Tears filled her eyes and her throat burned with love for her mother, her brothers and sisters and her friends. She was speechless.
Mrs. Beabots walked over and handed her a white handkerchief. She dabbed her eyes and noticed the Coco Chanel logo on the corner. She handed it back.
“Keep it. To remind you of this moment. These tears.”
Isabelle hugged her. How was it that Mrs. Beabots always knew exactly what someone was thinking at the moment they were thinking it?
“Thank you.”
When she straightened, her eyes went to Scott. His bland expression had been replaced with defeat and loss, though he still kept his eyes on her. As if he had realized, like her, just how much the roads they’d chosen had diverged.
Malcolm cleared his throat and hushed the crowd again. “I’ve only done this once before, as many of you know. And because it was Wes, many of you—” he nodded toward the critics “—thought it was because he’s my nephew. Not true. I believe that when I see talent and it needs a bit of nurturing, it’s my job, my honor and mission in this life to encourage and support it. That said, Isabelle, would you come over here?”
“Uh, sure,” she replied, threading through the crush of people to stand beside him.
“I’m making the formal announcement that I’ve selected Isabelle Hawks to be my protégé. Isabelle, I will provide a studio and housing for your use on the weekends. You will have everything you need to hone your craft to the utmost of your talent.”
The reporters snapped photos and made notes. The buyers and crowd applauded. Isabelle’s family stood stunned and then clapped. Her friends smiled and cheered.
“What do you say to my proposal, Isabelle?” Malcolm beamed.
Unprepared for a total life change in a single afternoon, Isabelle swallowed hard. This is how it happens. In a nanosecond. Just like Scott’s decision to foster the kids...
There was only one answer that would make her dreams comes true.
“Yes,” she replied.
Malcolm wrapped her in a fierce bear hug.
Over his shoulder, she watched Scott put his empty flute down on a folding tray with other discarded glasses. He caught her gaze then lifted Michael into his arms and gave Bella’s shoulder a tap. He pointed toward the door. Looking back at Isabelle, he gave her a two finger salute and left.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
“I NEED YOU,” Scott said into the phone several days later.
Isabelle knew that her answer to Malcolm’s offer had surprised Scott, judging by his abrupt departure from the show. She would never forget the wounded look on his face, as if he’d lost her as a friend. Once all the guests had left that evening, she’d taken the first opportunity to call him and assure him she would only be in Chicago on the weekends. All he’d said was, “That’s good news.”
After that response, she was surprised he was calling her now.
“You do?” she answered, looking down at the perfect, dusty green color she’d just blended for a new painting. She still had her easel set up in her apartment; though Malcolm had provided a studio and small living space for her in Chicago, she only had access on weekends. A student at the Art Institute of Chicago lived there during the week. Malcolm certainly used his assets to their full extent, she thought.
She stood back to examine her work. She was in the middle of painting a woman lying in a spring forest glen, with tiny plant faeries peeking out from moss, lily of the valley and daffodil leaves. The dewdrops she painted as pearls. “Scott, I can’t.”
“You’re the only one who can. I’ve got two truckloads of toys, books and games. I’ve got kid furniture, an indoor wood slide and I don’t know how to arrange it all so it doesn’t look like a junkyard.”
She dipped her camel hair brush in the green paint and dabbed at the canvas. “It’s for kids, right? They won’t care. Trust me. They’ll play on whatever you have, wherever you place it.”
“Isabelle. You have special skills. You’re an artist. You have an eye.”
“I have a deadline, Scott,” she replied, putting the brush down.
“Hey! Bella! Don’t touch that.” She heard a commotion in the background. “Put it down. Now!”
“What’s going on?”
“She just picked up the box cutter.”
Isabelle sighed. “I’ll be right over.”
* * *
ISABELLE PRACTICALLY FLEW in the front door of Scott’s store and came face-to-face with a six-foot-high stack of boxes.
“Scott?”
“Back here! Michael had to be changed.”
She maneuvered through the maze of new deliveries and found Scott crouched on the floor and pulling a new pair of pants onto the toddler.
Michael stood up and pointed at Isabelle while gripping Scott’s sleeve. “Issa.”
“Wow. He called you by name,” Scott said.
Isabelle cocked an eyebrow. “But still wary of strangers, I see.”
“He just woke up from his nap. He’ll come around in time,” Scott said, getting to his feet.
Bella raced over to them. “Miss Isabelle! You’re here.” She glanced at Scott. “Good. Dad needs help.”
Isabelle couldn’t agree more. There was hardly room to move in here. Except for the front counter area, which was still cleared so that Scott could wait on customers, the shop was stuffed with boxes, furniture and inventory. “You need more than my help. Scott, this is a disaster.”
“I know. I bit off more than I could chew. I thought I was doing great and then the play yard things arrived.”
Bella looked up at Isabelle with expectant blue eyes. “He bought a slide. Like at McDonald’s.”
“No,” Scott assured Isabelle, whose eyes had grown wide. “Not like that. This is a little kid’s slide. Waxed and sanded. Guaranteed not to splinter. And it’s not steep enough to cause injury. But I bought a cushion to put at the base—to be safe.” He grinned sheepishly.
“Good thinking,” she said, taking off her jacket. She was still wearing her painting smock.
“You did rush over,” Scott remarked.
“Frankly, I was expecting blood.” She put her hand on Bella’s head. “Thank goodness that’s not the case.”
“I wanted to see the slide,” Bella said remorsefully.
“I told you it has to wait until I get these other boxes unpacked. I have to move things around.” Scott raked a hand through his hair. His eyes were pleading when he took Isabelle’s arm and pulled her aside. “I’m sorry to drag you into this. I know how busy you are, but I’m drowning.”
She supposed it had to happen sometime. He was crashing. He looked tired. She remembered all too well her sleepless nights with teething toddlers. She was impressed he’d done as well as he had, adjusting to the kids and their needs, the new house and now this bookshop redesign.
She looked at her watch. “I’ll give you two hours, but that’s all. I’m behind myself. Okay?”
“Deal,” he said and kissed her softly. “You’re the best.”
She studied him. “You really think so?”
She was amazed at how she pinned so much hope on the look in his eyes, his smile. His words. He’d made a monumental life decision without her, but now she understood so much more. She’d already come to care about the children, and she knew in her heart that becoming a dad was the right thing for Scott. He was happy—even happier than she was.
She was a bundle of nerves most of the time, but at moments like this, with Scott, all her concerns melted away.
And the chasm they’d dug between them, which had only seemed to widen since New Year’s, had healed.
He lifted his hand to her cheek and traced her jawline. “I do.”
“When you left the gallery, I was afraid you were angry with me
.”
“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said.
“No?”
“It was my insecurity. You belong there, Isabelle. All those critics raving over your work. I’m proud of you.”
Her breath caught in her chest with a spreading warmth. His words had more impact than all the reviews and accolades she’d received for the show. “Thank you, Scott. That means a lot to me. So much.”
“Good,” he said and kissed her again, only this kiss lingered. She got the impression he didn’t want to stop.
Neither did she.
“Dad?” Bella was standing right below Scott’s elbow.
“What?” Scott’s eyes reluctantly left Isabelle’s face.
“Are you still mad at me?”
“No,” Scott replied. “And I wasn’t angry. I was afraid you’d hurt yourself.”
“Oh.”
“I’m sorry for yelling. Sometimes adults seem mad when they’re actually scared,” Scott said, putting his hand on her shoulder affectionately. “I don’t think I could ever be angry with you, Bella.”
Bella’s lips trembled. “I used to make my mom mad all the time.”
Isabelle knelt next to her and put her arm around the little girl’s waist. “That wasn’t your fault, Bella. And now we have happy things to work on. Like getting this slide out of the box and put together for you. Right?”
Bella nodded.
Michael clapped his hands together. “Yay! Toys!”
Isabelle looked up at Scott. “He catches on quick.”
While Scott unpacked the furniture, new bookcases and, of course, the slide, Isabelle took stock of the space.
She helped Scott put the slide together, and mercifully it wasn’t difficult. The little chairs came preassembled. The shelves took a bit longer, but soon they had everything ready to place.
Isabelle showed Scott her layout of the new children’s area, which she’d drawn on a piece of paper. “You can divide the room in half using the bookcases to distinguish between the play area and your storybook section. The slide will go here, closer to the back wall. Do you have an easel?”
“No. What for?”
“I’ll bring you one of mine. Kids love to draw. All you need is one of those huge pads of drawing paper and some crayons or cheap watercolors. I’ve got a couple aprons to get you started. Could we take a couple of the kids’ tables you already have and put out coloring books and crayons? Not the expensive coloring books you sell, but something they can tear out the pages from and take home.”
“I like that,” he said. “I’ve got a supplier for those. I hadn’t thought of it before.”
“Great. Then the little chairs we’ll put in a semicircle around an adult chair, which will be where you or whoever reads to the kids can sit. Too bad you don’t have a crown to wear for that.”
“I don’t need a crown,” he argued. “It’s too much.”
Bella, who had been reading a Cinderella pop-up book, looked up at Scott. “She’s right. You should have a crown.”
Isabelle scrunched her nose at Scott. “I can order one online.”
“Forget it. I’m not wearing a crown.”
Isabelle put her fist on her hip. “Fine. Then order small crowns for all the kids.”
“Will you forget the crown thing?”
“No. And why should I?”
“It’s dumb.”
“It’s not. It shows that you’re special and the kids need to be made to feel special, too. Kids like hats and crowns.”
Michael was playing with a set of blocks. He stopped mid-motion, hearing their argument, and started crying. Bella scrambled away from her book and went to her brother. She put her arms around him and drew him close.
“Stop fighting. Please. It upsets him when people fight. Me, too,” she said sharply, kissing Michael’s cheek.
Isabelle glared at Scott. She cocked her head toward the kids. “Apologize.”
Scott sighed and sat on the floor next to Bella. He took Michael from her and put his palm on Bella’s cheek. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to upset you or Michael.” He met Isabelle’s eyes. “I guess I’m tired. And all this—” he gestured with his free arm “—was getting to me.”
“I understand,” Isabelle said. “The kids are tired, too.”
“I’m hungry,” Bella sniffed.
“I’ll get you a snack.” Scott put Michael back on the floor and rose.
Isabelle glanced at the clock on the wall over the front windows. “Scott. It’s past lunchtime. They have to be starving.”
He shook his head. “I guess we lost track. I made peanut butter and jelly sandwiches.”
“What else?”
“And milk.” He shrugged. “Since Mom’s had the flu, I haven’t gotten to the grocery store like I normally do. I was planning...”
Isabelle put her hand on his arm to stop him. “Listen. I’ll keep working here and stay with the kids. You go down to the deli and ask Olivia for some cut-up fruit. A banana for Michael. Ask her if they have their chicken noodle soup and get a quart. Then you’ll have leftovers for dinner tonight.”
He tapped his temple. “Good thinking.” He went to the coat rack by the front door and took his jacket. “Back soon!”
After Scott left, Isabelle began moving the bookcases into place. Empty as they were, they were easy to slide across the floor. “Bella, would you move all those little chairs over to this side of the room? I’ll let you arrange them for me. I think four to a table would be good.”
Bella just stared at her. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“Do you know how to count, Bella?”
“Uh-huh.”
“How far can you count?”
She held up both hands. “Ten.”
“Okay. Then four are the fingers on one hand minus your thumb, right?”
“Yes.” She looked down at her hand.
“Then I want you to count out four chairs and put them at the tables. Here, I’ll show you. We’ll do it together.”
Isabelle took Bella’s hand and walked over to a stack of little plastic chairs. She showed Bella how to place the chairs.
“I can do that,” Bella replied confidently.
“Good. Then I’ll leave that task to you while I move the slide into place.”
Bella finished placing all the chairs.
“Excellent job, Bella. Give me a fist bump.”
“What?”
“I’ll show you,” Isabelle said. “This is what kids do when they really like something. Adults do it, too. Mostly men.”
She curled Bella’s fingers into a fist and then with her own fist she “bumped” Bella’s hand.
Scott returned with the fruit and two salads for Isabelle and himself. They set up their lunch at one of the larger “adult” tables. Scott had invested in two wood high chairs for the shop and he put Michael in one.
“This is amazing, Isabelle,” he said, opening a small container of milk for Bella and inserting a straw. “It’s like you’re one of your elves or faeries. I walked to the deli and when I came back—poof!” He munched on a carrot. “The shop is all in place. It’s magic.”
“Well, there is still all the inventory. That’s your expertise,” she replied, cutting up the banana into bite-sized pieces and putting them on Michael’s tray. The baby picked them up expertly and ate them, smiling after each bite.
“He’s a fan of banana, huh?” Isabelle asked.
“Yeah. Loves them. DCS gave me booklets about food for the kids. I took a nutrition course at night in addition to my required parenting class. Mom watched the kids,” he added. “Speaking of Mom, she constantly tells me she is the world’s foremost expert on babies. She had me,” he teased.
“Well they both
look healthy,” Isabelle said, wiping her hands on a paper napkin.
Scott smiled humbly. “Since he’s twenty months now, it’s time for him to start transitioning to table food. He needs to learn to eat what we eat.”
“Even peanut butter and jelly?” Bella asked.
“Yes,” Isabelle put in. “He will love it. But Scott, go easy on the jelly,” she instructed.
“Deal,” he replied.
“After we finish lunch, I have to go,” Isabelle announced. “I’d planned to be here two hours and it’s been four.”
Scott stopped chewing.
Isabelle had seen this look before. His brown eyes were as innocent and guileless as a child’s. She read hope and hurt, longing and need...and something deeper, something that sent a zing straight to her heart.
Her heart was that dangerous organ that told her a life with Scott would make her happy. Her heart could so easily sabotage everything she’d worked for.
With Malcolm’s support, she had the chance to spread her wings. If she allowed her heart to guide her decisions, she’d wind up coming full circle, returning to the life she’d had as a kid, taking care of her siblings.
There was a reason she’d stayed for four hours, she realized now. It was comfortable being with Scott and getting to know Bella and Michael. It was easy, simple, yet at the same time it was treacherous. It was too easy for her work to plummet to the bottom of her priority list. She couldn’t let that happen.
She wiped her hands on a paper napkin. “I think you can handle just about anything now, Scott. Don’t you?”
He held his fork just above the Styrofoam box of salad then sat back, still holding her with that look. “Yeah. I’ve got it.”
“Good,” she said. “Mind if I take this with me?” She closed the lid on her salad.
“No. Go right ahead.”
Isabelle rose. She smoothed the soft cap of hair on Michael’s head. This time he didn’t duck away from her touch. Maybe he was warming to strangers. To her.
She turned to Bella. “You be a good girl, okay? And keep practicing your counting. Your daddy will need your help with the inventory.”
She put on her coat. “See you,” she said to Scott.
Family of His Own Page 16
