you said it yourself. He’s smart. And last time I checked, university professor is not exactly a deadbeat occupation.”
“And he’s hot,” Sam said.
“You know what I mean.”
“We do,” Claire said. “You’re a wonderful mom, an amazing woman—”
“Who deserves to have a hot guy in her life,” Sam said.
“Enough! The two of you sound like my mother.” Except that her mother had yet to come up with anyone who qualified as hot. “I should get back to work. I’ll see you at our next meeting. Nine o’clock, right?”
“That’s right,” Claire said. “At the usual place.”
“It’s in my calendar. I’ll see you both then.” Kristi tucked her BlackBerry into her bag and tried to refocus on the lists she’d been working on before taking the call. What was the point? She closed the book and shoved it in her bag. She needed to check on Molly and Martha anyway. It was her job to keep an eye on them till their father was back from the market.
* * *
NATE PARKED HIS SUV in the driveway, got out and carried two bags of groceries through the breezeway and the side door that led to the mudroom and kitchen. A couple of hours ago he’d congratulated himself on having his personal life firmly back in his control, but all the way to the market and back he’d pondered the newsflash that, according to Kristi, he was a deadbeat.
Seriously? He’d wanted to let her know that his mother was throwing two parties this weekend instead of just one. He didn’t want to talk about it in front of the girls, so he’d planned to invite her to join him in the kitchen.
Molly and Martha’s chatter had drifted past the door, which was slightly ajar. Luckily they hadn’t seen him. He had heard Kristi’s voice, too, but she hadn’t been in the girls’ room. She was in his office across the hall, sitting there in his chair with her back to the door and her phone to her ear.
She said something about no strings attached, and then she’d said, “You know me well enough to realize there’s no way I’ll take a chance on another deadbeat.”
She had paused, listening to what the other person had to say. He had hightailed it back to the kitchen, not wanting to hear any more.
Kristi had agreed to go out with him because there were no strings attached. Fair enough. They were both on the same page. But did she really think he was a deadbeat? Had he completely misinterpreted all the signs?
As he put the groceries away he debated what to do. He supposed he should let Kristi and the girls know he was back, but he was in no hurry to face her. Instead he poured himself a cup of coffee and stared out the kitchen window. He still had to break the news that there were two parties this weekend instead of one, and by now his mother would have told Britt he was bringing a date. Hell, she’d probably sent out a press release.
Maybe you’re looking at this from the wrong perspective, he told himself. Kristi had agreed to pose as his date at his sister’s birthday party if he would reciprocate and attend her aunt’s barbecue. No strings attached. That’s what she’d said; that’s what they both wanted. If going together to these functions meant no blind dates, no unexpected setups with strangers, did it really matter what she thought of him? Not one bit, he decided. She wasn’t perfect, either. Not that he’d seen any major flaws yet, but she was bound to have at least one.
“Daddy, come see our room.”
He swung around, expecting to see Molly. Instead he got an eyeful of Kristi, holding Martha’s hand on one side and Molly’s on the other. They were all smiling at him.
He mustered a smile in return and set his coffee cup on the counter. “Let’s take a look.”
He joined them, avoiding eye contact with Kristi. Both girls seemed content to hold her hands, so he was left to follow them down the hall. They stopped outside the bedroom door, Molly and Martha grinning impishly. He humored them by being the first to go inside, prepared to feign surprise, and being thoroughly taken aback when he saw what they had accomplished.
“Wow. Great job, girls.” And he meant it. Except for the furniture and Kristi’s big, brightly colored plastic bins, the floor that had been obscured by his daughters’ belongings was now clear.
“We had a race,” Martha said, her eyes like miniature saucers, as though even she couldn’t quite believe what they’d done.
“We put dress-up clothes in the blue boxes and our clothes in the red boxes,” Molly said.
“And stuffies in the yellow boxes,” Martha tried unsuccessfully to push the overflow of stuffed animals beneath the rim. “Just like Kristi told us.”
“Who won the race?” he asked.
“We both did. Kristi said.”
He finally allowed himself to make eye contact with the woman who had accomplished more in half an hour, by simply turning work into a game, than he could have managed in a whole week of cajoling. “Thank you.”
Her smile, so genuine, made it hard to believe she was the same woman who had called him a deadbeat earlier that morning.
“You’re welcome. They’re good workers. I might have to hire them as my assistants.” She tweaked their pigtails, and they both giggled. “And now they each get a cupcake at lunchtime, as long as that’s okay with you. I have some out in my van.”
“Sure. I got everything I need to make hot dogs, too.” And since she had offered dessert, it would be rude not to include her. “You’re welcome to join us.”
“Yay! Hot dogs!”
“Yay! Cupcakes!”
“We found our coloring books.” Molly pointed to their little table. “I’m going to color.”
“Me, too.” Martha settled onto one of the chairs.
“I’d like to talk to your dad about his office,” Kristi said.
The girls, already intent on choosing crayons, didn’t respond.
She slipped out of the room and he followed her across the hall.
“That’s pretty amazing,” he said. “What you got them to do in there.”
“I think they had fun.” She consulted several lists on a page in her notebook. “I have some suggestions to help you streamline the things in their room, but first I’d like to go over my ideas for your office.”
He would like to go over her idea that he was a deadbeat, but bringing it up now didn’t feel right, and he wasn’t ready to hear what she had to say anyway. Instead he listened as she outlined her plan, and then indicated the bundle of flattened boxes that he could assemble and use to sort and store papers. She showed him the paint color she had in mind, and he agreed it would be an improvement over the blue. He had never liked it anyway. And he was fine to get rid of the wallpaper.
She pulled a small pocket knife from her bag—was there anything she didn’t have in there? he wondered—and cut the strap on the bundle of boxes.
