Читать книгу Made to Order Family - Ruth Herne Logan - Страница 14

“This is wonderful, Rita.”

Brooks’ voice jerked Rita out of her work zone. Her brush slipped and scarlet paint daubed his benchtop, the bright tone a standout against the clear, sealed wood. “Oops.”

His easy grin reassured her. “That’s why everything here is washable. Total necessity.”

His gaze canvassed the painted flowers, perky in their newly enameled finish. “Great effect already.”

Tootsie nodded. “Isn’t it, Boss? Talk about eye-catching.”

“As if you needed to catch any more business.” Rita made the observation as she used a fine-tipped brush to accentuate stem and leaf definition. “This place is hopping on a regular basis.”

“More business is never a bad thing.” Brooks held up her prospectus. “As you pointed out here. This is excellent, Reet.”

“Really?” Warmth spread through her, inspired by that heart-stopping smile.

But Rita had already made ginormous mistakes in the happily-ever-after department, and even though Brooks was a wonderful guy who would be Mr. Right for someone, he held himself just a little apart.

So had Tom.

Brooks liked his solitude.

So had Tom.

Rita had let herself be fooled by Tom’s charm, his brains, his charisma. She’d taken second place to his work, his fun and games, and then his embezzlement schemes.

Nope, she wasn’t looking for romance, not now. Her current efforts were best concentrated on raising her kids, keeping a semblance of order at home and striving to start a new business. That alone made her way too busy to contemplate silly things like fairy-tale endings with a guy who refused to darken the door of a church. While privacy wasn’t a bad thing, Brooks’ need for solitude sent warning signs flashing Do Not Enter!

“There are a couple of points I’d elaborate on a little more.”

“Such as?”

Brooks angled his chin toward their current project. “Let’s not discuss it now. Tomorrow night maybe? After the meeting? You’ve got Wednesday off, right?”

She did, but was surprised he remembered since her schedule changed weekly. Surprised and more than a little pleased. “Yes.”

“Then let’s talk about it after fellowship,” he suggested, his gray eyes thoughtful. “Have you considered where to apply?”

“I have. I’ll bring the list with me and we can go over it together.”

“Good.” He hesitated, his look saying he’d like to linger, his body language saying something else, although with a reluctance Rita didn’t often see. “I’ll head back to the workroom.”

Ah. He wanted to stay, be part of the action. Or maybe direct the action…

No, Rita decided, he just wanted to join in. Work with them. “Bunnies are next on our agenda. You ever painted a bunny, Brooks?”

Did he pale under that weathered skin?

“You’re kidding, right? Rabbits in my window? With the flowers?”

Rita shared a grin with Tootsie. “And birds,” Tootsie quipped. “You’ve read Bambi, Boss, right? All the little forest creatures hopping about, twitterpated.”

“Twitter-what? Never mind.” Brooks ran a big blunt hand through his hair and finished the action by rubbing the back of his neck, his face bemused. “You know where I am if you need me.”

Rita slanted a grin up to him.

The action stopped him. He contemplated her, his gaze a mix of rough and tender, sweet and strong, his eyes warming at her smile before he pulled himself away. He turned back at the door linking the clean room to the workroom. “Pepperoni and sausage?”

“Yum.”

Tootsie nodded, kind of, but Brooks didn’t catch her hesitation.

Rita did.

When Brooks had disappeared into his work area, Rita laid a hand along Tootsie’s arm. “What’s going on, Toots?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Are you still feeling sick?”

“I’m fine.”

Her ducked chin told Rita otherwise. “You’re not. Have you seen a doctor? Seriously, honey, this has been going on too long. You’ve been sick off and on for the better part of a month.”

Tootsie swallowed hard, eyes down, then sighed. She averted her gaze, staring at nothing, then dragged her gaze back and met Rita’s eyes. “I saw Dr. Renson last week.”

One of the area’s busiest and most sought-after obstetricians.

Rita drew a breath, worked her jaw and reached out to clasp Tootsie’s hands. “When is the baby due?”

“December.”

“A Christmas baby.” Rita beamed, trying to lighten the moment, soften the situation. “The time for miracles, Toots.”

A tiny smile softened Tootsie’s worried features, but just for a moment. Worry redescended, pushing Rita to grab her in a hug. “It’ll be fine, honey. I promise. Does Matt know?”

Matt was Tootsie’s soldier fiancé, currently deployed to Iraq.

“No.”

“You haven’t told him?”

Tootsie paled. “No.”

“But why?” Rita wondered out loud, confused. “Toots, you’re engaged, it’s not the end of the world. Why haven’t you told him?”

Tootsie drew in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Because Matt hasn’t been home since last Thanksgiving.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to do the math. Rita sank back in her chair. “Oh, no.”

“Exactly.” Tears pooled in Tootsie’s bright brown eyes, their cinnamon tone matching hair of similar color, such a pretty combination. “I don’t know how to tell him what I’ve done. I’m so ashamed.”

“Does Brooks know?”

Tootsie shook her head. “Absolutely not. Brooks is a good guy and a stellar boss, but he’s a staunch conservative and big on faith and following the rules. He’d never understand how I could do such a thing.”

Rita shifted forward, concerned. “Tootsie, nothing is unforgivable. Do you remember the gospel story about the adulteress? How the Pharisees sentenced her to be stoned?”

Tootsie drew back, remorse twisting her features.

Rita gripped her hands and leaned forward. “Jesus told the crowd that those without sin should cast the first stone. And slowly, one by one, they dropped their stones and walked away because we’re all sinners, honey. Each and every one of us. And God forgives those sins. All we have to do is ask.” She gave Tootsie’s hands an encouraging squeeze, hoping her empathy rang true. “Things happen, Toots. God knows that. And you’ve got friends nearby, people who will stand by you. Help you.”

“No family.”

“We’ll be your family,” Rita insisted. Tootsie had been raised by a live-off-the-land aunt in a smaller-than-small town near Malone, but her aunt had moved to Arizona several years ago, leaving Tootsie dating Matt and working for Brooks. This new turn of events would most likely sever Tootsie’s ties to Matt’s family, leaving her abandoned. “You’ve got us, kiddo. I promise.”

Tootsie’s jaw quivered. She firmed it, straightened and set her shoulders back, determined. “It’ll be fine, I know. Eventually. I just dread telling Matt. And Brooks.”

“If you need me around when you do it, I’ll be glad to ride shotgun.”

“Planning a bank heist?” Liv crossed the room smiling, one brow hiked as she surveyed the bright promise of their painting efforts. A glimpse of Tootsie’s tear-streaked face blotted out her smile. “Toots, what’s up?”

Tootsie waved her away. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.”

Liv rolled her eyes. “Yeah and Gretzky’s just another hockey player.”

“Your mom can tell you later. Right now—” Tootsie repositioned herself, chin down, eyes on the first bunny “—I need to work.”

“All right.” Liv stepped back, worry shading her brow. A tiny head shake from Rita erased the frown. “These are perfect,” she exclaimed, eyeing the finished flowers. “Skeeter is helping me lay the matting. The glass images are done and drying. We actually might be able to get this done tonight.”

“Bunnies won’t be dry,” Rita warned her.

“That’s no big deal.” Liv shrugged. “Toots can put them in place tomorrow. The flowers and the window art were the biggies. I’ve just got to have Brooks approve what’s done so far.”

“Approval granted.”

Brooks’ deep voice drew their attention to the door. He nodded to Liv, pleased. “It looks wonderful, Liv.”

She colored at the praise. “Really? You like it?”

His expression underscored his words. “I love it. You’re one talented young lady. And working in reverse like that? That’s a rare ability few artists possess.”

Her blush deepened. “Thanks, Mr. Harriman.”

“Brooks,” he corrected her. “If you ever want a job, kid, come see me first.”

Liv raised her chin, surprise and pleasure vying for her features. “Seriously?”

“Honey, my offers are never less than serious.”

“That’s for sure,” quipped Rita. She watched the exchange between Brooks and Liv, her heart tripping just a little bit faster.

Liv respected Brooks. It was obvious in her manner, her attentiveness, her awareness of detail in his presence. Something about him inspired others to reach a little higher, go a little faster, try a little harder, that indiscriminate quality that screamed leadership in calm undertones.

Brooks slid his gaze to Rita’s, offered her a half smile that made her heart pump faster than normal, then returned his attention to Liv. “You say the word, kid. You’re hired.”

“Mom?”

Liv turned toward Rita.

Rita sat back on her stool, worked her jaw, then eyed them both. “She’s been wanting to get a job,” she explained to Brooks, her gaze shifting from him to Liv and back. “And I can’t think of any place I’d rather have you work than here.” Brooks smiled.

Liv whooped. “Really, Mom? You don’t mind?”

Brooks raised a hand of caution. “You still need to help your mother with Skeeter.”

“And keep your grades up.” Not that grades were a problem with Liv, not since Rita had reinstated herself as the mother, relieving Liv of responsibility. Liv had endured a couple of tough years, but she seemed determined to move on with her life, taking charge of her dreams. At fifteen, her attitude was pretty remarkable after what she’d gone through.

“Can we work around that?”

“Absolutely.” Brooks arched a brow and indicated the showroom with a slight jerk of his head. “If I have you here to help Tootsie and Ava on the sales floor while learning cool things about fine carpentry on the side, I think we’ve got a deal, kid.”

“And Ava will love not being dragged in for extra shifts,” Toots noted. “She loves being here but with two little kids, she only has so much time. When we’re crazy busy it definitely takes a crew on the sales floor.”

Liv’s hug surprised Brooks. Rita saw it in his face, his eyes, the girl’s embrace taking him aback before he returned it. He winked at Rita over Liv’s head. “I get artwork from this one and cookies from you. I love knowing your family, Reet.”

His light words inspired her smile. “Well, we like you, too, and while all this chitchat is fun, it’s not exactly getting the job done. I’ve got to get Skeeter home for bed in just a little bit.” Skeeter.

In all this time, everyone had forgotten that Skeeter was alone in the store.

A crash of something breakable and most likely valuable fixed that.

Liv and the three adults crowded through the door to the showroom. Scattered pieces of a vase lay shattered on the floor, remnants of dried flowers strewn among the broken pottery. Skeets’ face wore a mix of fear and belligerence, not a pretty combination. “It was an accident.”

Liv stepped in first. “Skeeter, it’s all right, I’ll pay for it. I shouldn’t have left you alone out here.”

“I’m fine alone. There’s too much stuff all over the place is all.”

Her tone said they were treading dangerous ground, never a good thing.

“But you weren’t supposed to touch things, Skeet.” Rita stood her ground, not wanting the situation to fly out of control but unwilling to downplay Skeeter’s responsibility.

“I didn’t,” she protested, her hands flying up. “I was just backing up and knocked into the stupid thing. Everything’s in the way here.”

Rita colored, embarrassed.

Brooks grabbed a short broom and dustpan from behind the counter. “It is close in here,” he told Skeeter. He handed her the dustpan. “If I sweep this up, can you hold this for me?”

She swept him a look of disdain. “I’m not a baby.”

“Then stop acting like one,” Liv told her. “You were supposed to stay by the window and arrange the birds.”

“You were taking too long.”

Rita couldn’t argue with that. Skeeter wasn’t exactly the kind of kid you trusted in a shop full of stuff on her own. Her fault, she knew.

“Hold the dustpan for Mr. Harriman and apologize.”

Skeeter glared at her mother, then Liv.

A young man with a large pizza box stepped in the main door. “Your pizza, sir?”

Brooks nodded toward the cash-register counter. “Money’s right there in an envelope.”

The young man nodded.

Toots accepted the pizza, the teasing scent reminding them supper was at hand.

Rita hoped the smell of food would break Skeeter’s standoff.

Nope.

“I’m not cleaning it up with him.” Her look said she had sized Brooks up and recognized a foe.

“Then clean it up on your own.” Brooks handed her the broom. “We’re eating.”

Dangerous move. Rita watched as Brooks followed Tootsie out back, the scent of fresh-baked, thick-crust pizza assailing their senses.

Liv eyed Skeeter and the mess. “I’ll help since I’m the one who left you alone.”

Rita hesitated, wanting to push Brooks’ point and make Skeeter clean up the mess herself since she rejected his help so rudely, but wanting peace, as well. A full-blown Skeeter attack in the wood shop would not be pretty.

“That’s nice of you, Liv.”

“It’s just a stupid old jar,” Skeets sputtered. She pushed the broom toward Liv grudgingly. “He’s got too much junk here.”

Her comment brought Liv’s back up. She straightened and eyed her little sister. “It’s not junk.”

“Whatever.”

Liv’s hazel eyes went smoke-toned in a heartbeat. “Don’t ‘whatever’ me, Skeets. You weren’t supposed to be anywhere near this table or this vase and I offered to help you because I felt bad for leaving you alone and because Brooks is a real good guy for letting us do this stuff.” Liv took two steps forward, her body language offering a stern warning to errant little girls.

Like Skeeter cared.

“You don’t ‘diss’ what Brooks has in here. Got it?”

Skeeter met the stare-down one-on-one, either brave or foolhardy. “I don’t care what he has. I want to go home. I hate this place.”

“Skeets, let’s get this done,” Rita interjected. “Come on. I’ll sweep. You hold the dustpan.”

“No.”

“You’d prefer to wait in the car?”

“I’d prefer to go home. Now.”

“That’s not an option.” Liv stood her ground, gaze set, eyes fuming. “Brooks let us work here, ordered us pizza and just gave me a job. We’re staying.”

“I’m not.” Skeeter whirled and flounced toward the door.

Rita caught her arm. “Do you want to go without TV and treats the rest of the week?”

“N…no.”

“Then rethink your choices.”

The lower lip thrust out, a sure signal of Hurricane Skeeter making landfall.

She ballyhooed at the top of her voice, shouting the injustice of Brooks, her mother, Liv and life in general.

Liv glared.

Rita prayed.

Skeeter yelled.

“The police station’s right across the street.” Brooks reentered the room looking partly annoyed and partly helpless, an unusual combination. “Cade showed me where he hangs the keys to the empty cells. She’d be safe and we could eat in peace.”

Tempting offer but… “I’ll take her home.”

Brooks moved forward, ignoring Skeeter, which wasn’t easy considering her volume. “That’s not fair to you and Liv.”

“Well, life isn’t always fair, Brooks.” Rita knew that firsthand, didn’t she? Hadn’t she tried everything under the sun to keep Tom happy? In the end, it wasn’t enough. In retrospect, she knew nothing would have been enough to appease Tom’s hunger for power, greed for money and prominence. Oh, he’d played the part well, a showman all the way, his weekly presence at church service a sham that covered the heart of a cheat and embezzler.

Outwardly he shone like a gleaming jewel, a salesman to the max.

And she’d been fooled, like all the rest, at least to a certain degree. That was almost as embarrassing as it was shameful. Some suspected she’d been part of his schemes, his deceit.

Nope. Just clueless. A part of her thought that might be even worse than being complicit. At least complicity indicated intelligence.

“I’ll drop her off, get her settled and come back for Liv.”

“I can bring Liv home.”

Brooks looked less than pleased by her plan. Oh, well.

“Thanks, but no. I’ll come back. My kid, my job.”

Brooks looked about to argue the point, then didn’t. He stepped back, shot Skeeter a look that indicated a preference for strong-arm tactics mixed with relief that Rita was handling her, then shrugged. “I’ll see you at the meeting tomorrow.”

“Right.”

Her stomach growled, the scent of hot pizza a reminder of a hectic day and a long time since her last meal.

Skeeter flounced through the door, stomped her way to the car and shoved her way through Liv’s supplies to climb into the backseat.

She was a brat, plain and simple.

God, help me. I’m in over my head with this one, and she’s adept at picking the world’s worst places for her tantrums and tirades. Show me what to do, how to handle her. Help me be strong when a really big part of me just wants her to be quiet. And nice.

Change the things you can…

Her catchphrase of the day, the month, the year.

Skeeter was her responsibility, her job, her child. It was up to Rita to fix the problem, one way or another.

As she passed the small Grasse Bend police station, Brooks’ words came to mind. Hmm, jail cells for seven-year-olds?

Definite potential if she didn’t get this obnoxious behavior under control, the sooner the better.

The thought of her hard-worked prospectus inspired a wince. How could she even contemplate an undertaking of that magnitude if she couldn’t gain enough of Skeeter’s cooperation to help with a simple thing like Brooks’ front window?