“Connie!” Lindsay said in clear relief. At the influx of kids, Ariel hightailed it out of there.
The kitchen became a swarm of slamming cupboard doors, the fridge opening and shutting more than it had in months, the clatter of a frying pan and pots, and because Bryn insisted, the whirr of a popcorn machine, which had been left behind when the kids had lived there months ago.
Lindsay departed in the middle of it all, with a wave and a quick goodbye, deleting any chance for Connie to check in with her. Not that Connie could’ve done anything with the kids about.
It was a full hour before she’d scraped together a meal and could retreat to her room to change out of her maid-of-honor outfit. She’d never been so glad to get out of a piece of clothing before. It was dirty and reeking of last night.
She flung the dress on her bed, the blue sky now just a wrinkled rag. Instantly she picked it up, smoothed it, carried it to a safe place in the closet. It had been a beautiful day. She had given Seth and Alexi and the kids a day out of a magazine. The pictures would prove it. Pictures of her in this dress with them all.
How many would show Ben beside her?
And like Lindsay’s with Derek, how many of them would be false?
No. Nothing with Ben had been faked. At least, on her part.
She still wanted him to stay away from her for both of their sakes. This time, though, it was a conscious, well-thought-out decision based on her worthy ambition to repair the damage of her poor life choices.
So if she’d gotten what she wanted, why did she feel so...robbed?
The door handle twisted down and Connie snatched Ben’s shirt around her. A small, dark face appeared. “Callie. Honestly. I’m dressing, okay?”
“What are you going to wear?”
Fashion was a serious matter for Callie, an inheritance from her auntie Connie. Both Connie and Callie recognized that clothes were a business card. They conveyed your mood and opinion, and staked out territory. They made a statement, a question, an exclamation and started a conversation.
They could also hide a lot. And from what Alexi had confided to Connie about the years before she’d adopted the girl, Callie hid more about her past than anyone ever should have to. Connie wasn’t privy to the details, but she could relate to the power of clothes to mask the hurt.
She held out her hand and Callie took it in her small dark one. It was like getting a key. “Pink,” Connie said. “Today, I’m wearing a lot of pink.”
Once she was dressed, Connie took Callie downstairs and emitted a flurry of orders to the kids, which she had to repeat ad nauseam as she herded them into the RV while throwing together stuff for herself. Connie had been granted the supreme responsibility of caring for the kids while Seth and Alexi were on their three-day honeymoon. On her way out, she took the ring box from the coffee table. She’d return the ring to Ben tonight when he came to the farm to check on Seth’s livestock.
“Why are you taking the box?” Ariel surfaced from her basement room and was lurking in the hallway in her jumpy feline way.
“Why is it any of your business?”
“Because it’s not something you usually do, that’s why.”
“That doesn’t explain why it’s your business. Since you’re here, grab your things and get into the RV. We’re going to the farm.”
“Now?”
“Yes, now.”
“No way. We agreed I only had stay there for the night.”
Right, she’d forgotten. Now she’d have to come back into town to pick up Ariel with the RV and all four kids. “Fine. I’ll be here for five thirty.”
“No. Ten.”
“Five thirty. Ten’s too late for me to come into town with the RV and all four kids.”
“Wait. The RV? No way. Ben can pick me up.”
“No, he can’t.”
“Why?”
Halfway down the stairs, Connie stopped, remounted them and said to Ariel what she should have told herself a long time ago. “Ben Carruthers is not here to serve you. Put on your big-girl panties and be ready by five thirty.”
* * *
BEN DROVE UP the farm’s driveway after Connie had served up a supper of cereal and raw carrots to four, unimpressed kids and one surly teenager. The plan had been a meal of chicken nuggets, fries and carrots, but she’d burned the fries practically to ash and forgotten the nuggets in her freezer when she’d picked up Ariel. The carrots were only on the menu because they’d been in Alexi’s fridge.
She watched from the kitchen window as Ben parked and walked straight to the barnyard without a glance at the house. Well...what else had she any right to expect?
“I’m supposed to help Ben with the chores,” Matt, the eldest of Alexi’s children, said. Seth had decided to become a farmer, which had blown Connie away when she’d first heard it because he had made the biggest point about not getting saddled with anything. Now on top of providing for a family, he was taking care of goats and cows, and talking about bringing in elk. Elk!
All the cows had calved, except for one. Matt had checked on her earlier and said she was showing no signs.
“Sure, go ahead and help,” Connie said. “I can always pour you a fresh bowl of supper.”
Instantly Bryn and Amy also wanted to go, and she let them. Ariel went off somewhere and Callie helped Connie tidy up the kitchen.
Connie shuffled and mumbled from sheer exhaustion, the power of pink having worn off shortly after lunch. It didn’t help that the kids were on Easter break and thought their auntie Connie existed for their entertainment. Her three-day stint would be no Thursday night walk in the park.
Ben returned from the barnyard, the kids milling around him like women around a clearance rack. He stopped in front of the house, and for a panicked moment Connie wondered if he was coming inside. But no, they said their goodbyes. The kids veered to the door and Ben continued onto his truck.
Her gaze strayed to her purse. Maybe she should hold off on the ring. It might seem insulting.
But not returning it would show indecision and selfishness and weakness and greed.
She caught up with him as he was reversing his truck, his head angled to look out the back. She tapped on his window.
He braked and faced her, his sunglasses banding his eyes in a blue reflective glare. She held up the box, which in his glasses appeared very big and she very tiny.
Down came the window. His face was sunglasses and an unsmiling mouth. She would miss his mouth. It was just right for her finger to trace. What was she going on about? All these months, she’d not touched his lips with her fingers or anything else. He’d given her a ring but not a kiss.
“You gave me a ring but you didn’t once try to kiss me. Why not?”
“I planned to kiss you once you put the ring on.” The corner of his mouth twisted down a long ways. “Quite a bit, as a matter of fact.”
Connie leaned against the door, the running motor vibrating through her hip. “I see.”
“I figured I’d gotten the order wrong. This time, I planned it differently—ring first, then kissing.” The corner of his mouth slanted down so far it nearly slid straight off his face. “Didn’t work. Again.”
In his glasses, she saw a warped, puckered version of herself, like she was a piece of scrunched-up plastic wrap. A freak. “Ben, I didn’t mean—”
“I’m not saying this to make you feel guilty. The opposite actually. Another example of me deciding for the both of us how things should be.”
He had made assumptions, except—“Wanting to become engaged first isn’t a bad thing.”
His lips hardly moved as they formed the words. “I take it you want to return the ring.”
Connie unwrapped her sweaty fingers from around the box. “I know you said you wouldn’t take it, but under the circumstances...”
“That’s fine. I
’ll take it.” He set it in a cup holder as easily as if she’d passed him a bottle of water for the road.
“Okay. Thanks,” she squeezed out, and stepped back.
He threw the truck into gear and then braked. He turned to her. “You can take my name off your list.” He tilted his head to the box. “You paid up.”
No—it was too quick. Like a Band-Aid ripped off when the bleeding hadn’t stopped. “I was just giving back what I hadn’t taken in the first place.”
He shook his head. “You have to take my name off your list, Connie. I need you not to owe me anymore. After last night, you keep me on that crazy list of yours, and both of us will forever be trying to make it up to each other. Give me this.”
She’d thought she’d spend a lifetime paying him back, instead he made it seem as if crossing off his name was doing him a favor. From the ragged edge in his voice, maybe she was. Maybe the kindest thing she could do, the only thing she could do, was not to make up for the past, but put it to rest.
“Okay. I will,” she promised.
His truck started to move and she found herself with a death grip on Ben’s door. “Could I see it? The ring? Just once.”
He braked once more and handed her the box.
She took it, fingering the lettering as she had the day she got it. She drew a breath and heard Ben do the same. Just do it, Connie. She flipped it open.
It was empty.
No. How could she have lost it? She should’ve locked her door. Hidden it. Put it in a safety-deposit box. Something.
Ben stripped his glasses off and they both stared at the white padded slit.
“Ariel” was Ben’s one-word answer to Connie’s unspoken questions, and he parked his truck, his hand on the door latch.
Connie’s instincts flared. “No. Don’t. Let me handle it.”
“Theft, Connie. Theft.”
“You don’t know it was her.”
“Who else?”
“Please, Ben. I’ll get your ring back. Only let me do it. I promise.”
He went still. “Don’t promise me anything anymore. We agreed.”
“We agreed that when we thought the ring was in the box. Same deal, I return your ring first.”
“For the record,” he said. “I don’t need the ring for my name to come off.”
“I lost the ring. It’s only fair that I give it back.”
“It serves no purpose.”
“It may again.”
“What are you saying? That you and I are going to be a couple again?”
“No. For you. Going forward—”
“Find me the ring and it ends there. Deal?”
She snapped the empty box shut and squared herself to enter the house. “Deal.”
* * *
CONNIE THREW OPEN the front door of the farmhouse, shouting for Ariel.
She was curled in a ball on the living room couch, while the kids ricocheted around the room. “All right, the lot of you. Auntie Connie didn’t pack her meds and the pink’s worn right off. You need to get in your pajamas, pee, wash hands, brush teeth, wipe faces, clean feet, get in bed—all within fifteen minutes or I keep the prize.” She flipped up her hand at the first squawking. “You know the rules. No questions, no backtalk, or you’re disqualified. Go.”
They were off at the post. Connie turned to Ariel and flipped open the empty box. “Where is it?”
Ariel’s face, through her thick Goth makeup, lit up. “You lost it? You lost the ring. Suh-weet.” She crowed laughter.
Connie snapped the box shut. “No. I didn’t lose it. It was stolen from me. I want it. Now.”
Ariel looked her in the eye. “I didn’t take it.”
Direct eye contact had nothing to do with honesty. “Then you know who did. Either way, I want it back.”
“Or what?”
Connie could play this game. No one better than her at it, Miranda’s daughter or not. “Or you’re out. I will refuse to be your guardian, and you’re on your own.”
Ariel stretched out her legs, her boots on the cushions. “This again.”
“This again. Boots off couch.”
She didn’t move. “You’d trade me in for a ring?”
“Isn’t that what you did when you took it? Decided that the ring was more important than living with me? Not your couch, so boots off.”
“Look, if I could’ve gotten away with taking the ring, I would have, but it’s pretty stupid to steal from the person who’s feeding you.”
“Stupid but not impossible.”
“I’m neither.”
“Take those boots off the couch, or I will tell the kids you destroyed their prize.”
“Like I care.” She dropped her feet to the floor.
Connie behaved like a grown-up and didn’t smirk. “Now. If not you, give me a name.”
Ariel shrugged. “As you know, I wasn’t the only one in the house last night.”
Lindsay. It just didn’t make sense. Lindsay was a friend, more than a Facebook one, too. Then again, she hadn’t been in the best frame of mind last night, and she’d practically bolted this morning.
“I’m going out once the kids are down. You have to watch them.”
“You can’t make me. I’ve got rights.”
“Yes, you do. Be sure to pack them when you leave for foster care.”
Ariel rose up off the couch, ready to launch herself, probably at Connie, when the kids tumbled back down the stairs.
“We’re done!”
“What’s the prize?”
“Bryn’s feet are still wet.”
“They’re wiped. What’s the prize?”
Connie grabbed her coat, purse and RV keys. “Your prize is Ariel. She’s going to show you funny cat videos on her phone for a half hour. Then, to bed.”
The kids gathered around a stormy Ariel, who had no place to run. Welcome to family.
* * *
LINDSAY LIVED IN the newer part of Spirit Lake, where big houses had been packed in with smaller ones and town houses. Lindsay’s house, it turned out, was one of the big houses with absolutely no parking spots available. Connie motored the RV up and down the nearby streets before she finally moored in the nearby school parking lot three blocks away. She really needed a car, especially now that Ben wouldn’t be driving her around.
Her phone pinged a text message. Alexi. Everything all right?
Absolutely! Kids are in pajamas and heading to bed. Eventually they would be.
I called the house but there was no answer.
Connie crossed a street, texting like a teenager where truth was a spectrum. I must have not heard it. All’s good.
Okay. Thanks again for making my day so beautiful.
My pleas—
Ping. Seth. Ben not answering. He w/ u?
Crud. She’d forgotten that as far as Alexi and Seth knew, both she and Ben were staying at the farm. Clearly Ben hadn’t informed Seth otherwise. Which made sense, given that Seth exploded if their names were mentioned together.
No. Everything is okay. He checked the cow. She paused and made an assumption. The cow is fine.
Tell Ben she needs to be checked 2/3 a.m.
“You got to be kidding me,” Connie muttered. She was pretty sure Ben would not be driving out to see if a cow was dropping a calf at two in the morning. Would Mel? Yes, but that would start a whole line of questions from him. Besides, it wasn’t fair to haul him out of a warm bed when she was right there.
If anything happened to that cow, she was back in the doghouse with Seth.
Got it. Go enjoy your honeymoon.
There was no immediate reply, and she turned up the walk to Lindsay’s house.
Lindsay’s red door was a set piece in a wide frame of stained glass patterned with vines and flowers that bord
ered the sides and top. Nice. She could do that with her renovations. No, Ben’s renovations. Ben’s house. She was not only breaking up with him, but her house, as well.
Her knock was answered by a boy about Callie’s age with wet hair and in Power Ranger pajamas.
“Who are you?”
“Hi. I’m Connie. Is your mom or dad home?” Please, not Derek.
The child blasted, “Mom!”
Connie breathed out. But Lindsay’s tired face was not easy to take, either.
“Yes?”
Connie had not imagined where the conversation accusing Lindsay of theft would occur but in a doorway with her small child observing was awkward.
“ I was wondering, when you were at my house last night, did you—if you happened to notice—was there a ring box on the coffee table? In the living room?”
Lindsay tilted her head, as if she hadn’t heard correctly. “A ring box? I don’t know. There might have been. I wasn’t in the living room.”
Connie believed her. “And you didn’t see it anywhere else, by chance?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“There was an engagement ring in that box. And now it’s missing.”
Lindsay sucked in her breath, her eyes widened. Correct reaction. “Oh, no. It went missing? Yesterday?”
Possibly? For all Connie knew, the ring could’ve gone missing the day after she got it. Maybe it had never been there in the first place, and the whole thing was a big joke on Ben’s part. No, he’d never been more serious.
Still, she had no description of the ring, no time for when the crime was committed and an owner who was not motivated to get it back.
“I think so,” Connie admitted.
Lindsay’s tired face redrew itself into one of sympathy. “Sorry, Connie. Alexi must be beside herself.”
Connie had to think that one through. “It’s not hers. It’s—” She couldn’t say “Ben’s” because that would unleash a pack of rumors and, for the same reason, she couldn’t say it was hers. “It belongs to a friend.” All hail the shadowy concept of friend, a true friend to liars and teenagers. “I was keeping it safe for him until he could give it to his girlfriend.”
Building a Family Page 13
