Читать книгу Mistletoe Mommy - Tanya Michaels, Tanya Michaels - Страница 10

Bracing himself, Adam prepared to lay down the law if the kids resumed their bickering now that Brenna had disappeared into the blue house. But Morgan seemed content telling Lady Evelyn how cute she was, and Eliza had her eyes closed and gave every appearance of napping. Geoff, in contrast, was practically vibrating with excitement.

“Way to go, Dad! She’s a babe.”

Adam choked. “Geoffrey, that’s not an appropriate way for you to discuss Ms. Pierce.”

“Oh, but—” his son looked more bemused than chastised “—didn’t you see her?”

What was more disturbing? That the kid who’d thought girls were gross a few years ago was now scoping out older women, or that Adam wholeheartedly agreed with the fifteen-year-old’s assessment?

“I saw her. And she is attractive,” he admitted in a vast understatement. “You need to show more respect, though.”

“Sorry,” Geoff mumbled. “I just wanted to be, you know, supportive. Do you ever date?”

Rarely. His job occupied most of his waking hours, and more than once he’d sat up in bed realizing he’d been going through a case or procedure in his sleep.

“Are we gonna have two mommies like we have two daddies?” Morgan asked.

“What?” Adam spun in his seat so that he could better face his children. “No, pumpkin. Of course not. I only met Ms. Pierce a few minutes ago.”

“But Geoff said you might date. Mama and Daddy Dan used to date and now they’re married.” She concluded her observation with a nod, agreeing with her own logic.

“That’s true, but—”

“If we get more parents, do we get more presents?” Morgan wanted to know.

She was turning five at the end of next week, so birthday presents were uppermost in her mind. Sara and Dan had hosted an early party for her, not wanting her big day to be eclipsed by their recent mid-June wedding. Sara had told Adam it was up to him to figure out a way to celebrate the actual day on vacation. She wouldn’t even advise him what gift to get, as she had for most previous birthdays and Christmases.

“It should be from you,” she’d insisted gently.

“How about just a hint?” he’d wheedled. She’d laughed but hadn’t answered. Some of Morgan’s interests were obvious, of course. She loved pink and she loved animals, but he had no idea what toys she already owned, or if certain brands of adorable puppy figurines were preferable to others.

Before Adam could repeat that no one was getting additional parents anytime soon, Eliza straightened, opening her eyes just enough to glare at him. Naturally.

“Dad is not here to date,” she informed her siblings. “Mom promised this trip would be all about him spending time with us. Right?” She hurled the one-word question at Adam like a shot put.

Underneath the hostility was so much vulnerability that Adam wanted to scramble over the seat and hug her.

As if she’d let you. This was one prickly kid. He couldn’t help wondering if Sara had shielded him from this, sighing and taking care of the preteen’s attitude, instead of calling to yell at him for the monster he’d created. Had she talked to the kids before he came over last Thanksgiving, admonishing them to be on their best behavior? Or had Eliza simply bottled all this up, saving it for the right target? Not having any brothers or sisters himself, he couldn’t determine whether being the middle child was truly the most difficult family position, but it seemed accurate in Eliza’s case.

Morgan had been so young when he and Sara split up that she didn’t clearly remember a time they’d been married. Geoff had been old enough to understand how critical Adam’s job was, that sometimes it really was a matter of life or death, and he’d been coming into more independent years, so he hadn’t been as bothered by Adam’s absences. At least, that was the mature stance he projected; Adam had let himself buy into it because it was comforting. But Eliza…She’d fallen somewhere in between, and the divorce had wounded her badly.

“This trip is definitely about you kids,” he vowed. “I’ve never taken this much time off work before, and—”

“We’re so sorry to have messed up your schedule,” she snapped.

He’d said what he had to make her feel important, not to complain about being inconvenienced. What would Sara do? He couldn’t imagine his ex-wife allowing Eliza to be a brat. Then again, Sara had never done anything to earn such legitimate enmity. Was Adam reaping what he deserved? Regardless, this wasn’t the tone he wanted to set for the rest of their stay in Mistletoe, nor was it the behavioral example he wanted to set for Morgan.

“Eliza, I have to ask you to watch your tone,” he said. Her eyebrows shot up, her dark eyes firing sparks at him, but he pressed bravely forward. “I understand you’re angry—”

“You don’t understand me! You don’t even know me!”

“I’m trying to,” he said firmly.

She met his gaze, but said nothing further. Finally she looked out the window. Was it his overly hopeful imagination, or had a tiny bit of tension drained from her slim body? At least she seemed to be thinking about what he’d said, instead of firing back a rejoinder about how they were just fine without him. Small steps.

After all, no one walked into an operating room their first day of med school and performed a cardiopulmonary bypass. There were lessons that had to be learned, techniques that had to be perfected. He didn’t delude himself that he would ever be a perfect father, but surely, with practice, he could do better than this. Half the time she gave the hostile impression that she would take out a contract hit on him if only her allowance were high enough.

Figuring he’d done what he could to pacify one daughter for the moment, he turned to the other. Morgan had watched the exchange with increasingly wide eyes.

He reached between the seats, awkwardly patting her on the knee. “You okay, pumpkin?”

“Yeah.” She wrinkled her nose. “Just hungry.”

“We’ll eat right after we take the dog home,” Adam promised.

Geoff beamed at him. “I got so wigged-out the first time I asked Gina for a date that I thought I was gonna blow chow. Without even trying, you got a girl to invite you to dinner and she offered to pay. Awesome.”

Adam pinched the bridge of his nose. Well, at least one of my kids thinks I’m doing something right.

AS ADAM NAVIGATED the crowded parking lot outside the Dixieland Diner, Brenna dialed Quinn Keller’s number. The two women had been casual acquaintances for years, but recently they’d become closer friends. Quinn lived in a duplex, two adjoining homes that shared a front and backyard. The other half belonged to Dylan Echols, who’d surprised his widowed mother with a maltipoo puppy on Mother’s Day. But he’d been thoughtful enough to first work with Brenna for a few weeks to get the dog housebroken and trained to obey basic commands. Quinn, a teacher at White-berry Elementary, had watched the pup’s progress from her front porch and even helped with a few lessons.

As the two women got to know each other, they’d discussed Quinn working part-time for Brenna once business was more established. Brenna wanted to grow her customer base for financial reasons and job security, but even with the number of clients she already had, she was hard-pressed to handle the volume of summer and holiday visits—the same times of the year that Quinn had off from teaching—by herself. If Quinn would answer her phone now, she could even ride with Brenna on a few jobs tonight as preliminary training.

Unfortunately Brenna only reached a mechanical voice telling her to leave a message. She knew Adam would take her home if she asked but she’d already imposed and didn’t want to take the Varners farther out of their way after their long day on the road. So call Fred or Josh. No biggie. It shouldn’t be a “biggie.” After all, she’d been part of their family for nearly twenty years.

But she’d been conditioned for the formative first thirteen years of her life not to get too attached, that she didn’t truly belong anywhere.

Would she have overcome that neurosis if Fred, her stepfather, hadn’t remarried Josh’s mother, Maggie? That woman had been the true love of Fred Pierce’s life, but in their first marriage they’d grown apart over time and divorced. He’d hastily rebounded with Brenna’s mother, only to have her slink off in the middle of the night for parts unknown. Though Brenna had never asked, she’d often wondered if his emotional response to being abandoned had mirrored hers—equal parts betrayal and relief.

About a year later, Maggie had been diagnosed with ovarian cancer, still at an early stage. The medical crisis had shaken Fred enough that he’d started courting her again. Josh had what all children-of-divorce secretly dreamed of—his parents back together, his family a healed whole.

With Brenna as the fly in the ointment. Awkward.

Ancient history, she told herself. She’d risen above her unorthodox upbringing, loved the entire Pierce family; she was a productive member of society. Whose previous boyfriend dumped you because you relate better to animals than people.

Funny, he hadn’t seemed to mind that about her when he’d hired her; her last serious boyfriend was also the town veterinarian. She’d enjoyed working in the clinic, but had always known that she wouldn’t be working as his receptionist/critter referee forever. Their breakup nearly two years ago had helped motivate her to get her small business off the ground.

Adam parked the car, and Brenna snapped her cell phone closed. Now that she’d taken care of Patch, nothing else in her evening was time-sensitive. No doubt she’d see at least a dozen people she knew inside. She’d try to reach Josh, but if he wasn’t home, either, she was sure she could get a lift from someone. Maybe even someone who owned a pet and would be amenable to trading a favor in exchange for future discounts.

Geoff didn’t wait for his dad to remove the keys from the ignition before bounding out of the vehicle. His sister, the moody one, took her time.

“This is the home of phenomenal food?” she asked skeptically. “Doesn’t look like much.”

Brenna slanted a reproving glance over her shoulder. “Friendly word of warning—don’t diss the Diner within earshot of any Mistletoe natives. They’ll run you out of town.”

The girl pursed her lips as if she wasn’t entirely certain Brenna was kidding—which she only half was. Folks around these parts took the Diner pretty seriously. The mayor’s son proposed to his fiancée here over a shared dessert of gooey, sweet pecan pie.

“I’m not that hungry,” Eliza finally said.

Brenna rolled her eyes inwardly; she was tempted to call the sky blue just to see what color the contrary girl would argue it was. “You may not be hungry yet, but you will be.” No one, not even a rebellious preteen in the throes of a snit, could resist the smells inside.

As they strolled up the sidewalk, Brenna enumerated the local favorites on the dinner menu. After the past forty minutes of detailing great food and Mistletoe summer activities, she felt as if Belle Fulton from the Chamber of Commerce might pop up any moment to offer her a job. And Brenna was uniquely qualified to tell the Varners about the Chattavista Lodge on the outskirts of town, where they’d be staying, because her stepbrother worked there.

Josh had always been a big fan of the outdoors. In the year between her mom’s defection and Maggie’s illness, Brenna had lied shamelessly to Josh and Fred about her supposed love for fishing and camping, desperate to fit into the testosterone-driven household. She’d wanted to be the Perfect Daughter. Eliza’s polar opposite. If Fred had told Brenna the sky was taupe with chartreuse polka dots, she would have agreed just to ingratiate herself with the Pierces.

These days, Brenna could appreciate the fresh air her occupation provided, but she hadn’t voluntarily slept on the ground in decades. Josh had been seeing the same girl for two months, and Brenna teased him that if he wanted to keep her, he’d make sure any romantic getaways included indoor plumbing. Not that Brenna had teased him recently—she was currently dodging him. Now that Josh was happily in love, a newfound convert to committed relationships, he seemed gung-ho on setting up Brenna with every eligible bachelor between here and Atlanta. His girlfriend, Natalie Young, was just as bad. Of course, she was also the local florist, so she considered flourishing romances good for business.

The Diner hostess warned that there would be a short wait while someone cleaned off a table. Brenna tried reaching her stepbrother but got his voice mail, then started to call Arianne Waide but realized that, with her sister-in-law, Rachel, having a baby, Ari was probably at the hospital with the rest of the family. Brenna dialed Quinn again and left a message for her to call whenever she could. If nothing else, some local firemen she knew had just walked in and Brenna could bum a ride from them.

Considering the crowd, they were seated pretty quickly. Dinner rush at the Diner started a few minutes before five and lasted well into the night. The hostess showed them to a booth, and Morgan slid in first, followed by her father. Geoff sat opposite them and Brenna chose to sit next to the boy rather than his thoroughly attractive dad. Eliza surprised her by practically leaping in after her, sandwiching Brenna. She didn’t get a strong sense that Eliza liked her, but the girl must really dislike the idea of sitting with Adam.

Had he actually done something to bring on her wrath, or was Eliza just one of those clichéd mutinous adolescents?

Fifteen minutes later, after the waitress delivered a round of lemonades and took their orders, Brenna thought she was getting a clearer picture of why the girl was so hostile. When Adam tried to draw Eliza into a discussion by asking if she would play soccer again this coming fall, the girl snorted. Brenna wondered if anyone had ever pointed out how unattractive that particular habit was.

“I haven’t played soccer in two years,” Eliza said, her tone reading duh but her expression telegraphing genuine hurt. “I play volleyball now. Mom said only two activities so that my grades don’t slip, and I picked volleyball and dance.”

Adam visibly cringed. “Right. I’m sorry I forgot that.”

Seated on the girl’s left, Brenna barely caught her muttered, “Like you even knew in the first place.” Adam engaged his son in less-charged conversation about what kind of car he wanted to save up for, but then made an apparent misstep when Geoff mentioned that he couldn’t wait to take his girlfriend out on an honest-to-goodness car date.

Managing not to look too nervous about that prospect, Adam asked, “So how did you and Deana meet?”

Geoff shook his head, sighing loudly, and Brenna assumed that the boy was embarrassed to have his love life be the topic of dinner conversation. But Morgan tugged on the side of Adam’s shirt.

“Daddy, it’s Gina,” she said, her little face pinched with worry. As if she feared his mistake might create even more tension. “Remember?”

Though the situations probably had nothing in common, something in the girl’s voice made Brenna flash to her own past, the careful way she’d had to treat her mother. How she’d hesitantly vacillated between reminding her mom that no, they were no longer in Lexington, they’d moved on to Tennessee, and not wanting to say anything that might set her off. As an adult looking back, Brenna suspected her mother had suffered from some sort of bipolar disorder and hoped that, wherever the woman was now, she’d sought help. But as a child, Brenna had never known what to think about her mother’s moods and their nomadic lifestyle. Brenna had spent more than a decade walking on eggshells—the unpleasant habit had stayed with her far longer than her mother had.

Morgan, on the other hand, showed few signs of emotional scarring and had already bounced back from her moment of concern. She was chanting, “Geoff and Gina. Gina and Geoff. They both start with Gs that think they’re Js. I can spell my name! Who wants to hear?”

By the time their food arrived, Morgan had spelled out her siblings’ names, as well as her own and the words cat, fox and Dan.

“Wonderful job,” Brenna praised her.

“I start kindergarten next year,” Morgan said. “And Liza’s teaching me to read.”

Eliza ducked her head closer to her plate of cheddar garlic mashed potatoes as if embarrassed to be caught doing something nice for her kid sister.

“Kindergarten?” Brenna echoed. “That must make you, what, eleven years old?”

Morgan giggled. “Four! But I’m almost five.”

Adam ruffled her hair fondly, looking more relaxed than he had since he’d first pulled over for Brenna. She imagined that sitting in front of a plate of pot roast beat the heck out of interminable hours cooped up in a car with antsy kids. “That’s right,” he said. “We’ll have to search Mistletoe for the perfect way to celebrate your birthday next Thursday.”

Eliza’s fork hit the edge of her plate with a clatter. “Friday! Her birthday is Friday. Don’t you even know that?”

Adam flushed darkly. “I know exactly when each one of you was born. Morgan’s birthday is June twenty-sixth.”

“That’s Friday,” Eliza said, less forcefully.

“Oh.” Her father leaned back against the vinyl bench. “I was just confused about my days.”

His oldest daughter nodded, while his younger daughter looked on apprehensively. Geoff continued to shovel in food at warp speed, sparing absolutely no attention for the people around him.

“I promise,” Adam added. “I know every one of your birthdays. June twenty-sixth. February tenth. November third. You’re the most important people in my life.”

Brenna was moved by the declaration but also vaguely uncomfortable at being present for it. She was barely at ease with open sentiment in her own family, much less a stranger’s. She focused on her fried-chicken salad with all the intensity of a grad student taking a final, but out of the corner of her eye, she saw Adam reach across the table for Eliza’s hand. And saw the girl reflexively jerk away.

Ouch.

Eliza shoved her plate to the side. She waited a beat before asking, “Can I go play air hockey? Geoff can go with me.”

The boy had emptied his plate, stopping just short of licking it clean.

Reluctantly Adam nodded. “I guess. You need quarters?”

“No. Mom gave me money.”

There was some shuffling as Brenna stood so that the two adolescents could get out of the booth.

“Can I go, too?” Morgan implored. “I wanna watch.”

“Don’t you want to finish your cheeseburger?” Adam asked.

“Nuh-uh. My tummy feels funny.”

“All right. But I’ll save it for later in case you change your mind.” His expression was nakedly poignant as he watched his children walk away. Whatever his shortcomings, he adored those three. Brenna hoped for his sake that he found a way to convince them of that in the next few weeks.

With a sigh, Adam looked at Brenna. “You must think I’m the worst parent in the world.”

“Far from it. Trust me.”

“I do surgeries where another person’s life is literally in my hands, and it doesn’t make me half as nervous as a two-minute conversation with my daughter.”

“I don’t know.” She feigned confusion. “Morgan didn’t seem that scary to me.”

His laugh was deep and appealing, and his dark eyes crinkled attractively at the corners. “Believe it or not, I—”

“Brenna!”

She turned her head, knowing her transportation dilemma had just been solved. “Josh. Hey.”

Her stepbrother dropped his arm from Natalie’s shoulders long enough to extend a hand across the table toward Adam. “I’m Brenna’s brother, Josh Pierce.”

“Dr. Adam Varner.”

The two men shook, then Josh took a step back to continue the introductions, gesturing toward the very pretty blonde at his side.

“This is Natalie Young, my girlfriend,” Josh said. He looked from Brenna to Adam, then back again, grinning from ear to ear. “And we are so glad to meet you.”