Because that’s the way I like it.”
“No children?”
“No.” Something moved in and out of her expression so quickly he couldn’t make it out. Sadness, maybe.
Had she wanted children?
Or her husband had and she hadn’t?
It seemed kind of strange that a woman who knew so much about kids, and who clearly adored them, didn’t have any of her own.
“That wasn’t my question.”
She grinned. “Whose was it?”
Bowing his head, he tried to hold back his own grin, and lost the battle. “Okay, it was mine. But it wasn’t the one I’d meant to ask. Before. When I told you I had a question.” If he sounded anywhere near as idiotic to her as he sounded to himself, he should just hang his head and go home.
“What’s your question?” Grabbing a napkin, she wiped a drop of ketchup from Abraham’s mouth.
“Are we working?”
Frowning, she took a bite of her sandwich. Chewed and swallowed. “I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Right now. What we’re doing here. Is this work?”
“As opposed to what?” She really seemed confused.
Breaking more pieces of bread and hamburger patty, Jon put them on the paper in front of Abraham.
He felt stupid. “I don’t know. Two people becoming friends...” It sounded as though he was hitting on her. Which he wasn’t. At all. Not that he hadn’t noticed how those jeans of hers hugged her long legs and a backside that— No. He was better than that. “Am I a client? I mean, I know you said I don’t have to pay you, but—”
“I’m happy to help you with Abe, Jon. Don’t worry about it.”
He wasn’t worried, exactly. Except when paranoia set in and he thought she might be a spy. “I’m not too sure about protocol for child life specialists.”
His burger was getting cold. He loved burgers. And since becoming a father he only got one a week.
“Are you allowed to be friends with your clients?”
“Not according to the books,” she said, and then shrugged. “And certainly in some situations, life-threatening medical procedures, for instance, I have to keep my professional distance, but in a small town like Shelter Valley it would be impossible not to be friends with my clients. Most of the parents of young children are my age and I wouldn’t have any friends if I couldn’t be friends with them. Or conversely, I wouldn’t have many patients if I couldn’t tend to the children of my friends. I’ve got a skill set, you know, like a plumber or a doctor. If your pipe bursts and your buddy’s a plumber, he comes over to help, right?”
“So you and I—” he gestured toward her with his hamburger-holding hand “—we could be friends. If the idea was mutually satisfying, of course.”
“If the idea was mutually satisfying, yes...” She’d withdrawn a bit. Wasn’t smiling like she had been.
He got nervous again. “Hey, you do understand I’m not hitting on you, right?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
“But you are now.”
“Yes.” She nodded once, slowly.
“Good, because I’d like to offer my services. In exchange for what you’re doing here for me. And Abe.”
“Your services?”
The idea had occurred to him during the hour she’d spent giving him back some semblance of control where his son was concerned. “I’ve got some skills, too. I’d like to offer them to you.” Especially now that he knew she lived alone. “For instance, do you have a sliding glass door?”
“Yes, why?”
“Does it have a security lock on it?”
“It’s got the lock on the door handle. I’m sure it’s secure.”
He shook his head. “There was a theft in town last night.”
“I heard. And I’m sure the thief, if he’s still around, will be caught.”
What was it about the people in this town? Did they have no street smarts at all? They didn’t live behind a locked gate. Shelter Valley was accessible from the highway. All kinds of people took the highway.
“I’d like to install a secure lock on your sliding glass door. If you’re okay with that.”
“Sure. It never hurts to be safe. I’ll pay you for it, of course.”
“You’re missing the point,” Jon said. “This is a trade-off. You help me with Abe and I’ll help you.”
Being in debt gave people control over you.
She eyed the uneaten food in his container. “But...”
Abraham held up a French fry, looked from Jon to Lillie, grinned and nodded.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Lillie grinned at the toddler.
Abe’s nod encompassed the entire top half of his body. And then, still grinning, he chewed, French fry showing between his teeth. He picked up another and handed it to Lillie.
“You want me to have it?” she asked, when Jon would have just taken the fry.
Abraham, studying her with seriousness now as he held out his gift, nodded again.
She took the potato from his sticky fingers, said, “Thank you,” and popped it into her mouth.
Abe went back to the sections of burger Jon had cut for his son, picking one up and taking a huge bite out of it. He chewed, swallowed and kicked his feet. It occurred to Jon that he looked like a healthy, happy, well-adjusted kid.
One who was communicating.
“Do you want a pickle?” Lillie asked the boy, picking up the discarded vegetable from her take-out container.
“No!” Abraham said emphatically.
Smiling, Jon looked across the booth at their gorgeous companion. “I don’t buy that Bonnie Nielson pays you to spend hours on Saturday with the parents of her clients,” he said. “Being at the day care, to help them adjust, makes sense, but this?” Sitting back against the booth, he motioned at himself and Abe and the food in front of them.
Lillie’s gaze dropped before she once again looked him in the eye. “You’re right. I’m on my own time.”
“I don’t accept charity.”
“I understand.” She gathered her trash together and Jon thought she might be about to walk out
