Bittersweet Love. Rochelle Alers
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“It looks as if I’m going to have to be very careful about what I say to you.”
Sabrina winked at him. “That’s all right, Uncle Griff. I’ll let you know when I don’t understand something.”
Belinda listened to the exchange between Griffin and his niece. It was apparent he’d met his match. “If you’re not coming in, then I’ll say good night.”
Watching him drive away, she was grateful that Griffin had elected not to come inside because she wanted time alone with her nieces, to see firsthand their reaction to the rooms she’d organized and decorated in what she felt was each girl’s personal style.
Belinda glanced at her watch. “Girls, please go upstairs, do your homework and then get ready for bed. I’m going to have to get you up earlier than usual because I’m going to drive you to school. I also have to fill out another transportation application changing your bus route.” The sisters headed for the staircase, racing each other to the second floor.
Their bus route had changed when they’d gone to live with their grandparents, and it would change again now that they lived with her. It’d taken Belinda two months for the contractor to make the necessary renovations to her house when she realized the twins would have to live with her. She hadn’t known that when she’d moved out of her Philadelphia co-op and into the three-bedroom house. She’d originally bought the house because she’d been looking to live in a less noisy neighborhood with a slower pace. Now she would end up sharing the house with her nieces.
The house’s former owners, a childless couple who taught in the same high school as Belinda, had covered the clapboard with vinyl siding, updated the plumbing and electricity and had landscaped the entire property as they awaited the adoption of a child from Eastern Europe. The adoption fell through and the wife opted for artificial insemination. After several failed tries, she found herself pregnant with not one, but four babies. They began looking for a larger house at the same time Belinda put her co-op on the market. She made the couple an offer, and three months later she closed on what had become her little dream house.
Ear-piercing screams floated down from the second story. Glancing up, she saw Layla hanging over the banister. “Are you okay?” she asked with a smile, knowing the reason for the screaming.
Layla gestured wildly. “Aunt Lindy, I love, love, love it!” she shrieked incoherently before running back to her bedroom.
Minutes later Belinda stood in the room, her arms encircling her nieces’ waists. The contractor had removed the door leading into the master bedroom and installed doors to adjoining bedrooms that led directly into the space she’d set up as a combined office, study and entertainment area. The furnishings included two desks with chairs that faced each other and built-in bookcases along three of the four walls.
The remaining wall held a large flat-screen television. A low table held electronics for a home-theater system. Empty racks for CDs and DVDs were nestled in a corner, along with a worktable with a streamlined desktop and laptop computers and printer. Although the television was equipped with cable, Belinda had programmed parental controls on both the television and Internet. French doors had replaced a trio of windows that led to a balcony overlooking the back of the property.
“I know which bedroom is mine,” Sabrina crooned.
“Mine is the one with the bright colors,” Layla said, her voice rising in excitement.
Sabrina pressed closer to her aunt. “This is the first time we’re not going to have to share a bedroom.”
Belinda gave her a warm smile. She recognized them as individuals and sought to relate to them as such. “I have a few house rules that I expect to be followed. You must keep your bedrooms and bathroom clean. I don’t want to find dirty clothes on the floor or under the beds. The first time I find food or drink upstairs there will be consequences.”
Layla shot her a questioning glance. “What kind of consequences?”
“There will be no television or Internet for a week. The only exception is to do homework. You’ll also have to give up your iPods and relinquish your cell phones—”
“But we don’t have cell phones,” Sabrina interrupted, sharing a look with her sister.
A mysterious smile tipped the corners of Belinda’s mouth. “If you look in the drawer of your bedside tables you’ll find a cell phone. The phones are a gift from your uncle Griffin. He’s programmed the numbers where you can reach him or me in an emergency. You’ll share a thousand minutes each month, plus unlimited texting. You…”
Her words trailed off when the girls raced out of the room, leaving her staring at the spots where they’d been.
She’d turned the master bedroom into a sanctuary for her nieces, decorated Sabrina’s room with a queen-size, off-white sleigh bed, with matching dresser, nightstands and lingerie chest. Waning daylight filtered through sheer curtains casting shadows on the white comforter dotted with embroidered yellow-and-green butterflies. Layla’s room reflected her offbeat style and personality with orange-red furniture and earth-toned accessories.
Belinda had moved her own bedroom to the first floor in what had been the enclosed back porch. It faced southeast, which meant the rising sun rather than an alarm clock woke her each morning. Layla and Sabrina returned, clutching Sidekick cell phones while doing the “happy dance.”
“Girls, I want you in bed by nine.”
“Yes, Aunt Lindy,” they said in unison.
She walked out of the study and made her way down the carpeted hallway to the staircase. Giving her nieces the run of the second floor would serve two purposes: it would give them a measure of independence and make them responsible for keeping their living space clean.
Griffin couldn’t remember the last time a woman had bored him to the point of walking out on a date. However, he’d promised Renata Crosby that he would have dinner with her the next time she came to Philadelphia on business. The screenwriter was pretty, but that’s where her appeal started and ended. From the time she sat down at the table in one of his favorite restaurants, Renata had talked nonstop about how much money she’d lost because of the writer’s strike in Hollywood. He wanted to tell her that everyone affected by the strike lost money.
“Griffin, darling, you haven’t heard a word I’ve been saying,” Renata admonished softly.
Griffin forced his attention back to the woman with eyes the color of lapis lazuli. Their deep blue color was the perfect foil for her olive complexion and straight raven-black, chin-length hair.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled apologetically, “but my mind is elsewhere.”
Renata blinked, a fringe of lashes touching the ridge of high cheekbones. She’d spent the better part of an hour trying to seduce Griffin Rice, but it was apparent her scheme to get him to sleep with her wasn’t working. She’d met the highly successful and charismatic sports attorney at an L.A. hot spot, and knew within seconds that she had to have a piece of him.
At the time, he was scheduled to fly out of LAX for the East Coast. So she had followed him to the parking lot where a driver waited for him and got him to exchange business cards with her. She and Griffin had played phone tag for more than a month until one day he answered his phone. She told him that she was meeting