Dear Cupid

by Julie Ortolon

  How could she have been so blind to fall in love with someone that self-absorbed? Oh, but she had, she remembered with a pang in her heart. She’d been giddy in love with him in the beginning.

  Falling for Edward Bradshaw her freshman year at UT had been the easiest thing she’d ever done, like a sweet, thrilling ride down a silken slide. He’d been a year ahead of her in school and a world above her socially. He’d swept her off her feet with his Prince Charming looks and his family’s dazzling wealth. They’d been inseparable for three years, the perfect college couple from football games to rush dances. He’d proposed on his graduation night in the moonlit garden of his parents’ Tarrytown mansion.

  He’d told her so earnestly that he needed her to keep him from turning into a stuffed shirt like his father. He’d loved her joy and passion and admired her free spirit.

  After the wedding, however, with them out of college and living in his parent’s world, suddenly Kate was “immature,” “unsophisticated,” and needed to “grow up and think about someone other than herself.” Except that “thinking of herself” included taking care of Dylan. As a newlywed, she’d happily run herself into the ground trying to please Edward because he had a budding career as a stock broker, and she was just a pampered, stay-at-home wife. Then Dylan came along and everything changed. She remembered Edward’s eruption the day she’d asked him to pick up his own dry cleaning because Dylan had a doctor’s appointment.

  A tear slipped down her cheek as she remembered all the constant insults she’d endured to stay with Edward for Dylan’s sake. If he’d ever turned that belittling resentment on their son, she probably would have left, but he hadn’t. He’d basically ignored Dylan as nothing more than an irritating inconvenience.

  Surely that would change, though. Just because Edward had announced in the middle of a screaming fight that he’d made a huge mistake marrying her and wanted out, didn’t mean he didn’t want his son. So what if he hadn’t been a great dad when Dylan had been little? A lot of men didn’t care about babies, but Dylan was Edward’s son. At some point, Edward would look at the amazing child they’d produced and fill up with pride. They just needed to spend more time together.

  Which meant, she needed to call Edward and remind him, again, about his visitation rights. She cringed at the thought. Her personal discomfort, however, was no reason for her to let him ignore their son, even if his absence made life less painful for her.

  Easing Dylan under the covers, she tucked him in, then made her way down the ladder of the loft. The clock on the mantel read eight p.m., a time when even her workaholic ex-husband would be home from the office. Not that he would have quit working for the night, but he would at least be home.

  She closed the door to her bedroom to keep Dylan from hearing and used the phone at her desk. As she listened to the ringing, she told herself to be calm, and above all civil. Just because Edward had failed once again to make arrangements for his visitation weekend was no reason to get into a screaming match.

  After the fifth ring, the answering machine picked up. She closed her eyes to fight the tightness in her chest as Edward’s voice came on the line.

  “Edward,” she said after the beep. “It’s Kate. If you’re there pick up.” She pictured him at his computer, his hands poised over the keyboard as he debated answering. “Edward, please, this is important. We can’t keep talking to each other through our answering machines.”

  She pinched the bridge of her nose as she waited. Still he didn’t pick up, even though she knew in her gut he was there. “Okay, I am calling to remind you that tomorrow is the third Friday of the month, yet you’ve once again neglected to tell me whether or not you’ll be picking Dylan up from school. I realize you’re busy, and it may have slipped your mind, but it hasn’t slipped Dylan’s. He’s smart enough and old enough to know you’re ignoring him. I realize you don’t mean to, but this hurts him. Please don’t do this to him. And please, will you just pick up so we can talk? I know you’re there.”

  She waited. Nothing but silence greeted her. She started to give up and disconnect, but anger on Dylan’s behalf nudged her over the edge.

  “Okay, you know what? Fine!” she snapped. “If you don’t want to talk to me, or see your son, I’ll call my lawyer so we can renegotiate your visitation. And while both of our lawyers are at it, they can reexamine the amount of your child support payment in light of the fact that your income has increased since the original—”

  “Kate, hi!” Edward’s voice broke in, sounding completely thrilled to hear from her. “I’m so glad I caught you before you hung up. I was just walking in the door when I heard the machine.”

  Yeah, I’ll bet. She rolled her eyes. “I was calling to see if you plan to take Dylan this weekend.”

  “Oh, hell, I’m sorry, I’m afraid I can’t.”

  “Surprise, surprise.”

  “I tell you what,” he said in that smooth, urbane manner that used to make her melt like butter but now made her stomach curdle. “How about next weekend? I know it’s not one of my appointed ones, but I happen to have a couple of tickets to the Longhorn baseball game at Disch-Faulk Field and the client I was going to take bailed out. Dylan likes baseball ... doesn’t he?”

  The very fact that Edward didn’t know how much his son loved baseball infuriated her. “Just because he isn’t good at sports doesn’t mean he doesn’t enjoy them. But so help me, Edward, if I tell Dylan that you’re taking him to a Longhorn game only to have you cancel at the last minute—”

  “I said I’d take him, didn’t I?” Edward snapped defensively, losing some of his famous cool facade.

  “All right,” she sighed, wanting to believe him, but fearing Dylan’s disappointment at another letdown. “When will you pick him up?”

  “Will ten a.m. Saturday be convenient?”

  “Perfectly.” She hesitated. “Do you want to keep him overnight?”

  In the pause that followed she could almost hear Edward trying to think of a way to return Dylan directly after the game. That way, he could perform his fatherly duty without having to do anything strenuous, like communicate with his son beyond the confines of a ballpark. In truth, she hoped he would return Dylan right away, even as a part of her argued that Dylan needed to spend time with his father.

  “Yes. I’d like to keep him overnight,” Edward said at last. “I always look forward to spending time with the little guy.”

  The statement made her eyes sting with hope. “I know he’ll enjoy seeing you. He misses you, you know.”

  “Well, you tell him he’ll see me next weekend.”

  The words rang with so much sincerity, she had to fight tears. “I will.”

  The minute she hung up, doubt crept in. Along with anger. She shouldn’t have to work this hard to make Edward carve out time for his son. And she didn’t trust him to keep his promise. God, if he let Dylan down ... Fury started to bubble as she imagined their next confrontation.

  Don’t go there, she told herself. Glancing at her computer, she decided work would provide the perfect distraction. She turned to it, determined to put in a few hours. Spending the day shopping with Mike had put her that much further behind. She had a column due on Monday that she hadn’t even started.

  Looking for inspiration, she scanned her incoming e-mail. The first letter to catch her eye was from a farmer’s wife in Iowa who wanted to rekindle some spark of romance in her forty-year marriage. After reading the lengthy and heartbreaking letter, Kate realized the woman had suffered years of verbal abuse from a man who’d called her fat, dumb, and lazy so often the woman had all but forgotten her own name.

  Kate hit the reply command and typed in three words: Dump the bastard.

  Scanning farther down the list, she found a letter from a woman whose boyfriend of three years refused to marry her until she found a job that paid her as much as what he made because he feared she’d be a financial burden. Yet, at present the man lived in her house, ate her groceries, and graciously
let her pay all the bills.

  Kate hit the reply key and typed: Dump the bastard. Then suddenly she realized what she was doing.

  No. No. Wrong! Shaking her head, she emptied her outgoing mail basket. Responses like these were exactly why Gwen wanted to dump her. Her advice was supposed to be pithy, insightful, but most of all romantic!

  With a sigh, she dropped her head into her hands. The problem was, after five minutes on the phone with Edward, she couldn’t think of a single positive thing to say about the male portion of the human race. Tomorrow, she thought, shutting down her computer. Maybe tomorrow some romantic inspiration will strike.

  Chapter 8

  “DO you speak Spanish?” a desperate voice asked the minute Kate picked up the phone.

  “What?” She thought she recognized the voice as Mike’s, but couldn’t quite imagine him being this rattled.

  “Please tell me you speak Spanish,” the voice begged. “Or at least tell me you know where to find your friend’s husband.”

  “Who, Jim?” she asked, glancing at her watch. How had three o’clock arrived so quickly? She couldn’t believe she’d worked at the computer all day and accomplished so little. “Isn’t he at your house? I thought they were going to start tearing out your wall today.”

  “They are. They did! That’s the problem. No, stop!” he shouted to someone else. “Don’t touch that. Don’t touch anything! Kate,” he said into the receiver. “I need you. Now. Get over here.”

  With that, he hung up. She frowned at the dial tone coming from the handset, then glanced once more at her watch. As frantic as Mike sounded, he’d simply have to wait until she picked Dylan up from school. This late in the afternoon, she didn’t even have time to change out of the baggy tank top and elastic-waist shorts she frequently wore when working at home. She just grabbed her purse, slipped on some sandals, and dashed out the door.

  In the car, she did at least take the plastic clip out of her hair then swipe on mascara and lipstick. She felt a little foolish for caring how she looked to Mike, but then a woman with red eyelashes and pale skin had no business being seen in public with a naked face.

  All thoughts of Mike vanished, however, when she pulled into the circular drive of Lake Travis Elementary. Dylan sat on the front steps with his backpack lying forgotten between his feet and his chin resting in both hands. All around him, children jumped and hollered as they dashed for parents’ cars or fell into lines for the various after-school daycare shuttles. Her heart twisted a little when Dylan spotted her and rose slowly. With shoelaces dragging, he made his way to her car.

  “Hi, sweetheart” She forced a smile as he climbed into the backseat “How was your day?”

  “Okay,” he mumbled so low she could barely hear. After he dutifully fastened his seat belt, she eased the car back into the long line of vehicles waiting to exit the circular drive. “Care to tell me about it?”

  “ ‘Bout what?”

  She glanced in the rearview mirror. “Whatever put that frown on your face.”

  He shrugged and turned toward the window.

  Okay, she thought and suppressed the urge to question him further, or worse, stop and pull him into her arms and smother him with motherly affection. She wondered what childish insult he’d suffered this time. Being so much smaller, paler, and more awkward than other boys his age made him a natural target for ridicule. Life could be so cruel to those who most needed kindness.

  “What would you think about stopping at Hamburger Haven for some fries and a Coke on the way home?” she asked, hoping to brighten his mood.

  He shrugged again.

  “Only one catch,” she added. “I need to run by my client’s house in Lakeway first. I think there might be a problem with Jim’s crew.”

  That finally got Dylan’s attention. “Will Jim be there?”

  Her heart sank at the hopeful spark in her son’s eyes. While Jim made a great substitute dad, be wasn’t Dylan’s father and never would be. “I don’t think so, honey, which may be the problem.” Dylan looked so dejected, she quickly added, “But, who knows. He might be there.”

  That hope died when she pulled into Mike’s driveway and found no sign of Jim’s truck. Climbing from the car, she heard Mike’s voice as he shouted orders in stilted English. Even with the front door standing wide open, his voice sounded muffled, and a strange, pink haze drifted from the house.

  “Sweetie,” she said to Dylan when they reached the protection of the overhang by the front door, “can you wait for me here?”

  Dylan nodded, his eyes going round at a stream of colorful language coming from within the house.

  Cautiously, she stepped over the threshold and into a cloud of pink and white dust. Covering her mouth, she moved into the living room and her jaw dropped. While the ceiling in the main room remained intact, a whole section of ceiling in the kitchen had fallen, scattering chunks of white gypsum and pink insulation over the cabinets, floor, and the four construction workers standing beneath it. With white filters covering their mouths, they worked to brace what remained of the ceiling with two-by-fours.

  “Good heavens,” she breathed through her fingers.

  Mike whirled at the sound of her voice, a red bandana tied over his mouth and nose. The eyes above it filled with relief. “Thank God you’re here!”

  “What happened?” she asked, her voice as muffled as his.

  “What does it look like happened?” He flung an arm out to encompass the debris that littered the kitchen. “These morons tore down a bearing wall.”

  “No, that can’t be,” she said, trying to keep one eye on Dylan and survey the damage at the same time. “Jim and I discussed it. He assured me the ceiling joists in the kitchen ran the other way.”

  “Well, something sure as hell went wrong.”

  “Where’s Jim?” she asked.

  “A damned good question.” Mike raked a hand through his hair. Pink and white dust drifted to the shoulders of his Eagles reunion T-shirt. “He comes in here, rattles off a bunch of Spanish to these guys, then tells me not to worry about a thing, they’ll be out of here in a few hours. So I go downstairs to get some work done. The next thing I know, I hear these idiots shouting, so I run upstairs—and find this!”

  Kate turned to the men who had just finished securing the two-by-fours. “Where is Jim?” They stared back at her, blank-faced. She tried again, using some of the limited Tex-Mex she knew. “¿Dónde está el jefe?”

  This time she got a flood of response, none of which she understood. “Wait. Slow down. No comprendo.”

  One of the men said, “El jefe está en la casa en el campo de golf.” He made a motion with his body like a golfer hitting a tee shot.

  “He went to play golf!” Mike hollered. “I’m going to kill him. I swear to God, the man is dead.”

  “No, wait.” Kate waved a hand at him. “I think he said that Jim is at the house he’s remodeling over by the golf course.” At least she hoped that’s where he was, or she’d help Mike kill him.

  Mike’s eyes glazed over as he stared at the gaping hole in his ceiling. “I can’t deal with this right now. I have to finish inputting my wire-frame data. And the alliance wants me to help with the final plans for the party tomorrow night.”

  “It’s okay,” she placated. “Why don’t you go on downstairs and let me take care of this.”

  After a bit more persuasion and soothing, he handed over his bandana and went back to his lair. Jeez, Kate thought, as she secured the makeshift mask into place. What a mess. At least Mike had managed to get them to brace what remained of the ceiling before the entire thing caved in. Now for the cleanup.

  Turning to the workers, she motioned toward the chunks of gypsum that littered the floor. “We need to clean—I mean, limpia, por favor. No in casa. Outside.” She racked her brain for the Spanish word for outside. Afuera! She pointed toward the front door. “Move all this—esto—afuera.”

  To her relief, the workers began picking up bits of debr
is and carrying it out onto the driveway. As for the pink fiberglass insulation, it would likely take days for all of it to settle. After asking Dylan to wait right where he was, she called Jim’s mobile number.

  “We’re sorry,” a recording said. “The party you are trying to reach is not available at this time.” Which probably meant Jim had once again forgotten to recharge the battery.

  Grinding her teeth, she called Linda.

  “Wife for Hire, Linda speaking.”

  “Thank heavens you’re there,” Kate breathed through the bandana. “I’m over at Mike Cameron’s house and we have a major catastrophe on our hands.” After hearing the situation, Linda promised to hunt Jim down and send him over.

  Kate hung up and looked about her. This whole mess was her fault. She’d wanted to make Mike pay for a threat that hadn’t even been real. Now it looked like she and Jim would be the ones paying, in a very real, monetary sense. Well, nothing to do but clean up the mess.

  As she bent to pick up some of the debris, she saw Dylan hurry toward her without even a hand covering his mouth. “No, honey, stay back.”

  “But I can help,” he said.

  “Dylan, no, it’s too dusty in here.” Lord knew what fiberglass would do to his lungs. Yet she couldn’t very well expect him to stand in the doorway forever. “Come sit over here on the steps.” She led him to the stairs by the foyer, well away from the kitchen and near the fresh air that came through the open door. “Hold your T-shirt over your mouth and nose. Can you do that for Mommy?”

  “You never let me do anything!” he protested. “I’m not a baby, you know.”