by C. C. Koen
For the second time his chest constricted, in this case, a reminder of his supportive father and how he always knew the right thing to say.
He ripped the paper towels off the roll and dove in, mopping up and dumping clumps in the trash. Before he knew it the floor, chair, and desk were spotless. His sweaty shirt and pants stuck to his skin, and he reeked of sour milk and who knew what else. His lower back had stiffened from being bent over for so long. He stood and rubbed it.
“Uh, excuse me, Mr. Stone. You left this at the restaurant.”
Exhausted and annoyed, he rocked back on his heels and turned toward Maggie. She set a folder on Mrs. Collins’s desk and said, “Um, you don’t look so good.” Her unnecessary reminder pricked the hair on the back of his neck. She pinched her nose. “What happened?” Her nasally, muffled question pissed him off, and his control evaporated.
“Well, let’s see.” He swiped the moisture off his upper lip, needing a minute to figure out what he wanted to say. The extra time hadn’t helped. It just renewed his fire, a carryover from lunch. “If you watched your kid better, you’d know.” His arms crossed along his chest, and he went on, ignoring her wide green eyes and gaping mouth. “That smell is from your daughter throwing up all over the place.” He whipped a hand toward his damp and smeared pant legs, her gaze drifting over them. “She was unsupervised, again.” Then he swung his arm to the sparkling clean chair. “Spinning around in my secretary’s seat. No one with her. Nobody, Maggie.” He closed in, moving nearer to her with each account and continued to rattle off one jab after another. “What if she got lost? Hurt? What if someone took her? Do you have any clue what she does? Where she goes?”
Mother bear fangs appeared in an instant and a snarl pinched the corner of her mouth as she pounced. “How dare you? Don’t tell me how to take care of my daughter. She’s the one person I’d run through flames to get to, jump into rushing water to save, and give my life for a hundred, thousand, million times over to make sure she lived another day, took another breath, and had every dream come true.” When she finished, tears flooded her eyes, rolled over her cheeks, between her lips and dropped off her chin. Her claims wavered from strong and determined, to deep and gut wrenching, to low and soft, then back again. He’d never seen so many emotions cross a person’s face. So much heart, too much anguish, and complete devastation. But an essence poured out of her, enlivening the distance between them—glorious and awful. Even though he remained standing the entire time, the unconditional and eternal love she felt for her child rocked him to his knees.
“Mama, ya here,” Cece yelled, plowing into Maggie’s legs. A glowing smile her norm, when she looked up and saw her mother’s face, a frown came at once.
Maggie picked Cece up and brushed a few fingers through her curls. “How you feeling, baby?”
“Ya sad?” Cece wiped the remnants of her mother’s tears with her palm, smearing them over Maggie’s nose, and then leaned in cheek to cheek. “Don’t cry, Mama. I okay.”
Maggie hugged her, rocking side to side.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” Kat giggled, her grin disappearing when she saw her sister’s blotchy face. Kat mouthed over Cece’s head to Maggie, “You okay?” When Kat came up alongside him, her pincer grip snuck up from behind, pinching and twisting his waist. Without acknowledging her, he took the hit, understanding her nonverbal warning.
“Mr. Stone, your appointment’s here. They’re in conference room C.”
“Let them know there’s been a delay. I need another fifteen minutes or so,” he instructed Mrs. Collins.
“Sure, no worries, I got it handled.”
She always did. His dad’s assistant took him under her wing from day one, ensuring everything ran smoothly. He didn’t know what he’d do without her.
“If you’ll excuse me. I have a shower to take.” He placed a kiss above Cece’s fluttering open and closed eyes. “Hope you feel better, sweet pea.”
“Had fun.” Cece yawned, and not a second later, her eyes shut and stayed that way.
A shove into his shoulder knocked him sideways a step as Kat removed Cece, resting her in the exact same position she had been in Maggie’s arms. “Time to go. I gotta get the monster home, bathed, and in bed.” Kat jerked her chin down the hall. “Aren’t you gonna be late, Mags?”
Maggie and Kat exchanged several squinty-eyed volleys and head shakes, the meaning of which he didn’t get. An only child, he didn’t do sibling- or sister-speak. Whatever it meant though, Maggie marched down the hall after giving her sleeping daughter a goodbye kiss above her ear and whispering something in it.
Kat shifted from foot to foot like a boxer in a ring, shooting daggers at him over Cece’s sleeping head. “She doesn’t need your crap. Whatever you said, I’ll get it out of her. I’m your worst nightmare, asshole.”
“Mr. Stone, I’m sorry to interrupt, but they’re waiting, sir.”
He shoved a hand through his grimy, sweaty hair and nodded. Mrs. Collins to the rescue. “Believe me, it won’t happen again.”
“Keep it that way.” Once more, Kat rammed into his shoulder and stormed past him toward the elevator.
His hands clasped behind his head, he closed his eyes and sucked in several deep breaths. Different day, more shit added to the heap.
Women were trouble—every last one of them.
FOUR YEARS OF HIGH SCHOOL sports and learning the ropes of running a restaurant drummed into Maggie the importance of being punctual. Plus, she just hated to be late. Therefore, they arrived at Matt’s house an hour before the party started. Kat grumbled the entire drive, and Cece had been delighted at the possibility of extra play time with Harley and Lizbeth before other kids got there. Yet Maggie figured Matt and Sophia could use the extra hands to get things set up. One child kept Maggie busy enough. She could imagine how crazy their place would be with three.
Located a block from Lake Mohegan, their home had five bedrooms and must have been at least four thousand square feet. The family-friendly decor had comfortable furnishings and toys scattered about in every room. If she ended up staying in New York, she’d love to live in this neighborhood. Even though Matt paid her an hourly rate that exceeded her expectations, the real estate prices in this area would always be above her income level. But a girl could dream, and she would.
Portable tables had paper birthday hats and kazoos at each setting. Streamers were hung on the walls and doorways, and a corner of the living room had been designated for gifts. Kids in the backyard played on the swing set, while the adults helped get the place ready with little disruption and a half hour to spare. Sophia’s and Matt’s parents assisted in the preparations, but for the most part, supervised the children outdoors.
“Well, I think everything’s about ready. I have a few things to get out of the fridge and then we’re all set,” Sophia said, leading the way from the living room into the kitchen. Maggie followed and found Kat with her mouth full and a hand diving into chips and pretzels she’d been assigned to put into bowls for each table.
“What? I’m hungry,” Kat replied when Maggie shot her the evil eye, embarrassed by her sister’s rudeness.
“You don’t have to wait. Eat what you want, that’s what it’s for. Pizza will be here soon. There’s BBQ wings in the crock pot in the dining room, and Matt should be finished with the hamburgers and hot dogs on the grill in a few minutes. Both of you make yourselves at home. We don’t stand on formality around here.” Sophia ducked into the fridge and pulled out a pre-made salad and several dressings, setting them on the counter.
Kat stuck out her tongue at Maggie, tossed popcorn in the air, and caught it in her mouth.
Maggie shook her head. At least Kat hadn’t dropped any on the floor. There wasn’t much she could do to contain her sister. She never could. “What else can I help with? How about drinks?”
“There’s juice boxes and sodas in coolers on the patio. All taken care of. I can’t think of much else. We’re all good. I’ll put
these last few things in the dining room and let’s go outside for a while.”
Not long after, all three of them joined the others in the backyard, which had tons of space to run and play with every outdoor toy available: slip and slide, hula hoops, any kind of sports ball, sandbox, badminton, volleyball, a kid-sized basketball hoop, batting tee, even a tree house and an in-ground pool with floating rafts and foam noodles.
Maggie hadn’t bought anything for their yard yet, but she hoped to get a swing set soon. With summer coming and a warmer than usual May, she spent a lot of time outdoors and wanted Cece to have something fun to do. The postage-stamp sized lot at Kat’s place had enough room to add a few playthings. Her savings account had several thousand in it. Even with school expenses, which her loans paid, she wasn’t hurting for money. She just needed to choose a weekend soon and take Cece to pick out a few things. June thirteenth was Cece’s birthday, but she didn’t want to wait that long. Maybe next Saturday. She’d have to check with Kat and see if she could use her car.
“Uncle Ricky. Emma,” Harley and Lizbeth called out, rushing toward a side gate, Cece not far behind. The kids ran across the yard to him and joined the brunette at his side. At least it wasn’t Miss No Manners from the restaurant. She didn’t want to relive that again.
An arm thrown over Maggie’s shoulder pulled her gaze onto her sister. “Who’s the chick?” Kat said it loud enough for Sophia to hear as she rooted through an adult cooler next to them. Thank goodness Matt had just gone inside with the last of the food he cooked, and no one else was around them on the patio.
Sophia handed Maggie a wine cooler and Kat a beer. “That’s Emma.”
Yeah, Maggie got that much. When the kids reached Mr. Stone, they dove; Harley and Lizbeth grabbed onto his hips, wrapping their arms around him from each side, jumping up and down and screaming, “What you’d get me? Where’s my present?” Cece came to a sliding stop in her bare feet and yanked on his T-shirt, yelling, “Piggy, up, piggy.”
Knocking her head into Maggie’s, Kat mumbled, “She got that half right. A pig who’s an asshole.”
That remark had Sophia whipping toward them but directing her question to Kat. “You don’t like Rick?” She stated it as if Kat’s opinion had been a complete and utter impossibility.
Instead of giving Kat a chance to answer, Maggie called out, “Is that Grace I hear crying?” As any good mother would, Sophia took off, probably checking the portable intercom in the kitchen.
Once Sophia had gone back inside, Kat disclosed the white lie. “I didn’t hear anything.”
Maggie faced her sister and attempted to lay down some ground rules. “Knock it off. Let’s just have a good time. Stop embarrassing me and yourself. For once, Kat, shut the hell up.”
“Hell a bad word, Mama.” Maggie heard Cece sigh out the reprimand behind her, but she didn’t acknowledge her right away.
With a finger pressed to her tight lip, Kat tapped it, smirking from ear to ear. The witch must have seen Cece there, yet didn’t say anything. One of these days, when Kat least expected it, Maggie would get revenge. Paybacks were a bitch.
Ready to face the music and fix her foul-mouth mistake, Maggie spun around. Cece had her arms thrown over Mr. Stone’s shoulders and clasped under his chin, riding piggyback style. The Emma person had her hand positioned at Cece’s bum, holding her in place. Emma’s amused expression was similar to Kat’s, except she bit her lip instead of tapping it.
Now that Maggie could see Emma up close, radiating came to mind, a wrinkle-free glow shining on her flawless complexion. Whatever makeup she used gave her rosy skin a light shimmer. A pale peach shade made her round green-brown eyes pop. The longer Maggie assessed and compared Emma’s thinner frame, which was most likely a size four, against her beefier figure, a pang of envy and jealousy rushed in. The little devil on her shoulder shouted: Why is that woman touching my child? How dare she?
“Mama, say sorry,” Cece demanded, pressed to Rick’s cheek. Her brows pulled down and nose scrunched up, shooting her mother a fake mad face.
Both Emma and Kat laughed, and to drive the knife deeper, her sister heckled, “Yeah, Mags, say you’re sorry and mean it.”
Fire lit in her belly, and Maggie envisioned her sister’s favorite NY Giants jersey in the same state—up in flames. Last week, when she moved the couch away from the wall to sweep behind it, she noticed a happy face painted under the window seal. At first she’d been shocked, then she realized who must have done it. She called Cece over and showed it to her. Instead of fessing up, Cece denied it. After giving her multiple chances to tell the truth, out of frustration, she shouted at her to apologize. The exact same phrase Kat demanded she use. As soon as they got home tonight, Kat’s shirt would be history.
“You’re right, honey. That’s a bad word. I shouldn’t have said it.”
“Say sorry,” Cece insisted, while concentrating on something or someone over Maggie’s shoulder and giggling as she did.
“Let’s race over to the slide. Birthday girls are waiting.” Mr. Stone bounced up and down a couple times and without waiting for agreement, trotted away.
“Be careful. Don’t drop her.” Emma raised her voice over the whinnying he kept doing as he galloped across the yard. “You have a beautiful daughter.”
“Thanks.” Maggie scanned the area, watching a few more people arrive through the gate and trying to avoid any more conversation. “I better go see if Sophia needs help.”
“Oh, I’ll go too.”
“Later, I’m goin’ in.” After Matt mentioned there’d be a pool, Kat came prepared, wearing a bathing suit underneath her shirt and shorts. Undressed in record time, she tossed her clothes on a lounge chair and dove into the deep end.
Yep, that jersey would burn for sure, and maybe a few more of Kat’s things.
Sliding the screen door open, Maggie entered the kitchen. Emma came too but kept on walking into the living room and then disappeared. Hmm, mighty comfortable with her surroundings. She must’ve been here before. Since Mr. Stone and Matt were friends, and she came with him, it made sense. Why did that thought annoy her?
Not realizing she’d zoned out, it wasn’t until Sophia and Emma returned to the kitchen with Grace in her mother’s arms that she felt like an idiot. Maybe she could play it off and pick something up to take into the dining room. As she scanned the empty surfaces, Sophia came over and gave her Grace. “Hold her a few minutes. I need to get a bottle warmed up.”
Emma eased in next to her and brushed her thumb over Grace’s tiny toes. “Babies are so adorable. Aren’t they?”
Couldn’t argue with that. Maggie rocked the sweetie pie with black tufts of hair sticking up like a Mohawk and dressed in a pink onesie with yellow polka dots. Unable to resist, she brushed her nose against Grace’s; the baby powder scent, cottony soft skin, and look of wonder on the infant’s pudgy face were so mesmerizing.
“You think you’ll have more children?” Grace gripped Emma’s finger and tried to pull it toward her mouth.
The pang in Maggie’s heart told her yes, but she figured the likelihood of it happening would be slim to none. Since she didn’t want or need another mess of a man in her life, a baby wouldn’t be possible anytime soon. Maybe ever. She shifted her attention from the bundle in her arms and examined Emma closer.
Was it rude for a stranger to ask such a question? Not really, but for some reason she didn’t like it coming from her. Shoulder to shoulder in shared baby wonder, she noticed a few things she hadn’t picked up on outside. Faint age lines spread from the corners of Emma’s eyes. Sunshine from the large picture window behind them cast a sheen on her hair, revealing streaks of copper and red. The turquoise tank with matching cardigan and jean capris seemed casual enough for a birthday party. Compared to the loudmouth with Mr. Stone last week, Emma’s soft tone and gentle manner so far had been the complete opposite. Yet still, something about the woman didn’t fit right.
“My son’s a great catch.”
Sophia came over with a bottle in hand, removing Grace. “I’ll be in the rocking chair. If you want to round everyone up, they can come in and eat now.”
Without a baby to concentrate on, Maggie’s stare settled on Emma. “Son?”
“It may be presumptuous of me, but I didn’t see a ring on your finger. You’ll have to excuse me, I’m a little old fashioned. I realize not everyone wears rings these days. You’re single, right? I thought Matt mentioned you were.”
“He did. I was there,” came Sophia’s shouted confirmation from the living room. “And yes, she’s single. Tell your son to get his butt in gear, Emma. He’s gonna have to change his tactic to get someone as special as Maggie.”
“Son?”
Emma nodded, her smile gradual at first, and when Maggie said “son” again, Emma pointed outside. “Rick, he told me you met several weeks ago.”
Maggie rubbed her temple, a headache setting in. “How old are you?” Sophia’s coughing laughter came from the living room. Maggie turned on the cold water and filled a glass, gulping it straight down. The kitchen window hid nothing. At least a dozen kids swarmed like bees and chased Mr. Stone and Matt around the backyard, kicking soccer balls from one end to the other.
“Your daughter likes him,” Emma remarked as she rested her hip along the counter and looked in the same direction. Her remark narrowed in on the problem and prodded way too close for Maggie’s peace of mind. “He works too much. A good woman—the right one—could give him something else to focus on. And I should know. You know why?” Without waiting for acknowledgement, Emma elaborated. “Because his dad was the same way before we met. I was a twenty-two-year-old college student working as a waitress to pay my way through school. During a dinner rush, a handsome young man not much older than me sat in my section. I didn’t have a lot of time for more than a quick chit-chat and hadn’t paid him much attention. On his way out, he handed me his bill, a fifty-dollar tip, and then told me some oddball joke. The kind that was so absurd you couldn’t help but laugh. He came in several days a week, doing the same thing for a month. Then one night, when I went to retrieve the bill, he was already gone. Sitting on the table had been enough money to cover his bill, his normal tip, and a red rose. On the back of the receipt was his name and phone number.”
