Winning Over Skylar

by Julianna Morris

  “Weren’t they almost sixty when you came here? It couldn’t have been easy at their age, taking in a young child.”

  “Maybe, but nothing I could do was good enough for them. It doesn’t surprise me that my mother hates coming back to Cooperton and has my stepfather hire someone to do everything for her. She must have gotten just as tired of their nitpicking as I did.”

  “Sorry to disagree, but from what I’ve heard, your mother didn’t do chores.”

  “She must have. It’s the Cooper philosophy of child rearing.”

  “Not according to the people who knew her growing up.” Skylar knelt and began picking bell peppers into a basket. “According to the stories, Celina Cooper was adored and indulged like a princess. It’s the same story from everyone. A retired teacher who attends our church says Celina wasn’t even expected to do her schoolwork.”

  “That’s just small town gossip,” Aaron muttered. He was already regretting telling Skylar about his life with the Coopers—it wasn’t a secret, but his grandparents kept their personal affairs private and he tried to respect that. “It doesn’t mean anything.”

  Still, his mother did act like a princess who couldn’t be troubled by unpleasant realities. The biggest trauma in her life was divorcing her first husband—Spence was far too egocentric and self-indulgent to stay married to anyone for long. So when she remarried it was to a New York businessman whose chief pleasure in life was indulging her.

  Aaron frowned.

  He’d always known his grandparents hoped he’d turn out different from his mother, but he hadn’t realized their treatment of him was so disparate. Not that he’d wanted to be indulged, and the chores hadn’t actually been that bad if he was honest, but surely it wouldn’t have killed them to pat his back occasionally. Or how about a word of praise every now and then?

  Mostly it would have been nice if they’d cared about him as their grandson, and not a responsibility they’d accepted out of their damned sense of duty.

  CHAPTER NINE

  SKYLAR TRIED NOT to look at Aaron as she continued picking peppers from her garden. The sad, isolated expression was back in his eyes, the one that had gotten to her as a girl. It made her want to comfort him, which unsettled her the same way her fleeting impulse to defend him to Jeremy Newman had disturbed her.

  Aaron was not a vulnerable boy who needed her defense. He was a grown man, more than capable of taking care of himself.

  Still, it must have been strange growing up in a town named after his mother’s family, a place where everyone knew his business because he was George Cooper’s grandson. People enjoyed gossiping in Cooperton, and they particularly enjoyed gossiping about their founding family. It had been one of the challenges of moving back here with Jimmie—she couldn’t get away from idle chitchat about the Coopers. Her husband had left the decision to her, but she hadn’t wanted Karin attending school in Trident, with them working in Cooperton. So they’d bought their house and she’d dealt with the reminders of her connection to Aaron.

  Skylar moved to a row of green beans, and to her surprise, Aaron crouched beside her and began picking them, as well. The silence was curiously tranquil.

  “You seem interested in organic products,” he said at length. “Is this all pesticide-free?”

  “Yes. The area used to be farmland, so I can’t be sure what chemicals were used in the past, but my vegetable garden is on the site of three chicken coops and was never under commercial cultivation.”

  Aaron scrunched up his nose. “Chickens?”

  “Yeah. Chicken manure is great fertilizer. The soil is quite fertile, though usually by this time in October I’m just getting remnants from the summer crop or it’s done altogether.”

  Together with Jimmie, she’d planted a variety of fruit trees when they bought the house. At the end of the growing season she had the freezer filled, in addition to the jars of jams and jellies and applesauce she put up—her mother-in-law was an enthusiastic home canner and had taught Skylar the art.

  Skylar supposed it wasn’t necessary to have a large home garden when she could get organic fruits and vegetables for relatively low prices from the farmers, but it was satisfying to grow your own food. The neighbors had expressed their surprise when she had kept it up after Jimmie’s accident, thinking it would be too much for her, but she’d needed the solitude and sense of renewal.

  “By the way, where is Karin?” Aaron asked.

  It was the first real inquiry Skylar remembered him making about Karin that wasn’t connected to Melanie, and her nerves went on alert.

  “Er...down at the church. The youth group painted the social hall and restrooms in the basement several months ago, but the colors they chose were appalling. Chartreuse for the men’s room, fluorescent pink for the women’s and yellow for the public areas.”

  “The yellow doesn’t sound too bad. The rest must be hideous.”

  “They’re all bad. We just have small, high windows in the basement, but you need sunglasses to go down there. It’s like being inside a psychedelic lemon. As for the women’s restroom, our eldest member practically had a heart attack the first time she walked in and turned on the light.”

  Aaron chuckled. “Why take so long to repaint?”

  Skylar tossed a last bean into the basket and straightened. “At first the trustees were trying to find a gracious way of telling the youth leaders that they’d completely lost their minds letting teenagers pick out the colors without any guidance.”

  “Why not be blunt? I wouldn’t put up with such poor judgment from an employee.”

  “Because they’re not employees, Aaron, they’re volunteers,” Skylar explained, exasperated. “And even if they weren’t, it’s a big job to lead a youth group. You want the kids to have fun and at the same time be service-oriented, so mistakes get made, like giving them too much freedom at the home-improvement store. They’ve made other decisions that were fine. Besides, the kid’s intentions were good—they wanted to brighten things up.”

  “How did it get resolved if everybody was trying to be diplomatic?”

  “The youth decided on their own to go out and raise money for more primer and paint. They asked the treasurer’s wife to pick the new colors—she works in Sacramento as an interior decorator—and then had the trustees approve her choices.”

  According to Karin, the decision to paint again came when they overheard someone say they’d rather pee their pants than go into one of those restrooms.

  “How did they raise the money?”

  Skylar shrugged. “Car washes and bake sales, that kind of thing.” She knew they had done yard work as well, but didn’t want to tell Aaron. Though a number of teenagers in Cooperton had an active business in door-to-door lawn mowing, it wasn’t surprising that they’d avoided his house, especially if their parents worked for Cooper Industries. She doubted Aaron truly understood how unhappy his employees were with him. There probably were stinkers in the bunch who’d gotten away with murder, but most people were hardworking and meant well.

  “Mind if I try them?” Aaron asked, gesturing to her cherry-tomato vines. “I’ve never seen ones like that.”

  “Go ahead.”

  He picked several of the small round tomatoes and popped them in his mouth. Pleasure spread across his face. “Delicious. What variety are they?”

  “Sweet 100s. I don’t think they’re very commercial because of the size, but home gardeners like them, and some of the truck farmers sell containers at roadside stands.”

  A second basket was overflowing with tomatoes and squash when Skylar had finally had enough. Her gardening was done for the day, and she didn’t intend to invite Aaron into the house. She dropped her clippers into her tool bucket and faced him.

  “Aaron, you’ve apologized. Why are you still here?”

  * * *


  AARON DIDN’T HAVE an answer, mostly because he didn’t know why he was hanging around.

  “I thought...that is, as part of my apology, I want to invite you to dinner.”

  Skylar’s eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Dinner?”

  “Yeah, dinner. Someplace nice. We can drive into Sacramento. There’s a great French Creole restaurant on a restored riverboat in Old Sacramento called the Dixie Damsel—they make a fabulous jambalaya. And their traditional red-beans-and-rice dish could be right out of a restaurant in New Orleans’s French Quarter. Or we could go somewhere else. How about it?”

  Now that he’d proposed the idea, it seemed a perfect way to make peace between them.

  “I...well, maybe.”

  The fact she hadn’t instantly refused was encouraging.

  “How about tonight? I can arrange a sitter for Karin if you think it’s needed.”

  “She’s too old to need a sitter for an evening, but I don’t like leaving her alone late.”

  “In that case, I’ll buy a couple of movies and a pizza from Vittorino’s and bring Melanie over here. I’m sure they’d love it.” It was bizarre that he was proposing any such thing in light of his sister’s wish to live with the Gibsons, but it was also possible that if he stopped trying to end the friendship, Melanie wouldn’t care as much about moving in with them.

  Skylar shuffled her feet, indecision on her face. “There’s no need for us to have dinner. It won’t have any impact on my decision about your expansion proposal.”

  “I didn’t think it would. Come on, wouldn’t it be nice to have an adult night out?”

  “I suppose.”

  “See, that didn’t hurt too much to admit. When do you think Karin will be done with her painting project?”

  “It shouldn’t be later than three or four. It’s a two-step process. The colors are so intense they have to cover them with primer and let it dry. They won’t actually put the top coat of semigloss on until next Saturday.” She glanced at her watch. “Come to think of it, I have to leave in a few minutes. The parents are providing lunch for the group, and I’m supposed to pick up an order of deli sandwiches from the supermarket.”

  “Then I’ll bring a pizza for Melanie and Karin when I come, and we can decide where to eat while driving to Sacramento.”

  Skylar didn’t respond for a minute, and he wondered if she was trying to find a way to refuse. “Okay, but Karin likes her pizza with everything except anchovies and bell peppers, and Melanie’s favorite is Hawaiian, so make it half-and-half. Better yet, ask your sister what she wants.”

  Hawaiian?

  Aaron winced, recalling all the meat-lover’s pizzas he’d ordered over the past few months. Skylar had been right when they’d argued a few weeks ago—he hadn’t asked Melanie what pizza she preferred; he’d just assumed.

  “Uh, sure. How about a salad? I can get something from Mama Gianni’s.”

  “No, I’ll make one.”

  He glanced down at the variety of fresh-picked vegetables in the two baskets. Skylar would probably concoct something healthy and delicious out of them, but it didn’t seem right. “You shouldn’t have to cook.”

  She shrugged. “I prefer making it myself.”

  Aaron didn’t want to annoy her again, so he didn’t argue. Once they’d agreed on five o’clock, he left quickly. Sudden doubts were assailing him about the evening out, since his married acquaintances claimed two kids could get into four times as much trouble as one. He was new to all of this and didn’t want to make a mistake, though it was becoming obvious that Eliza had exaggerated her daughter’s health issues, along with her supposed habit of lying. Melanie had lied about Skylar giving her permission to move in and shown a few other behavioral problems, but nothing serious.

  He pushed the thought from his head.

  Parenting Melanie for a year was probably going to give him gray hair and take ten years off his life, yet he was really enjoying having her.

  * * *

  SKYLAR SPENT THE afternoon kicking herself for agreeing to Aaron’s plan.

  Never in her life had she expected to eat dinner with him again. Not that they were going out on a date. He’d said the invitation was an apology, and it was possible he regretted acting like an idiot. What he probably didn’t understand was that letting Melanie spend the evening with Karin was more of an apology than having dinner at a dozen expensive restaurants.

  One of the other parents dropped Karin off shortly before three. Her clothes, hair and skin were generously streaked with primer, and she wore a happy grin.

  “It’s gonna be great having Mellie over,” she exclaimed when she heard the news. “And I can show her the spare bedroom.”

  “Don’t get your hopes up about her moving in,” Skylar warned. “That isn’t what tonight is about.”

  “It could happen,” Karin said earnestly. “Her mom and dad don’t care where she lives.”

  “You don’t know that. Anyhow, go into the bathroom and get those clothes off so I can put them in the washing machine. And take a shower. You must have more paint on you than on the walls.”

  “Naw. You should have seen some of the other kids.”

  Her daughter cheerfully tossed out her T-shirt and shorts, and Skylar dumped them into the washer to soak. She doubted much of the primer would come out, but it didn’t matter. They were the clothes Karin had used in the original painting project and already bore liberal dabs of pink, chartreuse and yellow. The only reason Skylar hadn’t thrown them away before was because she’d suspected the youth group would be repainting the restrooms and social hall.

  Karin’s skin was red from scrubbing—and still not free of paint—when she emerged from her bedroom.

  “I did my best, Mom,” she said, exasperated when Skylar tried to scrape bits of primer from her hair.

  “It looks as if you painted with your head, instead of a brush.”

  Karin rolled her eyes. “The guys got silly, that’s all. But Mr. Calderas stopped them when it was too bad.”

  “I should hope so.”

  “Honest, I didn’t get nearly as much on me as the others. Well, some of the others,” her daughter modified, her cheeks turning an even-brighter crimson.

  Skylar didn’t question her further—she imagined Karin had been in the thick of the fun, but if Alonzo Calderas or Mrs. Hashima hadn’t called to say she needed to go home, it was probably all right.

  “Fine. I want you to feed Bennie and take care of his litter box before Melanie gets here. And you didn’t make your bed this morning or pick up your room, so that needs to be done, as well.”

  Karin kept her good humor as she set to work, but Skylar remembered what Aaron had said about his chores as a boy. She believed children should have age-appropriate responsibilities, but they should still get to be kids. Had his grandparents gone overboard, the way he claimed, or was it just a spoiled boy’s view of things?

  She didn’t have time to think about it, though—it was nearly five and she needed to get ready. Racing in and out of the shower, she grabbed a dress from the closet and pulled it on with barely a look in the mirror. She’d just finished brushing her hair and was walking down the hallway when the doorbell rang. Karin ran ahead of her to answer.

  “Hello, Mrs. Gibson,” Melanie said as she stepped inside, Aaron behind her. “Thank you for having me.”

  Her polite words made Skylar’s heart ache—so formal and anxious, even though she’d been coming to the Nibble Nook to study with Karin for over a month.

  “You’re welcome. Anytime.”

  Skylar was conscious that Aaron’s jaw had tightened, but it seemed more important to reassure Melanie than to keep peace. If he wanted to keep believing she was trying to sway his sister’s affections, that was his problem.

  “Come on, Mellie, I’ll s
how you my room.” Karin half dragged her friend to the back of the house.

  “This way,” Skylar said to Aaron, taking the pizza box and carrying it into the kitchen. He set two groceries bags on the counter.

  “I hope it’s all right. I also brought sodas, ice cream and chips and dip,” he said. “Melanie has the DVDs—she thought Karin would like to start watching the Star Trek: The Next Generation television series, so that’s what we got instead of movies.”

  “Sounds good.”

  He was wearing a suit, and she cast a quick look down at her dress. It was a dark green jersey knit, which wasn’t especially dressy, and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d worn it. Well, tough. If it wasn’t good enough, that was also his problem.

  Aaron took out two cartons of ice cream and handed them to her. It was an expensive brand, and she shrugged as she put them in the freezer. Karin wouldn’t get spoiled in one evening, and Melanie probably didn’t know there was any other kind of ice cream. The soda was an all-natural brand, and she put it in the refrigerator as well, along with the dip.

  “I didn’t make reservations since we hadn’t decided where to eat,” Aaron said. “But we’re early enough, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

  “The Dixie Damsel sounds fine if I’m dressed okay.”

  “You look terrific.” He sounded sincere, and Skylar fought a faint flash of satisfaction. She hadn’t intended to say anything about her clothing, but her ego had momentarily taken control of her mouth.

  “It’s my ‘mom dress,’ at least that’s what Karin calls it.”

  “Mom dress?”

  “Dull, in other words.” She didn’t add anything else, and didn’t know why she said it in the first place. “I’ll check on the girls and let them know we’re going.” Skylar hurried to Karin’s bedroom and found the teens sitting on the floor, petting Bennie and chattering away.

  They looked so much like sisters that Skylar’s breath caught in her throat. She was insane to have Aaron anywhere around Karin. What if he saw the resemblance?