Match Made in Court

by Janice Kay Johnson

  CAREFULLY CARRYING THE BOX of cupcakes she’d picked up at a bakery, Linnea walked down the broad hall at Hanna’s elementary school. She smiled at the bustle she saw through open classroom doors, not envying the teachers trying to contain their students’ excitement. Today was the last day before Christmas break, and probably most of the classes were holding a party as Hanna’s was.

  She had already stopped at the office to sign in and get a badge. While she was there she scanned the list quickly to see if Matt had arrived yet. He might not come; he hadn’t promised Hanna because he had a job interview today and didn’t know how long it would last.

  The night before last at dinner he’d told her and Hanna about the job, the first that had interested him since he’d begun looking.

  “It’s similar to what I was doing, although in this case the company primarily designs and builds manufacturing facilities. More modestly sized than most of what I was working on, but they’ve done some work on Northwest ports, too, including here in Seattle. I like having a completely different challenge each time, and this might offer that. We’ll see.”

  He’d sounded nonchalant about the interview, but she knew how bored he’d become since his return.

  Linnea wondered whether, if he started working, they’d see as much of him. She tried not to be dismayed at the idea. Thank goodness Hanna’s holiday break had come, to be followed by her start at a new school. No more need for help chauffeuring.

  Of course, he did a whole lot more than that. He was at her house at least briefly every day or two. The parenting plan had gone by the wayside in the nearly seven weeks since they had hammered it out with their attorneys. Those weeks had gone so fast, she thought in amazement, and yet…she could hardly remember a time when Matt didn’t come to dinner at least one weeknight, and when he didn’t spend a good part of every weekend with Hanna and often with Linnea, too.

  Linnea hardly even knew how it had happened, him becoming such a part of the fabric of her life. The custody agreement had implied that he would have Hanna some of the time, her the rest of the time. At first, it had been natural that she was included when he came to see Hanna. Matt had said he could be patient, and he meant it. But the time had long since come when he could have picked her up for his weekends, when he and Linnea shouldn’t be having to see each other more than to exchange hellos, goodbyes and information about the little girl they both loved.

  Instead, they’d somehow fallen into routines. There was soccer, there were movies and walks on the beach at Lincoln Park. Linnea had enrolled Hanna in swim lessons at her health club, and one or the other of them and sometimes both took her and watched. Pizza out, dinners in.

  He’d had them to dinner at his house, too. It was still sparsely furnished, but she liked knowing that much of what was in the house had been his parents’ or, in the case of an armoire he had in the study and a marble-topped walnut commode that was in the living room, had been passed down from his grandparents.

  Disconcertingly, this past month, since Thanksgiving, he had taken to touching her. Often. A light pressure on the small of her back to guide her, a hand on her shoulder, a brush of his shoulders. It was never in a way she could take offense at or even evade without letting him know how self-conscious he made her.

  And she couldn’t bear to do that. Some days he was all she could think about, which embarrassed her, given that she couldn’t imagine he saw her in a romantic or even sexual way. If she was the kind of woman who attracted him, he’d have noticed her during those years when he was visiting Tess. He might not have liked being attracted to her then because she was Finn’s sister, but he wouldn’t have looked through her as if she were invisible, either.

  It made her cringe to imagine him guessing how attracted she was to him. Most of the time now, they had such an easy relationship. What if she jeopardized that?

  It was bad enough that they were already having to pretend the here and now was all that existed. To pretend not to be thinking about the what-ifs.

  What if Finn gets off and tries to take Hanna back? What if he’s convicted, and Matt contests again for custody? What if he wins? What if I win, once and for all?

  They both knew one or the other of them would be devastated. So yes, their friendship now was nothing more than the hot-fudge covering the chill of ice cream hidden beneath, but she treasured it anyway.

  A couple of women walking ahead of Linnea went into Hanna’s classroom. Since they hadn’t seen her trailing behind and had closed the door behind them, she was able to pause outside, pretending to admire the artwork hung on the wall. Students had glued cotton balls to construction-paper cutout Santas. Really, Linnea was collecting herself, preparing to hide this ridiculous awareness she felt for Matt before he, too, showed up and inevitably planted himself beside her. If she knew him, he’d be so close his arm would brush her shoulder. When he turned his head to smile at her, he’d be near enough to bend his head and kiss her if he chose.

  Which, of course, he didn’t. Why would she appeal to him, anyway? she wondered in deep depression. It wasn’t that men didn’t flirt with her sometimes; she knew she was pretty and her figure was adequate. But those men were most often the quiet, even shy ones, the ones vivid, exciting, beautiful women never noticed. For example, the guy who owned the pet-supply store where she bought Spooky’s food got tongue-tied and blushed whenever she came in, although he hadn’t worked up the nerve to start much of a conversation. And, while she felt shallow thinking it, the truth was that he was skinny and wore a scruffy goatee to hide what she thought was a weak chin.

  Men like Matt Laughlin never saw her.

  Well, he did now, of course. Once in a while she even imagined that his gaze lingered on her breasts or her mouth and that she saw his eyes darken, as if he liked what he saw. It was probably part of the playacting, given that he played the role of Hanna’s father while she played Hanna’s mother.

  Linnea did not want to have a terrible crush on a man who wouldn’t have noticed her in a million years were it not for proximity.

  She’d been clutching at the hope that proximity was her problem, too. He’d turn almost any woman’s head, after all, with his build and the intensity of his gray eyes. How could she help but feel a stirring of…whatever it was she did feel?

  With a sigh she reached for the doorknob, but turned her head to glance down the hall. As she’d brooded, it had filled with parents heading for one classroom or another. The majority were women, which meant that Matt was a head taller than the crowd as he strode toward her. What could she do but wait?

  Usually she saw him in casual clothes—jeans, chinos and sweats. The only exceptions were the hearing before the commissioner and his sister’s funeral, both occasions so daunting she hadn’t really focused on his appearance. Today he wore a dark suit, crisp white shirt and deep red tie. His face was still tanned above that white shirt from the Kuwaiti sun, his dark hair a little longer than when he’d first arrived, as if he hadn’t bothered to get it cut. He wasn’t exactly handsome, not like a model, but he had a quality of raw masculinity that was more breathtaking.

  And somehow she had failed to pull herself together in time.

  “Hey,” he said, his gaze zeroing in on her face.

  She smiled, hoping he couldn’t see her pulse pounding in her throat. “How did the interview go?”

  “Well, I think—” he sounded satisfied “—I’ll take it if they offer the job.”

  “Oh, good.” Thank heavens two mothers she knew were coming down the hall behind him, and she was able to greet them, then open the classroom door.

  Hanna beamed at them from her desk across the room. Mrs. Harris, a young woman only in her second year of teaching, greeted the newcomers and directed them to the long table where they could deposit their offerings for the party.

  “Was I supposed to bring something?” Matt murmured in Linnea’s ear.

  “No, the cupcakes are Hanna’s contribution. No double jeopardy.”

 
; He nodded. Then, as she’d predicted, placed a hand on her lower back to steer her to one side, by the windows. As if she couldn’t figure out where to go without his help. Darn it, she should resent that masterful touch, but instead it made her knees go weak. That was particularly infuriating considering his touches were always so casual, as if he were unconscious of them. If his hand seemed to linger this time, his fingers to flex for an instant in something like a caress, she had to be imagining it.

  She struck up a conversation with the woman beside her as other parents arrived. There were a couple of fathers, so Matt wasn’t the only man present. Not, she suspected, that he would have minded one way or the other, and Hanna was wriggling with delight because they were there.

  Had Finn ever come to one of her classroom events? Linnea tried to remember Hanna ever saying but couldn’t. Most often, Mom and Dad had stood in for Tess and Finn both, because they could never get away from work.

  Mrs. Harris spoke about the upcoming school break; her voice was soft but her control over twenty-seven students was impressive. She hoped they’d all have fun, and she added solemnly that Hanna Sorensen wouldn’t be returning. She was changing schools, and wouldn’t they all miss her?

  Eyes widening, Hanna made herself smaller in her seat and shyly hung her head, but a couple of the kids said, “Yeah!” and others chimed in, then the teacher had a boy present her with a big, handmade card they had all decorated and signed. She blushed and mumbled, “Thank you.” Linnea noticed how carefully she carried it when Mrs. Harris released the children to join their parents.

  “Wasn’t that nice,” Linnea said, giving her a quick hug.

  She nodded, a tiny dip of the chin that was almost birdlike.

  “I like your teacher,” Matt said. “I’ll bet you’re going to miss her.”

  A shadow crossed her face, and she nodded again.

  “Just think, though, you’ll be able to walk to school.”

  “Yeah,” she agreed, brightening. She’d be attending the elementary school where they played soccer.

  They all got food on the paper plates that were another family’s contribution. Linnea chatted with the adults and children she knew best from field trips and the times she’d volunteered in the classroom. She tried to separate herself from Matt but failed—without being obvious about it, he stuck close to her. Once he even lifted a hand, took her chin in it and with his thumb whisked a crumb off her lip.

  His eyes were heavy-lidded when he did that, and he didn’t seem to be in any hurry to let her go. Only when Hanna bounced beside him and said, “Uncle Matt, how come you’re dressed like that?” did he let his hand fall and turn to grin at his niece.

  “Job interview. Remember?”

  “Oh.” Her forehead crinkled. “Do you hafta have a job?”

  “Eventually. And I want one right here in Seattle, because of you, kiddo.”

  Linnea knew Hannah had listened to him talk about the interview, but she looked worried now. “Before, you were always somewhere else. So you could only e-mail. ’Cause of your job.”

  “That’s true,” he said patiently. “I liked traveling. When you had your mom—” his voice roughened for a moment “—you didn’t need me. But now you do. This new job might still mean a little bit of traveling, but only for a few days at a time. Mostly, I’ll be right here in Seattle, working during the day while you’re in school.”

  “Oh.” Very quietly, her blue eyes solemnly fixed on his face, she said, “I missed you.”

  He mostly hid his reaction, bending to whisper, “I missed you, too, Banana,” and kiss her cheek, but Linnea had seen his jaw muscles flex and the way he had to swallow before he could speak at all.

  Both silent, they waited while the little girl collected all of her supplies and said goodbye to friends and her teacher. Then they walked out as a family, Matt carrying the paper bag full of crayons and pencils and scissors, Hanna with her pink book bag on her back, Linnea with the bakery box of leftover cupcakes. Hanna held Matt’s hand on one side, Linnea’s on the other. Linnea was oddly full of emotion, as if the occasion meant something to all of them and not just to Hanna, who wouldn’t be back to this elementary school.

  A skiff of snow had fallen the day before and remained because the temperature still hovered around freezing even now, in the midafternoon. The Olympic Mountains across Puget Sound were crystal-clear today, covered with snow. Linnea had parked close enough to the entrance she had chosen not to wear her coat. She shivered the moment they stepped outside.

  “So, big plans this afternoon?” Matt asked.

  “Get in the car and turn on the heater?”

  He grinned. “After that?”

  “Home, I suppose.”

  “Could I take you ladies out to dinner tonight?” He waved at himself. “Since I’m all dressed up anyway. And Hanna looks especially nice today.”

  She’d insisted on wearing a dress even if it was cold outside. Her grandmother sewed and had made her this dress—deep purple velour with a high, gathered waist. The skirt was wide enough to swirl if she spun in a circle, which she liked.

  Linnea smiled down at her and said, “I think Uncle Matt just insulted me.”

  “He only said—” Hanna got it. “’Cause he said I look nice, but he didn’t say you do.”

  He pretended to look chastened and cleared his throat. “Actually, you look nice, too.” His gaze moved slowly over her, making her toes curl. “But I had in mind a fancy restaurant.”

  “I can change before dinnertime. What do you say, Hanna? Does that sound like fun?”

  “Uh-huh. I’d lots rather do that than go to Grandma and Granddad’s.”

  Linnea didn’t say anything about that very revealing statement, although she was conscious of the way Matt’s gaze flicked from Hanna’s face to hers, laser sharp.

  But after agreeing he would pick them up at five-thirty and helping Hanna buckle in, Linnea did think about her parents during the drive home.

  Since Thanksgiving, Hanna had only seen her grandparents once a week, on Monday evenings. Linnea’s mother wanted her to apologize, and she had refused. When she did drop Hanna off for the visit, she and her mother were stiff with each other. The only time Linnea had stayed was when Finn was there, too. He, too, had been icy with her, but she was determined to be close in case Hanna needed her.

  Thinking about how strained her relationship was with her parents made Linnea’s chest burn, but she couldn’t back down, even though the cowardly part of her wanted desperately to.

  Lately she had felt this weird disconnect with who she’d been before Tess’s death, as if she’d been away for ages and had changed while she was gone. Or had been asleep like Rip van Winkle, except she’d awakened to find that time had passed for her but not for the people around her, instead of the other way around.

  Didn’t she love her parents? That last visit she had slipped into her father’s study to talk to him, and instead of finding comfort she’d gotten mad when he said awkwardly, “This has been stressful for your mother, Linnea. She’s defending Finn the best she knows how.”

  “She always has,” Linnea heard herself say coolly before she walked out. Anger boiled inside her. Hadn’t he seen how Mom played favorites? Why hadn’t he ever done anything about it?

  He wouldn’t, of course. He couldn’t bear conflict of any kind. Her father was a nice man, gentle and kind, but he was no more capable of standing up to his wife than…than…

  Than I’ve been, Linnea realized unhappily.

  Either she had been born with his disposition or else she’d been shaped from such an early age she didn’t even remember. Her role was to smooth everyone else’s way, to be the good girl who never complained or demanded or expected her wishes to be paramount. Finn was the heir apparent, the prince; she was nobody very important in comparison.

  But Hanna was important. She should be able to grow up believing she could accomplish anything, be anything. Linnea was going to fight for that, even if it
meant being estranged from her family.

  At home, Hanna refused to take off her pretty dress even when she lay down for a short nap and, later, played games with her aunt. Tomorrow, Matt was taking Hanna, and the day after that was Christmas Eve, which they were going to spend with him. Christmas Day would be at Grandma and Granddad’s, tension or no.

  Not knowing how fancy a restaurant Matt had in mind, Linnea went all out. She wore a classic black silk dress that looked simple but clung in all the right places. She brushed her hair into a chignon, wore pearls in her ears and spike heels that weren’t very comfortable but made her legs look long and sexy, if she did say so herself. She applied makeup with a reckless hand. When she was done, she expected to want to wash it all off, but instead she studied herself in surprise. In the mirror her eyes were huge and smoky, her lips a little sultry and her cheekbones had become…exotic.

  Linnea gulped. Had she overdone? Panic gripped her as, stricken, she kept staring. Finn would tell her she looked like a clown. Her mother probably would, too. Then her dad would say, “Nonsense, you look pretty,” but she’d know he was only trying to make her feel better.

  Hand shaking, she reached for the remover, but something stopped her from taking off the lid. She hardly even knew what that something was except that lodged beneath her breastbone was a white-hot coal of resentment and defiance.

  Tess had worn lots of makeup. She’d used dramatic swaths of eyeshadow and painted her lips an eye-catching scarlet. Linnea hadn’t put on anything near that bright. She’d picked colors that suited her less-vivid coloring. She didn’t look quite like herself, but was that so bad? Matt had no reason to know that she didn’t usually—well, ever—go to quite such lengths.

  The doorbell rang and she jumped.

  Too late to change her mind.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  HANNA THREW OPEN THE front door and let Matt lift her into a big hug. “Aunt Linnie brushed my hair so it would be especially pretty. Isn’t it pretty, Uncle Matt?”