Читать книгу I'm Your Man - Susan Crosby, Susan Crosby - Страница 9

Rileyism #3: “I have everything under control.”

The following morning Maureen paced her living room in front of the window. Back and forth, stop to look outside, back and forth again. Why hadn’t she asked for Daniel’s cell phone number? He was always late. She should’ve told him fifteen minutes earlier than she actually needed him to arrive. If she was late to work because of him…

She spotted him jogging up the street and hurried to the front door to fling it open.

“Good morning,” he said, as if nothing were wrong.

“You’re late.”

He merely raised his brows.

His hair was wet, either from a shower or the jog, which might have started an hour ago, for all she knew. He was annoyingly faithful about anything related to physical fitness, but not about everything else in life.

“I’m going to be late to work,” she said, arms crossed.

“You look…official,” he said of her gray pantsuit and crisp white blouse.

She didn’t think he was complimenting her. He wore not-new shorts he must’ve packed in his carry-on bag, and a Golden Gate Bridge T-shirt he must’ve bought since his arrival.

“If this is going to work for us, Daniel, you need to be on time. I don’t like starting my day frazzled.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, succeeding in making her feel like a shrew, when all she wanted was to catch her bus at the normal time and get to work at her normal time. The distance between Bernal Heights, where she lived, and the Mission District, where she worked, was short, but too far to walk in less than fifteen minutes.

“How’d you sleep?” she asked, forcing the harsh edge off her tone as they walked down her hallway, aware that Riley was within hearing range.

“Dead to the world.” He held up the shopping bag she’d sent him home with the night before. “Mind if I use your washer? My stuff could be delivered this afternoon, but maybe not until tomorrow.”

“Be my guest.” She passed him a business card. “Here’s my work information. Please call if you have any questions.”

Riley pounced on him then and she was off to work. She did miss her usual bus, but still arrived at work just at eight o’clock. She didn’t stop to chitchat with her coworkers, instead heading straight to her boss’s office. It was empty, a rarity. Maureen left a note on the desk, then settled into her own office. Only one voice mail awaited her—

“Hi, Mom. I just wanted to let you know that I got here okay. I hope you forgive me. I really am doing this for my son, the same way you sacrificed a lot for me. I just don’t have your patience to take it year by year. I kind of want it now. I know, I know. Gee, what a surprise.” Maureen could hear the smile in Jess’s voice. “But you’ll see. It’ll be a good thing. I’ll talk to you as soon as I’m allowed to. Tell Riley I love him. Bye.”

The time stamp at the end of the message indicated Jess had called the day before, Sunday, apparently not willing to talk in person, probably not wanting to get an earful from Maureen. Smart girl.

Maureen might have surprised Jess, however, by not arguing with her, except to challenge her daughter about why she didn’t feel she could’ve just asked if she could leave Riley instead of simply taking off as she did.

It was probably best for Riley, too, not talking to his mom. That way he could settle in. Maybe Jess was being responsible in that, too. If it was true that she really was pursuing this dream of hers to give herself and Riley a shot at independence and a good future, then Maureen couldn’t fault her for it, just as Maureen had left Cherie’s house and made her own way in the world.

The manner in which Maureen and Jess sought independence may be different, opposite really, but the goal was the same.

“Good morning, good morning.” The cheerful greeting accompanied the arrival of Esperanza Ochoa, Maureen’s coworker and friend, one of two full-time proofreader/editor/ researchers with the company. She breezed into Maureen’s office, looking gorgeous and rested, and landed in the chair opposite Maureen’s desk, a bright smile on her face.

“Same to you, sunshine.”

Anza leaned closer and singsonged in a whisper, “I’ve got a secret.”

“One you’re going to tease me about or share?”

“Share. But only with you. No one else can know, okay?”

“Do you really have to ask?” Maureen could guess the secret but waited for confirmation.

“I’m pregnant. Six weeks.”

Maureen flashed back to when she’d found out she was pregnant—just turned seventeen and scared to death. There’d been no happy glow on her face, like Anza’s now. No ecstatic husband, which Gabe undoubtedly was.

“That’s wonderful news! Congratulations,” Maureen said, coming around her desk to hug her friend and feeling a sudden rush of envy. “I’m so happy for you both,” she said, meaning it, but struggling past her own surprising emotions.

“Thank you.” Anza’s voice quavered and she hugged Maureen tighter. “It took a year, but finally I will be a mom. Finally.”

They moved apart as they heard someone walking nearby.

“How was your weekend?” Anza asked.

“Eventful. Can we have lunch today? I’ll tell you then.”

“It’s a date.”

“What’s a date?” Bernadette Martinez, the president and owner of Primero Publishing, strolled in. She was the most stylish woman Maureen knew, although the past five months since her husband had passed away had taken their toll. Until recently Bernadette looked ten years younger than the forty-eight she really was. But who wouldn’t look worn-out after losing her husband and inheriting the job of running a rapidly expanding company?

“Anza and I were just making a lunch date,” Maureen said as her friend slipped out.

Bernadette took Anza’s seat and held up the piece of paper Maureen had left on her desk. “You wanted to see me?”

“I wanted to let you know I won’t be going on vacation as scheduled. We’re postponing until August fourth.”

“Okay. How come?”

“I have inherited my grandson for the next six weeks.” She turned a framed photo on her desk toward Bernadette and gave her a short version of how Riley came to stay with her. “I think you can probably appreciate that I would like to spend as much time with him as possible, and since I normally am just getting home about the time he goes to bed, that’s going to be difficult. I’m wondering if I could leave work earlier, say at five, and then work at home after he goes to bed?”

No clock ticked, yet Maureen heard one in her head. The past few months had been overwhelming, since they’d taken on the projects that Carlos had started but hadn’t yet completed before his death. Maureen’s job as the liaison between Primero and the various writers was crucial, as she kept track of every project and author.

“That would be okay,” Bernadette said finally. “As long as it’s only six weeks. You’re a key player, after all, plus I don’t want others to think they can do the same thing.”

Maureen hid her surprise. She’d been working ten-hour days since being hired nineteen years ago, and twelve-hour days for the past several months. Most of the other employees put in the same long hours. She never used up her annual sick leave, and had so much vacation carryover, she could be off for months with pay. Not that she would….

She thanked her boss and settled down to work, although not with her usual focus. Her life, which had seemed in perfect order—a steady boyfriend and being on the fast track at work for a promotion—was suddenly topsy-turvy.

It was difficult for Ted, too, she knew, although he’d called to say he’d gotten their itinerary changed, with only a small penalty and almost the same hotel arrangements, which seemed to ease his mind. She’d been reading a bedtime story to Riley and had rushed Ted through the conversation, then felt guilty about it. She would’ve called him back later, knowing he generally stayed up until midnight, but she’d fallen asleep on the couch, not waking up until 2:00 a.m., when she shuffled off to bed.

She hadn’t talked to him this morning because he liked to sleep in, then work from home for a couple of hours before going to the office. Weekends were sometimes difficult for her because she woke up at six and he wanted to sleep until nine.

Maureen stared at the San Francisco-skyline poster on her wall and wondered what Riley and Daniel were doing.

She eyed her phone. Should she call home, even if just to say hi to Riley? She’d woken up at six to find him in bed with her, and had no idea when he’d joined her. She couldn’t remember Jess ever getting into bed with her during the middle of the night. In fact, she remembered telling Jess she had to stay in her own bed, that she was a big girl.

Not her finest moment as a mom. Look what she’d missed—waking up to that warm little body huddled close, needing her.

Maureen pressed her face into her hands for a second. She’d been a rules-and-regulations kind of parent.

Just like her father.

She’d learned her lessons the hard way. The one time she’d rebelled against his rules she’d ended up pregnant. She’d toed the line ever since. Had made Jess toe the line. Not that Jess had done so.

On the contrary, Jess had kept moving the line as it suited her, rarely putting a toe to it, and ending up in exactly the same position as Maureen at the same age—pregnant and unmarried, not yet done with high school. At least her daughter had finished school. And the baby’s father had wanted to marry her. If he hadn’t died…

Maureen sent an e-mail to the staff explaining about Riley and how she would be leaving at five and then working from home, so that everyone understood what was going on. She got back several nice notes, and a few people stopped in to personally tell her to enjoy her time with her grandson. Two coworkers were in line for the same promotion as she—Ginny Barber, who was in charge of payroll and accounting, and Doug Fairlane, the office manager. Both Ginny and Doug had been with Primero longer than Maureen.

And those two also seemed to give her the heartiest farewells when she left at five that night. Normally the staff got along exceptionally well, but now that there was a competition brewing for the vice president position, there was a tension in the air not normally in evidence. She wished Bernadette would make up her mind soon, before the camaraderie suffered.

Maureen didn’t know anyone on the five-o’clock bus, and it wasn’t until she stepped off that she realized she didn’t know what she would fix for dinner. When she was alone she usually heated up a frozen dinner. Who wanted to cook at eight o’clock? If Ted joined her, he picked up something on his way.

She should’ve shopped.

Maureen opened the door to an incredible aroma. She eyed two large suitcases with courier tags attached to the handles, then she wandered down the hall into the kitchen. Riley stood on a chair in front of the sink washing lettuce leaves, and Daniel stirred a mouthwatering mix in a large pot.

“Barefoot and cooking,” she said, drawing their attention. “That’s the way it should be.”

“Hi, Grandma,” Riley said. He didn’t hop down from the chair to greet her, so she walked over and hugged him. “I’m making salad.”

“So, I see.” She eyed the bowl on the counter, filled halfway with chopped tomatoes, cucumbers, avocado and green onions.

“I have to dry the lettuce real good so the dressing sticks.”

“You’re doing a great job.” She looked at Daniel, wanting to set the right tone in front of Riley. “You didn’t need to make dinner. But thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It’s Riley’s favorite.”

“Papa’s a good cooker.”

“What is it?”

“Aubergine-and-black-bean chili,” Daniel said. “And there’ll be enough for leftovers for a couple of meals.”

“Aubergine? It sounds…purple.”

He laughed. “It’s another name for eggplant.”

“I see. You fancy up the name and it tastes better?”

“To the nonvegetarian, maybe. Oh, and we called your boyfriend and invited him for dinner, but we thought we’d surprise you. Why don’t you go change, and I’ll pour you a glass of wine?”

Geez, a girl could get used to this, she thought, a little dazed. She told herself she was giving in so easily to him sort of taking over her life and telling her what to do because she didn’t want things uncomfortable for Riley. Was it really a lie if you only lied to yourself?

Maureen stopped just inside her bedroom door. On her bed were a couple of small stacks of laundry, all neatly folded, including her bras and underwear. She moved closer, pictured him tucking the bra cups inside each other and folding her panties into neat little bundles. They weren’t overly sexy, just beige or black, and nothing lacy or push-up, but the thought of him handling her private things and having that kind of intimate knowledge of her embarrassed her like nothing else had in a very long time.

Feeling her face heat up, she shoved the clothes into drawers and changed into jeans, a blue-striped blouse and white sneakers. She touched a finger to her tongue, then rubbed a spot of dirt off one sneaker. She was stalling, not knowing what to say to Daniel that wouldn’t make her again sound like a shrew. But Riley was there, and she couldn’t get angry at Daniel in front of him over what would be perceived as a normal household chore.

She went into the kitchen, keeping her gaze on Daniel. He turned just his head toward her, capturing her gaze, then he let his take a slow journey down and back up.

“I didn’t have enough for a full load,” he said, anticipating her possible tirade, she supposed. “Seemed like a waste of water and energy not to do yours at the same time.”

Her full hamper had been sitting beside the washer. He couldn’t have missed it.

But he could’ve ignored it.

“I hung your…delicates on the line out back. Figured you probably didn’t put them in the dryer. Most women don’t, anyway.”

He was laughing at her. Oh, yes, he was having a great time at her expense.

“I don’t know what to say,” she said, finally finding her voice.

“Thank you?” He passed her a glass of merlot and kept his voice low. “You’re welcome, Double-D. I hope you’re going to invest in something a little more…lacy for the vacation.”

So, he’d even looked at the tag on her bra. “Not every man needs a crutch to arouse him,” she whispered, moving past him to where Riley was tearing up lettuce leaves and adding them to the salad bowl.

“Every man likes a woman who’s confident enough to want to please,” Daniel said. “We appreciate…effort.”

“That looks like a very good salad,” Maureen said to Riley. “Do you need any help?”

“I have everything under control,” he said, like a little adult, which made her smile.

“But if your grandma would like to set the table,” Daniel said, “that would be good.”

Maureen gathered plates, silverware and napkins. She stopped next to Daniel as she headed toward the dining room table. “You’re leaving right after dinner, right?”

“Of course.” He grinned, obviously liking the corner he’d backed her into. “Your boyfriend should be here any moment.”

“My boyfriend has a name, you know.”

“Yeah. But it’s more fun this way.”

She grabbed the plates a little tighter. “I thought we’d called a truce.”

“Are we arguing? I wasn’t arguing. I was being friendly.”

Her hands shook as she set the table. Why was she letting him get to her? She shouldn’t give him that kind of power, but just ignore him, or tease him back.

However, six years of antagonism couldn’t be erased in a day.

The doorbell rang. Grateful for the distraction, she hurried down the hall and opened the door.

“If I had my own key,” Ted said, “you wouldn’t have to—”

She flung herself into his arms, stopping any discussion about house keys. She had enough on her plate already.

“Well,” he said, kissing her hello. “I missed you, too.”

She wondered if he thought her underwear boring. Sex was fine between them. She had no complaints. Nor had he complained about the long T-shirt she wore to bed at night.

“This is nice,” Ted said, “having you home so early. I’ll bet Riley’s happy.”

Was that a subtle dig at her for not doing the same for him?

“It does feel good,” she said. “Although you know I’ve got a few hours of work ahead after he goes to sleep.”

“You don’t have to remind me. I’m aware of what’s expected.”

“I’m sorry, sweetheart. I know this is hard on you.”

“I’m doing my best to be patient,” he said.

Her conversation with Cherie the night before flashed in her mind. Did she defer to him? How would he react if she didn’t?

And why did she, anyway? She liked to get along with people, but defer?