It Takes Three. Teresa Southwick
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Thea fixated on the large bed because it didn’t dwarf the floor space. Not because its owner was a big man who needed a big bed. The completely innocent thought warmed her cheeks and she forced herself to focus on his words.
“Over there, two steps down, is an area for a parent’s retreat.” He looked questioningly at Thea.
Was he asking if she needed a parent’s retreat? Whether he was or not, she wasn’t in the habit of sharing personal information, let alone her house needs, with total strangers, even above-average-looking total strangers. So the silence stretched between them.
“I haven’t seen this floor plan for a long time. It’s a nice room, Scott,” Joyce said, filling the void. “Very large and comfortable.”
Beside the master bedroom was an open loft area with a huge corner group and a big-screen TV across from it. Built-in desks were under the windows and one of them was cluttered with books and papers next to a computer. Obviously this was Kendra’s work space. Her perfect older sister didn’t live here any more.
Joyce looked around and took notes. “Teen rooms are popular, a good selling point.”
“There’s more this way,” Scott said.
They peeked into the two bedrooms—one with the double bed neatly made, the other in a state of complete chaos. Obviously Kendra’s. Thea didn’t know why, but her heart went out to the teen who seemed to feel she didn’t measure up.
Scott looked sheepish. “I had no idea her room was this bad.”
“Teenagers.” Joyce shrugged. “It goes with the territory.”
Thea met his gaze and wondered. Shouldn’t a parent have some idea about his child’s environment? They lived in the same house, for goodness’ sake.
“Brace yourself.” He opened the bathroom door and stepped back. “I’m afraid to look.”
Thea followed Joyce past him and breathed in the pleasant scent of cologne and man. Her stomach fluttered, but she chalked it up to the fact that it had been a long time since she’d experienced that particular scent. Ignoring him took some effort, but she managed to focus on the separate shower and tub area.
The vanity had two sinks and was littered with bottles of hair products and combs and brushes of various sizes and shapes. A curling iron, blow-dryer and makeup were scattered over every square inch of counter space. It seemed a million years since her biggest concern had been her hair. But she was grateful for those carefree days before she knew that life—and death—could bring her to her knees.
Sighing, she let her gaze wander. She saw flannel pajama bottoms and a coordinating top in a pile beside the overflowing wastebasket.
Scott was watching her and noticed the direction of her gaze. He hastily grabbed the handles of the trash bag, pulling it out of the container. “Sorry. I had no idea this bathroom was located in tornado alley.”
Joyce arched an eyebrow. “I’ve seen much worse, believe me. This is nothing.”
“Easy for you to say,” he said, shutting the door. “I think it qualifies for federal disaster assistance.”
Thea brought up the rear as they went downstairs. Was there a Mrs. Matthews? The interaction between him and his daughter gave her the impression there wasn’t. The niggling sense of excitement in that thought brought her up short because it was so very unexpected.
In the kitchen, he set the bag of trash beside the tall circular metal container. “So there you have it,” he said to Joyce.
She nodded. “This house will go fast on today’s market.”
“In spite of the biohazard bathroom?”
Thea laughed. Until his comments about Kendra’s disaster of a bathroom, she’d thought the man had no sense of humor. She liked it.
“Forget it, Scott,” Joyce said. “If you decide to list the place, you’ll have time to clean it up.”
“That will be Kendra’s job,” he said.
“Good luck getting her cooperation,” Thea mumbled.
Joyce glanced at the two of them. “I gather she’s resistant to moving?”
“She’ll come around,” he claimed.
“Of course she will.” Joyce looked at her watch. “I’ve got to run to another appointment.”
“So what do you think the place is worth?” he asked.
“Scott, you know as well as I do it’s a gold mine. This neighborhood is one of the most desirable in Santa Clarita. Houses sell as soon as they go on the market. There’s a waiting list. You can easily get top dollar.”
“What kind of top dollar are we talking?”
“Let me do some comparables and I’ll let you know,” she said. She looked at Thea. “I’ll call you about listing your condo.”
Thea nodded. After Joyce was gone, she was alone with Scott Matthews. For some reason he made her nervous, and not because he was annoyed with her. It had started after her assumption that he wasn’t married.
“I guess I should be going, too,” she said.
“Yeah.”
She looked at the food she’d brought from a luncheon and reheated here for Kendra. It didn’t seem right to walk away from the dirty dishes, so she moved several pots and pans to the sink and squirted soap from the container there into them.
“Just leave that,” he said.
“Can’t. Part of my job. A professional doesn’t leave a mess in the kitchen.”
“Even though you don’t have a contract?”
“Even so. It’s a service-oriented, word-of-mouth business. Someone you know might need a caterer and you’ll remember the one who didn’t leave a mess.”
While she worked, Thea glanced at Scott who brooded beside her. “Kendra told me she’s never had a party. Is that true?”
He met her gaze and his own narrowed. “It doesn’t mean she’s underprivileged.”
“I can see that she’s got everything she needs. Materially,” she added.
“What are you saying?”
“Just that I got the feeling it was very important to her to have a party.”
“What was your first clue, Dr. Phil?”
She ignored his sarcasm. “The fact that she didn’t tell you I was coming. I’d have to guess she felt you would veto the catering idea.”
“She didn’t give me a chance to veto it.”
“And