Читать книгу Adding Up To Family - Marie Ferrarella, Marie Ferrarella - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“Stevi?” Steve called up the stairs to his ten-going-on-eleven-year-old daughter, as she was apt to remind him any number of times in a week. “Get a move on. You don’t want to be late for class and I don’t want to be late to work.”

The petite, dark-haired girl frowned as she came down. “Dad, I told you to call me Stephanie,” she stated, stepping into the living room. “And I also told you that I’m perfectly able to walk to school. You don’t have to risk being late to work just to take me there.”

They’d been over this ground a dozen times in the last six weeks, ever since Stevi had decided that she had outgrown practically everything. Next, she’d decide that she’d outgrown him.

“Maybe I like taking you to school,” Steve told his daughter. “Did you ever think of that?”

A tired, sympathetic look passed over her face. “Dad, I’m growing up,” she said wearily. “You’re going to have to get used to that.”

She hardly looked any older than she had six months ago, or even a year ago, but he knew she was. It was inevitable, just as she maintained.

But he didn’t have to like it.

Stifling a sigh, Steve put a hand on her shoulder and hustled his only child out the door. “Don’t be in such an all-fired hurry to grow up, Stephanie. Enjoy being a kid a little while longer.” He closed the door and locked it. “Trust me, it goes by fast.”

“I’ve been a kid, Dad,” Stephanie pointed out, sounding a great deal older than her actual years. She got into the car on the passenger side and buckled up. “And it’s not going by nearly fast enough. At least, it isn’t for me.”

Steve started up the car. He knew he was losing this argument.

“Well, it is for me,” he told her. “Anyway, I wanted to let you know that we’re going to be getting another housekeeper. I talked to Mrs. Parnell and she called back this morning to tell me that she has the perfect match for us. She’s going to be bringing her by this afternoon, right after I drive you home from school.”

Steve stifled another sigh, knowing that his next words were going to be useless, but he said them anyway. “I want you to be on your best behavior, Stephanie. That means that I don’t want you to do anything to scare this one away, understand?”

“I didn’t do anything to scare Mrs. Pritchett away,” Stevi protested. “She left us because she was going to be a grandma.”

“She left because she had already become a grandmother,” Steve corrected, wanting Stevi to get the details right.

She maintained a bored expression on her face. “What’s the difference?”

He made it through the next light just before it turned red. He didn’t think the topic was worth getting into now. “I’ll explain it later.”

Stevi sighed, sinking lower in her seat and crossing her arms indignantly. “That’s what you always say when you don’t want to explain something.”

He decided that the best thing for now was to ignore his daughter’s rather salient point. “Mrs. Parnell is bringing the new housekeeper by this afternoon—”

“You already said that,” Stevi pointed out impatiently.

“And I’m saying it again,” he told her. “I’ve rearranged my schedule so that I can pick you up from school and then we will meet this new housekeeper together.”

Stevi raised her small chin, a bantam rooster just itching for a fight. “What if I don’t like this one? What if she’s like Mrs. Applegate? Or Mrs. Kelly?”

“Please like this one,” he implored. He was torn between begging and telling his daughter that she was going to like the new housekeeper or else. He resigned himself to trying to reason with Stevi—again. “And for your information, there was nothing wrong with Mrs. Applegate or Mrs. Kelly.”

Stevi sniffed. “They were both jumpy and nervous.”

Caught at another red light, he spared his daughter a penetrating glance. “And who made them that way?”

The expression on his daughter’s face was nothing short of angelic as she replied, “I don’t know.”

Right. “I’ve got a feeling that you do. And never mind them, anyway,” he said dismissively. “We’ve got a chance for a fresh start here, so let’s both try to make a go of it.” When his daughter made no response, he added, “Please, Stevi? For me?”

“It’s Stephanie,” she stressed pointedly.

“Please, whoever you are,” he said through almost clenched teeth, as he pulled up at the school where Stevi was taking summer school classes, “do it for me.”

Stevi released a sigh that seemed twice as large as she was. Getting out of the car, she nodded. “Okay, Dad, if it means that much to you, I’ll try.”

“Do more than try,” Steve called after her. “Do.”

It was half an order, half a plea, both parts addressed to his daughter’s back as she walked away, heading toward the building.

He hoped that this new housekeeper Mrs. Parnell had found came with an infinite supply of patience. Otherwise, he thought glumly as he pulled away, he was going to have to start looking into boarding schools in earnest.

* * *

Moving his lunch hour so that he was able to pick Stevi up from summer school, Steve arrived at the school yard to find that most of the cars that had been there earlier were now gone. It was a sure sign that everyone had already picked up their child and gone home. Steve really hated being late, hated the message it sent his daughter: that she was an afterthought, even though that was in no way true.

She was the center of his universe, but he seemed to have lost the ability to get that across to her.

Scanning the immediate area, he saw Stevi standing at the curb, a resigned, somewhat forlorn look on her face.

“I could have walked home,” she told him by way of a greeting when he pulled up beside her. “You didn’t have to come running back for me.”

Leaning over, he opened the door for her, then waited for her to get in. “I didn’t run. I drove.”

Stevi glared at him in a way that told him he knew what she meant.

There were times when it was really difficult to remember that she was only ten years old. It seemed more like she was ten going on thirty—and he didn’t know how to handle either one of those stages.

Not for the first time, he wondered why kids didn’t come with instruction manuals.

“Anyway, you forget,” he told her, pulling away from the curb, “I had to bring you home so that we could meet the new housekeeper.”

“Housekeeper,” she repeated in a mocking tone. “You know that you’re really getting her so you have someone to watch over me,” she accused.

“In part,” Steve allowed, unwilling to lie to his daughter. He had always been honest with Stevi, and until a little while ago, that had been enough. It was the reason they had a bond. But these days, it seemed as if nothing was working, and he felt, rightly or wrongly, that it was his fault.

“I don’t need to be watched,” Stevi informed him indignantly, continuing her thought. “I’m too old to have a babysitter.”

“She’s a housekeeper,” Steve stressed. “And her job is to run the household. You just happen to be part of it.”

Stevi’s face hardened. “She can’t tell me what to do,” the young girl insisted.

“Stephanie,” he began, taking great pains to call her by the name she professed to prefer, “I expect you to be polite to the woman.”

“You mean you expect me to do what she says,” Stevi corrected.

“What I expect, Stephanie, is for you not to give me a headache,” he told her, the last of his patience slipping away.

Reaching the house, he left his car parked in the driveway and went inside with his daughter.

When had parenting become so difficult? he wondered. He and Stevi had always gotten along, even right after her mother died. Stevi had been only four and they’d helped one another, supporting each other whenever the other was down and really needed it. Where had all that gone?

He was about to say something else to Stevi when he heard the doorbell ring. It pushed his train of thought into the background. For now, he tabled the rest of what he wanted to say.

“Remember,” he warned his daughter in a lowered tone, “be polite.”

“Only if she is,” Stevi said, just as he opened the door.

He gave his daughter a warning glance before turning to look at Mrs. Parnell and the housekeeper she had brought with her.

Steve found himself tongue-tied, staring at the woman beside Mrs. Parnell. Although no actual description had been given, for some reason he had expected this latest candidate for housekeeper to be like the others: another middle-aged woman in sensible shoes, with a somewhat expanding waistline and a pasted-on smile that ended before ever reaching her eyes.

Instead, the woman beside Mrs. Parnell was a blue-eyed blonde who might have been twenty-five or so. She was slender and there was nothing sensible about her shoes—or the rest of her, for that matter. She was wearing high heels and looked as if she was about to go out on a date, not a job interview. And since nothing had actually been settled between himself and Mrs. Parnell, that was what this actually was. A job interview.

“Mr. Holder,” Celia said, addressing him formally for the sake of the interview, “I’d like you to meet Rebecca Reynolds.” Celia smiled broadly at the young woman. There was a great deal of pride in her manner. “Rebecca is one of my best employees.”

Steve was still at a loss for words. He knew that Mrs. Parnell had brought the woman here to be a housekeeper, but the more he looked at her, the more she just didn’t seem like the type.

When his tongue finally came back to life and reengaged with his brain, he heard himself asking, “You’re a cleaning lady?”

Rather than be insulted by the demotion, Becky smiled. “My mother would prefer the term ‘maintenance engineer,’” she said with a soft laugh. “But yes, in simple terms, I’m a cleaning lady. Mrs. Parnell said the position you’re looking to fill is housekeeper.”

“You have any experience?” The question didn’t come from Steve, but from his daughter, who was regarding this new woman Mrs. Parnell had brought into her life with a great deal of suspicion.

To Rebecca’s credit, Steve noticed that she didn’t balk at having his daughter ask her a question.

“Yes, three years’ worth,” she replied.

“As a housekeeper?” Stevi asked, eyeing her closely as she grilled her.

“Stev—Stephanie,” Steve corrected, not wanting his daughter to go off on another tangent, “I’ll handle the questions.”

“I don’t mind answering,” Becky told him calmly. “This would actually be my first job as a housekeeper. But that would entail cleaning and cooking, and I can do both. I’ve done both before.”

“You’d also have to watch my daughter...” Steve felt bound to tell her that.

Stevi instantly took offense. “I don’t need watching,” she declared.

He was about to ask her to go to her room, but the woman interjected before he could send her off.

“No, I’m sure you don’t,” Becky told the girl. “You don’t need someone telling you what to do, do you, Stephanie?” Turning away from her very good-looking, would-be new employer, she focused strictly on the little girl. “You look as if you’re perfectly capable of watching out for yourself. I’d just be here in case you needed me,” she explained. “It would be more to set your father’s mind at ease than anything else.”

Stevi said nothing. She continued to study this housekeeping candidate as if trying to make up her mind whether she was being misled, or if this new woman might wind up being an ally.

Finally, Stevi nodded and said to Becky, “I guess that’s okay.”

“Well, Mr. Holder?” Celia asked, speaking up after quietly watching all three parties interacting with one another. It was easy to see that she was pleased with the way this was going. “Are you willing to give Rebecca a trial run? Say, for about two weeks?” she suggested, observing Steve’s face.

“Two weeks,” Steve repeated, as he rolled the words over in his mind. He was secretly stunned that it was so easy. Considering the way she’d been acting lately, he thought his daughter would fight this new setup tooth and nail. “Yes, I think I can do that. Two weeks should be enough time to find out if we can all work together,” he concluded, giving his daughter a quick side glance.

“What about you, Stephanie?” Becky asked the little girl. “Do two weeks work for you?”

“Me?” Stevi asked, clearly surprised that she was actually being consulted in this decision by the grown-ups. “Um, yes—I guess so,” she added, no doubt not wanting to seem too pleased to have her opinion matter.

But she was.

“Then I guess this is settled,” Celia declared happily. She turned toward Steve. “Until you decide this isn’t working out, I now pronounce you housekeeper and boss.”

“And charge,” Becky added.

“What’s a ‘charge’?” Stevi asked, apparently wondering if she should be taking offense.

“You.” The warmth of Becky’s smile defused any indignation that Stevi was debating harboring.

“I’ll walk you to the door, Mrs. Parnell,” Steve offered, turning toward the woman. “I’ve got to get back to work soon, anyway.” Once in the entry, he lowered his voice. “Isn’t she kind of young to be doing this kind of thing? I thought she’d be...”

“Older?” Celia asked, trying to supply the word he was looking for.

But that wasn’t it. “Sturdier,” he finally said, glancing over his shoulder at the woman Celia had brought to him.

“Rebecca is very capable, Steve. Trust me,” she stated. “She can take care of herself, and you’ll find that she’s more than equal to the job.”

“Of cleaning the house,” he said. He had no doubts about that. But he did about another matter. “I was thinking more about Stevi.”

“She’s more than equal to taking care of your daughter, too,” Celia assured him. That was based more on a gut feeling than on anything that could be found in a résumé. But there was something about the way Rebecca conducted herself that told Celia she’d be fully capable of doing so.

But Steve wanted to be convinced. “How do you know that?”

Celia merely smiled at him. “Some things, Steve, you just have to take on faith. Faith and instinct,” she added, feeling that he needed something more to hang on to. She wasn’t about to tell him about Becky’s background; that was hers to reveal. Besides, if she told him that the young woman who had just agreed to clean his house and look after his daughter had a degree from MIT, he either wouldn’t believe her or, just possibly, he would be intimidated, thinking that there was something wrong with the woman.

Celia wanted him to get to know Becky and vice versa before that extra piece of information was placed on the table. Because Becky wasn’t just a walking brain; first and foremost, she was a person. The kind of person Celia firmly believed Steve Holder needed in his life. As did his daughter.

But that was something all three parties needed to discover for themselves in due time. In this particular case, too much knowledge at the outset equaled too much information to deal with. She wanted everyone to proceed unhampered and learn about each other slowly, at their own pace.

Telling Steve goodbye and that she’d be in touch, Celia smiled to herself as she took her leave.

She didn’t want to jinx anything, but had to admit she had a good feeling about this.

Becky’s mother was due to be made happy very soon, Celia thought.