Renting to Own

by Linda Rettstatt

  *

  Chelsea’s eyes closed, and she was asleep by the time Lily had driven the two miles from the Dairy Dream to their home.

  “I’ll get Chelsea, if you can take this pack and open the door.” Lily handed the backpack and keys to Helen. She released the seat belt and shoulder harness. “Chels, honey, wake up. We’re home.”

  The child blinked and frowned in the bright sunlight. “I falled asleep.”

  “You sure did. Come on.” Lily helped her from the car, and Chelsea walked ahead to the door. “Can we put the fish on my pool now?”

  Helen opened the door and ushered her inside. “How about if you and Mommy work on your pool when it cools down, while I grill the chicken for dinner?”

  “Okay.” She ran ahead, calling for the cat.

  Helen watched as Lily walked through the door. “Are you okay?”

  Lily nodded. “I’m still a little shaken. You hear awful stories about kids being abducted. I don’t know what I’d have done if…I should’ve paid closer attention.”

  “Kids are quick. It wasn’t your fault. She was standing right beside me one minute and gone the next. I think it scared her enough, though, seeing both of us so upset. You two can work on the pool, and I’ll take care of dinner.”

  “Thanks, Helen.” Lily wondered what would have happened if Helen hadn’t been there to hold her together? “Do you think there’s a chance Tyler would try to see her, here or while she’s with you? Maybe it’s not a good idea to send her back to Lakewood.”

  “I have it on great authority that Tyler returned to Chicago. That’s where he lives and works now. Don’t worry, I checked him out after his visit to my house. You know I’d never let him see Chelsea or take her.”

  “I know. It’s just a worry, now that I know he was asking about me. Maybe you’re right and I should try to get his parental rights terminated. But I just can’t deal with that right now.”

  Helen squeezed her shoulder. “One thing at a time. Chelsea will be fine.”

  Lily went into the back yard to find Chelsea standing at the hedge, talking to Mrs. Glenn who sat on her back porch. “…and I went to see the big fish and Mommy and Auntie Helen got lost. But a lady helped me find them.”

  “Is that who got lost?” Lily asked as she joined her daughter. “I think it was the other way around. Hi, Mrs. Glenn.”

  The older woman smiled. “Well, I’m glad to see you were found again. I hear you’re painting fish on a swimming pool?”

  “Long story. Helen’s grilling chicken. Would you like to come over and join us?”

  “I’d love to, if it’s no trouble.”

  “No trouble at all. You’re welcome to come and sit in the shade, watch the artists in action. Chelsea, go and tell Auntie Helen that Mrs. Glenn is joining us, please.”

  Chelsea raced across the yard and into the kitchen.

  Mrs. Glenn rose slowly from her chair. “I’ll be there in just a few minutes. Need to take my afternoon medication. I have an angel food cake I baked this morning. I’ll bring some with fresh strawberries.”

  “Sounds delicious. Come over whenever you’re ready.”

  Lily and Chelsea knelt at the empty pool, peeling the backing from the fish decals. Chelsea directed and Lily pressed the decals to the indicated locations. Mrs. Glenn sat in the Adirondack chair sipping iced tea, and Helen turned barbecued chicken on the grill. The sun shifted lower in the western sky and a comforting breeze rustled the trees.

  “I’ll get the paints and brushes, and we can add the final touches.” Lily rose and went to the house. She returned to the back porch and stopped as a memory flashed through her. She must have been about five years old. Her mother, dressed in shorts and a halter top, chased her and Mason around the yard with the garden hose. Lily and her brother had shrieked and giggled as the cool water arced over them. Her father stood at the old barbecue pit, flipping hamburgers and hot dogs, laughing and dodging the spray. Lily blinked to clear the image. Why am I thinking so much about the past? About my dad?

  Lily drew rough outlines of fish, turtles, and sea grass, and watched as Chelsea carefully dipped a brush into one of the jars and applied the paint. “Look, Mommy. I made a blue turtle.” Lily smiled, but her thoughts were snagged on the earlier memory and the image of her father—Daddy before.

  *

  “I thought you finished your transcription.” Helen, who had put Chelsea to bed, crossed the living room to where Lily sat before the computer.

  “I did. I’m doing some…research.” She turned and looked up at Helen. “Do you ever see my dad or run into him?”

  Helen sat on the arm of the sofa and shook her head. “No. I think he still lives in your old house. Why?”

  “I can’t get him off my mind today, for some reason. I was thinking about calling him. Mason told me Dad had quit drinking last time he saw him at Christmas. He said the doctor told Dad if he didn’t quit, he’d be dead within a year. Funny, I always thought that was what he was going for.”

  “Maybe you should call.” Helen rested her hand on Lily’s shoulder. “He’s on your heart for some reason.”

  Lily nodded. She turned back to the computer where she’d pulled up the phone directory on the internet. There weren’t that many Champions listed in Lakewood. Her eyes settled on the third listing—G.W. Champion, 3375 Willowbrook Avenue. The phone number and address remained the same.

  Helen excused herself. “I’m going outside and sit on the porch.”

  The cell phone felt heavy in Lily’s hand, matching the weight in her heart. She punched in the numbers, pressed the Talk button. A tremble rippled through her while she listened to the rings—five, six, seven. She was ready to press End when a gruff voice answered. “Hello.”

  “H-Hello. Is this George Champion?”

  “Yes. Who’s this?”

  “It’s…um…” She bit her lip. “Daddy, it’s Lily.”

  Chapter Eight

  Lily took a can of diet soda from the fridge, and stepped out into the moist night air. She sat in the wicker chair next to Helen. Without saying a word, Helen reached over and patted Lily’s hand.

  “He’s still there, in the house on Willowbrook.”

  Helen rocked in her chair, silent.

  “He sounds good, sober. I didn’t ask.” She took a drink and set the soda can on the table between the two chairs. “He wants to see me.”

  “What do you want?” Helen asked, still looking out at the darkness.

  “I want my daddy back. But it’s too late for that.”

  “Perhaps.”

  Lily turned to face her friend. “Perhaps? It’s been over five years. He buried himself in a bottle when Mason and I needed him the most. And when I got pregnant, what did my daddy do? He called me a whore and disowned me. Yeah, it’s a little late.” Her body shook with anger.

  Helen looked back into the night. “Then why did you call him?”

  Lily closed her eyes, sucking in a deep breath. “I guess I wanted a miracle.”

  “And maybe you got one.”

  “What do you mean?” Lily raised her head and looked at Helen.

  “Lily, miracles aren’t always what we expect. I think it’s a miracle you called him. Perhaps that’s just the beginning. You’ll figure it out.” She stood and stretched. “I’m off to bed.”

  “Don’t you want to know what he said?”

  Helen looked down at Lily. “I think you need to hold that conversation close for a while. I’ll still be here when the time’s right for talking.” She bent and kissed Lily’s forehead. “Don’t be up late. You have to work tomorrow.”

  Lily listened to the soft creak of the screen door. Alone with the night sounds and her thoughts, she once again closed her eyes and replayed the brief conversation with her father. The heart-stopping silence after she’d announced herself had almost prompted her to hang up. But it was the emotion in his voice when he’d finally said her name, “Lily.” It was the voice of Daddy before, the daddy who�
�d pulled her into his lap to ask about her day. The daddy who’d tossed her across his broad shoulders and carried her upstairs to tuck her into bed. The daddy whose clear eyes and steady speech gently reprimanded her always with a grin.

  He wanted to see her. “There’s so much I have to say, Lily. So many times I’ve wanted to call you. I’m so sorry.”

  She’d not responded, and he changed the subject. “Mason tells me you’re doing well. He showed me a picture of Chelsea. She’s beautiful, Lily. Has your nose.” His voice had broken off, and she’d thought perhaps he was crying.-

  “You sound good, Dad,” she had said once she found her voice. “I understand you’re doing better.” She couldn’t discuss Chelsea with him. He had no right to expect that of her. She’d tried to end the conversation, feeling the call had been a huge mistake, uncertain of what she wanted or expected from it. “I called to make sure you were okay. You take care.”

  But he wouldn’t let her end it there. “I want to see you, Lily, and my granddaughter. Please. I’ll come to you, or meet you somewhere. Or you could come here, to the house. I don’t drink anymore.”

  “Good for you, Dad. Look, I have to go. Maybe I’ll call again. Goodbye.”

  Replaying the conversation in her head unleashed emotions she’d kept in check. She picked up the soda can and hurled it into the back yard, a spray of liquid bathing her arm. Tears stung her eyes. “Damn you. Happy to hear you finally got your life together. You sure wrecked the hell out of mine.”

  It was like losing him all over again.

  The following morning, Lily stayed home from the office until Helen and Chelsea were ready to leave.

  Lily fought back tears as Chelsea waved from the car window. “Bye, Mommy.”

  “Goodbye, sweetie. Be good. I’ll see you soon.” She kissed Chelsea again, then stepped back and watched them drive away.

  She tossed a plastic bucket and a shovel into the sand box on the way past and went inside. The house seemed eerily quiet. She dressed and headed to the office.

  At eleven-thirty, her cell phone trilled. “Hello.”

  “Hi, Lily. Just wanted to let you know Chelsea and I arrived safely. We stopped for ice cream along the way, that’s why I’m late calling.”

  “How was the drive?”

  “Great. No problems. And you know Chelsea the chatterbox. Made the time fly. You take care, honey. I’ll see you in a few weeks. I’ll put Chelsea on now.”

  “Thanks, Helen.”

  “Mommy, do you miss me?”

  “You know I do. Are you having fun with Auntie Helen?”

  “Yes. We’re having hot dogs with cheese on them for dinner. And she’s takin’ me swimmin’ tomorrow, too.”

  “That’s great, sweetie. You have fun and be good. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow.”

  “Okay. Bye.”

  Silence hissed in Lily’s ear, emphasizing her loneliness. She snapped the phone closed, biting her bottom lip. It would be a very long two weeks.

  *

  Fridays were slow days, and as Lily soon discovered, Mondays were busy. They had listed homes in the Sunday paper and she fielded several inquiries. By noon, she had accumulated a stack of messages for Rick and managed to frustrate three corporate customers because she couldn’t answer their questions about two warehouses and one office building Gardner Realty handled. She removed her bagged lunch from the refrigerator and sat at her desk. The chicken salad sandwich stared blandly back at her. She wrapped it up and set it back inside the fridge.

  The sunshine kissed her bare arms as she stepped outside and locked the door behind her. She stopped and bought the newest issue of People before she crossed the street to Malone’s for lunch. The bar area was jammed with men in business suits.

  Lily spied a corner booth and hurried toward it. She reached the booth at the same moment as a guy in jeans and a denim shirt, sleeves rolled up to reveal muscular, tanned forearms. She stared at him, and he stared back.

  “I think I was here first. Just stopped at the bar to get a glass of water.” He held up the glass for her to see.

  “But you weren’t sitting here yet, so I think I got here first.” Lily set her jaw and glared at him.

  He grinned. “Are you alone?”

  “That’s none of your business.” Lily inched the magazine onto the tabletop, claiming the space.

  He glanced down to where she had laid claim to the table. “I’m not trying to pick you up. I’m alone. I just figured we could share the booth. It seems to be the only empty table.”

  “Oh. Well…” She looked around the crowded restaurant—not an empty table or booth in sight. “I guess so. It’s only lunch, right?”

  “Right. No long-term commitment.” He set the glass on his side of the table and waited until Lily was seated before sliding onto the seat across from her. “I’m Walker Beaumont,” he drawled. “Everyone calls me Beau.” He extended a hand across the table.

  “Lily Champion. Everyone calls me Lily.” She shook his hand loosely, noticing long, well-manicured fingers. She removed a menu from behind the condiments caddy and stared at it.

  “Lily. Nice name. So, what do you recommend?”

  Without looking up, she answered, “I recommend getting here earlier for lunch.”

  His laugh forced her to look at him. “That’s a good one.”

  Lily’s gaze traveled from the full lips framing straight, glowing white teeth, up the nose bearing a slight bump that indicated an old break, and to warm, brown eyes that reminded her of pools of chocolate fudge. Her breath caught.

  The waitress stood at the table. “What can I getcha’?” She spoke first to Beau.

  Lily raised her menu, hiding the warm flush that crept across her face.

  “Ladies first,” Beau said.

  The waitress turned to Lily. “Miss?”

  “I’ll have the Southwest Chicken Salad. Chipotle on the side. And separate checks, please.”

  “Sure. And to drink?”

  “Iced tea with lemon.”

  “And for you, sir?”

  While Beau ordered, Lily returned her menu to its holder. She fingered the magazine. On the one hand, it seemed rude to sit there and read. On the other hand, they were just two strangers sharing a table top.

  “Don’t let me interrupt your reading,” Beau said, as if listening in on her thoughts.

  “Oh, this. I picked it up on the way. Something to do while I wait for my lunch.”

  “I know what you mean. I eat most of my meals alone, but I hate it. Especially in a crowded place like this. Everyone else talking, and me sitting here like I have some social disease.” He sat back in the booth, arms outstretched—a man at ease with himself. “I don’t, by the way.”

  If a man could be beautiful, Walker Beaumont was such a man. Lily opened the magazine and flipped a few pages, hoping to create a breeze to cool her face. Her iced tea arrived, and she popped a straw into the glass and took a sip.

  “Do you work nearby?” Beau asked.

  She nodded. “Across the street. And you?”

  “You know the new entertainment complex going up next to the mall?”

  “Oh, you work in construction?”

  “You could say that. I like building things.”

  Their lunch orders arrived, and Lily continued to browse the magazine while munching her salad. She glanced at Beau’s plate—a huge burger, rare, dripping blood and grease. Her stomach convulsed. She grimaced and focused back on her reading.

  He lifted his eyebrows. “What?”

  “I didn’t say anything.”

  “Your face did. You looked at my lunch like it was road kill.”

  “Good description. I don’t like rare meat. That’s all.”

  “Do you believe that?” He pointed to her magazine.

  Lily halted her fork in mid-air. “Believe what?”

  Beau reached across the table and jabbed a finger onto the headline about some celebrity couple. “That. I think it’s all hype.”


  She looked at the page and back up at him. “You read People?”

  “Sure. I like to stay abreast of what’s happening in Hollywood. I don’t think Angelina was at fault for Brad and Jen’s breakup, either. It happens.”

  “Uh-huh.” Lily resumed eating her salad. If this was his idea of small talk, he was sadly lacking in the conversation department.

  The waitress refilled her tea and left their checks. Before she could stop him, Beau picked up both checks.

  “Oh, no. I’ll pay for my own lunch.” She reached for the check, but he lifted it beyond her grasp.

  “Please let me get it. After all, I spoiled your lunch break by imposing on your space.”

  “You didn’t spoil my lunch. Although it is hard for me to watch someone eat freshly slaughtered beef.”

  “See. I owe you.” He stood and squeezed his fingers into the pocket of his snug jeans, retrieving a wad of bills.

  Lily’s vision followed his hand and fixed on the area between his pockets. She nearly knocked over the glass of tea in her attempt to get a cool drink.

  He tossed a five on the table. “Tell you what, you can buy next time.”

  Lily lifted an eyebrow. “Next time?”

  “Sure. I’ll be back here tomorrow. If we’re lucky, we’ll be late and only one table will remain. It was nice to meet you, Lily,” he said in a deep-throated Matthew McConaughey type of drawl.

  He clearly was not from Ohio. Somewhere south, Texas maybe. She watched him move with ease through the crowded restaurant, her eyes fixed on the way the faded jeans hugged his backside. Lily, my God, give it a rest. Well, it had been resting nicely for quite a while now. Sometimes she felt like twenty-three going on seventy. Maybe it was time to pursue the life Helen kept telling her she deserved.

  Four messages, all from Mrs. Travers, greeted Lily when she returned to the office. She wrote down the questions, called Mrs. Travers, and assured the woman Rick would get back to her with answers.

  At three, she started to make coffee but decided it made more sense to run to Starbucks for one cup. When she returned to the office, the answering machine blinked again.

  “What now, Mrs. Travers?” Lily asked aloud, pressing the button.