16 Marsden Place

by Rachel Brimble

  “Here.” She held it out to her. “On the house.”

  Mrs. McGill grinned, her eyes lighting up. “Really?”

  “Really. All I ask for in return is you spread the word that I’ll be opening the shop at Marsden Place. But first, I’m going to say farewell to the shop by holding a party in my new room at the house. I want you and everyone else to come along and enjoy yourselves. If everyone supports me and embraces the move, not only will you save me from financial ruin, we’ll also show my landlord that Sienna Lloyd won’t be outdone by anyone. Rent increase or no rent increase.”

  Mrs. McGill inhaled a long breath through flared nostrils. “I’m on the case. You leave everything to me. I’ll rally round the girls and allay their worries. Sienna Lloyd isn’t abandoning us. She’s keeping us. She’ll deliver us from frustration and continue to spread the sexual light.”

  Okay. Shoot me now. “Absolutely. Now go on. Get out of here before you make me cry.”

  “Of course. Of course.” She smacked a wet kiss to both of Sienna’s cheeks and dabbed at her eyes with a lace-edged handkerchief before turning toward the door.

  Sienna bit down on her bottom lip to stem her smile as Mrs. McGill waddled away, her huge behind shifting from side to side beneath the tent of her floral skirt. When the door closed, Sienna covered her face with her hands.

  Now she’d done it. The word would be out about the move in no time. If Jack didn’t want to string her up by her lace panties before, he certainly would now.

  Across town, Jack thought about Sienna as regret for past mistakes furled into a hard ball at the back of his throat. Mistakes he wouldn’t repeat. He had to start as he meant to go on—no more burrowing himself in work or other people’s lives when he had problems of his own.

  They’d only been in Potterford two weeks, and already things weren’t going as planned. And he feared they’d soon get worse. After the row with Sienna, his nerves were stretched to breaking point. He wasn’t the type of man who fought with women in their homes. He knew that. But Sienna didn’t. He hoped to God he hadn’t scared her.

  As if anything could scare her. Her anger rang in his ears once more: “Can’t you see what is right in front of your face?”

  Part of him denied her words meant anything, and he stood by what he’d said—what could she possibly know, not being a mother? Yet the sincerity in her voice lingered, a clear belief and faith that there had to be more with each twist and turn life threw at you. The torment…the challenge in her tone was undeniable, and instead of facing her, he’d walked out.

  Jack swallowed. He’d acted like an asshole and scapegoated her for a concern irrelevant to her shop. The concern Martina could show up one day and wreak havoc on their peaceful new lives would never lessen for him until he dealt with it. What if she found them and got to the girls before he did? Would she hurt them? Run away with them? Just as a reason to hurt him? The notion was irrational and unfounded, but fear of losing his children ran deep, and Sienna’s words haunted him.

  The ringing of telephones and non-stop whirring of printers inside the busy newspaper office faded into the background as Jack stared at the cell phone on his desk. He needed to take action, and he needed to take it today.

  Saving his work, he snatched up his phone and walked outside. He continued away from the office and out into the parking lot, hoping for some undisturbed privacy. He leaned against the hood of his car and tapped his phone against his bottom lip. If he called Martina’s mother, would it put his mind at rest or stir up more unnecessary worry? Dark gray clouds gathered in the distance, and Jack shivered. Paranoia. It was all just paranoia.

  He punched in his ex-mother-in-law’s number.

  “Sylvia? It’s Jack.”

  “Jack! Oh, how lovely to hear from you. How are you? How are the girls?”

  “They’re fine. I’m fine. Look, I can’t talk for long. I just wanted to ring to see if you’ve heard from Martina lately.” Silence hovered like a phantom menace, and Jack tightened his grip on the phone. “Sylvia?”

  “I haven’t seen her for weeks. I have no idea where she is. She calls me every few days or so, never saying where she is.”

  “Does she sound okay?”

  “She hasn’t called me drunk for months, if that’s what you mean.”

  Jack stared ahead. “Has she mentioned me or the girls?”

  “No.”

  He released his held breath and looked to the pavement. “Well, that’s something, I suppose.”

  “You could at least tell me where you are. I’d love to come visit.”

  “No. I can’t do that. I explained everything when I left London. I can’t run the risk of Martina turning up here. Surely you understand that after the last time she came to supposedly see the girls?”

  “That was over a year ago. You can’t hold on to that forever.”

  “She threatened to hurt them, Sylvia. Really hurt them. Our three-year-old babies.” The memory of that fateful day came alive behind his closed lids. Of Martina showing up months after she’d walked out and snatching Katy up from the floor, violently shaking her, and Jack ripping his baby girl screaming from her mother’s arms. “I failed them by letting her into our house that day. It won’t happen again. I won’t let any more damage be done to the twins.”

  “What damage? Those girls are perfectly fine.”

  Jack squeezed the phone. “They are not fine. All I can hope for is their nightmares aren’t as bad as the ones that haunt me.”

  “You made mistakes too, Jack. We all did.”

  Jack closed his eyes. “I did my best, Sylvia. How was I supposed to keep the girls around Martina when she was so volatile?”

  “You know what you should’ve done. You reacted to Martina breaking down by giving up. You should’ve tried harder, worked at it.”

  Jack opened his eyes. There was no way she was laying Martina’s breakdown entirely on him. Yes, he was guilty of certain things—but, damn, Martina was too. And Jack had worked at it; he’d spent a good six months trying to fix their marriage. He’d lessened his work hours, tried to get Martina help. Nothing had worked. For any of them. “I didn’t want to walk away. I loved her. She had affairs that damn near ripped my heart out, yet even then I believed maybe there was a small chance. But it was over when it became a problem around the kids.”

  Silence.

  “I tried my best, Sylvia. I tried to help her even after she left. She didn’t want to listen or even know me.”

  “Well, unfortunately, you don’t get to decide whether she can see them. The judge does. Is that why you chose now to move away? Because it’s been a year and she can now contest your sole custody?”

  Jack swiped his hand over his face. No matter how many times he’d told himself otherwise, that was exactly what he’d done. Yet all he said in response was, “She still hasn’t earned her right to see the girls yet.”

  “She’s their mother, Jack.”

  “She’s not. Not yet. A mother doesn’t have sex with a stranger with her girls asleep in the next room. A mother doesn’t drink half a bottle of vodka and then send toddlers outside to play in the damn street. A mother doesn’t slap her children, and a mother certainly doesn’t walk out on them.”

  “Jack, please. Don’t shout at me.”

  Jack blew out a breath and said, more calmly, “This is as hard for me as it is for you. I know you’re an innocent party in all this, but I’m trying to move on here. I want the girls to be happy.”

  “And I’m desperate to see my grandchildren.”

  Indecision battled with his conscience. By law, he was supposed to tell Martina where he was. He hoped to avoid that for as long as possible yet couldn’t afford not to play by the book.

  “Look, if I let you know where I am, you have to promise you won’t give Martina the address yet. I’m not ready for her to know where we are. Not by a long shot.”

  “She’s come a long way in the last twelve months, you know. She’s stopped drinking,
and I’ll even go as far as to say she’s working again. I can’t be sure, but her lack of contact makes me think she’s getting herself straightened out and earning her own money again. I can’t remember the last time she called asking for a handout.”

  “I’m glad if that’s the case, but it doesn’t mean I’m ready for her to see the twins.”

  “It’s not fair to keep punishing her.”

  Dread sped Jack’s heart as he considered the very real possibility of a judge ruling in Martina’s favor if she’d stopped drinking as well as managed to get a job. Didn’t the courts always want children with their mother unless the circumstances made it impossible?

  “It’s too soon, Sylvia. A year is not enough for me to be convinced she won’t relapse. I won’t expose the girls to that risk.”

  Her exhalation rasped down the line. “So you won’t tell me where you are? Is that what you’re saying?”

  In the back of his mind, it was inevitable Sylvia would tell Martina, but the pressure of going against the court order ate at him. If he passed on their new address, his part would be above the law.

  “Jack, please,” she continued. “I promise I won’t give it to her. What she did to Holly and Katy…” Jack could hear her stifle a sob. “What she did ended her contact with them back then. I understand that. I only want it so I can write to them. And, in time, maybe you’ll let Frank and me come visit. Surely they miss Grandpa’s piggybacks?”

  A smile pulled at his lips, and Jack dropped his hand from his hair, his shoulders slumping in defeat. “They do. Of course they do. In time, okay? Just promise me you’ll say nothing to Martina until I say so.”

  “Absolutely. You have my word. Those girls are everything to me. You know that.”

  “Okay. Well, have you got a pen?”

  “Yes. Right here.”

  “We are at seventeen Marsden Place, Potterford. It’s in Wiltshire.”

  “Wiltshire? That’s in the country.” She said it as though he’d moved to Skid Row.

  He rolled his eyes. “That’s a good thing, right?”

  She let out a tinkle of laughter. “Of course it is. I didn’t mean anything.”

  “Good.” He glanced toward the office. “Look, I have to go. If Martina turns up or says she wants to see the girls, promise you’ll ring to let me know.”

  “Of course I will. Pass on my love to Holly and Katy. You look after yourself and them for me, okay?”

  “I will. Bye.” Pressing the end call button, Jack marched back inside the office. He sank into his seat and dropped his head into his hands.

  “Jack?”

  He looked up to see Steve.

  “You okay?” his coworker asked.

  “I’m fine.” Jack sighed. “Just some personal stuff, that’s all.”

  “Anything I can do?”

  “Nah. It’ll sort itself out.”

  “Well, I might have something to distract you from whatever it is making you look like you could punch out a wall.”

  Jack relaxed his shoulders down from his earlobes. “Yeah?”

  Smiling, Steve picked up a scrap of paper from his desk and shook it. “How did you get on with that lead you had about the shops closing down on Canterdown Road yesterday?”

  Jack eyed the paper. “Why? You found something?”

  “No, but I thought you might be interested to know how our local people deal with threats of rent increase or intimidation. Or, more specifically, how Sienna Lloyd deals with it.”

  Jack sat up straighter and contained himself from leaping over the desk and snatching the paper from Steve’s hand. “Oh, yeah? What’s that, then?”

  “Here.” He tossed Jack the paper. “Sienna’s having a closing-down party. She’ll be setting up the shop at her house sometime over the next few weeks. Fair play to the woman. It’ll take a hurricane to keep that girl down.” Pride rang in his voice. “Nothing will stop her. Not anymore.”

  On the paper scrap was a scribbled note asking for advertising space in Friday’s issue of the paper.

  A closing-down PARTY?

  “Suppose not,” Jack replied, trying to keep his voice blasé. “Wow, wonder how many people will turn up to this thing.”

  “Lots, I expect. Sienna’s clientele are loyal.” He winked. “Why don’t you get yourself an invite and see what goes on? Sienna’s shop is fantastic. I, for one, am right behind her. Tell Ed it’s a local interest story. You’ll be good to go.”

  “Hmm, would you be right behind her if she was moving the shop next door to your house?”

  Steve frowned. “What?”

  Jack tossed the paper onto his desk and stood. “I’m her new neighbor, Steve, and there is hell’s chance of that shop opening or this goddamn party happening.”

  “You’re her neighbor?”

  “Yep.” Jack whipped his jacket from the back of the chair and shrugged it on. “What’s more, she knows I work here. She knows I’m a journalist, and she knows I’ve got four-year-old twin girls. She’s taking the piss out of me.”

  Steve raised his hands. “Jack, calm down, mate. If Sienna thinks—”

  “She doesn’t think. That’s the problem. From what I know of the woman, she acts first, thinks later. There’s no way that attitude is going to mess up my girls’ future.”

  Grabbing his laptop, Jack stormed outside.

  Chapter Nine

  SIENNA HAULED HER BOX OF INVENTORY from the back of her car and strode up the driveway to her front door. Entering the house, she kicked her leg out to close the door when it hit something solid before it could shut. She turned and promptly dropped the box onto the hallway floor, causing “display” vibrators of varying sizes and colors to roll every which way across the floorboards—a multi-colored river of female satisfaction.

  “Jack! What do you think you’re doing?”

  “I’m coming in to talk to you, that’s what.” He strode over the threshold and slammed the door.

  Sienna stepped back even as irritation pinched hot at her cheeks. Who the hell did he think he was, coming into her house uninvited?

  She raised her chin and gestured toward the floor. “Now look what you’ve done.”

  “You’re having a party. A party, for crying out loud.”

  Ah. “And? Does that give you the right to storm into my house like the Incredible Hulk? What’s next? A bit of shirt-shredding?” Actually, she wouldn’t have minded that…

  He opened his mouth and then snapped it shut as he glowered at the glorious obstacles at their feet. “God, it never ends, does it?”

  “No, it doesn’t. So why don’t you help me pick these up before you end up slipping on one and taking me to court for breaking your back on top of everything else.”

  He sneered with evident distaste. “I don’t think so.”

  “Grow up, Jack. You’re being ridiculous.”

  Their glares locked. He might have looked as though he should be lying on his back in her bed while she rode him like a bucking bronco, but God, the guy lacked a sense of humor.

  “Well?” she demanded.

  “You really don’t care, do you?”

  “Insult me if it makes you feel better, but if you can say that, it means you haven’t learned a damn thing about me since we met. Now, are we going to stand here all day or go into the kitchen and have a civilized conversation? I assume you want this straightened out before it’s time for you to pick up the girls from pre-school? Isn’t that why you’re battering your way into my house at eleven o’clock in the morning?”

  “Where were you last night?” His gaze searched her face and hair.

  Ignoring the flush of heat that tingled over her skin from such a blatant appraisal, Sienna lifted her eyebrows. “Excuse me?”

  “I waited for you.”

  “You waited—”

  “I must have looked out my living room window forty times waiting to see your car in the driveway. Where were you?”

  She huffed out a laugh and bent down. “None of you
r business.” She reached for the nearest vibrator.

  “I needed to talk to you.”

  She snatched up an electric-blue intermediate dildo and straightened, pointing it in his face and stabbing out each word. “Like. I. Said. None. Of. Your. Business.”

  He stepped back, and a smile pulled at her lips. Scared of a dildo. What next? Crying over spilt vaginal lube?

  “Help me pick these up and then we’ll talk.” She cocked her head. “Please.”

  “You’re unbelievable.”

  Her smile expanded. “Thanks.”

  Scowling, he bent down to help her.

  A couple minutes passed in silence as they picked up the vibrators. Sienna fought her laughter as she glanced time and again at Jack. This was killing him, judging by the expression on his face as he tossed the devices one by one into the box. When they were done, she stood.

  “Come on, then.” She walked into the front room of the house, Jack following. She put the box on the floor and threw out her arms to encapsulate the room. “Welcome to my new shop. Or at least it will be in a few weeks.”

  His eyebrows shot to his hairline. “In here? You want to set up shop in here?”

  She dropped her hands to her hips. “Not want. I am.”

  “Over my dead—”

  “Coffee? Come on, I need coffee.”

  Leaving him standing there, Sienna walked into the kitchen. Seconds later, his footsteps sounded on the tile floor. She moved to fill the electric kettle at the sink, then returned it to the countertop and switched it on, willing her courage to not falter. None of Jack’s hostility was about the shop, and by the time he left, Sienna was determined they would take some steps toward resolution.

  “Black or white?” She grabbed two mugs hanging from hooks.

  “I don’t want coffee. I want you to tell me what the hell we’re going to do about this situation.”

  Sienna silently counted to five as she spooned coffee into the mugs. She needed to think of the right words to say. Despite her nonchalance, Jack’s antagonism swirled around her in a heavy mist; his apparent bullheadedness in opposing the shop’s move tightened a vice around her heart that felt far too much like panic. No one had challenged her about anything for so long, it was unnerving. She made people happy, not angry.