Right from the Start

by Jeanie London

  Kenzie glanced at the credenza that housed a flat-screen television, on so seldom she couldn’t be sure it still worked. Beside it sat a framed photo of Nathanial and her, arms raised, faces contorted with laughing shrieks as they plunged into the spray of Thunder Mountain Railroad, a roller coaster at Disney World. In the dual frame was another photo. Nathanial wore a crown in this one and she wore a pink princess hat.

  Mementos from their trip to Florida two years ago. Right before she started the agency. The answer was easy.

  “Nathanial.”

  A snort. “I swear you two give me whiplash. I didn’t know you were dating right now. You’re always together. Always. But I never know if you’re together together.”

  “We’re not.”

  “You’re killing me here, Kenzie. You do know you’re not together together more than you’re together, right?”

  She chuckled. “Oh, my. I’m not even going to try to wrap my brain around that. It’s really not all that complicated, Geri. Nathanial and I weren’t interested in getting married right out of high school. Both our parents gave us the same advice: live a little. There’ll be plenty of time for mortgages and responsibilities. Don’t skip steps, otherwise, down the road we’ll wake up and wonder what we missed.”

  “Sound advice. But you’re almost thirty. If you still haven’t gotten all the pieces in place yet with Nathanial, then your problem with Will is solved. Get together with Will for a while. Stop engaging in a power struggle with your feelings.”

  Get together? Geri hadn’t actually said to sleep with the man, had she?

  Of course not.

  Kenzie was the one who made the leap from Geri’s suggestion to date into bed. Because her inner child was out of control and they were locked in a power struggle.

  Geri was right about that.

  Kenzie knew full well that no one ever won a power struggle. She wasn’t going to be able to bully or muscle her inner child into giving up. She had to be much smarter than that. She downed the last of the wine in her glass. “I should be practicing what I preach.”

  “But you are, my friend. Sounds to me as though you’ve analyzed your reaction to death.”

  “But it’s not going away.” It was getting worse.

  The laughter on the other end of the line annoyed Kenzie enough to propel her from the chair. Action as distraction. She headed straight into the kitchen to refill her glass.

  “Your reaction is only getting worse because you’re not dealing with it. You’re acknowledging that your attraction to this man exists and that’s it. Is it really so hard to grasp? You teach this stuff.”

  Kenzie poured the fragrant wine. Only a quarter of a glass. Then, on second thought, she added another healthy splash. “Even if I was inclined to give in to my petulant inner child, which I’m not, I don’t see that involving myself with a man when neither of us has the time will solve anything. Will has a child who needs him even more than a normal six-year-old needs his parents. Plural. There are supposed to be two.”

  There was a thoughtful silence on the other end.

  Kenzie returned to the living room and sat in her chair again.

  “You know, Kenzie,” Geri finally said. “I recognize you have issues with Will because of his divorces, but it seems to me that there’s more to the man that might be worth taking another look at. I mean, he seems to be moving heaven and earth to help his son. The city council. Family Foundations.”

  She paused, and Kenzie took another fortifying sip before Geri continued.

  “Sally deals with all kinds of folks as mayor, and she thinks highly of Will. If she didn’t, I would have never passed along your name. Seems to me you might want to step back and take a look at the forest instead of looking at only one tree.”

  Kenzie understood what Geri was saying, but her choice of metaphor raised another question.

  How was Kenzie supposed to handle the forest when she could barely handle one tree?

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  MELINDA PATTERSON.

  Will frowned at the nameplate outside the office door. Although why he should be surprised was a mystery. He’d known Melinda had gone back to her maiden name, the one she’d used professionally throughout their marriage. The legality had actually been ruled on by the judge in the divorce.

  Maybe seeing her name brought up the memory of the years they’d dated, before marriage and kids.

  The good times, as it turned out.

  Or maybe seeing her maiden name emphasized the separation between mother and son.

  He hadn’t been to Melinda’s office since before she’d decided to work from home to accommodate all of Sam’s doctor’s appointments and therapy sessions. She hadn’t been willing to give up her job entirely, and the company had been more than willing to take what they could get from her.

  She’d worked for Blue Ridge Productions, LLC, since an internship in college and had branded the company so they’d earned a recognizable and reliable name among the directors and producers who wanted to film in the region. Her company scouted locations all over the Blue Ridge and Smokey Mountains and the surrounding areas, pulled permits and generally took care of all the accommodations so a production company could come to town and shoot without wasting time and money.

  The job was a perfect fit for Melinda, who was both motivated and social. Lots of parties. Lots of travel. Right up her alley. His once, too, when they’d been together. He wasn’t surprised Blue Ridge Productions had moved heaven and earth to keep her. Will himself had learned an awful lot about his own business from her. She was that good.

  The administrative assistant motioned him forward with a polite, “She’s expecting you, Mr. Russell.”

  Will was glad that they’d given Melinda the corner office she’d always loved, with windows on two walls that overlooked a conservation lot with a pond and against the backdrop of the Blue Ridge Mountains that featured so prominently in her work.

  He rapped on the door, then entered. He’d only come here today because she’d been pressed for time, and he didn’t want to address the issue about dropping in on Sam over the phone. She obviously didn’t get the importance of giving Guadalupe a heads-up. A face-to-face conversation would help Will read her, so he could figure out how to get her to understand. He needed her cooperation, not an argument. And Sam didn’t deserve to have a simple, but important, direction ignored.

  Funny how the sight of her behind her desk, reading glasses on her head, pushing the sleek blond hair back from her face, seemed so familiar, reminiscent of the years before their marriage when they’d been a solid couple, enjoying life, laying a strong foundation for the future.

  So he’d thought. Melinda, too, by all accounts.

  “Hey, Will,” she said. “Come on in. Give me two seconds. Just let me send this email.”

  “No problem.” He sat in a chair in front of the desk, resisted the urge to grab his own phone and check his messages. Always business with them. Instead, he glanced out the windows at the view and took in the peace of the scene.

  “So what’s up that we need to discuss but I don’t need to worry about?” she asked on one long breath, repeating almost verbatim what he’d told her when he’d suggested they get together to talk.

  She’d turned away from the computer, folding her hands in front of her and giving him her undivided attention.

  He’d considered how to begin this conversation, mentally tried out several approaches to side
step a bad start because the minute Melinda felt cornered, she got defensive and the conversation was over. The productive part, anyway.

  Then he got annoyed. Never a good thing.

  “Sam’s still dragging around your latest gift everywhere he goes. Rafael, too, from what Guadalupe says. She takes them outside and tells them to go annihilate the universe.”

  Melinda flashed her trademark high-beam smile. “I knew he’d like it the minute I saw it. I had my fingers crossed about Rafael, because he’s a little older.”

  “Guadalupe appreciated you thinking of him.”

  “Of course. He and Sam are like brothers. I wouldn’t ever show up with something for one and not the other.”

  There it was. The opening he’d been hoping for. “Speaking of, I wanted to mention that it works out best for Sam if you call before you drop by.”

  There was a beat of silence. “I know that, Will.”

  He went the stupid route. “Oh, I didn’t realize you’d called that day.”

  Her smile faded, replaced by the first hint of ice in her expression. “Did Guadalupe complain because I dropped by?”

  Melinda didn’t admit to not calling which confirmed everything Will already knew. “No, of course not. She would never. You know that. She knows how much Sam enjoys spending time with you.”

  “That’s good, because I’m his mother.”

  Will leaned back in the chair, affected a casual posture that he didn’t come close to feeling. Tired more accurately described how he felt. Unhappy that he was here once again having a discussion with his ex-wife that they’d already had—several times. “I know that, Melinda.”

  “Then what’s the problem? What did you want to discuss?”

  “The importance of giving whoever’s caring for Sam a chance to prepare him for visits.”

  She exhaled heavily, obviously as tired as he was—with this conversation, anyway. “I know I should have called, but I was in the area scouting a site. I wound up getting done early and had to choose whether or not to miss an unexpected chance to visit. I wanted him to have his gift since he’s been spending so much time at Guadalupe’s while you’ve been working on the new building.”

  Which might be acceptable if exactly the same thing hadn’t happened before. Often. Whenever it suited Melinda, in fact. He didn’t point that out. He knew these situations arose whenever she started feeling guilty because Sam didn’t live with her and would only resent Will calling her out on her lack of consideration. “By the time I got there to pick Sam up, he was having a meltdown.”

  Shaking her head, she said firmly, “Not from seeing his mother, he wasn’t.”

  “Melinda, he gets stressed. When Guadalupe doesn’t let him know you’re coming until you’re there, he doesn’t get the time he needs to anticipate your visit. By the time he wraps his head around it, you’re leaving, then he’s disappointed because he doesn’t want you to go. All those feelings happening that fast stress him out. Then he acts out. You know all this.”

  Exactly the wrong thing to say because her expression suddenly seemed sculpted from ice.

  “Yes, Will. I do.” Her tone was equally frigid. “So I don’t need you telling me what I already know. Are you trying to make me feel bad because I chose not to miss visiting my son so I could take the time to make a phone call? If that’s the case, you didn’t need to make a special trip over here because you can make me feel like a crummy mother quite well over the phone.”

  The throbbing in his temples kicked up a notch. Great. And he still had a good eight hours left of this day. “Melinda, why would I do that? I don’t think you’re a crummy mother, and I certainly never said that I did.”

  Rising in a smooth motion, she turned her back to him. He recognized the move for exactly what it was—buying herself time to get her emotions under control so she could restrategize.

  “I know you love Sam,” he said. “I know you want what’s best for him. Sam loves spending time with you. You’re his mother, for God’s sake, Melinda. Of course he wants to be with you. I just thought maybe you didn’t realize—”

  “Oh, I realize all right. I realize exactly what you’re doing. The same thing you always do.” She spun on him, gaze teary and voice tremulous.

  Now he was stressing her out. Exactly what he hadn’t wanted.

  “I appreciate you dropping by to upset me before I have to walk into a really important meeting. Thank you so much. I know you’re the superhero daddy, Will. Mr. Custody Councilman, fighting for his son’s right for a good school. And I know I pale by comparison—”

  “This isn’t about me. Or you, for that matter. It’s about Sam, and what’s best for him.” And Will resented the fact that he was dancing around on eggshells only to wind up exactly where he didn’t want to be—arguing with her.

  “I wanted to see my son and bring him and his friend gifts. The judge told me I could see Sam whenever I want. He encouraged me to drop by since our son doesn’t live with his mother.”

  “A phone call, Melinda. Is it really so difficult to make one phone call?”

  “I already explained but you don’t seem to be listening. If I’d have taken the time to call and wait until Guadalupe gave me permission to see my son, I would have missed the chance to see him. But there’s no reasoning with you. You’re a total control freak. I tried collaborating with you, and you turned around and fought me for custody. I try coparenting with you, and you’re still not happy. What will make you happy? When I don’t have any contact with my son at all? That’s not going to happen. Ever.”

  There were so many things Will could have latched on to in that little outburst. Him a control freak? Melinda needing permission to see her son? But Will bypassed them all because he was too busy latching on to one unexpected piece of information.

  “I tried collaborating with you.”

  Suddenly Will remembered why Positive Partings had sounded so familiar. Melinda had contacted the agency when their divorce proceedings started.

  And he suspected he now knew exactly why Kenzie hadn’t voted for him.

  * * *

  WILL HEARD THE tranquil sound of Kenzie’s voice from a distance as he crouched on a catwalk in a crawl space in the attic. He hadn’t been to this side of the building in weeks. Not since the night before remembering Melinda had consulted with Kenzie. He simply hadn’t wanted to deal with one more thing, not even something as simple as speculation about Kenzie’s opinion of him. He shouldn’t be obsessing about what she thought of him. Ceiling tiles and her list. That’s all he should be thinking about.

  They didn’t build buildings like this anymore, meant to endure, with space to access the electrical and plumbing. Construction to today’s specs, with focus on efficiency of space and energy use, meant one burst pipe could bring half the building to a standstill dealing with the damage.

  He hadn’t expected Kenzie to be teaching upstairs tonight, using the smaller of the two classrooms currently available. He didn’t want to disturb her, but he couldn’t wait to deal with these ceiling tiles any longer, either. He’d told her he’d replace them, then he’d dropped completely out of sight as he and his crew gutted the hall and built Angel House’s new classrooms.

  Deanne had toured the redesigned space this morning. There was still a ton of work to do with painting and carpet and fixtures before they could install the classroom equipment, but she’d seen past what still needed to be done as he’d known she would. She’d had tears i
n her eyes when she’d hugged him.

  Sometimes the most unexpected things kept him going. And he’d needed those things, especially after confrontations like the last one he’d had with Melinda.

  Superhero Daddy. How about practical parent who was looking out for Sam? That worked. The kid deserved one parent who would since his mother didn’t seem capable.

  Just the thought angered him.

  Taking a deep breath, he tried to concentrate on what he had accomplished for his son. What had recently been seven thousand square feet of open space and tiered seating had turned into seven separate classrooms uniquely designed to meet the needs of Angel House’s students, from the air flow to the lighting and everything in between.

  Windows and observation panels had been constructed to minimize distractions yet still give students things to learn from to engage their attention and grow their skills. The room scale may be smaller than an average classroom, but not one of the seven was a sterile environment.

  No, each classroom possessed unique qualities of scale, light, color and mood. The rooms served various functions, mimicking the variations of a normal home. Kitchens differed from bedrooms, bathrooms from living rooms.

  These variations of space were one of the ways Angel House helped kids learn in a natural environment, teaching them to generalize and transition from one setting to another. To teach things that most kids did instinctively.

  But not kids with autism.

  Not Sam.

  Crawling through the narrow space, Will pulled along a flat of ceiling tiles behind him. Pushing the toolbox in front of him, he winced when the corner nailed some old metal ductwork and rang a resounding echo.

  Damn. He hoped Kenzie hadn’t heard that.

  Oh, well. Wasn’t much he could do but try to keep the noise down. He didn’t want her to think the work she needed done was being sacrificed for the work on Angel House, which was exactly what had been happening. There were only so many hours in a day, so he hadn’t crossed off one thing from her never-ending list recently.