecting companies. She’d let herself ignore that quality of his, overlook it in the face of his other traits, which she’d found infinitely more endearing. It was better that she find out now, rather than later, after she’d reached a point of no return with him.
But just what point would that be? a small voice inside jeered. And how far past it had she already gone?
With a flash of movement she hurled the tablet across the room, wishing she could cast away her doubts and resentments as easily.
Michael couldn’t prevent an idiotic grin from tilting his lips. Anticipation had been building in him since the moment he’d heard Kate’s voice on the phone. It had been a welcome change from the constant haggling that had taken place in his office the past few days. When Kate had told him she wanted to see him no matter what time he finished that evening, expectancy had begun to ride him hard. It had taken another two hours before he’d been able to bring the meeting to a close, and he hadn’t even winced at the hour they’d set to begin tomorrow. All he cared about was the fact that he would see her. He glanced at the luminous numbers on his car’s in-dash clock. In another few minutes.
