Читать книгу Love and the Single Mum - C.J. Carmichael - Страница 9

Days Unemployed: 4

“DID YOU GET MY RÉSUMÉ? I faxed it to your office yesterday.” As Robert Brookman spoke into his BlackBerry, he kept his eyes on the pretty blonde behind the counter.

He’d heard the older woman who served the coffee, and several of the other customers, refer to her as Margo. Which meant she must be the bistro owner.

Shifting his gaze to the notebook in front of him, he focused his attention back on his call.

“Great. Well, let me know as soon as you hear something.” He said goodbye to his headhunter, then frowned. Finding a new job was going to take some time, he knew. He just wished Donald Macleod was a little more bullish about the job market in San Francisco right now.

He checked out the blonde again.

Margo. He liked the sound of the name. Just as he liked the woman it belonged to. She greeted all her customers as if she was glad to see them. And he didn’t think it was an act. She was just one of those naturally warm, sincere sort of people who enjoyed the company of others.

She was also a terrific cook.

He forced his gaze to the career section of the San Francisco Chronicle. He circled a few possibilities, then sent an e-mail to Donald. What Donald didn’t understand was that Robert hadn’t been unemployed since he’d graduated from college over ten years ago.

Though he’d lost his job through no fault of his own, and had received a nice compensation package in exchange, Robert didn’t like the feeling of being out of work. He needed to get back behind a desk as soon as possible.

Robert finished his cup of coffee and considered requesting a refill. But at that moment, Margo disappeared into the kitchen. A moment later she reemerged, without her apron, and left the restaurant with a wave and a smile to the older woman behind the counter.

He checked the time. It was quarter past three. She’d left the bistro at this time yesterday, too. He sighed, then snapped shut his briefcase and pocketed the BlackBerry.

Tomorrow he’d just have to get here earlier.

It had been eight months since his breakup with Belinda and he was ready to move on. He’d tried dating a few women he’d met through work, but none of them had inspired much interest. Margo was the first to really capture his attention…and she didn’t wear a wedding ring, so she seemed like a good candidate.

The only thing holding him back was the niggling feeling that he’d met her before. He wished he could recall where and when. Might save him some potential embarrassment when he finally worked up the nerve to ask her out.

USUALLY MARGO looked forward to seeing her children at the end of their day. Not today.

How unfair of Tom to leave the telling of his news to her. She was very afraid that the kids were going to be badly shocked. She could imagine Ellie stalking off in anger and Peter crying uncontrollably, the way he had when his father had first moved out of the family home.

Tell Daddy not to go.

He’d fallen to the floor with his sobs and Margo had picked him up. Hugged him and soothed him. Fortunately, with counseling, her children had recovered from that rough patch. But it was still a time Margo couldn’t bear to think back on.

It was amazing to her that Tom was serious about marrying someone she had never even heard the kids mention. Though, to be fair, the kids didn’t talk much to her about what they did when they were at Tom’s house. It was as if Ellie and Peter lived in two separate worlds, with no points of intersection between them.

Did other children of divorced parents act that way? Margo wished she had someone to ask. But the only single mom she knew—Nora—was widowed, not divorced.

Margo stopped on the corner next to the playground. Several other parents and caregivers were congregated here and she smiled at the father of one of her daughter’s friends.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it?”

“Can’t beat spring time in San Francisco.” Allan White was a stay-at-home dad. His wife happened to also be a lawyer. “Did Ellie get her book report done on time? Stephanie and I were up until eleven last night.”

“Oh?” Ellie was such a responsible student that Margo rarely asked her about her homework. She was about to question Allan more about the project, when the school buzzer sounded. Soon kids were streaming out the doors, and Peter was one of the first.

A towhead like she had been at his age, he wasn’t as keen on his studies as his sister. He spotted her, grinned, then ran in her direction.

After a big hello hug, he asked if he could play while they waited for Ellie.

“Sure, honey.” Margo watched as he raced toward the monkey bars, then swung his way toward his favorite slide. Ellie didn’t show up for another ten minutes. As a fifth grade student, she felt she was too old to be walking home from school with her mother and baby brother. Privately Margo sympathized with her, but Tom was nervous about the South of Market neighborhood and so she continued to accompany the kids.

“Did you hand in your book report?” Margo asked her daughter when she finally showed up.

Ellie gave her a withering look that reminded Margo painfully of Tom. “Of course.” Ellie took a brisk pace toward home, and Margo had to hustle Peter to follow her.

“Please slow down a little, Ellie. Your brother’s legs aren’t as long as yours.”

Ellie said nothing to that, but she did reduce her speed marginally.

“So…” Margo still hadn’t come up with a great way to tell them their father’s news. Feeling awkward, she said, “I guess you guys know that your father has found someone that he really cares about.”

Peter looked at her blankly.

“She means Catherine,” Ellie explained over her shoulder.

“That’s right. Catherine. Your father says you’ve had a chance to get to know her?”

Ellie shrugged. “Sort of.”

“Well. Is she nice?”

“Sure,” Peter said.

“She’s okay.”

“I’m glad you both like her.”

Ellie stopped walking and eyed her suspiciously. “Why?”

Margo swallowed, but her mouth remained dry. “Your dad called me today and wanted me to tell you something.”

Spit it out, Margo.

“Your father and Catherine have decided to get married.” Margo swallowed again. “This weekend.”

She waited for the fallout, but nothing happened.

“Cool,” Ellie said, then resumed walking.

“Cool,” Peter echoed, his eyes on his sister, as if he needed to gauge her reaction in order to determine his own.

“So you’re okay with this?” Margo asked her daughter.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Indeed. “Good.”

That had been so much easier than she’d expected. And yet Margo didn’t feel entirely satisfied with the children’s reactions. Could it be she didn’t want Catherine to be a nice person? That she would have been happier to have her children kick up a fuss?

Bitterness curdled on her tongue and she had the urge to lash out. To say something shallow and mean-spirited about Tom and the speed with which he’d replaced her. To disparage a woman she’d never even met.

Why…I’m jealous.

Margo was disappointed in herself, but she couldn’t deny her own feelings. The truth was, she felt a little usurped by Catherine and she would have preferred it if her kids had said something even just a little negative about her.

Ellie and Peter were hers. She’d given birth to them and raised them and loved them. Just because Tom wanted another woman in his life didn’t mean she and the kids did.

Only…maybe her kids did want Catherine in their lives. They hadn’t given any sign that they didn’t.

By the time they reached the bistro, Margo felt close to tears. She watched her kids scoot up onto stools where Em had milk and cookies waiting. They attacked the snack like starving creatures. Lately it seemed Ellie couldn’t get her hands on enough food, while her younger brother was always thirsty.

They were so cute. Peter with his missing front teeth and mischievous blue eyes. Ellie, so serious and grown-up acting, the way she’d always been, even as a baby.

Margo hated that their innocence was being marred by this divorce. Their father moving out had only been the beginning of the hurdles they would face, she now realized. Next would be the new stepmother. And possibly halfsiblings sometime down the road.

Feeling her anger toward Tom mounting, Margo made an excuse to go to the kitchen. The table at the back was now occupied by two young men in leather jackets and artfully disheveled hair. She wondered if she’d seen the last of Suit Guy and was surprised to realize she felt a bit disappointed at the idea.

In the kitchen she allowed herself to slam the copper pots around a little. Life was so unfair at times. She hated being divorced. Learning to share her time with the kids had been difficult enough. Now she had to stand on the sidelines as Tom moved on and married again.

The kitchen door swung open, and Em breezed into the room. She pulled her apron over her head, then shoved it into the dirty laundry basket. “Sandy just showed up, so I’m off.”

Margo knew “off” was a relative term. Em would be going home to prepare dinner for her husband and starving teenagers. Then she’d spend her evening either watching her son play basketball, or driving her daughter to dance lessons.

“We have some leftover muffins from the morning. Want to take them for the kids’ lunches tomorrow?” Margo bagged them as she made the offer and Em accepted the package gratefully. A moment later Sandy—a college student with shoulder-length brown hair and serious, wide-set green eyes—popped in to grab an apron.

“It’s quiet out there, thank goodness.”

Margo could guess what she meant by that. “Edward hasn’t shown up yet?”

“Second time this week.” Sandy shook her head, slipped on the apron, then hurried back to the front.

Margo was glad she had Sandy to rely upon. Two months ago, Edward had seemed like a good hire. At first impression, he’d been good-natured, motivated and pleasant. But the day after she’d given him the job, he’d come to work with rings in his lip and eyebrow, as well as a stud through his tongue. Margo had nothing against self-expression, but it had seemed slightly deceitful to her that he had hidden his piercings for the job interview.

Lately, he’d been arriving late for work and shirking cleanup duties at the end of his shift. Today, when he finally arrived and came to the back to get an apron, he avoided eye contact with her.

“Hi, Edward. How are things?”

“Fine.” He still didn’t look at her.

“You’ve been running behind quite a bit lately. Is anything wrong?”

He shook his head, eyes still averted.

Margo sighed. “Are you sure there isn’t a problem?”

“No. Everything’s good.”

Margo tilted her head to one side. If there was one thing she was sure about, it was this. Everything was not good. Not with Edward, not with the bistro and not with her life.

But how to begin tackling the problems, she had no idea.

A MESSAGE WAS WAITING for Robert on his machine when he got home from the gym. He dumped his sports bag near the closet, then hit the playback button, hoping the call would be from his headhunter. But the recorded voice was about thirty years too young for that.

“Hey, Robert, it’s Andrew. Maybe you didn’t get my other message, but I was wondering if you could come to my birthday party tomorrow? It’s at six o’clock and Mom’s making a chocolate cake. Well, she’ll probably buy it, but it’ll be chocolate for sure. Um…see you then. Bye.”

Robert stared at the machine for several seconds, before erasing the message. Feeling like the biggest jerk on the planet, he hit the shower, trying not to remember Andrew’s last birthday party.

He’d bought the boy a fishing pole and foolishly he’d made a bunch of promises, never dreaming that he might not be able to deliver on them. Even now he didn’t know who’d been more excited about those pie-in-the-sky plans—him or Andrew.

Robert shut off the water, dried quickly then contemplated the remaining hours of the evening. He hadn’t eaten, and after his workout, he was starving. There were some frozen entrées on hand, or he could call for take-out, but he found himself craving…soup.

The squashed pear soup at Margo’s today had been delicious. Even better than the sunshine carrot from the day before.

As he made up his mind to go, Robert knew it wasn’t just the food he was after. Sure it was good and the atmosphere at the bistro was warm and welcoming, but there was something more compelling pulling at him: the friendly woman who owned the place.

As he passed by the phone on his way out, he tried not to think of the boy who’d left him that message. He knew Andrew would be home, waiting and hoping, and his heart ached to think of that.

But what could he do? Belinda had said no contact, and she was the boy’s mom.

FIFTEEN MINUTES LATER, Robert stepped inside Margo’s Bistro. The place was small, holding ten tables, max, not counting the annex through an archway to his left. The colors of the decor were vivid, but the tones blended harmoniously—sort of like the flavors in Margo’s soups.

Robert checked behind the counter. The older brunette he’d seen on his previous two visits wasn’t on duty now. Instead, two college-aged kids were at work. The girl seemed to be hustling her buns off. The guy acted as if he was annoyed about something.

Robert scanned the rest of the room, disappointed when he didn’t spot Margo. He’d taken a chance, hoping she might have returned for the evening, but it hadn’t paid off.

Since he was here anyway, he lined up to place his order. Reflectively, he dug his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He touched a piece of cardboard and pulled out one of his old business cards.

Robert Brookman, MBA, Senior Account Manager, Wells Fargo.

Hard to believe that only last week this had been him. He’d been someone important, an employee at one of San Francisco’s oldest and most prestigious banks. He’d been on his way up, a man bound for success.

He’d had an office and colleagues, a desk and a mound of work waiting for him at the start of every day. He’d taken pleasure in tackling and conquering those files before the closing of every night….

Robert Brookman, MBA, Senior Account Manager. That was who he was. Or who he had been. A busy, important person whose every minute of every day was spoken for.

Now he had the disorienting notion that if he suddenly disappeared, if someone walked into this bistro right now with a gun and forced him out into a waiting car, no one would notice. He could be gone a week, a month, hell even longer, and not a person would raise an alarm.

Robert scrunched the card, then pushed it back into his pocket.

“May I help you?” the pretty college student asked him.

“Yes, thanks.” He ordered soup and a scone, then carried his food to the table at the back that he’d begun to think of as his. Two doors led off from the short hall at the rear of the restaurant. One was marked Employees Only. The other was the washroom. He sat with his back to both of them, then lifted a spoonful of the soup to his mouth.

It was good. Really, really good. He closed his eyes and savored the complex, complementary blend of flavors. Despite the amazing taste, though, he found he didn’t have much of an appetite.

He set down his spoon and glanced through the arched opening. And that was when he spotted her.

Margo was sitting with another woman who also appeared to be in her mid-thirties—a woman with dark, reddish hair and a nice, slender body. She was very attractive, too, but Margo was the one who held his eye.

She was even prettier than he remembered. Curvier. Sexier.

But the dimples he’d noticed when she’d served him earlier that afternoon weren’t much in evidence now. She and her friend seemed to be having a pretty intense conversation. He wondered what about.

He watched them surreptitiously for a while, and then he kicked himself. Two attractive women, about his age, sitting within a few yards of him? What was he waiting for?

Robert slid his chair back and got to his feet.