Читать книгу Parents Wanted! - Ruth Dale Jean - Страница 6

CHAPTER ONE

MRS. FORBES, longtime receptionist at the Rawhide, Colorado, Review, looked up from her word processor with a smile. “Why Jessica Reynolds!” she exclaimed. “How are you, honey? I haven’t seen you since your ninth birthday party and that was at least three months ago!”

Jessica shifted uneasily from one foot to the other, thrusting her hands behind her back so Mrs. Forbes wouldn’t see the plastic shopping bag, or be curious about its contents. “My birthday is April sixteenth,” she said. “Thank you for the soccer ball.”

“My pleasure.” The nice lady beamed. “Would you like a jellybean?”

“Yes, thank you.” Mrs. Forbes always had a bowl of jellybeans on her desk; you could tell she was a grandma. Jessica scooped out a handful and popped several into her mouth.

Mrs. Forbes nodded approvingly. “So what brings you here to a boring old newspaper office on this fine July day?”

Jessica spoke around a mouthful of candy. “I came to see my grandpa. Is he here?”

“He sure is.”

“Can I talk to him?”

“You sure can.” Mrs. Forbes pointed to the closed door with the sign that said Editor, Publisher, Owner and King. “Go right on in, honey. He’s been working on that editorial for two hours already. If it’s not right now, it never will be. And you can tell him I said so!” With a final smile she returned to her typing.

Jessica popped the last of the jellybeans into her mouth and squared her shoulders. She had come to see her grandfather on a very important mission and she didn’t want to make any mistakes. With purposeful steps she marched to his office and threw open the door.

John Reynolds looked up from behind his big desk with surprise on his jolly face. His thick white hair stuck out in all directions and Jessica thought in passing that he needed a haircut. But then, so did her daddy, most of the time. So did she, for that matter.

Grandpa grinned broadly and turned away from the word processor on the corner of his desk. “Hi, there, Sugar. Come give your favorite great-grandpa a big kiss!”

“You’re my only grandpa, and you are great,” Jessica said, because she knew he expected it. She only had one grandpa but this one would be her favorite even if she had ten grandpas. She trotted obediently around the desk and planted a big smack on his cheek, being careful to keep her shopping bag behind her.

He continued to beam at her. “So what brings you to my neck of the woods when you should be out playing with your friends?” He waved her toward a chair beside the desk.

She slipped into it, dangling bare brown legs over the edge of the seat. Maybe she should have dressed up for this important job? Her grandfather seemed to like seeing her in dresses and here she was in old cut-off jeans and a faded red T-shirt. She frowned, suddenly realizing that her sneakers had identical holes over the little toes of both feet. She sighed. Too late to worry about that now.

He was waiting for an answer. She pursed her lips and tried to think how to begin. “Well, see...uh...”

He stopped smiling but he didn’t look mean or anything. “Hmm...” He cocked his head to one side. “Looks like you mean business this time, young lady.”

“I sure do!” Jessica popped to her feet, finally hauling the bag around in front of her. Placing it on the floor, she reached inside and pulled out her piggy bank, the white ceramic one with the red spots that Grandpa had given her Christmas before last She placed the bank on the desktop before him.

He leaned back in his chair, hooking his thumbs in his suspenders. “What’s this!”

“All the money I have in the world,” she said fervently. “I hope it’s enough.”

“Enough for what?”

Turning, she rummaged around in her shopping bag again and pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper, her heart pounding. Holding her breath, she offered the paper to him.

He unfolded the page and spread it out on the desk with great care. Picking up his glasses, he perched them on his nose and began to read.

Jessica held her breath. She’d put a lot of thought into the advertisement she wanted to place in her grandfather’s newspaper. Hadn’t he always said you could find anything you wanted, or get rid of anything you didn’t want, with an ad in the Review?

She was about to put him to the test. She’d worked very hard on her ad, copying it over and over, trying to get all the words just right. She’d read it so many times that now she could recite it by heart:

“‘Wife Wanted. Rich and handsome Prince Charming who likes kids and pets needs a wife. She must be pretty and nice and also like kids and pets.’”

“Well, well, well.” Grandpa removed his glasses and peered at her in surprise. “Prince Charming, huh? Are you talking about anybody we know here?”

Jessica laughed nervously. “You know we are, Grandpa. I’m talking about Daddy!”

He nodded, looking very serious. “That’s what I thought until I got to that ‘rich’ part.”

“Pretty rich,” she hedged. “I heard Mrs. Forbes say he was a great catch one time. Is that the same?”

He rolled his eyes. “Close enough for government work, I guess. But I wouldn’t exactly call my grandson a Prince Charming, either.”

“I had to say something nice or nobody would answer the ad,” she argued a little desperately.

He chuckled softly. “Is it that important to you, Sugar? Aren’t you happy? Isn’t your daddy taking good care of you?”

This was the part she’d dreaded, trying to explain to Grandpa how she felt. “He’s...he’s awesome as a daddy,” she said slowly, “but as a mother... well, as a mother, Grandpa, he...he...”

“Stinks?” he offered helpfully.

She sighed. “Yeah, I guess.”

“But I thought he had girlfriends. I mean, doesn’t he go out on dates sometimes?”

Now it was Jessica’s turn to roll her eyes. “Sure, but not with mothers. They’re pretty and all, but they just pat me on the head and try to get away as fast as they can.” She curled her lip at the memories. “That Brandee woman is the worst.”

“You mean Brandee Haycox, the banker’s daughter?”

Jessica blinked. “I don’t know. I just know she doesn’t like kids much and she hates dogs. When she saw Fluffy the first time, she screamed.”

“Honey, Fluffy is a ninety-pound Siberian Husky with silver eyes and fangs like a wolf.”

She thrust out her bottom lip stubbornly. “That Brandee woman doesn’t like dogs! What kind of person doesn’t like dogs?”

“You got me there.” He cocked his head and he was no longer smiling. “You don’t think...you don’t think your father’s planning to marry her?”

Hot tears sprang to Jessica’s eyes. “I hope not, but he’s gotta marry someone. I need a mother! I need someone who knows how to comb my hair without pulling it out by the roots.” With one hand she flipped up her long straight hair—straight except for the tangles. “And I want to learn how to cook, and I need someone to sew on my buttons and stuff. Daddy’s no good at girl things, Grandpa.”

“Never was,” he admitted.

“So I just have to do something.” Looking around, she spied the big metal stapler on his desk. Grabbing it, she raised it high above the plaster pig, ready to shatter it to smithereens so she could offer him every single cent.

“Hold on!” Grandpa caught her hand in midair.

She frowned. “Don’t you want to know how much money I have? Maybe I don’t have enough.”

“You’ve got plenty.” He slipped the stapler from her hand. “I’ll trust you for it.”

That had been a big worry. She slumped with relief.

He cupped her chin and raised it so he could look into her eyes. “This is really important to you, isn’t it, little one?”

She sighed. “It is, Grandpa. I’m growing up. I’m almost ten—”

“Barely nine.”

“—and I’m gonna be a teenager soon. Somebody’s gotta show me girl stuff or I might goof up.”

For a long time, Grandpa sat there with a thoughtful and kind of sad look on his face. Then he suddenly sat up straighter. “Okay, we’ll do it,” he announced.

She threw herself into his arms, so filled with relief that she could barely talk beyond murmuring over and over again, “Oh, thank you, thank you!”

“Here’s how we’ll work it. We’ll run the ad blind—”

“Ads can’t see!”

He laughed. “Blind means we won’t say whose ad it is. We’ll direct replies to the Review at Box 100.”

“Okay.” She didn’t understand exactly what the point was but she didn’t much care as long as he would run her ad.

“Then when we get in all the replies—if there are any—we’ll tell your daddy what we’ve done.”

“Let’s pray,” Jessica suggested, under no illusions that her father would be pleased. But as he was always saying to her, she was doing this for his own good whether he realized it or not.

“You got it.” Grandpa grimaced. “I don’t expect that grandson of mine will be any too happy but by then it’ll be too late.”

They exchanged conspiratorial glances. Then he said more cheerfully, “Anyway, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it.” His big grin flashed again. “You see, Sugar, you’re not the only one who’d like to see him settle down with a nice girl.”

“Who likes kids and dogs,” she reminded him, because that was the most important part.

“Absolutely.” He stood up. “Take your pig and run along now. I’ll see that the ad gets into today’s paper.”

“Thanks, Grandpa.” She hugged him. “But I want you to keep the pig. Daddy says only deadbeats don’t pay their bills.”

“Well...I can wait for payment until we see if our scheme works out, I suppose. I’ll keep the pig until then.”

“Thank you, grandpa. I love you.”

“I love you, too, Sugar.” He cleared his throat. “So where’s your daddy today?”

“He’s working on Mrs. Gilliam’s house.”

“Still?”

“I don’t think he’ll ever get it right,” she said seriously, repeating something she’d heard at home.

“Probably not,” Grandpa agreed. “Poor Laura. So that’s why she said she’d be coming in late today.”

Matt Reynolds shoved his cap back on his head, planted fists on hips and glared at Laura Gilliam. The life-styles editor of the Rawhide Review had to be the pickiest customer he’d encountered since he started the Reynolds Construction Company years ago.

She stared right back at him with an exasperated expression on her face—admittedly a very pretty face but stubborn. Really really stubborn.

He spoke past gritted teeth. “You realize that if you keep changing the specifications on us, we’ll never get your family room finished.”

Slender brows rose above velvety brown eyes. Her lips were the pink of roses, although set in a straight and forbidding line at the moment. “Don’t patronize me, Matthew Reynolds,” she said. “This is the only family room I’ll ever be adding to this house and I want it to be right.”

“Right.” She wouldn’t know right if it walked up and kicked her in the shin. What difference was it going to make when she used it, if the bar was six inches to the right or left? But to put it where she wanted it was going to mean changing the door and that meant the windows would have to be adjusted and the refrigerator shifted—hell.

“I knew you’d understand,” she said sweetly.

“Who understands? But if that’s what you want—”

“It is,” she said quickly. “Thank you very much for your...patience?” Her expression said something else entirely, something along the lines of you’re not going to bully me, you big oaf. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to get in to work.”

“Sure. Don’t let me keep you.”

She turned and he found himself admiring the curve of her hips beneath the denim skirt, the slender legs, the bounce of blond hair. When she’d first moved to town three years ago to take the job at the Review, he’d thought that maybe they might...

But he’d been badly mistaken. Laura Gilliam might look good but she was stand-offish and guarded her privacy too fiercely. So far as Matt knew, she rarely dated, although she was much admired by the half of the population which was male.

Helluva waste.

She disappeared through the door which temporarily connected the new construction with the rest of the house. He heard her call out, “Abby, I’m going back to work now.”

Matt knew that “Abby” was Abby Royce, recent high school graduate who was baby-sitting Laura’s six-year-old son, Zach, for the summer. He heard a further mumble of voices and then the slam of the front door, followed by the sound of her car engine.

Zach came skipping around the side of the already-framed room addition. “Hi, Mr. Reynolds,” he called out, his expression eager as always. “What cha doin’? Can I help?”

Matt grinned. Laura might be a pain in the neck but Zach was a great kid. A great fatherless kid, Matt corrected himself—and it showed. The boy was painfully eager for a man’s company.

“I can always use a good helper.” He waved Zach up beside him. “I was just hoping someone would come along to drive in a nail for me.”

“I can do it!” The earnest, freckled face looked almost ecstatic.

“You know,” Matt said slowly, “I kinda think you can.”

While Zach pounded away, both hands on the hammer, at a nail already started, Matt felt a curious warmth spreading through him. All little boys needed a man around the house. But considering how obstinate this little boy’s mother was, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Poor kid.

Running up the front steps of the Review, Laura met her boss’s great-granddaughter coming down. Jessica was a real sweetie, unlike her moose of a father.

“Hi, honey,” she greeted the girl. “Drop by to see your grandpa?”

The girl stopped short and her blue eyes widened. “Yes, but don’t tell,” she said quickly.

Peculiar response. “Okay, if you don’t want me to,” Laura promised. Automatically she reached out to brush back brown hair falling across Jessica’s eyes, nearly obscuring her vision. Poor little thing; her hair always looked like a haystack. And it would be so pretty if something were done with it.

The girl looked up with wide eyes. “Does my hair look awful?” she asked anxiously. “I combed it this morning, honest.”

“It looks just fine.” Laura finished smoothing the bangs out of the way. “Your hair is really very pretty.”

“It’s awful!” Jessica batted at it. “I wanted to cut it since second grade but Daddy won’t let me. He likes long hair but it gets in my way all the time.”

“Why don’t you braid it, or wear a ponytail?” Laura suggested; a reasonable solution, she thought.

Jessica’s lower lip thrust out. “Because I don’t know how,” she muttered.

“Well, for goodness sake, if that’s the only problem—!” Grabbing the girl’s hand, Laura guided her back up the steps. “Come inside. I can teach you in five minutes.”

“Really?”

“Really.”

And she did. Then she bought Jessica a can of soda and they spent another half hour talking—“Girl talk,” Jessica said smugly.

“That’s right,” Laura agreed, admiring the long braid swinging neatly between the girl’s shoulder blades. “Feel free to drop by any time you need help with your coiffure.”

“My what?”

“Coiffure. That’s hairdo in French.”

“Coiffure.” Jessica preened. “I didn’t even know I had one!”

Because you don’t have a mother, Laura thought, feeling infinitely sorry for the pretty little girl before her. And that father of yours apparently isn’t doing anything to help you out, either. You’re growing up fast and there’s so much a girl needs to learn.

Poor Jessica really needed a woman around the house, but considering how pigheaded her father was, that wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

Poor kid.

“Hi, Daddy.”

Matt looked up from the building plans he’d been perusing to see his daughter skipping across Laura’s lawn. She looked different and for a moment he didn’t realize it was because her hair was in a neat braid instead of hanging free around her face.

She looked nice. He wondered who’d done it for her.

She preened before him, turning her head this way and that. “Like my coiffure?” she inquired coyly.

Zach, playing in the grass with a square of sandpaper, frowned. “What’s a cough-your?” he wondered.

Jessica grinned broadly. “A hairdo, silly.”

Matt smothered his smile. “So who braided your hair and taught you such a big word?” he teased his daughter.

She pointed to Zach. “His mother!”

Zach clapped his hands together. “Hooray for Mama!” He looked expectantly at Matt.

“Yeah, hooray,” Matt responded, less than thrilled with the news. “So where have you been?” he asked Jessica.

“Around.” She said it with airy superiority.

“Does your sitter know where you are?”

“I told Mrs. Brown I was going over to the crafts workshop at the school.”

“But you didn’t?”

Zach stood up. “I’m glad you came to my house, Jessie. Want to play?”

Her gaze shifted from the little boy to her father and back again. “Daddy—”

Zach tugged on her hand. “Jessie, I got a new video. Want to watch it?”

Matt frowned. “Jessica, I asked if you’ve been to the crafts workshop at school.” Even in a town as small and friendly as Rawhide, he didn’t like the idea of her wandering around anywhere she chose to go.

She nodded without meeting his gaze. “So now can I go see Zach’s video? It’s probably some baby thing but—”

“It’s not a baby thing!” The little boy’s face turned red. “It’s got a horse and a dog and a cow—”

Matt gave in. “Run along, kids. Jessica, I’ll call you when it’s time to go.”

“Okay.”

He watched them hurry away, the little boy putting his hand trustingly in Jessica’s. Nice kids, both of them.

But now he had to figure out where to relocate the damned door so he could put this project for the picky Mrs. Gilliam behind him.

But Jessica’s hair did look good.

. Zach’s baby-sitter gave the kids an apple and a glass of lemonade each, put in the new video and departed to fold laundry. It only took a couple of minutes for Jessica to decide that, Zach’s opinion to the contrary, this was a film for little kids.

Zach finally looked around at his fidgeting guest with a frown. “What’s the matter?” he asked.

“This movie is boring.”

“It’s not neither boring!” He clenched his hands.

Jessica gave him a superior glance. “It is to me,” she said. “Besides, I’m thinking about something important.”

“Important?” Zach swiveled around on his seat on the floor before the television.

Jessica examined her surroundings for lurkers. Then she whispered to Zach, “Can you keep a secret?” She felt as if she’d bust if she didn’t tell someone what she’d done.

Zach made a big X on his chest with one forefinger. “Cross my heart and hope to die!”

“Okay, then.” She licked her lips and leaned forward. “I’m gonna get a new mother!”

“A new—?” His expression lightened as if he’d just caught on. “You are? Who?”

“Don’t know yet. I put an ad in my grandpa’s newspaper.” She pulled out the newspaper she’d picked up in his yard on the way in, turned to the appropriate page and read her ad proudly.

“My mama is pretty and nice and likes kids and pets,” Zach said when she’d finished. Suddenly he frowned, then asked sharply, “Can I get a daddy that way?”

“You mean, put your own ad in the newspaper?” She thought for a few moments. “Well, I don’t know but I don’t think so. In the first place, you don’t have any money to pay for it.”

“I have a whole dollar that the tooth fairy left last week,” Zach objected hotly.

“That’s not near enough.” Jessica couldn’t help thinking what a child he was. “Besides, a mother is probably easier to find than a father.”

“But I already got a mother!” He looked on the verge of tears. Just then his big old orange cat, Lucy, crawled onto his lap. He clutched Lucy so hard she let out a resentful yowl before cuddling up to him.

And at that very moment, Jessica suddenly had a really brilliant idea....

“You again?”

Jessica laughed and ran to hug her grandfather. “Aren’t you glad to see me, Grandpa?”

He grinned. “You know I am.” He gave her a skeptical look. “Did you see your ad?”

She nodded eagerly.

“Didn’t you like it?”

“I love it!”

“Then...?”

“I’ve already got an answer!”

He stared at her in astonishment. “But how? The ad’s barely had time to hit the streets.”

“I don’t care, I’ve got an answer! I didn’t know what to do with it so I brought it to you.” She handed him a sheet of paper identical to the one her ad had been written on.

Again, he opened the paper and together they read, “‘Deer Prens Charmng. My mama is nise and prety. Pleas pik her my dady is dead. Love, Zach G.’”

“He’s just a little kid,” Jessica explained in her grandfather’s ear. “I told him how to spell ‘prince’ but he still goofed it up. And he got confused on ‘pretty’ and left out a ‘t’—” She glanced at her grandfather and stopped speaking abruptly.

It almost looked as if Grandpa had tears in his eyes.