Authors: Deborah Raney
“How about you, Melanie? Do you have other family—besides your in-laws, I mean?”
“Well, my parents are out in California. My folks are older. Mom
was forty-two when I was born. Dad had a couple of heart attacks about twelve years ago, so he retired early, and they moved out to San Diego. My brother and his family live in New Jersey … in Bergen County.”
“Wow. You have family scattered from coast to coast.”
She nodded. “Matt—my brother—married my best friend. In fact, I’m the one who set them up.”
“A matchmaker, huh?”
“Yes, and proud of it. Karly is like the sister I never had. They have two adorable little boys now.”
“Do you get to see them often? Your family?”
“Not nearly as often as I’d like. Jerica and I get out to see my folks once a year, and I’m able to see Matt and Karly a little more often since I’m in New York on business occasionally … but it’s hard being so far from all of them. I suppose you know how that is.”
“You must really appreciate having your in-laws close by. I visited with Jerry a little bit at the elders meeting the other night. He seems like a nice guy.”
“He is. I’m sure I take Jerry and Erika for granted sometimes. They’re the greatest. I owe them a lot. After Rick died, Jerry trained me to manage the business. Even though Rick had a nice insurance policy, I’m not sure I would have made it without Jerry’s generosity. Of course, he had an ulterior motive.”
“Jerica?”
She smiled. “Uh-huh.”
“Typical grandparents.”
“Maybe a little … um … beyond typical,” she said wryly. “Rick was their only child, so Jerica is extra precious to them.”
“I can imagine. Well, it’s nice that they’ve been so good to you. It’s obvious that you love the family business.”
“I really do. Well, most of the time. I wish I could be home with Jerica more. She’s growing up so fast, and sometimes I worry that I’m missing out on half her life.”
“I suppose that’s something every working mother feels.”
She nodded. The waiter brought their lunch then, but they talked more than they ate, and when Melanie finally looked at her watch, she was shocked to see that it was almost 1:30.
At her gasp, Joel looked at his own wrist. “Oh!” He slapped the palm of his hand to his forehead. “And here I promised to get Cinderella home before the clock struck midnight.”
“Well, it’s certainly not your fault, but … I’d better go. I really can’t miss this meeting. I’m sorry, Joel,” she said, looking at the half-eaten sandwich on his plate. “I’d be glad to call a cab so you can at least finish your lunch.”
He waved off her offer. “No … no, I’ve had all I want. Don’t worry about it.” He motioned the waiter over and explained their situation. He left enough cash on the table to cover the tab and tip, then ushered Melanie quickly back through the restaurant and out to the car.
“If we hit the lights right all the way through town, you should be okay,” he said, checking his watch again.
“It’ll be fine. Thank you for lunch. I really enjoyed it. I wish we hadn’t had to rush.”
“Me, too. Would … would you like to have dinner some evening?”
She tried not to let her surprise show on her face. “I’d like that.” Surely he could hear her heart thumping.
“Saturday night? This Saturday … Is that too short of notice?”
“No … no, that’d be fine.”
“Will seven o’clock work for you?”
“I think so … as long as I can find a sitter.”
“I understand. How about if I call you Saturday morning just to make sure it’s still going to work.”
“Okay.”
They rode in comfortable silence the rest of the way, and five minutes later, Joel dropped her off in front of By Design.
“Thanks again, Joel.”
“Thank
you
.” He patted the folder of drawings tucked on the dashboard. “These are wonderful.”
She waved away his praise.
“I’ll talk to you Saturday, then?”
“Okay.” She stood in the parking lot and watched as he drove away.
The prospect of dinner with Joel Ellington sent a shiver of—something—up her spine.
What had she gotten herself into?
Seven
Saturday afternoon as Melanie drove to pick Jerica up from a play date at Ami Dixon’s house, she found herself caught in a strange tug-of-war between anticipation and dread. Joel had called this morning and their date was on. Since Jeff Franzen, she had stopped entertaining the idea of another man in her life. With the responsibilities of the design firm—and with Jerica to think of—she hadn’t been willing to waste her free evenings with someone who was certain not to measure up to Rick.
Now she was almost afraid to admit that Joel Ellington seemed different. She couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was about the man that had so quickly foiled her determination to stay uninvolved, but even as she felt anxiety about tonight, there was a sense of anticipation, too.
She pulled into the Dixons’ drive and rang the bell. Mike Dixon answered the door. “Hi, Melanie. Come on in.”
She stepped into the foyer.
“Are you sure we can’t keep Jerica for a few days?” Ami’s father asked.
“You’ve got to be kidding.”
Mike laughed. “Seriously, she was an angel. Karen said the girls didn’t have one argument. She hardly knew they were here.”
“Are we talking about the same Jerica?”
“And the same Ami.”
“Well, wonders never cease.” Melanie heard a clatter on the staircase, and as if on cue, the two little girls appeared on the landing.
“Do I have to go home now, Mommy?” Jerica asked, peering over the stair rail into the foyer.
“Afraid so, punkin. Get your coat, though. It’s chilly out there.” Mike reached into the closet and handed Melanie the jacket. She held one sleeve open, waiting for Jerica to slip into it. “Did little Brendon survive the day?” she asked Mike.
“I think they wore him out. Karen’s thrilled. She’s putting him down for a nap now.”
“Wanna go see him, Mommy?” Jerica piped.
“I saw him this morning, sweetie … remember? We don’t want to wake him up. Besides, we need to get home. What do you tell Mr. Dixon?”
“Thank you,” Jerica singsonged dutifully as they started out the door.
Melanie turned to Mike. “Thanks so much for having her over. We’ll have to invite Ami over sometime soon.”
“Tonight, Mommy? Can Ami spend the night tonight? Please?” Jerica bounced on spindly knees in front of her.
“Oh, honey. I’m sorry, but it’s not going to work tonight. Mommy has—”
A sharp bark split the air, and a large yellow Labrador retriever came bounding around the side of the Dixons’ house and up onto the porch. Jerica let out a blood-curdling scream and clawed frantically at Melanie, trying to climb her like a tree.
“Jerica! Stop it.” She tried to pick her daughter up, but with her arms flailing, it was like trying to hold an octopus.
“Butch! Down, boy. Down.” Mike snapped his fingers and grabbed the dog’s collar. “He won’t hurt you, honey,” he spoke soothingly to Jerica. “Butch is a nice doggy. He just wants to play.”
His assurances were drowned out by the little girl’s hysterical screaming.
“I’m sorry,” Melanie explained, embarrassed. “For some reason she is just petrified of dogs.”
“Hey, I understand,” Mike said. “My wife got nipped as a child; she won’t admit it, but she has a bit of a dog phobia to this day.”
Jerica quit screaming, but she buried her face on Melanie’s shoulder. “I’m sorry,” she told Mike over Jerica’s head. “I sure hope she outgrows this before she gets too big to carry. Hey, thanks again for having her over to play.” She looked down at Ami. “You’ll have to come and play at our house soon, okay?”
Ami had knelt to hug Butch. She nodded shyly, acknowledging Melanie’s words, but her eyes were fixed on Jerica.
Melanie carried Jerica to the car and helped buckle her seat belt in the back. For as long as Melanie could remember, Jerica had had an irrational fear of dogs. As far as anyone knew, Jerica had never been bitten or attacked. The only dog she tolerated was Erika’s little Biscuit. And even that was a tentative alliance. She thought about what Mike had said about Karen Dixon. She hoped Jerica’s phobia wouldn’t last into adulthood.
Jerica was silent as they backed out of the Dixons’ driveway and headed down the street. Melanie watched her in the rearview mirror. Jerica seemed composed now, gazing out the window—probably feeling grateful for every block that separated her from Butch.
When they pulled onto the highway, Jerica leaned forward and tapped her on the shoulder. “Mommy?”
“Yes, sweetheart?”
“Can we get a baby too? Like Ami?”
Melanie took a deep breath. “Oh, honey. I … I’d love for you to have a little brother or sister someday, but …” She let her voice trail off. How did one explain this to a five-year-old?
“Hows come I don’t have a daddy like Ami does?”
Melanie checked the traffic, then turned in her seat to meet Jerica’s questioning gaze. The longing etched on her sweet features broke Melanie’s heart. She would rather face a thousand ferocious dogs than
this. They’d had this conversation before, especially since the birth of Ami’s baby brother, but Jerica seemed to need to hear it over and over.
Melanie turned her eyes back on the road and answered carefully. “Honey … you know the answer to that. Your daddy died when you were just a tiny baby.”
“Like Brendon?”
“Yes, but you were even tinier than Brendon.”
“But I don’t remember my daddy.”
Oh, help me, Lord. Help me say what she needs to hear
. “I know, honey,” she sighed. “Tiny babies don’t have very many memories. But I remember. Oh, your daddy loved you so much. He would hold you in his arms for hours … and he talked to you and made up funny little songs for you. He could make you smile faster than anybody else. Oh, Jerica … You had the best daddy in the world.”
“Could I get another daddy … someday?”
“I … I don’t know, honey. Only God knows that. Hey, you know what?” she said with false brightness. “I have a surprise for you. Guess who’s babysitting tonight?”
“Kimmy?” Jerica said, a smile in her voice.
“Yes. Kimmy.” Melanie stifled a sigh of relief. How quickly moping could turn to glee. “We’re going to go pick her up right after we drive through McDonald’s for a Happy Meal.”
Ah, bribery will get you everywhere
, she thought ten minutes later, as Jerica munched contentedly on chicken nuggets and soggy fries. By the time they pulled into the driveway with Kimmy Breyer in tow, the two girls in the backseat were singing together at the top of their lungs.
Jerica managed to hoodwink the teen into playing Candy Land with her, while Melanie went back to her bedroom to change clothes. Melanie had always known that she would have to explain Rick’s death to her daughter someday, but she hadn’t counted on having to answer the same difficult questions over and over again. She ached anew every time she saw the pain in her daughter’s eyes as Jerica
watched her little friends with their daddies or with their brothers and sisters. Jerry and Erika went out of their way to keep Rick’s memory alive for their granddaughter.
And for me
, Melanie thought. But a memory, no matter how vivid, could not sing songs or play catch or pass out good-night kisses.
Standing in front of her closet, trying to decide what to wear, Melanie’s gaze fell on the row of shirts at the far end of the closet. Oh, how it hurt that Rick wasn’t here to share in raising their daughter. She fingered the sleeve of a pale blue oxford shirt. It hung there with the others, as though ready for him to come, fresh from the shower, and put it on. Some of his shirts still had the paper slips from the cleaners pinned to them, others were fastened to the hanger by just one button—an indication that Rick had worn them only a few hours and deemed them still wearable. Melanie knew exactly which ones still held the faintest scent of his cologne. They hung there now, accusing her.
She pressed her fingertips firmly against her eyelids to stave off the tears. She didn’t have time to redo her makeup.
Come on, LaSalle … think about something else. You’ve got a hot date tonight, remember
.
She closed the closet doors with a sigh and finished dressing. After she touched up her hair, she went to peek into her daughter’s room. Jerica and Kimmy were still bent over the Candy Land game. Jerica’s gingerbread man had already traversed Gumdrop Pass, while Kimmy’s marker sat in the Molasses Swamp. Melanie heard the sitter patiently trying to explain the rules, while Jerica insisted sweetly that she already knew the rules.
They both looked up as Melanie came into the room. “You look pretty, Mommy.”
“You do look nice, Mrs. LaSalle,” Kimmy echoed.
“Well, thank you, girls,” she said, pleased with their assessment.
The doorbell chimed. Feeling as nervous as a teenager on prom night, Melanie went to answer it.
Eight
Joel stood on the porch, looking as handsome in chinos and sweater as he ever did in his Sunday suit coat and tie. He was freshly shaven, his hair still damp, and as he stepped closer, Melanie caught a heavenly whiff of aftershave. “Hello, Melanie. I hope I’m not too early …”
“Hi, Joel. Not at all. Come on in. Let me just tell Jerica and the sitter good-bye, and I’ll be ready to go.”
She went back down the hall and stuck her head into her daughter’s room. “I’m leaving now, Jerica. You be a good girl for Kimmy, okay? Kimmy, my cell phone number is on the desk in the dining room. Jerica can show you how to use speed dial if you need anything.”
“Okay. See you later, Mrs. LaSalle.”
“Bye-bye, Mommy.” Jerica scarcely looked up from the game. She gave a halfhearted wave and went back to moving her gingerbread man along the brightly colored spaces on the board. Confident that her daughter was in for a pleasant evening, Melanie fended off the tiny nudge of guilt she always felt when she left her daughter with a sitter, and took a deep breath before joining Joel in the foyer.
“All set,” she told him, picking up her purse and jacket from the hall table.