“Oh.” Her forehead creased. “Do you really like Helen?”
“As a friend, I know I do. You will, too.” He hesitated. “I told you her husband died?”
Lily nodded.
“Maybe that’s something you and Ginny could talk about sometime. She may not know anyone else who had a mom or dad who died.”
“But what would I say?”
Alec shrugged. “Just tell her you know what it feels like. She may want to talk, she may not.”
His daughter digested the idea, then squared her shoulders. “Okay.”
“Good girl.” He kissed the top of her head, then pushed back the chair. “What say we have some ice cream?”
“Yeah!”
Terrific, Alec thought later, getting ready for bed. The very idea of meeting a woman his dad was dating had set Devlin off like a firecracker. What if he refused to go Saturday morning? Or—worse—went and was rude to Helen? Disciplining was easy when you could sit a five-year-old in the corner. It was another story when your kid stood six feet tall and simmered with rage.
Up till now, Devlin usually did what his father told him to do. Sullenly, slowly, defying him in small ways, he did ultimately obey. What, Alec wondered, would happen the day that changed?
HELEN PARKED as close as she could get to the Nordstrom at Northgate Mall. Although she worked in the downtown store, she and Alec had decided to shop here, so his son and the friend coming with him had a mall to prowl afterward.
“We can have lunch and wander ourselves,” he’d said.
He hadn’t been able to pick up Helen and Ginny because, with his son’s friend, there wasn’t room in his car.
“That’s okay,” she’d assured him. “Also…” She didn’t finish, and he didn’t ask her to. They both knew what she’d been going to say: Also, if your son can’t stand me, we won’t be stuck.
Alec had told her, in a tone constrained enough to make Helen guess she was hearing only part of the story, that Devlin wasn’t crazy about him dating.
“Nobody is supposed to replace his mother in any way.”
“Isn’t that natural?” she’d asked.
“Probably.” After a small silence she heard the effort he made to sound upbeat when he changed the subject.
Now she was going to meet his son. Oh, goody, she thought.
Ginny scuffed her feet as they crossed the parking lot. “Why do we have to shop with them?” she muttered.
Unseen by her daughter, Helen rolled her eyes. Not Ginny, too!
“I thought you might like to meet Lily.”
“She likes dolls.”
“She collects them. You know, doll makers are considered artists.”
Her daughter snorted.
“It’s also possible,” Helen pointed out, “that Lily isn’t very interested in dolls at all, but thanks her father so nicely every time he gives her one that he keeps buying them, and doesn’t realize she’s outgrown them.”
Ginny frowned. “I guess.”
“Give her the benefit of the doubt.”
Her daughter waited while her mother opened the door to the store. “What does that mean?”
“It means, don’t make up your mind ahead of time. You might even like her.”
“She’s older than me.”
They were passing Menswear. Helen looked down at her daughter. “So?”
Ginny marched on, expression a cross between matter-of-fact and belligerent. “She won’t be interested in me.”
Giving up, Helen said, “Maybe not, but I trust you’ll both be polite.”
Ginny just had to have the last word. “We don’t even shop in the same department.”
Feeling this whole expedition was doomed to failure, Helen resolutely led the way to the shoe department, where they’d agreed to meet—and start their shopping.
Helen saw Alec right away. Even in corduroy pants and T-shirt, he stood out, handsome enough to be modeling Nordstrom clothes. A suggestion which would no doubt appall him, she thought in amusement.
He was studying athletic shoes with two teenage boys, both nearly his height but skinny. She had no idea which was his son. Both wore sacky pants hanging low on their hips and faded T-shirts with, in the case of the blond boy, a tear across the back. Both also had enormous feet, she saw as she and Ginny neared.
Taking a deep breath for courage, she called cheerfully, “Hi. Find anything yet?”
The moment they turned, she knew which of the two was Alec’s son. The brown-haired kid barely glanced back, his indifference obvious. It was the boy with the shaggy blond hair who swung around, his blue eyes hostile. He didn’t look much like his father, Helen thought.
“Helen.” As if unaware of his son’s mood, Alec kissed her cheek. “Let me introduce my son, Devlin, and this is his friend, Kyle.”
Kyle glanced over again and gave an awkward nod. Devlin glared.
“Dev,” his father said steadily, “this is Helen Schaefer and her daughter Ginny.”
“Ms. Schaefer.” The boy managed to make her name sound like an insult. He hardly looked at Ginny.
Alec opened his mouth to say something; but as she said hello, Helen gave the tiniest shake of her head. After a moment, jaw muscles still knotted, he said, “Lily is looking at shoes. Let’s find her.”
“I’m sorry,” he said in a low voice as they left the boys looking at athletic shoes. “He’s sure he’s going to hate you—”
“It’s okay,” she interrupted. “My feelings aren’t hurt.” She smiled again at the dark-haired girl who turned, her arms full of shoes. “Lily, I presume?”
“I look like Dad,” the girl said resignedly.
Alec went through introductions again, then said, “You already have quite a pile.”
“I want to try everything on at once, so I can get it over with.”
Helen felt Ginny’s hand relax in hers.
“That’s Ginny’s attitude, too,” Helen said. “In fact, while you’re trying them on, we’ll find shoes for her.”
Ginny hated everything except sneakers. Lily was more enthusiastic and chose a pair of knee-high boots, clunky lace-up shoes and some brand-name leather sneakers. Helen insisted that Ginny choose something she could wear with a dress.
She gave a long-suffering sigh. “I don’t like dresses.”
“But you occasionally have to wear one, and I know you’ve outgrown those patent-leather shoes.”
“Good.”
Lily stood up. “Come on. I’ll go look with you. We can find something that’ll be cool.”
Ginny, who was not very interested in being “cool,” nonetheless jumped up and went with the older girl to look at more shoes.
Alec dropped into the chair beside Helen. “Why did we have children?”
She laughed. “We were young and foolish and carried along by societal expectations. At least, that’s my story.”
“Mine, too,” he said gloomily.
“They do have their moments, don’t they?”
“In Dev’s case, years.”
She gave his hand a squeeze. “They outgrow it. Or so I’m told.”
Gazing at his son, Alec asked, “When?”
Helen laughed again. “Come on. Remember when you were that age.”
“I thought my father was an idiot, but I didn’t dare talk back.”
“You were afraid of him?”
Sounding plaintive, he said, “Is a little healthy fear such a bad thing?” He slumped lower in the chair. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right. I don’t want my kids afraid of me.”
His daughter hung over the back of the seat. “Why would we be afraid of you?”
Alec jumped. “You scared me!”
“Why,” she repeated persistently.
“Wishful thinking,” he told her. “That way, if I just snapped my fingers, you’d hop.”
Lily giggled.
Eventually Ginny reappeared with a couple of shoes dangling from her hands.
Once Helen had approved the styles�
��and prices—the clerk whisked them away to find her size.
Devlin approached with two shoe boxes stacked in his arms. Not looking at Helen, he said, “These are the ones I want.”
“Good. We’ll be done here in a few minutes.”
Looking dismayed, Dev said, “We don’t have to wait, do we?”
“No, why don’t you boys go look at clothes? I’ll find you in a few minutes.”
Devlin set the two boxes beside his father, turned and walked away without a word. Helen felt the rigidity in Alec’s arm.
“Too cool to be seen with us, huh?” she said lightly.
“He always walks ahead of us when we go places,” Lily said. “So nobody knows he’s with his dad and his sister.”
“Ah.”
Alec sighed. “I did promise that he and Kyle could go their own way.”
“We don’t need them hanging around while we pick out clothes, anyway, do we, girls?” asked Helen.
Lily made an awful face. Watching her, Ginny did the same.
The second pair of dress shoes, Ginny conceded, were “okay.”
“Great.” Helen nodded at the clerk. “We’ll take them and the sneakers.”
Alec and his daughter took their pile of purchases out to the car while Helen and Ginny went to the children’s department. Ginny chose a few shirts and jeans but they decided to leave more shopping for another day. By the time Alec and Lily returned, Helen was already paying.
“If you want to check on Devlin—” she turned to Alec “—we can take care of lingerie while you’re gone. Lily, do you need anything? If not, can you be patient?”
Lily’s eyes widened.
Alec said hastily, “Sounds great. I’ll meet you in the junior section in a bit?”
Helen chatted all the way up the escalator. Only when they were well away from other shoppers and were among the racks of bras and nightgowns did she ask, “Do you need bras, Lily? I thought you might rather shop with me than with your dad. If I’m wrong…”
“No!” Lily swallowed and looked around. “I do need… I mean, I guess…”
“Do you know what size you wear?”
She hunched her shoulders. “No. How do I find out?”
“Let’s just grab some and you can try them on,” Helen suggested. “You can find out yourself what’s comfortable.”
Ginny was surprisingly patient as they picked out some dainty bras in pretty colors. She and her mother waited outside the dressing room while Lily tried them on, Helen doing her best to interpret success from Lily’s, “Um, I don’t, um, quite fill this one.”
At length the eleven-year-old was satisfied and they bought three. Helen paid for them so that they could disappear discreetly in a bag. Lily would die of humiliation if they had to carry them around the store.
“Three ought to do for a while. Your size will probably change soon,” Helen told her.
“I don’t want boobs,” Ginny grumbled. “I don’t have to have them, do I?”
“Unfortunately, you have no say. Sorry, kiddo. Short of plastic surgery, you’re stuck with what nature gives you.”
“It’s not so bad,” Lily said, sounding far more worldly than she had half an hour before. “Clothes look cooler when you’re not shaped like a board.”
“Who cares?”
Lily grinned at her. “You will. In a couple of years.”
Ginny gagged.
“When you like boys.”
“I will never…!”
“You will.”
“Never!”
They ended up giggling and poking each other and whispering all the way to the junior department.
The girls were picking out jeans for Lily to try on when Alec returned. He looked harried, but his face lightened at the sight of Helen.
“Mission accomplished?” he asked quietly.
“Yup.” She handed him the bag.
He frowned. “You paid?”
“Are you kidding?”
Looking at his daughter, he grinned. “I guess she wouldn’t want to carry them around, would she?”
“Toilet paper dragging from her waistband would be preferable.”
His eyes met hers. “Thank you.”
His expression, serious but warm, made her heart do a tap dance.
“You’re welcome.”
“Now,” he murmured in her ear, “how do we ditch the kids?”
CHAPTER SIX
SHE’D DONE IT. Helen walked out of the office with her hands shaking and her legs unsteady.
She had quit her job and given two weeks’ notice. The personnel manager had been nice about it, wishing her luck.
Luck. Helen hated to think her future was dependent on something so unpredictable.
A picture of composure, she started the first of her remaining days of work, but, inside, panic sent adrenaline shooting through her body.
Heaven help her, she’d just slashed her income in half. And was gambling that she—timid Helen—could persuade retailers across the Pacific Northwest to carry Kathleen’s Soaps. She had become even more dependent on Kathleen, Logan and Emma, because she’d have to leave Ginny with them while she traveled.
It was Sunday, and she was having dinner with Alec tonight. She should have said no; after all, they’d been shopping just yesterday. But they’d hardly had a minute to talk, and when they were saying goodbye in the parking lot and he murmured, “Dinner tomorrow night?” she’d nodded vigorously.
Dizziness swept over her. Her arms were full of clothes she was carrying out of the dressing room. She dumped them on the counter beside the cash register and took several deep breaths. How had her life spun so out of control, and so quickly?
Just a few weeks ago, Helen had been content with no man in her life, sure that was the way she wanted to keep it. She’d been on the verge of moving herself and Ginny to their own place. She’d felt confident—good about Kathleen’s Soaps, about her ability to juggle two jobs, about reaching a point in her life where financially and emotionally she could support herself and her child.
She laughed, then stole a hasty look around to be sure no one had heard her. She sounded like a lunatic, cackling at her own jokes!
Why was she having dinner tonight with a man she didn’t dare fall in love with? Wasn’t it bad enough that she was planning a cross-state trip in her old car to visit retailers who would no doubt gaze at her in bemusement when she asked, “Hi, wanna carry our soap?”
Gradually her pulse slowed and her head cleared. What other choice could she have made about her job? She couldn’t be a store clerk forever. And the owners of shops in Yakima and Spokane wouldn’t be any more intimidating than the ones she’d already faced in Seattle.
As far as Alec went…they were having fun. That was all. He was probably no more interested in a trip down the aisle than she was. After all, like her, Alec was barely dipping his toe in the dating waters. She would, well, warn him, when she got the chance, that she had no intention of ever remarrying. She’d just laugh lightly and say, “Once around was enough.” He’d probably be relieved.
Equanimity restored, Helen picked up the clothes again, hung them on a rack and began fastening buttons.
That evening, she barely had time to change when she got home. Ginny sat on her bed watching her and looking glum.
“What do you think?” Helen asked, turning from the closet mirror. She was pleased with how she looked in a batik-print broomstick skirt and simple white cotton shirt.
As if reluctant to admit it, Ginny mumbled, “You look pretty.”
Helen sat next to her daughter on the bed. “Is that bad?”
“No.” Ginny’s thin shoulders slumped. “I just wish you were staying home.”
“Why? Didn’t you rent a movie?”
“Yeah, but you could have watched it with me.”
“I heard Emma say something about being bored. I’ll bet she…”
“Maybe.” The eight-year-old straightened. “I guess I can ask.”
; “You do that.” Helen gave her a hug. “I don’t go out that often.”
“You didn’t used to.” Ginny slid off the bed and plodded toward the door. “Before you met him.”
Scooping up her purse, Helen followed. “Don’t you like Alec?”
Shrug. “He’s okay.”
“I know you liked Lily.”
“She was better than I expected. Considering she has dolls.”
Helen laughed at her daughter’s disdain. “Did you ask her about them?”
Halfway down the stairs, Ginny shook her head. “You told me not to be rude.”
“You could have asked nicely. As in, ‘Your dad says you collect dolls.’”
The doorbell rang before they could pursue the subject. Ignoring the front door, Ginny continued into the living room. For once, Helen answered it herself.
Even though she expected Alec, her heart took a leap. “Hi,” she said a little shyly.
“Hi yourself.” He stepped over the doorstep and kissed her. “Where is everyone?”
“You mean, why didn’t half the household trample each other to answer the door?”
He laughed. “Well, yeah.”
“Because Emma knows that Raoul is working tonight, and she’s therefore indifferent to who comes or goes. Kathleen is deep into some nineteenth-century book on soap making that apparently contains cryptic recipes, and Logan is in his workshop sawing, sanding or measuring.”
“Ah. Shall we flee, then?”
She laughed, tucked her hand in his arm, called, “I won’t be late,” and let him escort her out.
Tonight they tried a French bistro in Ballard. Rough-plastered walls, cream-colored crockery, warm woods and pretty flowered linens gave the place a country feel.
“Mmm,” she decided, looking over the menu, “the beef burgundy crepe sounds good.” She smiled at the waiter. “That’s what I’ll have.”
After he’d ordered, Alec leaned back and looked around with pleasure. “Linda would have liked this place.” He stopped. “I’m sorry. That was tactless, wasn’t it? No woman wants to hear something like that.”
Helen shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Of course you think of her. How can you not? Ben’s on my mind. Constantly.”
“Still…”
The New Man Page 9
