Home Again. Joan Elliott Pickart
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“I’m listening, believe me,” Mark said, leaning forward.
“Mark,” Cedar said seriously, “you make extremely gross scrambled eggs.”
“I…what?”
“Yes. Totally gross,” Cedar said. “Joey would prefer not to eat the scrambled eggs you prepare. Ever again.”
“What?” Mark repeated.
“So, Joey and I are going to teach you how to make what he would like to eat. Barbecue chicken.”
“This is the matter of great importance that you wanted to discuss with me?” Mark said, none too quietly.
“I told you, I told you,” Joey said, stiffening in his chair. “He’s getting grumpy right now. See? He is.”
“I am not grumpy,” Mark said, then cleared his throat. “I’m…I’m just a bit surprised about the subject, that’s all. My eggs are gross, Joey?”
“The worst,” Joey said. “Totally.”
“I didn’t think they were that bad,” Mark said, frowning. “They wouldn’t win first place in an egg-cooking contest, but…you want barbecue chicken? I didn’t have much luck with that other chicken, remember?”
“Yeah, well, this time Cedar and me are going to show you how to do barbecue chicken right,” Joey said. “Then you’ll know how to do barbecue chicken and gross eggs will be history.”
“Got it,” Mark said, a bemused expression on his face.
“What evening this week would be good for you?” Cedar asked. She flipped through her engagement calendar. “We’ll cancel our Wednesday afternoon appointment. I’m free Thursday or Friday.”
“Pick one,” Mark said, throwing up his hands.
“Friday night?” Cedar said, then recorded it. “I’ll be at your house by five-thirty.”
“But I work until…” Mark hesitated. “Five-thirty, it is.”
“Good,” she said. “Joey, it was wonderful to meet you and I am really looking forward to cooking with you and enjoying that chicken. I’ll see you Friday night. Why don’t you go see Bethany now and tell her I said you could pick a piece of candy from the jar. I want to speak to your Uncle Mark for a second.”
“’Kay,” Joey said, then slid off the chair and ran out of the office.
Cedar leaned forward and folded her hands on her desk. “Mark, I am so pleased with the progress made today with Joey,” she said, smiling.
“You are?” he said. “Pardon my confusion, but I thought you two were coming in here to discuss Joey’s parents. But the topic was my crummy eggs? Why are we thrilled?”
“Because Joey and I are establishing a rapport. He was comfortable enough with me to tell me that he wished he didn’t have to eat those scrambled eggs.”
Mark got to his feet. “Why didn’t he just tell me?”
“Mark, you have to understand where Joey is coming from. He is a bright little boy who realizes that you are the only person available to provide a home for him. He’s lost his parents. He’s now terrified that if he upsets you, you won’t want him to live with you.”
“That’s nuts,” Mark said, nearly shouting.
“Shh,” Cedar said, rising to round the desk. “I don’t want Joey to hear any of this. He used me as a buffer to deliver the message about the eggs and to inform you what he does like to eat. It’s a marvelous start. Our Friday session will also give me a chance to see his bedroom, the possessions that are important to him, and to watch the interaction between you and Joey.
“Joey’s problems are not going to be solved overnight. It will be a slow process. He did not want to discuss his parents with me, and I didn’t push him on the subject. I have to establish a level of trust with Joey first. And…well, I need you to trust me, too.”
Mark looked at Cedar for a long moment.
“Doesn’t that work both ways?” he said finally. “Don’t you need to trust me?”
“I don’t understand what you mean.”
“You’re going to be coming to my home, plus you said we’d be going on outings together with Joey at times. We’ll also have private meetings such as this one right now to discuss progress. I’m referring to you trusting me as a man, not just as Joey’s guardian. Do you trust me as a man?”
“I…” Cedar stopped speaking.
Why was Mark doing this? she thought frantically. She didn’t intend to view him as a man. No, he was Joey’s guardian, his uncle, the person who was now that little boy’s father. Their relationship had nothing to do with Cedar, the woman, trusting Mark, the man.
Mark Chandler unsettled her, made her acutely aware of her own femininity and his incredible masculinity. She had no idea if she trusted him. She was having enough trouble trusting herself not to overreact to his blatant sensuality whenever she was near him, for heaven’s sake.
“Your question is immaterial, Mark,” she said, tearing her gaze from his.
“I don’t believe it is,” he said. “How is Joey going to relax around me if he senses tension between you and me? How will he come to trust me if he feels that you don’t? Think about it.”
“I…”
“You have my address on that form I filled out. Joey and I will be waiting for your arrival Friday night. We’ll all cook dinner together, just like a family. Right? Right.” Mark nodded. “See ya.”
Mark strode from the room. Cedar sank into one of the chairs in front of her desk when she realized her trembling legs were not going to support her for one second longer.
This was not going well, she thought, pressing her hands to her flushed cheeks. Mark had made a legitimate point. Joey would be aware of any tension between her and Mark and might very well hold back because of it.
She had to somehow gain control of her raging emotions before Friday night. She was a professional. She’d taken part in in-home therapy a multitude of times and found it to be very effective and informative. She would concentrate on Joey and the chicken, and view Mark as the client that he was. Not a man…a client.
She could do that.
Couldn’t she?
Chapter Three
On Friday evening before Cedar arrived, Mark stood in the middle of his living room and nodded in approval. He had made a fire in the hearth that was now crackling with leaping flames. The cleaning lady, who came three times a week, had done her usual expert job.
Mark had built the large house in Fountain Valley, an affluent area at the north edge of Phoenix. The split