Make Room For Mommy. Suzanne McMinn

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out in the open.

      He seemed unfazed.

      Maggie shook her head.

      “Well, it’s up to you and Brandy whether I’ll be assigned to work with her or not,” she said. “I don’t know what you want to hear, but the bottom line is just that I feel I have something to give and no one to give it to. I don’t think I can be more frank than that.”

      “You work at a computer company, I believe,” Ryan stated, completely ignoring Maggie’s honest admissions.

      “Yes,” Maggie answered, feeling herself shrink under his tight scrutiny. She was a little rattled by his rapid change of topic. “I’m the assistant director of the local sales division.” She felt better as she told him that, pride in her accomplishments shoring up her flagging confidence.

      “I’m sure your job is very important to you.”

      “Yes, of course,” Maggie agreed. “But I have plenty of time to give to Brandy, as well. I’m fully prepared to keep my commitment to her, as I’ve said.”

      Several times already, she added silently.

      “I see,” Ryan said quietly. “Perhaps I need to tell you why I entered Brandy in this program.”

      “That would be helpful, yes,” Maggie agreed politely, forcing a smile to her lips. Brandy was such an appealing child. She would be a joy to work with. Getting through this strange conversation with her father would be worth it, Maggie reminded herself.

      “Brandy’s mother is very busy with her career,” Ryan said. “She doesn’t live here in Charleston. In fact, she doesn’t even live in South Carolina. She’s in Atlanta,” he explained, his face expressionless. “I entered Brandy in the women’s outreach program because she hardly ever sees her mother. But I don’t want her put in the same position with you that she’s in with her mother.”

      “I don’t think that would be a problem, as I’ve already tried to explain,” Maggie broke in. “I think Brandy and I could get along quite well, and I promise I’ll be there for her.”

      Ryan appeared thoughtful, then fixed his gaze on Maggie in an assessing manner.

      “I wonder whether you work a great deal of overtime,” he suggested. “I don’t want someone who’ll be canceling out on Brandy every time a crisis comes up at the office. She already has that.”

      Maggie stared back at Ryan, carefully holding her gaze steady.

      “I’ve already assured you that won’t happen,” she said sharply. She sighed and rose. Then, with an ease that came from years of practice pretending an assurance that she didn’t always feel, she flipped back the curls that fell forward across her shoulders.

      She wondered if that glimpse of softness she’d witnessed a few moments earlier had existed only in her imagination.

      “I’m sorry, Mr. Conner. I see that I’m just not what you’re looking for,” Maggie continued, enunciating each word with a cool precision that she hoped hid the nervous roiling of her stomach. “I think you decided that before you got here today.” As she reached the door, she couldn’t resist looking back and adding a challenge. “Too bad. You’ll never know now, will you?”

      Turning away, she almost bumped into Brandy and Mrs. Fletcher. She said goodbye without stopping and escaped the community center quickly. Reaching the parking lot, she inhaled the sweet, fresh odor of South Carolina winter pine and tried to stanch the rushing tide of pent-up nerves.

      

      “I made such a fool of myself, Emma,” Maggie moaned. She buried her face in her hands and leaned back into the couch in the living room of her suburban Charleston home. “I handled it all wrong. The man detested me. That was obvious from the start. And there I was, practically begging him to let me help him with his daughter. It was ridiculous.”

      “Oh, Mag, it couldn’t have been that bad, could it?” Emma Mathison asked, laughing. “You make this man sound like an ogre.”

      Maggie lifted her head and stared at Emma, brows raised.

      “Okay, he does sound a bit primitive,” Emma conceded, hazel eyes twinkling in a narrow face framed by short, dark, salon-created waves. “I’ll give you that. But didn’t you say he was good-looking?”

      Maggie had to smile at that. Emma had been trying to set her up with a man and marry her off since their third year of college when Emma quit school and married a dentist. A house, a dog and two small children later, Emma never let an opportunity slip to try to bring Maggie into the ranks of wedded women.

      “Don’t even start, Em,” Maggie said. “Believe me, this man is not a possibility. For starters, he hates me. And even if he didn’t, I definitely don’t like him. I’m not even attracted to him.” That was a lie, but it felt good to say it. “And when did I say he was good-looking, anyway?”

      Strong, firm features and mysterious eyes flashed into her mind. She tried to push the image away, but the vague impression of hurt in his blue depths stayed with her.

      “Okay,” she admitted, determined to ignore the troubling sensations her thoughts evoked. She smiled at Emma playfully. “So he was handsome.” Maggie leaned back. “But, so what? I’m telling you, I’m not interested.”

      “What else is new?” Emma teased in the same familiar tone she always used when Maggie turned aside her attempts to interest her in romance.

      “None of this matters, anyway,” Maggie reminded her. “He was so rude. I just don’t understand it. He doesn’t even know me, and he seemed to be assigning all these rotten characteristics to me.”

      Emma drank the last of her coffee and set the cup down on a coaster on the end table. Rising, she said, “Well, I’ve got to go pick up the boys from my mom’s. Don’t brood, Maggie,” she warned, shaking one well-manicured finger Maggie’s way. “It’ll make you wrinkle.”

      Maggie followed her friend to the door. Shutting it after Emma, she wandered thoughtfully into the kitchen, picking a tub of low-calorie fruit yogurt out of the refrigerator. Then she returned to the functional blue couch in the living room and plopped down again. The package made a soft pop as she tore off the aluminum cover. A large white cat jumped up beside her and mewed.

      “Oh, Romeo,” Maggie whispered to the cat. “Forget it. I’m not sharing my yogurt.” She ruffled the long fur between his ears and pushed him down from the couch.

      I can’t believe how everything turned out, she thought, her mind turning back to her meeting with Ryan Conner.

      She remembered her excitement a month earlier when she’d seen the article in the newspaper about the community center. The section detailing the women’s outreach program had caught her eye as she’d been picking at a TV dinner late one night after work. As she read the story describing the community center’s program, she was inspired to volunteer. She had Emma—her best friend—and her neighbors and coworkers, but something was missing. She hadn’t known just what until she’d read that article.

      Maggie felt an empathy born of experience for children growing up with only one parent. She wanted to share her life with a child, to share the innocence and joy that had been cut short in

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