One in a Million

by Susan Mallery

  If Drew wasn’t having the time of his life, he was at least participating in all the hands-on rooms that encouraged kids to put to work different principles of art. At the interactive display about sculpting, he went so far as to murmur “cool” before he caught himself. In contrast, Leslie was unabashedly getting a kick out of her day of culture and learning more about her newest interest. JT just wished Kenzie was having more fun.

  Not that you did much to brighten her day.

  What the hell was wrong with him? During their short acquaintance, he’d been thrilled she didn’t feel sorry for him, so why had he blurted out two pieces of biographical information likely to evoke her pity? Though he’d never been particularly eloquent verbally, he couldn’t believe he’d spoken so gracelessly about losing Holly. Yet when Kenzie had asked if Beth was a former flame, some part of him had wanted to make it immediately clear that she wasn’t a romantic possibility…in the past or the present. Surely he hadn’t been trying to reassure Kenzie that he was available?

  He glanced to where she stood with Drew, discussing a piece of Colonial art and joking about life in pioneer days. Whenever her son had acted up today, forgetting his manners or talking too loudly, she was quick to correct him. Firm but fair. Once she’d addressed the problem, she let it go, resuming their conversations without holding a visible grudge. Whenever JT had disappointed his parents, the effects had been lasting. His mother had liked that he was more introspective than most boys his age. At the times he’d behaved in a more robust manner, she’d not only scolded him, but continued to send reproachful glances throughout the day, as if to remind him continuously that he’d let her down. And Jonathan, Sr.... Well, disappointing him was like inviting an arctic front, but without the snow to make it fun.

  In JT’s inexpert opinion, Kenzie had struck a nice balance with her parenting approach. He wondered if her kids knew how lucky they were. It was clear they missed their father and didn’t see him often, but from what JT had pieced together, the man was selfishly temperamental. How did you explain to a pair of nine-year-olds that sometimes no father was better than a bad father?

  As if feeling his gaze on her, Kenzie looked up suddenly, her eyes skittish.

  “I, uh, was about to ask if you guys are getting hungry,” he lied. “There’s a café downstairs.”

  “Food!” Drew pumped a fist in the air, looking as excited as if they’d just offered him season’s tickets to the Braves.

  Kenzie ruffled her son’s hair, a move that left him squirming. “All right, a lunch break sounds fine by me. Les?”

  “Hmm?” The girl didn’t even look up from the plaque she was reading.

  “Earth to Leslie,” Kenzie drawled. “Why don’t we go eat, then maybe hit another exhibit or two before heading out?”

  “Already?” Leslie squeaked with dismay.

  “Soon.” Kenzie darted a glance toward JT. “It was very nice of Mr. Trelauney to come with us, but we don’t want to hold him hostage for the entire day.”

  JT started to insist that he was enjoying himself in his own understated way, but he hesitated. Kenzie wasn’t entirely comfortable with him. Instead of working to put her at ease, perhaps he should be glad of the subtle emotional barrier between them. They took the stairwell down to the restaurant, and JT was careful to stay in front this time, ostensibly showing them the way, rather than lag behind alongside Kenzie.

  For lunch, he and the kids ordered sandwiches and Kenzie grabbed a salad. The small café was furnished with round tables, ideal for solitary diners or couples, and larger booths along the wall. He wound up on a bench next to Leslie and directly across from her mother.

  “Thank you for today,” Kenzie told him as she drizzled dressing on her salad.

  “Absolutely!” Leslie chirped. “It’s been so much fun, hasn’t it, Drew? The exhibits are great. I love the quotes on the ceilings, too. Man, even the food is good here.”

  Drew grunted. “How would you know? You won’t shut up long enough to eat anything.”

  “Andrew, be nice to your sister! And don’t talk with your mouth full.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he muttered.

  Taking a bite of her sandwich with exaggerated precision, Leslie gave her brother a so there look, then immediately started talking again once she’d swallowed. “You know what other food is good, JT? My mom’s cooking.”

  Kenzie chuckled. “I’m surprised you even remember what my cooking tastes like, between the sandwiches we’ve been eating recently and the dishes Mrs. Sanchez has brought over.”

  Drew made a sound that might have been a moan of ecstasy at the mention of Mrs. Sanchez’s food; JT could relate. He grinned in the boy’s direction, and Drew’s expression immediately turned stony.

  “Don’t be silly, Mom. Of course I remember your cooking. Like your lasagna! Can you make it sometime soon?” Leslie swiveled on the seat and batted her eyelashes at JT. “Maybe you could join us. We usually have leftovers, so I’m sure it—”

  “Leslie!”

  JT wondered if Kenzie knew just how horrified she sounded.

  Leslie stubbornly persisted. “What? He lives just across the hall, so it’s not like he’d have to come out of his way. Drew, don’t you think it would be a good idea for JT to join us for dinner sometime?”

  At that, Drew’s head jerked up from his sandwich. “No.”

  “Well, that’s just rude,” his sister said. “We owe him for today, and—”

  “Not at all,” JT tried to interject. “This was a favor with no strings attached.”

  “—and you talk about how you miss your friends back home and can’t wait to make new friends once school starts. What about Mom? She should have friends, too. Male friends,” the girl said with significant emphasis.

  Kenzie’s face had turned a red so vivid it reminded JT of his earlier work. “Now, Leslie—” she began.

  But it was Drew who jumped to his feet, shouting at his sister, “I can’t believe you! Don’t you love Dad at all? We can’t just replace him with some painter who lives across the hall. Mom doesn’t need ‘male friends.’ She has us. And Aunt Ann! Her dating is a stupid idea…even for you!” Then he stormed off toward the diner’s exit.

  For a split second, Kenzie was too stunned by her son’s tantrum to react, but the shock quickly evaporated, leaving two very different emotions in its wake. Mortification almost nauseating in its intensity, and worry for her son, which eclipsed her personal embarrassment.

  She rose, mumbling a half-formed apology as she turned to catch up with Drew. It’s getting worse. His outbursts had steadily increased over the past year. She knew moving to Atlanta meant stressful change for the kids, but they were coping in very distinct ways. Leslie liked to lose herself in fantasy, whether through books or imagined romances between her mom and JT. Drew, on the other hand, simply seemed to be getting angrier. The twins had always had differences, but Kenzie couldn’t believe the way he’d just screamed at his sister publicly.

  “You owe Les an apology, you know,” she said softly, reaching out to grab Drew’s elbow before he could escape into the men’s restroom. She led him toward a small bench between the water fountain and ATM machine. He didn’t try to pull away, but he glared mutinously.

  “Dating is a stupid idea,” he reiterated. There was fire in his tone, but this was her baby—she didn’t miss the way his lower lip trembled.

  “For now, I agree. We have a lot on our plate, with my new job and school about to start. I’m not interested in finding a boyfriend. But worrying about that doesn’t give you the right to be cruel to your sister.”

  His shoulders slumped. “Do you think after we move into the real house, you’ll want a boyfriend?”

  He looked so traumatized by the idea that she wanted to promise him that it would never happen. But that h
ad been more Mick’s style of parenting—saying whatever rash thing got him out of short-term trouble, with no thought toward long-range viability or consequences. “I honestly don’t know, Drew. What I can tell you is that we’ll work out whatever happens as a family.”

  Apparently family had been the wrong word to use, for he grew wild-eyed. “We’ve been here over a week. Has Dad even… There was this movie on cable where the kid found out his father had been writing him letters that his mom didn’t want him to have.”

  Oh, Drew. His tone was so beseeching, begging her to lie to him and be the bad guy so that he could hang on to illusions about his father. “You know that’s not the case, don’t you?”

  Saying nothing, he nodded, his eyes welling with tears.

  His abject misery was almost paralyzing. The right words of comfort and wisdom just wouldn’t come. Did other parents have this problem? Did the articulate moms and dads she’d known in Raindrop secretly get tongue-tied and insecure in the privacy of their own homes? She tried to channel warm but no-nonsense Mrs. Sanchez, whom she couldn’t imagine ever shrinking from being candid with her kids. Maybe if Kenzie simply faked it, inspiration would strike.

  But when she opened her mouth, all that emerged was a sigh. So she reached out and pulled Drew into a hug, hoping the wordless gesture said everything her son needed to hear.

  In a change of plans not even Leslie protested, they left the museum right after lunch.

  By tacit agreement, no one tried to make conversation on the way home. Instead they relied on the radio and let Star 94 gloss over the awkward silence. Thank God, Kenzie had decided to drive today. She had a foolproof excuse for staring straight ahead at the road and not even venturing a glance toward JT in the passenger seat.

  What must the man think of her and her kids?

  Kenzie eased the van into the parking space, and there was a small chorus of clicks and whooshes as her passengers unfastened their seat belts and let them snap back into place.

  As he hopped out of the car, Drew asked over his shoulder, “Mom, is it okay with you if I take the stairs? Like you said, it’s good exercise.”

  They both knew his request stemmed from embarrassment over what had happened earlier rather than dedication to physical fitness, but she saw no reason to humiliate him by making that point. “Sure. No running, though.”

  “Want me to go with you?” Leslie volunteered. It was an olive branch—she’d mostly ignored her brother since he’d yelled at her, and he smiled in relief and quick agreement.

  They’d probably be arguing again before nightfall, but watching them walk away together, Kenzie was proud of them. Of course, this left her to share the elevator with JT.

  “So,” she began as the doors closed. “Eventful day, huh?”

  The left corner of his lips twitched. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m exhausted.”

  “It would be hypocritical for me to take offense. I feel like exhaustion’s been my natural state since they were born. But it’s a good exhaustion,” she added, not wanting to sound ungrateful for the two most important people in her life. “Fulfilling. Rewarding in a way that probably sounds ridiculous to someone with no children.”

  It was as if a dark cloud passed over his face, blotting out any sign of joy or teasing. His expression turned carefully blank. “Not at all. Paintings aren’t kids, but many times I worked all night on a piece, found myself frustrated that I couldn’t shape it the way I’d envisioned, later to accept that maybe it could be something even more than I’d imagined if I just had faith. So I’d slave away despite being tired, despite being exasperated, and when dawn broke and early sunlight spilled over what I accomplished, that’s exactly what I felt—fulfilled. Rewarded.”

  Her breath hitched at the near poetry of his words. He spoke about his art with a passion that made her… Wincing, she reminded herself that Mick had spoken intently about his music, and that she’d once found his artistic dedication erotic, too.

  “You were using the past tense,” she noted. “Painting’s not fulfilling anymore?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  The elevator lurched to a halt on the third floor, and as the doors slid open, Kenzie realized that someone sat in the hallway in front of her apartment. Not the twins, but her sister? A second look confirmed that it was indeed Ann and Abigail.

  Along with several suitcases.

  Chapter 8

  “Ann! Is everything okay?” Hurrying toward her, Kenzie temporarily forgot JT’s presence behind her, until her sister’s wide eyes reminded her. “Um, Ann, this is Jonathan Trelauney, the neighbor I told you about. JT, my sister.”

  “Nice to meet you.” He glanced toward baby Abigail in her car seat, then looked away with a tight smile. “I’ll just go so that you ladies can— Goodbye. Nice meeting you.”

  With his long-legged stride, he was across the hall and inside his own apartment within seconds.

  Ann pursed her lips. “Odd. Really, really cute, though.”

  Yeah, that was JT in a nutshell. “What are you doing here? I mean, you’re always welcome, but…”

  Careful not to disturb the carrier in which Abigail was sleeping, Ann rose, stretching with a palm pressed to the small of her back. Sounding as casual as if she were asking Kenzie to pass cream for her coffee, she announced, “I’ve left Forrest.”

  And then she began crying, tears that had escalated to racking sobs by the time a startled Kenzie got the apartment unlocked. She ushered Ann inside, setting the baby on the coffee table in front of the new sofa. Kenzie was retrieving the luggage in the hall when the access door banged open and Drew and Leslie emerged.

  Leslie drew up short. “What’s all that?”

  “Aunt Ann’s bags. Your aunt may be staying with us for a couple of days,” Kenzie guessed.

  “Cool,” Drew replied. “Think she’d make us some of that awesome roast beef while she’s here?”

  Kenzie rolled her eyes. “Baby Abigail is sleeping, so why don’t the two of you tiptoe past and go watch something on the TV in my bedroom?”

  Neither of them was terribly impressed with her television set, whose fuzzy resolution and limited color capabilities couldn’t compete in today’s Hi-Def world. They both nodded, though, and whispered brief hellos to Ann on their way through the front room. Kenzie was relieved to see her sister had managed to dam the tears. If the twins had paid better attention, they might have noticed that her eyes were swollen and her nose was red, but they were already engaged in a heated debate over what they should watch. Kenzie put the suitcases against the living room wall so that they were as out of the way as possible in the small room, then turned to her sister.

  “Can I get you a cola? Wine?”

  Ann’s laugh was watery. “I’d take you up on that except I’m supposed to nurse Abby in the next half hour. I like a well-behaved baby, but I’m not trying to sedate her.”

  “Something else, then?”

  “No, I’m fine.”

  “If you were fine,” Kenzie pointed out gently, “I wouldn’t find you sobbing in my hallway. By the way, didn’t I give you the spare key?”

  “Yes, but when I tried to reach you on the cell phone, it rolled over to voice mail. It didn’t seem right to just let myself into the apartment without your permission.”

  The matter-of-fact statement stung. Even if they hadn’t been close during adolescence, it disturbed Kenzie that her little sister was more comfortable lingering in the hall like a vagrant than assuming she’d be welcome.

  “Ann, please, my place is yours.” She sat beside her on the couch, searching her sister’s gaze. “Truly.”

  “I’m so glad you said that. Because I was…kind of hoping I could stay tonight. Maybe a couple.”

  “For as long as you need,” Ken
zie promised. She didn’t want to pounce with dozens of questions, but her curiosity was a welling tide. What on earth could have possibly happened to prompt Ann to walk out on Forrest? Do not tell me he had an affair. If staid Forrest was making illicit whoopee, all hope for the male species was lost.

  Blinking rapidly, as if trying to fan away tears before they had a chance to fall, Ann said, “I suppose you want to know what’s going on?”

  Yes! Preferably before her brain exploded from trying to puzzle through it. “Only if you want to tell me.”

  Ann tipped her head so that it rested atop the low-back sofa, addressing her response to the ceiling. “Do I look invisible to you? Am I invisible?”

  “Of course not. Are you saying that Forrest’s ignoring you?”

  “Worse. If he just came home and didn’t speak to me at all, I’d assume that he was preoccupied with something on campus. He knows I’m there. He comes right over to me every evening, gives me a perfunctory kiss right here—” she stabbed at her right cheek with her index finger “—and asks me what’s for dinner. Usually without ever lifting his gaze from the day’s mail as he sorts through envelopes. He doesn’t ignore me in the strictest sense of the word, but he for damn sure doesn’t see me.”

  Kenzie’s mouth dropped open. She couldn’t recall ever hearing her sister swear before. Though Kenzie could attest that if anything would urge you toward profanity, it was a failed marriage. This one didn’t sound failed, however, merely in a rut. “It sucks that he’s taking you for granted. Have you told him how you feel?”

  Ann sat ramrod straight. “Ph.D. or no Ph.D., that—that man is an idiot! Last night I tried waiting for him at home in something a little more provocative than usual. Low-cut, with the perfume I thought he liked. He didn’t notice. So when he got home from his Saturday class this afternoon, I tried talking. And he had the nerve to tell me it was postpartum hormones and that I was overreacting. Do you think I’m overreacting?”