Читать книгу Winning Over Skylar - Julianna Morris, Julianna Morris - Страница 11

CHAPTER TWO

SKYLAR PULLED A casserole from the freezer and put it in the oven to heat. She liked cooking; she just didn’t enjoy it after spending hours over the Nibble Nook’s fryers—the volume of French fries and onion rings they went through never failed to astonish her. As the owner, she filled in wherever necessary, and today the fry cook had phoned in with a child-care problem.

Tiredly she pressed a hand to the aching small of her back. The long, hard days used to be more fun. Jimmie had made everything fun, no matter what they were doing.

The cat walked into the kitchen and stared at his empty bowl in dismay. He meowed plaintively.

“Karin?” she called. “Bennie has to be fed and his litter box scooped.”

“The first play-off game is on.”

“Then you’d better hurry,” Skylar said. “We’ve talked about this. You wanted a cat and he’s your responsibility.”

“But Mooommmm, I—”

“Now, Karin. He’s hungry.”

Karin stomped into the kitchen. “He isn’t mine, not really. Bennie always ends up with you in the morning. He’s supposed to sleep with me. It’s like I’m kryptonite or something.”

For an instant Skylar wished she could have a single evening free of teenage angst. “That’s because he keeps getting kicked off the bed. You thrash around and when he’s had enough, he goes someplace quieter.”

“I do not.”

“Trust me, I couldn’t keep a blanket on you, even as a baby. A professional soccer team doesn’t kick that much.”

Muttering under her breath, Karin poured food into the cat bowl and petted Bennie, despite her sulk. It wasn’t easy insisting she take care of her chores—she used to watch the baseball play-offs with her dad, and Skylar could see the weepy melancholy beneath her daughter’s defiant surface. The previous autumn Karin had sobbed straight through her favored team’s sweeping victory; hopefully this year wouldn’t be as bad.

“Here,” Skylar said. “I made a snack for you to eat during the game. And there’s caffeine-free cola in the fridge. I’ll bring dinner in when it’s ready.” Normally they ate meals at the table, but this wasn’t a normal night.

Karin brightened and took the bowl of fluffy buttered popcorn. “Gee, thanks, Mom.”

When Karin was back in the family room, Skylar sat at the kitchen table, feeling melancholy herself. She wasn’t a baseball fan, and it used to drive her crazy during the play-offs and World Series to have Jimmie and Karin riveted to the television. More than once, a game had gone into extra innings or there’d been a rain delay, and he’d let her stay up to the bitter end, even on a school night. When she fell asleep at school the next day, there would be the inevitable phone call from her teacher, who was always mollified by Jimmie’s abashed apology.

Skylar would give anything to have those days back.

Instead, she had Aaron Hollister and his sister and her temper getting her in trouble. She had to be more careful. Aaron hadn’t seemed interested in Karin in their encounters, but she couldn’t take any chances. She refused to think of him as Karin’s father. Jimmie was Karin’s dad. He’d soothed her as a teething baby, been scared stiff when she broke her collarbone in the fourth grade, saved for her education and welcomed each and every sticky child’s kiss and homemade Father’s Day card. Skylar ached at the memories—Jimmie romancing her as a new mother had been one of the biggest surprises of her life. They’d gotten married when Karin was four months old—he’d simply refused to see any reason they shouldn’t be together.

She glanced around the kitchen, shivering though it was warm. She’d had such a good life with Jimmie, so much better than she had ever expected to have. He’d loved Karin without reservation, and his family had accepted them both. The Gibsons must have been worried for their son in light of her youth and disreputable upbringing, but they hadn’t shown any hesitation. If Jimmie loved her, that was all they’d needed to know.

But Jimmie was gone now. If he were here, he would reassure her that Aaron or his family couldn’t possibly hope to get custody of Karin after such a long time. It was a worry that Skylar had harbored over the years, pushed into the background of their lives together, yet still there.

Bennie rubbed against her leg, purring madly, and she reached down to stroke him.

“Hey, boy,” she whispered. “You should go in with Karin. She needs you.”

He wandered toward the door. She could swear that he’d understood, though being a cat, he had to show his independence. Anybody who said felines were just selfish little beasts was wrong. No matter how egomaniacal, Bennie was fond of his humans. He just had to act as if everything was his idea—dogs were far more direct with their affections.

She got up and gathered a basket of laundry. The problem with housework was that it was never done, especially with a teenager in the house. Why her daughter had to change clothes ten times a day was beyond her. When she was that age she had been lucky to have four or five outfits, much less an overflowing closet.

Skylar winced. Back then, clothes were the least of her problems. The police and her teachers had labeled her incorrigible, and she’d come close to self-destructing. Her mother and father hadn’t noticed—they were too busy having public screaming matches and getting arrested for bashing in the windows of a neighbor’s car or some other drunken behavior. Skylar had both envied and resented the other kids for having nice, ordinary parents who didn’t knock them around, the way her parents did when they were tired of beating on each other.

Yet somehow, for reasons beyond understanding, she’d believed in the fairy-tale family, and Aaron’s family had seemed oh-so-respectable from the outside. That could be why she’d finally gone out with him. She hadn’t realized that being rich and publicly proper didn’t mean a thing. You could still be a louse.

The phone rang, and Skylar hurriedly started the washing machine before answering.

“It’s me, dear,” said her mother-in-law. “Are you busy?”

“Hi, Mom. No more than usual.” Skylar tucked the receiver under her chin as she folded clean towels. “What’s up?”

“Nothing. But Joe has the baseball game on, and I was wondering how it’s going over there.”

Skylar pictured her daughter’s stormy face. “The way you’d expect. Karin is watching, too.”

“I figured she would be.”

They were both silent for a long moment. Skylar wished she could tell Grace about her confrontation with Aaron, but she’d never discussed Karin’s biological father with her in-laws. Jimmie was the only one who’d known it was Aaron Hollister. Well...almost the only one.

It was odd. She would have sworn that nobody had guessed she was pregnant when she dropped out of school, and she’d deliberately moved to Trident to keep anyone from guessing. Yet S. S. Hollister had tried to give her payoff money after Karin was born. Skylar figured Aaron must have put it together and told his father—but if she was wrong and he didn’t know that Karin was his biological child, or had made himself forget, she’d rather keep it that way.

Payoff money...Skylar gritted her teeth. As if she’d gone to them for support or something else. She had ripped the check in half and told Sullivan Spencer “Spence” Hollister exactly what she thought of him and his son and where he could stuff his money. He’d simply laughed and walked away...forever, she hoped.

“Oh. Sorry, Grace, what was that? My mind was drifting,” she apologized, realizing her mother-in-law had broken the silence with a question.

“I just asked how Karin is doing in school so far. She was obsessed with her studies last year.”

“She’s no longer obsessed,” Skylar said drily. “This afternoon she informed me that her geometry problems are lame and aliens have replaced the principal with an android look-alike who drinks double espresso lattes all day and plots ways to kill students with boredom.”

Grace chuckled. “Good Lord. Aliens?”

“Yes. She’s now into Star Trek. Yesterday I found her practicing the Vulcan hand signal for ‘live long and prosper.’ At least I think that’s what it was, not something rude.”

“She wouldn’t have to practice that.”

Skylar instinctively looked at her fingers. No, you didn’t have to practice rude gestures. She’d begun flipping birds at her teachers in junior high school...a piece of information she’d prefer her daughter didn’t find out. Karin may have heard stories about her mother over the years, but since she hadn’t asked any questions, she probably wasn’t taking them seriously.

“When did this new interest in science fiction begin?” said Grace.

“That weekend she was sick and we couldn’t come for dinner. One of her friends loaned her a set of the Trek movies. Two days and half a bottle of cough syrup later, she was a fan.”

Grace chuckled again. “That’s our Karin. When she embraces something, it’s with all her heart.”

They chatted another few minutes before saying goodbye.

Skylar put the clean linens away and went to check on Karin in the family room. Things had been awfully quiet—no yelling at the pitcher, no declarations that the umpire needed glasses, and no shouts of triumph or despair.

“Hey,” she said. “What’s the score?”

“Five–zip, Dodgers.”

Skylar might not be a baseball fan, but she knew Karin’s three-word report meant the Los Angeles Dodgers were ahead. “Isn’t that the team you’re rooting for?”

Karin shrugged. She wasn’t crying, but she wasn’t happy, either. “It’s only the bottom of the fourth inning. They’ll probably blow it.”

Skylar let out a discouraged breath. Karin was a bright, enthusiastic kid...except when she was thinking about her dad being gone. “And they might win,” she reminded gently. “I’m sure Grandpa Joe would love to get on the phone with you.”

Karin didn’t respond, but she inched farther toward the end of the sectional couch. Right. She didn’t want the phone; she wanted someone sitting next to her...she just didn’t want to ask someone to sit next to her. Skylar thought of the dozen different tasks she should get done. It was a busy week, and she had a meeting on Thursday at City Hall that would take all evening.

She sat down. “Okay,” she said. “It’s time I learned more about baseball. Tell me what’s going on. The ones in white are the good guys, right?”

A small giggle escaped from Karin. “You’re really silly, Mom.”

* * *

AARON DROVE PAST the Nibble Nook the following morning and scowled. He had a huge job in front of him getting Cooper Industries back in shape, and Skylar wasn’t making it easier by befriending his sister. Well...her daughter had befriended Melanie, but it was essentially the same thing.

There were numerous cars at the hamburger stand, along with motorcycles and a couple of big rigs parked at the side of the road. They obviously served breakfast, and he had to admit, the scents wafting into his car were tempting. On the other hand, the presence of motorcycles and 18-wheelers was disturbing—the drivers of those vehicles weren’t necessarily a bad element, but there were no guarantees.

Almost as if taunting him, a tattooed cyclist got up from a table and strolled to his Harley. He spat on the ground and adjusted himself in his grubby-looking jeans before roaring away.

Wonderful.

Exactly the element an impressionable teenage girl needed.

Peggy was at her desk when he walked in, and he gave her a brief nod. He wasn’t thrilled with having Peggy as an assistant; she was efficient and responsible, but she was zealously loyal to his grandfather and likely calling him daily with reports on the company. Someone was informing George Cooper of the changes and new policies being made by his grandson, though he wasn’t showing a great deal of interest other than to say, “What’s good for Cooperton is good for Cooper Industries.”

Any warmth George possessed had mostly been shown to his employees and the town. He could be a genial man-of-the-people in the flash of an eye, but inside his own home he was cold and uptight. No wonder Aaron’s mother had rebelled—she’d fled Cooperton and done nothing but play ever since.

The phone rang before he reached his desk. It was Peggy, saying his father was on line one.

“Yes?” he said, punching the button.

“That’s a fine way to greet your old dad.” Spence Hollister was only “your old dad” when he wanted something.

“I don’t have time for games, Dad.” Aaron tucked the receiver under his chin and sorted through a stack of phone messages Peggy had left on his desk. A new phone system with voice mail had been installed months before, but he hadn’t decided whether his calls should continue to be screened by Peggy in a traditional executive style, or to take them himself.

“That’s always been your problem—you don’t enjoy life.”

“Some of us have a job. Why didn’t you call my cell phone?”

“I assumed you’d changed the number after moving to that Hicksville. You didn’t have to take over the Cooper company, son. For God’s sake, give it a decent burial and get out. Your mother never wanted to go back there—it’s the only thing we ever agreed on the entire time we were married.”

A headache stabbed Aaron’s temples. Much as he regretted giving up his lucrative position as CEO of a computer company, he couldn’t abandon Cooper Industries. He might have to give it a decent burial, but not until he’d done his best to keep it alive.

“What do you want, Dad?”

“I... Hang on. We’re having a spot of trouble with a champagne cork.”

A feminine laugh sounded in the background, and Aaron shook his head. His father was between wives, so his companion could be anyone from a London society deb to a belly dancer. Spence liked his ladies young, beautiful and endowed—and since he had an abundance of charm and wealth, they liked him, too.

“Sorry, son. I wanted to know if you’ll join my crew in next year’s America’s Cup race.”

“I haven’t been on your yacht since I was nineteen and foolishly took a semester off from college to train and compete.”

“Foolish? Nonsense. That was a damn good race—we won two of the heats, so I know you’re the key to the Sea Haven finally getting the trophy. Will you do it?”

Aaron practically snorted. Spence wasn’t into effort; he ran a yacht in the America’s Cup because he loved the publicity and being seen as a sportsman. He’d particularly reveled in the media coverage the year his eldest son was a crew member. On the other hand, Aaron was still fighting the dilettante image he’d earned.

“Not a chance, Dad.”

“But you can’t save that place. What’s the point of trying?”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence. By the way, Melanie is fine. I’m sure she’ll appreciate you asking,” Aaron said, his voice laced with irony.

None of S. S. Hollister’s kids had any illusions that he was especially concerned about them. You could be sure he didn’t even remember your name, and five minutes later he could make you feel as if you were the most important person in the world. As a kid, Aaron had craved the moments when his father focused on him and would have done almost anything to get his attention. Now he was mostly wary. When S.S. called, he wanted something, and it usually wasn’t to your benefit to give it to him.

“You would have let me know if Melanie had a problem,” Spence said easily. “Are you sure you won’t be a member of the Sea Haven’s crew? I’d make you skipper, but I’ve finally gotten Bill Driscoll to sign on and we have an ironclad contract. I do get to pick one crew member, and you’re the one I want.”

“Why don’t you ask Matt? He doesn’t have anything to do.” Aaron’s second brother was almost as much a playboy as their father, except he avoided serious relationships and was scrupulous about birth control. “Or Tamlyn or April or Oona?”

“Yachting isn’t their thing.”

Aaron snorted, suspecting his father had gone first to Matt and his three adult sisters before calling him. Spence wouldn’t have asked Jake, though. Even Spence knew his second son couldn’t be pried away from risking his neck in pursuit of the next great photograph—Jake’s photography was stunning, but his pictures weren’t taken in safe, convenient locales. It wasn’t any wonder that some people speculated whether Jake had a death wish.

“Yachting isn’t my thing, either, Dad. Give the choice back to Driscoll and let him win for you.”

“Ah, well. Let me know if Melanie wants anything. I’ll buy her a car as soon as she has her driver’s license.”

“No, you won’t,” Aaron insisted, a surge of adrenaline going through him. He did not want Melanie to have a car—he had good reason to know that teenagers did insane things when they were driving, and he had no desire to see his sister wrapped around a tree. She was going to have a top professional driving instructor and lots of practice before getting her own car was an option.

“Oh? I gave you a Mustang when you were sixteen. A sweet job. Just what a teenage boy needed to get girls.”

“And you gave me another when I was seventeen. I totaled the first one, remember?” Aaron knew it was a miracle he hadn’t killed himself when he’d spun out and slammed into a telephone pole—instead he’d gotten off with bruises and minor cuts. “Anyhow, Melanie is young for her age and I want her to have experience driving before she’s handed her own set of keys.”

“Fine, fine, just let me know when. Bye for now.” Spence didn’t sound upset—few things ruffled S. S. Hollister.

Aaron dropped the receiver in its cradle and looked around the office. He’d made a few modifications since returning to Cooperton, shifting the desk and adding file cabinets, but it remained furnished with his grandfather’s ponderous mahogany furniture and deep red carpet. Redecorating was out for a while though; other things were needed more.

On a sturdy new worktable by the window was his proposal for updating and expanding the factory. To finance the project he would have to sell some of the land the Cooper family had held for generations throughout Northern California, but he was convinced the company wouldn’t survive otherwise.

“Mr. Hollister?” Peggy said from the door. “The foreman in the tortilla chip division says there’s still a problem with the repairs he phoned you about yesterday. It seems a part in the machine is no longer replaceable—the company that used to make the equipment is now manufacturing air conditioners.”

“That’s what happens when you’re operating with antiques,” Aaron muttered.

“What?”

“Nothing. Have them assign additional employees to tape the boxes, then get the records on the equipment and special parts needed. I’ll research the matter.”

Peggy left, and Aaron tried to unclench his jaw. His grandfather hadn’t invested in significant capital improvements at Cooper Industries for almost three decades. The company needed so much, and here he was, spending time on an ancient machine that sealed boxes for shipping.

Perhaps if he got it taken care of quickly, he could get on with what he’d planned to do with his day. Three experts had reviewed the plans he’d worked up with an industrial engineer and now he needed to submit them to the Cooperton City Council for their approval—the town was so small they didn’t have a planning department. Besides, there was a zoning issue.

It was frustrating that elected officials, rather than trained professionals, would have a hand in deciding the future of Cooper Industries, but it shouldn’t be hard to get their support. After all, his company was the biggest employer in town.

* * *

“MELLIE, WASN’T THE game awesome?” Karin asked as they waited in line at the cafeteria to pay for their lunch. Her mom wasn’t crazy about the food the school served, but didn’t make her bring a sack lunch or anything. Thank God. Only the dorky kids ate sack lunches. It would be nice to eat at the Nibble Nook, but the school didn’t allow them to leave the grounds except with a parent or written permission.

“Yeah, but I’ve never watched baseball before,” Melanie confessed. She gave the cashier a fifty-dollar bill; the woman looked at it twice and glowered as she started counting out the change.

“How come?”

“I guess because I’ve moved around so much. A long time ago, before my mother got married again, one of her boyfriends was a football player, but I never knew what was happening when we went to his games. Baseball is easier.”

“I don’t get football, either, though some of the players are okay.” Karin nudged her friend, and they gazed longingly at Nick Jakowski as he talked to his friends across the room.

Nick was the yummiest guy in school and the captain of the football team. He was nice, too. He’d stopped the team from hazing a new boy who’d transferred from their biggest rival, Trident High, and he was friendly to freshmen, unlike most of the other seniors.

“Do you think he’s really going steady with Tiffany Baldwin?” Melanie said wistfully.

Tiffany was a cheerleader and thought she was, like, the most beautiful girl who’d ever lived. Most of the time she wasn’t too unbearable, except for an annoying, high-pitched laugh. And you couldn’t deny that she was pretty, with light gold hair and green eyes.

Karin sighed. “I don’t know. Susan Lightoller saw them kissing at the movies this summer, and Tory Wilson says they were holding hands at the Labor Day parade.”

“Oh.”

“But he wouldn’t let her share his ice cream at the carnival afterward,” Karin added, brightening at the recollection. “And Andrea Crane said that if they were French kissing a bunch he wouldn’t mind if she licked his cone.”

Melanie perked up as they took their trays to a table. “Your mom was great yesterday. She sure let Aaron have it.”

“You don’t like him, do you, Mellie?”

“Nobody does. Even so, I’m glad that I get to stay here this year.”

“Me, too.” Karin was still worried that Melanie’s brother would say she couldn’t come to the Nibble Nook. It was too weird being around her other friends now that her dad was dead; they wanted her to act as if everything was the same, and it wasn’t. Melanie never tried to get her to act different.

Karin poked the cheese enchiladas on her plate, no longer hungry. Sometimes almost a whole week would go by without her getting that awful knot in her tummy, or the horrid cold chills that came when she remembered her dad’s accident. Then she’d feel guilty, as if she was forgetting him.

“I wish we could eat lunch at the Nibble Nook,” Melanie said, taking a bite of her Mexican rice. “But this is better than the stuff at my last school.” She made a gagging gesture.

“Yeah, Mom makes awesome burgers.” Karin determinedly began eating.