Authors: Susan Mallery
Anne smiled. “My mother used to. My cousin still does. Just family members I guess.”
Anne returned her conspiratorial grin, then made the mistake of glancing at Jake. He stood beside the wet bar, clutching the glass of wine so tightly she feared he would snap the delicate stem. Their gazes locked and his cold rage threatened to freeze her into oblivion. His intensity shocked her and her laughter died. She fought the urge to step closer to Laurel and protect her from her father’s wrath. She understood his need to stake his claim, even as she resented his selfishness. Would it be too much to ask him to share her for an hour?
“I should see about dinner,” she said, then ducked into the kitchen.
Once alone, she pressed her hands against her flushed cheeks. She didn’t want to know that this was difficult for Jake Masters. Just thinking about his assumption that she would expect to be paid to see her own daughter made her want to march right back into the living room and tell him to leave.
But she couldn’t. Partly because she
had
taken the money they’d offered thirteen years ago. Even knowing that she’d had every right to accept the payment and that she had needed it to pay her medical bills didn’t stop the feeling of shame.
Anne checked the oven. Despite the summer heat, she’d chosen to make a roast. The built-in rotisserie made the entree foolproof, and the way her apprehension had shattered her concentration, she’d been concerned she wouldn’t be able to handle anything more complicated. The meat was almost ready. She sniffed the pleasing scent and closed the door.
From the refrigerator, she pulled out green salad and the vegetables she wanted to steam. She’d already prepared her mother’s famous potatoes and had them simmering on the back of the stove. After putting the vegetables into a pot, she walked into the dining room and set the salad in the middle of the table, then returned to the living room.
Jake stood by the window again, staring out at the view. She wondered what he was thinking. Laurel bounced up from her perch on the sofa.
“You don’t need any help in the kitchen, do you?” she asked, obviously hoping for a refusal.
“It will just be a few more minutes,” Anne answered. “I have it all under control. But thanks for asking.”
Laurel looked at her father as if to show him she’d done as he requested, then turned back to Anne. “It sure smells good. Back home—Dallas, I mean, not where we live now—we had a housekeeper who did the cooking. She was okay, but she wouldn’t fix any good stuff. You know, like cookies. My mom—” Laurel suddenly stopped talking and stared at her empty glass.
Anne drew in a breath to fight the unexpected tightness in her chest. Silence filled the room. Laurel fidgeted. Damn. She was obviously uncomfortable. This was difficult for all of them, but as the child, Laurel was the least equipped to
handle the situation. Anne glanced at Jake, but he had his back to them. Apparently she was on her own. She took Laurel’s glass and walked over to the wet bar. The teenager trailed along behind.
“Ellen Masters was your mother in every sense of the word,” Anne said as she popped the top on another can of soda. “I don’t mind if you talk about her.”
She handed the girl her drink. They looked at each other. Pain flashed through Anne as she stared at eyes so much like her mother’s. The older woman had been gone eleven years, but she still missed her. Laurel must feel even worse about Ellen. “I know that you loved your mother very much,” she said.
Laurel blinked in surprise.
Anne perched on the end table between the sofa and the wet bar. The teenager took a step closer. Anne drew in a deep breath, then reached forward and briefly touched the girl’s arm.
“I’d like us to be friends, Laurel,” Anne said. “We don’t know each other very well so we’re both going to say things that make us feel funny. I think we should keep trying until we get it right. What about you?”
“Okay.” Laurel gave her a quick smile, then took a sip of her soda. “I’m glad you’re not mad or anything. I don’t talk about her much, but sometimes things just kinda slip out.” She darted a glance at her father. Her voice dropped to an audible whisper. “Daddy gets upset if I talk about her.”
Anne followed Laurel’s gaze. Jake Masters remained in front of the window, staring out at the city. The sun had slipped below the horizon and lights twinkled all around. With his hands shoved into his pants pockets and his legs braced, he seemed more conquering hero than mere visitor in her home. At his daughter’s words, his shoulder’s tightened, but he didn’t turn around or otherwise acknowledge that he’d heard the confession.
Anne decided it was best to return to a safe topic of conversation. “I’m not much of a cook,” she said. “I don’t get home from work before seven, and by then it’s so late that I don’t want to bother.”
“Mom cooks—” Laurel glanced at her father and worried her bottom lip. Then she took a deep breath and spoke very quickly. “My mom
used
to cook a lot. She made special things. You know, like gourmet foods? I didn’t like all of it, but it was fun to try. There used to be parties with lots of people and I’d help sometimes. Once for my birthday, my mom decorated a cake with—”
“Laurel, I’m sure Ms. Baker doesn’t want to hear this,” Jake Masters said, without bothering to turn around.
“But, I—”
“Laurel.” The tone of his voice made even Anne sit up and take notice.
The girl shrugged. More silence. Anne searched her mind for a topic of conversation. She didn’t know very much about teenagers. Most of her friends
had chosen the career path rather than marrying and having children. A few had recently changed their minds, but they were still in the pregnant stage or had infants and toddlers. Her cousin, Becky Sue, had teenagers, but Anne couldn’t ask her for advice without getting a lot of questions in return. Questions she wasn’t ready to answer. Anne didn’t watch much TV, and she had a feeling her taste in music and movies was light-years away from the girl’s.
In the kitchen, a timer rang. Anne sprang to her feet and raced toward the other room. “Dinner is almost ready,” she said. “I’ll be right back.”
But her escape was short-lived. Laurel followed her into the kitchen and leaned against one of the counters. Like the other rooms in the condo, this one had been professionally decorated and the predominant color was white. The counters, floors and appliances gleamed. Copper pots provided contrast, while the bleached wood cabinets softened any glare.
Laurel watched with interest as she poured the steamed vegetables into a serving bowl. “Daddy called you Ms. Baker.”
“I know.”
Anne thought she was lucky that was all he’d called her. His distrust and anger radiated like a giant beacon, circling through the room and lighting up all the corners. She felt so exposed having him in her house. It was difficult to act normally knowing he sat in judgment of every word she said. She half expected him to decide that she was an inappropriate role model and march his daughter out of her presence. If it were up to him, there never would have been a meeting at all.
Anne looked at the young woman glancing around the room. Curiosity brightened her hazel eyes, turning the multicolored irises more green. Long brown hair bounced and swung with each turn of her head. So alive, Anne thought. Bright and pretty and interested in everything. Pride swelled within her. She savored the sensation before allowing her practical nature to firmly squash it. Laurel was her child by birth, but not by environment. She had no justification for her pride; she’d done nothing to earn it. And yet—
She stuck a serving spoon into the bowl of vegetables and handed the container to Laurel. “Put this on the table, please. Through there.” She motioned to the dining room, off the opposite end of the kitchen.
And yet, she didn’t want to lose her. Not after just meeting her. One meeting, Jake had said. But was that Laurel speaking or was it his own agenda?
Laurel returned. “Should I call you ‘Ms. Baker’?”
“My name is Anne,” she said.
“Anne,” Laurel repeated. “Okay.” She said it again. “Does anyone call you Annie?”
Anne smiled. “My mother used to. My cousin still does. Just family members I guess.”
Chapter 3
”T
he beach house is really big, with lots of windows and stuff. We lay around by the ocean. My dad and great-uncle go fishing sometimes, and my great-aunt takes me shopping.” Laurel paused long enough to take another bite of potatoes.
“Sounds lovely,” Anne said.
Jake remained silent. Anne told herself she shouldn’t be surprised. He’d been nothing but silent since they’d sat down to eat almost an hour before. Laurel had chattered on about school and the friends she’d left behind in Dallas. Anne had explained a little about her job, but Jake hadn’t said a word.
“We’ll spend a week there,” Laurel said after she’d wiped her mouth with her napkin. Her smile faded. “Then we’re going back to Colorado.”
“You make it sound like you’re going back to prison,” Anne teased.
“Worse. At least in prison you get time off for good behavior.” Laurel stared at her plate.
Anne toyed with her wineglass. “I think you might surprise yourself,” she said at last. “And you do have that great week by the beach.”
“Do you like the ocean?”
“Sure. I love the smell of the salt water, and seeing all the people on the sand.” She wrinkled her nose. “Hot dogs always taste the best on the beach, don’t you think?”
Laurel laughed. “Yeah. And ice-cream sandwiches. At home, I never eat them, but there—” she shrugged “—I get one every day.” Her hazel eyes widened and she turned to her father. “Daddy, can Annie come with us for a couple of days? You said I could bring a friend.”
Anne was glad she’d spent the evening toying with her wineglass rather than drinking from it. If she’d been swallowing at that moment, she would have choked. She looked at Jake.
His tanned skin darkened, and his mouth pulled even straighten She hadn’t known it was possible for a man to look completely furious and devastatingly handsome at the same time. She clenched her hands into fists and waited for the explosion. Laurel stared hopefully, never realizing what she asked.
“I don’t think that would be a good idea,” he said, calmly.
Anne didn’t know she’d been holding her breath until she exhaled it in a loud rush.
“But why?” Laurel asked. “They’ve got extra bedrooms. You said I could bring someone.”
“No.”
The teenager sprang to her feet. Her brown hair swirled around her face and she brushed it back impatiently. “You’re always like this. I never get to do anything I want. You always decide. I didn’t want to move. I didn’t want to leave my friends behind. You say it’s for me, but it’s always what’s easiest for you.” Laurel threw her napkin on the table and stormed out of the room. There were a few seconds of silence, then Anne flinched as she heard the bathroom door slam shut.
“I’m sorry,” she said softly. “I didn’t mean to start anything.”
“Yeah, I’ll bet.” He stood up. “It takes her about five minutes to cool down, then she’ll be out. I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t encourage her. We’re spending the week with Ellen’s aunt and uncle. I don’t think they would understand if you came along.” With that, he turned and left the room.
Jake was off by two minutes, but Laurel did finally emerge from the rest room. Her eyes were puffy and her face blotchy, but other than that, she seemed to have recovered from her outburst.
“I’m sorry,” she said as she walked into the kitchen.
Anne put the last plate into the dishwasher. “It’s okay, Laurel, but I’m not the one you hurt.”
“I know. It’s just he’s so—” She scuffed her white flats against the wood floor. “He makes me so mad, sometimes. He doesn’t understand.”
“Maybe you don’t understand so well, either.”
Laurel looked at her. “You think so?”
“He’s your father. He loves you.”
The mouth so much like her own tilted slightly at one corner. “Then why’s he always telling me what to do?”
“That’s what dads are for. He’s doing what he thinks is best.” She looked at the young woman who, except for a decision made thirteen years ago, could have been hers. Funny, she would have thought she’d give up missing her a long time ago. She’d been wrong. “From where I stand, he’s doing a fine job.”
“Thank you.” Laurel flushed at the compliment. “Maybe I should go tell him I’m sorry.”
“Maybe you should.” Anne wiped her hands on the dish towel and gave the girl a gentle push toward the door. “Now is a good time.”
“I can’t.”
“You can. I know you can.” Anne held open the door.
Jake had returned to stare out the window. At the sound of her voice, he turned and looked at them. She’d lived in her condo long enough to know that noise and conversations traveled fairly easily from the kitchen to the living room and that he’d probably heard everything they’d said. Not by a flicker of his thick lashes did he give that away. He stood, waiting. Laurel hovered by the door.