"You still have freedom of speech," her mother reminded her.
"Me?" Robin said. "I’m not part of this."
"Well, you should be," Gigi argued. "Anyway, I’m late. The meeting started at two, and there's no telling when Dr. Harris will finish his presentation. He's not the only item on the agenda. So we'd better hurry."
"Mother," Robin said between clenched teeth. "Let me make this clear. I will not protest against my employer. That's why you’re here, isn't it? You believed I would join you. Did you expect the children to march, too?"
Gigi heaved a melodramatic sigh. "You always were strong-willed. Well, all right. But I do need a ride and you're going to City Hall anyway."
"I don't suppose I have much choice." While Robin didn't mean to be churlish, her mother could be infuriating. Frequently.
The children piled in from the bedrooms, wearing gym shorts and shirts. Robin collected their swimsuits and towels for their second class, then remembered the signs her mother had left on the lawn. "Mom, I don't think your stuff will fit in my car."
"Of course it will." Without a backward glance, Gigi trotted out to the driveway, and the children scurried to keep up.
Her mother did manage to stuff all the signs into the tiny trunk, although they had to borrow Caitlin's stretchy bicycle hooks to hold the lid partway open. Then the five of them crammed inside, hip to hip, and off they went. With luck, Robin decided, they could drop her mother at City Hall and park next door at the community center without attracting attention.
She felt a bit awkward about not supporting her mother in the protest. Robin agreed that the proposed revisions of earthquake standards were unreasonably strict. As the businesspeople pointed out, they had to make a living. And the town had withstood numerous shakers over the decades without serious mishap.
Flint was applying harsh standards that would prove more destructive than helpful, Robin told herself. On the other hand, she couldn't march against him, especially not during the work day. Although the children would be in class, she had a conflict of interest, as well as a sense of loyalty to the man she worked for.
Unfortunately, the spaces close to City Hall were all filled. From the car, Robin could see several dozen protesters marching.
Despite her mother's encouragement, she refused to double park. Instead, she proceeded next door to the community center.
"It's almost three," she informed Gigi firmly. "If you want to haul your signs over there, go ahead. Otherwise, you'll have to wait until I escort the children inside."
Gigi clucked. "You should let them witness democracy in action."
"Could we?" Aaron gazed eagerly toward City Hall.
"Don't be a Daffy Duck." Caitlin planted hands on hips. "They're protesting against Dad. If we get him mad, he'll never take us to Disneyland for our birthday."
Robin couldn't suppress a smile as she ushered the children indoors. "Disneyland, is that what you want?"
"We haven't been in years," Brick told her as they clattered through the entryway.
"Dad says it's silly," Aaron noted.
"Mom loved to take us there." Caitlin's answer explained a great deal.
Apparently returning to Disneyland, which was only a half-hour drive from Beachside, had been too painful for Flint. Robin hoped he'd be able to handle it this year, for the children's sakes.
Not until the class started and the triplets began their stretching exercises did Robin depart with Gigi. Even though she had the right to take a break, she felt uneasy about the whole business.
The signs proved too heavy for Gigi to move by herself. "Why not just leave them in the trunk?" Robin surveyed the four posters. "You don't need all these."
"Some of them belong to other people." Gigi braced two heavy signs on her shoulders. "We had a paint-in yesterday at the store. It was fun, and good for business, too."
How like her mother to promise to bring the signs when she didn't even have a car, Robin reflected. She wasn't sure whether she admired her mother's cavalier approach to life or resented the assumption that someone— usually her daughter—would always be around to pick up the slack.
As they trudged across a grass median to the City Hall lot, Robin said, "You mean a lot of merchants wanted their fortunes told?"
"Absolutely," said Gigi.
"And you charged them full price?" Her mother might be a good businesswoman, but she had a soft heart toward anyone who might even loosely be defined as a friend.
"We swapped," said her mother. "I've got coupons for free pizza, dry cleaning and a tune-up."
“You don’t own a car.”
“I can swap it for something else.”
Some of the marchers waved as they approached, and a couple of men came to help. Robin handed her signs to the owner of a drive-in dairy, thanked him and said, "I'd better be leaving."
"Hold on," he said. "I haven't got a good grip on these." He leaned one into her hands.
At that moment, Flint stepped out of the building. Gazing down from the head of the stairs, he must have a clear view of Robin's sign.
Cold fury flashed from his gray eyes. Alarmed, Robin peered at the lettering. The sign read, “Let's Embarrass Harris.”
Chapter Ten
Flint couldn't believe he'd been such a damn fool. In the past week and a half, he'd begun to believe Robin had reformed. She'd appeared to settle into normal life, behaving responsibly and sensibly.
No employer could stomach this kind of disloyalty. Even though he knew the children must be safely tucked away in their gymnastics class, it was unbelievable that Robin would attack him in public.
He strode down the steps, his body tight with fury. Flint hardly noticed the red-faced merchants clustered around, shouting at him.
Everything had gone smoothly until now. His recommendations had been met with resigned acceptance. The council members were aware they would face an angry electorate at the polls next year, but they also recognized that it was their job to prepare the city for emergencies.
As he approached the sidewalk, Flint knew he had to set Robin straight. The sight of her face frozen in shock did nothing to soften his temper. What had she expected when she chose to confront him?
"Dr. Harris, this is my fault." The quavery voice issued from a red-haired woman whom Flint recognized as Robin's mother. Her instinct to spring to her daughter's defense was misplaced.
"This is between me and your daughter." He caught Robin's arm and tugged her aside. The sign fell to the pavement with a clank.
"Flint, that's not mine." How could she feign innocence when she'd been caught in the act?
"You must have taken lessons from Brick," Flint snapped. "He can come up with an excuse for anything. You honestly expect me to believe that you were just holding that sign for someone else?"
"My mother."
"Your mother forced you to join a protest at City Hall?" The flimsy excuse made Flint even angrier. Why couldn't the woman take responsibility for her actions?
"I know it looks bad." Robin's voice was low and earnest. "She doesn't have a car...."
"So you had to give her a ride?" Flint wasn't buying it. "She forced you into it over your objections? And, I presume, you let my children read the signs on the way over. Making them think their father is the bad guy."
Robin seemed to be having trouble finding words. "The signs were in the trunk."
A disturbing picture flashed into Flint's mind. "And meanwhile you were all crammed into that sardine can you call a car? How many people is it designed to carry, Miss Lindstrom? Four, if I'm not mistaken."
She made an ineffectual gesture in midair. "We all wore seat belts, except for Gigi. There's room for a fifth person in the middle of the back, and that is the safest seat in the car. Besides, she's an adult."
A rotund man whose T-shirt bore the name of a local dry cleaners thrust himself partway between them. "Dr. Harris, I'd like to know whether you have any experience whatsoever with retail business. Do you realize we'r
e being regulated into the ground?"
"You're going to be shaken to the ground if you don't take proper precautions." Flint had no patience for diplomacy right now.
"That's easy for you to say!" cried a woman whose apron said Beachside Beauty Spot. "You're just doing this to make money, aren't you?"
"Yeah," said a younger man. "You've got to justify your big consulting fee by recommending changes whether they're needed or not."
"That's right!" Flint could hear his voice boom across the parking lot. "I have no motive but to line my pockets at your expense. I don't give a damn if an earthquake flattens every one of you, which it almost certainly will. Now leave me the hell alone!"
Everyone stared in astonishment. Robin's jaw dropped, but she had the good sense not to argue.
On a roll, Flint roared at her, "If I catch you in any activity like this again—do I need to spell it out? You are expected to behave with the dignity befitting a person entrusted with the care of children. Is that clear?"
Robin's eyes glittered as she spat out, "Perfectly!" and walked away.
Flint stood motionless on the sidewalk, fists clenched, wondering why he felt like an idiot. He’d been right, hadn't he?
"The spirits are most unhappy," said the red-haired woman near his elbow. Her name popped into his mind. Gigi. It must have suited the tiny baby on whom it was bestowed, but it didn't fit the eccentric adult she had grown into.
"I apologize if I've disrupted your spirits." Flint had no quarrel with this woman, even if she had produced the most perverse daughter in the history of womankind.
"It really is my fault," Gigi said as the other protesters drifted away. "My friend dropped me at your house with those heavy signs. I knew Robin had to drive the children to the community center."
Flint's stomach twinged uncomfortably. "Are you saying her only choice was to leave those signs on my front lawn?"
Gigi's cheeks flushed even brighter than her rouge. "I was trying to persuade her to join me. She refused. She almost wouldn't bring me here at all. Then she made such a fuss about being loyal to you."
"Are you sure you aren't bending the truth?" Flint hadn't forgotten how Gigi had pretended the spirits were throwing Robin's clothes out the window. Also, he hated the idea that he'd misjudged and insulted an innocent person.
Especially Robin.
"Your children can confirm it," Gigi pointed out. "Oh, dear. I'm too used to depending on my daughter. That's why I never learned to drive, because she was always around to give me a ride. I even persuaded her to throw the stars at you. She thought it was a foolish idea, but she went along for my sake. I never meant to cause trouble."
"It’s not that much trouble." Flint muttered. “I didn’t fire her.”
"I can see she's very upset." Gigi twisted her hands. "The spirits will never forgive me if I've ruined everything."
He wished the woman would quit babbling about spirits. In fact, he wished she hadn't talked to him at all. She’d convinced him of her sincerity, which meant he'd been unforgivably rude to Robin. He'd also made a fool of himself in front of half the business community of Beachside.
"Excuse me," Flint said, and stalked toward the community center. Although he hated apologizing, sometimes it had to be done. Still, the situation had appeared so clear-cut. How had Robin expected him to behave?
Politely, he answered himself.
Flint checked his watch. Almost three-thirty, and he had a four o'clock appointment with the principal of Serena Academy.
Inside, he stopped by the children's gymnastics class. Caitlin was trotting confidently along a mock balance beam set on the ground, while Brick and Aaron watched with varying degrees of disgruntlement. Their stances reflected their personalities—Brick with arms crossed and legs apart, Aaron biting his lip and jamming his hands in his pockets.
No sign of Robin.
Flint wandered down the hall and paused outside the ladies' room. He supposed she might have gone inside, so he waited a while, but then he caught the custodian giving him a suspicious look and decided to continue his search.
Around another bend, he heard a piano tinkling out some music that he couldn't identify. Flint went to investigate.
On the door, which stood ajar, a placard read: Modern Dance, Advanced. Tony Garcia, Instructor.
He peered inside. Four couples, who looked about college age, were executing a series of lifts with varying degrees of proficiency. As he watched, one young man almost dropped his partner, while another couple couldn't get their movements in sync.
"No, no, no!" The music stopped and a man of about thirty stepped into view from the sidelines. He had a compact, muscular build and bristled with disapproval. "You're not counting properly! And where is the feeling? The artistry? Gentlemen, these are not sacks of flour you're lifting. Ladies, you are not competing for a gymnastics medal."
The dancers clustered in one corner, looking abashed. Flint felt a twinge of sympathy. How was a person supposed to be athletic and graceful at the same time?
"Let me demonstrate." Tony gestured to someone on the sidelines.
A familiar slim figure stepped forward, stripping off jeans to reveal her leotard. Robin wasn't going to let this man pick her up and manhandle her, was she? Flint’s fists clenched. Hovering behind the half-closed door, he watched protectively.
At a signal from Tony, the pianist hit the keys. Music echoed off the walls as Robin pirouetted forward and flung herself into space.
The man caught her as if she weighed no more than a feather. Slender as Robin might be, Flint knew from experience that she weighed more than a feather. He supposed he could fake the same effortlessness if he practiced long enough, though.
Her body formed a fluid line, curling around Tony's shoulders. The man paced forward, carrying her as if they formed a single unit. When he swung her almost to the floor, Flint realized that the two dancers were cutting shapes in space, making designs with their bodies that vanished in a heartbeat.
Even though his aesthetic sense appreciated their craft, he didn't like the confident way Tony gripped her thigh and swung her up. He didn't like the way Robin entrusted herself fully to her partner, with no holding back. Why couldn't she treat him that way?
Flint wanted to keep a distance between the two of them. But he wanted her to keep even more distance from this Tony fellow.
This was supposed to be art. No reason for the guy to enjoy the experience so obviously, and for Robin to wear a blissed-out expression.
Flint devoutly hoped the man was gay. Or planning to enter a monastery and renounce all worldly temptations. Or about to join a ballet company in Timbuktu.
Now what was the guy doing? Hadn't he demonstrated his technique sufficiently for his students? Did he have to scoop Robin into a kind of arrested swan dive that pressed her breasts into his arm?
Damn it, why should Flint care? If he got involved with a woman again, he expected it to be with someone businesslike, crisp and well-ordered. Yielding to his attraction to Robin would be like jumping off a pier into a raging flood. Flint wasn't afraid, but he'd never been a fan of white-water rafting and he had children to think of.
As the music fluttered to a stop, the students burst into applause. Robin took a modest bow and turned to put on her jeans.
Her face registered dismay when she caught sight of Flint. He waited, emotions in check, until she approached.
"Very nice," he told her. Not much of a compliment, but it was the best he could manage with that Tony person watching. "By the way, I'm sorry about what I said. I was wrong." He tapped his watch. "Got an appointment. See you at dinner."
He had to leave. An apology had been made. He hoped it was enough.
*
Robin marched down the hall toward the gym. The children should emerge in a few minutes and head off to change for swim lessons. It was her job to make sure they ended up where they were supposed to be.
Her blood boiled at Flint's arrogance. Did he believe an offhand a
pology would compensate for being publicly humiliated?
Robin had been relieved to discover her friend Tony was teaching a class in the same building—she'd needed a distraction from her outrage at Flint. Watching the dancers had reminded her of how much she loved to teach, and to perform. It had been a rare treat, to be asked to help Tony demonstrate technique to his students. When he lifted her in his arms, Robin had forgotten everything except the joy of movement, the sense of lightness and power that seized her in midair. All the troubles and worries of her life had vanished for those few minutes, only to come crashing when she saw Flint. The man was impossible.
The gym door banged open and children ran out, giggling and shrieking. A small knot of mothers collected their offspring with hugs.
Caitlin trotted ahead of her brothers, hair swinging, face shining with excitement. "That was fun!" she cried. "Oh, Robin, did you see me? I could be a dancer like you, couldn't I?"
"Of course you could," Robin said.
Aaron rushed toward her, flinging his arms around her waist. "I missed you," he said.
Brick stood a few feet away, ignoring his siblings. "Where's Granny Gigi?"
Robin spent the next few minutes answering questions and assuring them that their father hadn't been very angry. By the time they raced away to put on their swimsuits, she knew she loved these little guys more than she would ever have believed possible. Even if somehow it turned out the medical clinic had been wrong and the triplets hadn't been conceived with her eggs, they had still become her children during the short time she'd known them.
Flint might never understand, but Robin had the feeling Kathy would. For the children's sake, she was going to bite her tongue and try to be nice to her employer.
But not any nicer than she had to be.
*
The children dawdled after swim class, joking with their friends and taking ages to change. Robin wasn't sure why she felt so impatient, except that if Flint arrived home and found dinner unprepared, he was sure to blame her.
She doubted she could put up with his rudeness again without exploding. Granted, the sign reading Embarrass Harris had been tasteless, at best, but that didn't give him the right to bawl her out in public.
Yours, Mine and Ours Page 11
