Chapter Ten
A
fter watching and listening to the twins for a few more days, Cassie still didn’t know what was bothering them, only that something was wrong. Deciding she couldn’t learn what it was without help, and since Blake had left the country again on another business trip, she approached D.J.
Her son’s room, decorated in his new idea of cool, was still somewhat of a shock to her. Posters had replaced cartoons, CDs had taken the place of airplane models, and a stack of teen magazines had shoved aside his forgotten rock collection. Bending over, she automatically picked up a T-shirt emblazoned with an indecipherable slogan. Part of DJ.’s new wardrobe and identity.
“Hey, Mama.”
“Hey, yourself. Working on your homework?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He twisted around in his chair, grinning up at her. “I got a great idea for making some more money. Kids here are willing to
pay
to have their homework done.”
Cassie kept from choking, with an effort. Ah, her little entrepreneur. “But you can’t do it for them. That’s cheating.”
“But it’s not a test, Mama.”
“No. But it’s the same thing. It’s simply dishonest. Not to mention, if these kids don’t do their own homework, they won’t be able to pass their tests, because they won’t have learned their assignments.”
DJ. bent his head over his desk for a moment, frowning at the page of numbers he’d been scribbling on. “It’s really cheating?”
“Absolutely.”
He sighed, then reached for the paper, crumpling it up. “Guess I’ll have to find another way to pay for my Porsche.”
Cassie hid her smile. “Guess so. Listen, champ, do you know if anything’s bothering the twins?”
He shrugged. “What do you mean?”
“They’ve been awfully quiet lately.”
“Oh... Yeah, well, it’s ’cause of the other kids and stuff.”
“Aren’t they pretty popular in school?”
“Sure, but the other kids have been giving them the business ’cause they haven’t got a mother to bring to their class.”
Cassie wrinkled her brow. “I don’t understand.”
“Their grade is having teacher appreciation week. The other kids’ mothers are bringing treats and stuff. Even the kids with stepmothers are getting them to come. And the ones that work are coming before school or during lunch. So Mark and Todd said they didn’t have to do dumb stuff like that ‘cause they don’t appreciate the teacher. She got mad and made them clean the room, and the kids started picking on ’em and saying they just said that ’cause they don’t have a mother.”
The sudden constriction in her throat made Cassie pause. For all their toughness, Mark and Todd were still motherless little boys. “Would it be okay if their dad came instead?”
D.J. shrugged. “Nobody else had their fathers come.... It might make ’em feel even dumber.”
Cassie took another stab at an unlikely alternative. “How about their aunt?”
D.J. looked at her as though she’d suggested sending Godzilla. “
Daphne
?”
“Okay. Bad idea. Can you say anything to help them at school?”
“Gee, Mama, I’m the new kid. Nobody listens to me.”
She reached out to ruffle his hair. “Let’s keep this talk just between us, okay?”
“Sure, Mama. You got any ideas so I can make money?”
Smiling, she walked to the doorway. “Yes. Study hard so you can get into a good college.”
THE PHONE RANG, and Cassie glanced automatically at the clock on her bedside table. It was late for someone to be calling. She hoped nothing was wrong with her mother. Unexpectedly nervous, she grabbed for the phone, and her voice was breathy with concern as she answered.
“Cassie?”
“Yes?”
“It’s Blake.”
She nearly sighed aloud with relief, then glanced again at the clock. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. Why’d you think something was wrong?”
She remembered his last two trips, the solitary phone call during each one to check on his children. So far, he’d called every other day on this trip. “No reason. The phone ringing at night after I go to bed always startles me.”
“Did I wake you?”
“No.”
“But you
are
in bed?” he asked, a different note in his voice.
She blushed, even though she knew he couldn’t see her. The skimpy nightgown she wore was in deference to the unexpectedly warm temperature. “Uh...yes,” she answered, reaching out to pull the light cotton blanket over her legs. “But I guess you’re up and about.” Even with her legs covered, she broke into a nervous babble. “With the time difference and all, it can’t be bedtime there. You must have already had your breakfast. Kippers. I’m not sure about eggs, though. They have kippers for breakfast, don’t they? And...”
Amusement flared in his soft chuckle. “And I thought you might be too tired to talk.”
A flush of tidal-wave-size embarrassment washed over her. “It must be costing a fortune to call from across the world. I guess you want to talk to the boys, and—”
“Wait! I’ll talk to them in a minute. And, yes, they do have kippers in England, but I’m in Paris now. And I had fresh croissants for breakfast. Don’t tell my London office, but the food here’s much better.”
“Can you see the Eiffel Tower?” Cassie asked, a sigh of dreamy envy permeating her voice.
“Not from my hotel room, but I’m sure it’s still here.”
“Then you are at your hotel?”
“Yes, but I’m not lucky enough to be tucked in bed.”
Awareness flared again. Despite her enchantment with the city she’d often dreamed about, Cassie couldn’t get past the image of them talking while in bed, linked by a telephone, separated by an ocean. “But you have all of Paris at your feet.”
“Sometimes a man wants more than a city at the end of a day.”
It was ridiculous, she told herself, to have her heart threatening to jump from her chest simply at his words. Words spoken on a telephone. Two continents away.
Cassie cleared her throat, scrabbling for normality, wishing at the same time that she could fling responsibility away and dive into the warmth she heard in his voice. “Paris isn’t just a city. It’s light and dark...and art and couture, and the Left Bank, and the Louvre and—”
“And the Champs Élysées,” he added. “But that’s not a street you want to stroll on alone.”
No, in her dreams she’d always walked hand in hand with a handsome stranger down the famous boulevard. “Surely you have contacts there.”
She could almost hear the shrug she knew he was making. “That’s not quite the same thing.”
Regretfully, Cassie knew it was time to change the subject, to skirt this dangerous one. “Daphne came by again today. She wanted to know when you’d be home. I told her it would depend on how your business goes.”
“You could have told her I was taking a sabbatical.”
And Daphne would have followed him across the world, Cassie concluded silently. “She wanted to check on the boys.”
“Cassie?”
“Yes?”
“I didn’t call to talk about Daphne.”
A strident knocking on her bedroom door startled Cassie. Recovering, she spoke above the receiver. “Come in.”
Kevin stood at the doorway, obviously unwilling to enter her room, equally obviously wanting something. She smiled at him. “Your dad’s on the phone. He called to talk to you and your brothers.”
Kevin looked skeptical at best. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” Then she spoke into the receiver. “Stroke of luck. Kevin’s right here. I’ll go collect the twins while you two talk.”
Cassie heard a brief, aborted snort of exasperation before he spoke in a resigned tone. “I’m not sure how you managed that, but you can put Kevin on in a minute. First, how are the twins?”
She stalled. “Why don’t you see for yourself when you get home?”
“There’s not anything you’re not telling me?”
Two of her fingers slid together behind her back. “Of course not. Except for one thing. The boys and I are glad you’re calling. Here’s Kevin.”
Not waiting to hear any more questions, Cassie thrust the phone at Kevin and disappeared, not sure whether she was more uncomfortable from avoiding talking about the twins...or from simply avoiding hearing what else Blake might have said, had Kevin not interrupted. Deciding it might not be safe to dwell on that answer, she sped toward the twins’ room and away from any more questions, guessing she’d spend the night dreaming of strolling down the Champs Élysées. But this time the handsome man would no longer be a stranger.
CASSIE GLANCED at the peasant skirt she wore, hoping the outfit wasn’t too much. Gripping the platter in her hands, she fixed a smile on her face and walked through the open door, into the classroom.
Mrs. Roman, the twins’ teacher, greeted her with a big smile. Since Cassie’d had a heart-to-heart with the teacher, Mrs. Roman now understood the pain behind the twins’ inappropriate comments, and was more than willing to help Cassie with her stand-in-mother plan for providing the class lunch.
“Children, we are lucky to have treats provided today by Mark and Todd Matthews.” Mrs. Roman gestured toward the surprised-looking twins. “Come up front and help serve.”
As planned, sturdy paper plates were stacked on the table beside Mrs. Roman’s desk. The still-startled twins stared at Cassie for a moment, then at the huge platter of nachos she held out to Mark. It was a far cry from the ordinary cupcakes and cookies the other mothers had brought. Mrs. Roman filled Todd’s hands with plates. Then the teacher called up a few other kids to help, having them dispense mock margaritas from the huge drink cooler into stemmed plastic cocktail glasses already sitting on the table.
“Cool!”
“Hey, it’s not Kool-Aid.”
Those and other assorted comments filled the air as the kids eagerly scooped nachos onto their plates and tasted the delicious, grown-up-appearing drinks.
As she’d worked out beforehand with Mrs. Roman, while the kids were eating their nachos, Cassie, with Maria’s help, removed her casseroles of homemade enchiladas from the school’s oven. The twins’ eyes widened as they saw the steaming casseroles.
Amid the curious, excited chatter of the children, Mrs. Roman recaptured their attention. “Mark and Todd have a surprise for us. For teacher appreciation week, their family has brought lunch for us today. No cafeteria food.”
Cheers greeted her words. Together, Cassie and Mrs. Roman served the enchiladas, with plenty of eager volunteers willing to pass the plates. Cassie glanced at her watch. As they’d prearranged, Maria had disappeared as soon as she brought in the casserole dishes, heading for the kitchen. Cassie hadn’t wanted it to look as though the Matthewses’ staff were preparing lunch, and after a tactful discussion with Maria, they’d agreed that she would keep a low profile. With only Cassie’s presence, she hoped it would seem more as if a mother figure were providing lunch.
And now Maria was busy with dessert. The understanding Mrs. Roman had coaxed the school’s dietitian into allowing them to use the huge deep fryer. Seeing that the children were busy digging into the enchiladas, Cassie slipped out, meeting Maria in the kitchen. Like a well-oiled assembly line, they formed the sopapillas, put them in frying baskets, set the timer and then dusted the fragrant drained triangles of golden fried dough with a generous amount of powdered sugar.
When she had a full platter, Cassie left Maria to busily cook more as she took in the initial batch. The kids, now fully into party mode, greeted the still-warm sopapillas with enthusiasm. While they were eating the popular dessert, Cassie ducked back into the kitchen, saw that Maria had just finished the last of the sopapillas, then dashed back to the classroom with the newly filled platter. As the children finished eating, she then retrieved the pièce de resistance.
Cassie took her last surprise into the large, empty room that was used for everything from indoor rec on badweather days to parent-teacher conferences.
Hurrying, she made sure the chairs were all folded and stacked against the wall, so that they wouldn’t get in the way. She picked up one to stand on, removing a potted fern from a hook on the ceiling. As she took the plant down, she couldn’t stop a shake of her head. Only in the big city could schools afford to decorate. Still, she was glad the hook was secured to the ceiling. Especially as she tied her surprise in place.
A piñata.
For a moment, she hesitated, wondering whether this was too much. She hoped the sophisticated city kids wouldn’t think it was stupid. But then, she’d been worried about how they would accept the entire concept, and so far, so good.
Crossing her fingers, Cassie placed the baseball bat she’d brought on the small stage and dashed back to the classroom. As she walked inside, Mrs. Roman was instructing the kids to put their lunch things in the trash can at the front of the room. Seeing Cassie, she sent her a conspiratorial smile.