Читать книгу The Dad Next Door - C.J. Carmichael - Страница 8

MONDAY MORNING, Gavin woke up with a sick feeling in his stomach. It was hard not to think about the little girl who wouldn’t be starting grade one today. His little Samantha…

He took a moment to remember her, gazing at the photo of the twins that he kept by his bed.

Then he pulled himself to his feet, went to the washroom and forced himself to smile at his image in the mirror.

Just the act of smiling, according to research, made you feel happier. He wasn’t so sure about that, but he kept trying, nonetheless.

When he’d finished washing and dressing, he went to Tory’s room to help her select an outfit for her first day. She was already awake, sitting on her bed and staring woefully at her dresser.

“Would you rather wear shorts or a dress?”

No answer.

“Pink or blue?”

Tory just stared at him.

So, as usual, he set out some clothes, then made her breakfast. They walked to school together, met the principal and were shown to the first-grade classroom. He wasn’t surprised when Tory cried as he tried to leave her with her new teacher, and he ended up staying in the classroom for the first hour and a half. At recess, the teacher encouraged him to leave.

“I’ll call if Tory doesn’t settle in after you’re gone.”

Gavin returned to the house on Robin Crescent. Stepping around open boxes, he made his way to the kitchen. The movers had placed the table and chairs in the alcove overlooking the lake and now he sat and pivoted so he could look out over the water.

There was much to do, yet he felt paralyzed.

Over the weekend he’d assembled Tory’s bed, unpacked her clothing and set up her dollhouse. Even so, her room looked bleak. It could do with a coat of paint, at the very least.

The rest of the house needed work, too. At some point he’d have to fix the cracks in the walls and replace the grimy light fixtures and worn carpets. Maybe he should have bought a place in better repair.

He still couldn’t believe that he and Tory were living in the house in which Marianne had grown up. Many times she must have sat in this exact spot. He tried to imagine what a teenaged Marianne would have thought about as she looked out onto the lake. But he couldn’t. He’d never been able to understand what went on in her head.

He certainly couldn’t understand the way she’d left their kids, never looking back, never phoning or writing or making any contact at all. They’d been one-year-olds. To him so sweet and adorable. He couldn’t imagine leaving them. At least not by choice.

Which had led him to wonder if Marianne was dead. But his calls to hospitals and police stations in the area had turned up nothing.

For a while he’d considered hiring an investigator, but his brothers had talked him out of it.

“She knows where you are,” Nick, ever the hard-nosed cop, had pointed out. “If she doesn’t care enough to keep in touch, you and the girls are better off without her.”

Gavin had tried to accept his brother’s advice. But Samantha’s death had set him thinking about Marianne again. He wondered what she’d been doing with her life for the past six years. How was she earning a living? Had she found a man who made her happy?

And what would she say when she found out about Sam’s death? Would she finally be sorry? Would she regret leaving all those years ago?

Most importantly, would she realize how much Tory needed her now? Sam’s death had hit the poor kid so hard. Gavin hated knowing how much his daughter hurt. The pain was hard enough for him to handle. How could a child be expected to cope?

He rubbed a hand over his face.

An hour went by. There was no call from the school. He hoped that meant that Tory was settling in.

Light danced on the lake. A pair of ducks landed on the water, then drifted out of view. The pain in his chest seemed to ease a little. He took a deep breath, grateful for the respite.

Another hour went by.

In the first months after Sam’s accident, many days had passed this way, with Gavin simply sitting, staring into space, accomplishing nothing aside from the immediate chores required to care for Tory.

Reminding himself that he wasn’t going to live that way anymore, Gavin finally dislodged himself from his chair. He sorted through boxes until he found the ones from his old office. Since he had a new house to pay for and a daughter to support, this seemed like a good place to start.

In the upstairs room he’d chosen for his workspace, he assembled the legs on his drafting table, then set up lamps and unpacked his office chair. Next, he ripped open one of the moving cartons and found his files.

By the time he had them organized in his filing cabinet, it was shortly after two. He set the alarm on his watch so he wouldn’t forget to pick Tory up from school at three-thirty.

As he stacked books on the windowsill, a movement outside caught his attention. The cute neighbor who lived next door and made such good lasagna was coming home.

The lush green leaves of a big oak tree partially obscured his view. Still, he managed a glimpse of her light-blue dress as she unlatched her gate and crossed to her porch. By the time she reached the door, he couldn’t see her.

She’d been friendly the other day, but not too friendly. He was glad about that. He wanted to get along with his new neighbors, but that was all. He wasn’t ready for anything more. Certainly nothing romantic. Since Marianne had left, he hadn’t had time to think about women. And since Sam…He hadn’t had the heart.

Sure, Allison Bennett was pretty. And she seemed kind and thoughtful. Maybe at some other point in his life he’d have considered asking her out. But this just wasn’t the time.

There was that casserole dish to return, however.

He’d put it in the dishwasher last night. Now he ran downstairs and pulled it out, relieved to find it was spotless. He might as well take it back before he forgot.

Gavin left his house, passing by the old oak en route to Allison’s. The tree was one of several that bordered the road, branches arcing over the pavement to form a natural bridge from one side of the street to the green patch in the middle.

Robin Crescent was going to be breathtaking in a couple of weeks, when the leaves began to change. Living in New England, you couldn’t help but love the fall. Still, Gavin’s sense of anticipation for the coming season was marred by the memory of how much Marianne had hated it.

“Why does everyone think autumn is so beautiful? The leaves are dying. Don’t you think it’s sad?”

She’d had empathy enough for the trees. Why not for her own daughters?

Frustrated to find himself dwelling on the past again, Gavin rapped on his neighbor’s door a little harder than he’d intended to.

Allison responded at once. She was shaking her hair out of a ponytail and he had an unanticipated visceral reaction as her shiny maple syrup-colored hair fell loose to frame her face.

He resisted the impulse to touch it. Instead, he held out the baking dish. “Thanks very much. The lasagna was great.”

“You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

He found it hard dealing with new people—people who didn’t know about the tragedy. His daughter’s death wasn’t the sort of background information you could casually insert into a conversation, like telling someone you were an architect.

“Nice place.” He glanced around, admiring everything he could see from the foyer. Warm colors, interesting artwork, an intriguing French country armoire.

Allison’s house wasn’t showroom perfect, like the rooms the designers at his old firm used to create. This simply felt like a home. He needed to fix up his new place like this. Yet he felt overwhelmed by all the work it would take to pull it off. “Did you use a decorator?”

“Didn’t need to. That’s what I do—I work out of my shop downtown. You may have noticed it. The Perfect Thing?”

He was impressed. “That’s yours? We walked by on Saturday when we were looking for a café. You’ve got lots of beautiful stuff.”

“Thank you. The shop used to be my grand-mother’s. When I was a kid, I would hang out with her on weekends. I thought I was a big help—at least my grandma made me feel as if I was.”

She smiled, obviously thinking of happy memories, and then she stuffed a folder of papers into a leather tote bag. He recognized them as architectural drawings of interiors. Noticing his curiosity, she explained, “These plans are for one of my clients. I forgot them this morning and we’re meeting at the store in fifteen minutes.”

This was a perfect opportunity to ask if she was accepting new clients. Maybe she could make Gavin’s house look as good as hers did.

But was it smart to hire his next-door neighbor? Especially when Gavin had already decided that he wanted to be friendly, but not too friendly?

His watch began to beep. Perfect timing. He pushed the button to silence the alarm. “I have to pick up my daughter from school.”

“And I have to get back to the store.”

He nodded. “Thanks again for the lasagna.”

Closing the door behind himself, he started off in such a hurry that he almost tripped over a loose board. He regained his balance, and then noticed a piece of creamy paper trapped under the board. It was a wedding invitation.

With Allison’s name front and center.

Gavin had a strange reaction to the news that she was getting married in four weeks. It was like…disappointment.

Which wasn’t especially rational, considering his lack of interest in the woman.

TORY SEEMED FINE when Gavin met her at the classroom door, but by the time they got home she was in tears.

“I don’t want to go back there.” She set her mouth in a pout that looked more sad than willful.

Tory wasn’t a child who cried a lot. Even as a baby she’d been content to let her twin sister make all their demands. It was always Samantha’s cry that signaled the need for a feeding, a diaper change or a desire to play or be cuddled.

“Don’t you like your teacher?” Ms. Carter had seemed cheerful and kind to Gavin.

Tory shrugged.

“Weren’t the other kids friendly?”

She shrugged again.

Gavin rubbed the stubble on the side of his face, feeling a little lost. Why was it so hard to communicate with his own child? Maybe if their home was a little more comfortable…

He looked around the maze of boxes for a place to sit. He could barely see the sofa, let alone relax on it. Tomorrow he really needed to make a bigger dent in the unpacking. In the meantime, he and Tory had to get out of here.

“Let’s go for a walk. We’ll head downtown and grab a bite to eat.”

Once they were outside, he tried to raise the subject of school again, but Tory was more interested in collecting rocks than in talking. They stopped at the drugstore to buy school supplies she needed, and then moved on to the Apple Pie Café.

Gavin made a halfhearted effort to let Tory choose from the menu, but when that didn’t work, he ordered burgers and shakes for both of them.

He waited until the server left to broach the topic one more time. “Tory, you want to learn to read and write, don’t you?”

She nodded.

“And you want to make friends, too. Right?”

She looked more uncertain about this.

“You do want to make friends,” he assured her. “That’s what Sam would want you to do.”

Tears filled Tory’s eyes again, and Gavin wondered if mentioning her sister had been the wrong thing to do.

The server returned with their food and Gavin opened Tory’s burger to take out the pickle. If Sam had been here, he’d have given her Tory’s pickle and his, too. But he shouldn’t think about that. Shouldn’t look at Tory and imagine another little girl sitting right beside her…

Double trouble. That’s what his brother Matthew had called them, though always with a smile. He’d been a rock of support to Gavin in those first years after Marianne had left, always finding time to call or visit despite the demands of his job and his own family.

Then, again, after Sam’s death, Matthew had been the one person who had really seemed to understand what he was going through. He’d leaned on Matt a lot. Too much, perhaps. It had never occurred to him that maybe his brother needed a little support, too.

But plowing through each day and helping Tory get through hers had been about all he could manage.

Gavin left the subject alone after that. He was glad to see that despite her unhappiness about school, there was nothing wrong with Tory’s appetite. The first while after Sam’s accident she hadn’t eaten much, and Gavin still felt she had some catching up to do.

After they’d finished their meal and settled the bill, they started for home. Tory paused at one of the store windows along the way.

It was Allison Bennett’s shop, The Perfect Thing.

The sofa in the display window invited customers to come inside and get comfortable. Blankets and pillows had been artfully arranged around a tray holding a pretty teapot and two china mugs.

As she’d done in her own home, in this window Allison had created a heartwarming sense of “home.” The exact kind of home he intended to design himself, now that he was starting his own business.

The exact kind of home he wanted to live in, as well.

“Can we go inside, Daddy?”

He was curious to see more, too.

A bell chimed as he opened the door. A well-dressed woman in her forties stood at a table in the back, flipping through a book of fabric samples. Though he couldn’t see Allison, he could hear her speaking. “I think I’ve got just the thing. Hang on a minute.”

Tory spotted a cabinet filled with miniature figurines of people, animals and birds. She squealed with pleasure. “Can I look, Daddy?”

He went to the cabinet with her, noting the ones she seemed to like the most. Her birthday was in October. The miniatures would make a terrific gift.

“These are more expensive,” Allison said, “but just feel them. Pure raw silk. Scrumptious.” She stepped into his line of vision as she set another heavy book of samples before her customer. “If you want to take these home to see them in your bedroom, you can sign them out.”

She glanced up and the moment she spotted him her spine stiffened and her cheeks turned pink.

He smiled. “My daughter is fascinated by your miniatures.”

“Is Tory here?” She went over to the cabinet. “Hi, Tory. Let me unlock this for you.”

Allison’s customer in the back decided she wanted to borrow both fabric books and so Allison left Tory with the figurines as she made a note of the woman’s name and the books she’d taken. When she came back to Tory, she removed a figurine of a woman in Victorian dress from the cabinet.

“This one’s my favorite. Isn’t she beautiful?”

Gavin left the two of them to talk and wandered farther into the shop, drawn by the unique merchandise and the clever displays. Every time he doubled back, he discovered something new.

Several things here would look great at home, he thought. That mirror. The blue-and-red rug. A leather ottoman. At least he thought they would look great. He didn’t entirely trust his own instincts on this. Though he had a good eye for design, soft furnishings had never held much interest for him.

As he browsed, he could hear the murmur of Allison and Tory’s conversation. He was astonished by how much his daughter had to say. She’d barely looked at Allison when they’d met on moving day, and it usually took her a long time to warm up to strangers.

Finally, he had to interrupt. “We should be getting home, Tory.” Allison looked up at him. She had cat’s eyes, green and curious. “I hope we didn’t take up too much of your time.”

“Absolutely not. It’s been fun.” Allison locked the cabinet with an old-fashioned brass key. He focused on her hands, small and delicate, with long fingers and nicely kept nails. The real kind, not the shiny fake ones with white tips that the women in his office back in Hartford had favored.

Tory said goodbye and thanks, without any prompting from her father. It was only as they were walking along the sidewalk toward home that one little detail struck him.

Allison hadn’t been wearing an engagement ring.