A Small-Town Homecoming (15 page)

“Sounds boring. And annoying.”

“Tell me about it,” Rosie said. She grabbed the door handle and then paused to look back at Tess. “Have you won an argument with him yet?”

“Sure.”

The kid gave her a skeptical frown. “Really?”

“Of course.”

Tess set down her cup. There was an important point to be made here, and now that the kid was talking again, she wanted to keep the conversation on track. “But that’s not the point. He’s the exception to the rule, remember? Mémère’s philosophy is that looking for a fight all the time makes a person mean and petty. And in spite of what Jared Medvedev said, the fight I picked today ended up making me feel mean and petty and stupid. It made me lose my cool, which I really hate. Shrewish isn’t one of my better looks.”

Tess checked her reflection in the rearview mirror and fluffed her hair, waiting to see if the kid had anything to say.

Rosie toyed with the handle. “Do you ever wish you could stop fighting with him?”

“With your dad? If I quit, I wouldn’t know what to do with him. Confrontation is the basis of our relationship.”

Rosie slowly sank back against her seat and stared through the windshield. “Do you like him?”

“I do. In a narrowly defined version of the term ‘like,’ that is.”

“Even when you’re fighting with him?”

“Especially when I’m fighting with him.” Tess took a fortifying sip of her cooling latte. “Let me tell you something about your dad. Even when he’s just plain wrong and I want to bash in his pigheaded face, he’s still a pretty awesome guy. I’ll share this secret—and you have to swear you won’t tell him I said this, or I swear, I’ll kick your butt—I actually admire him.”

“Yeah, but, do you…” Rosie fingered the strap on her pack. “You know, do you like,
like
him?”

“You mean, the girl-guy kind of like?”

“Yeah.”

“Now there’s a loaded question,” Tess said. “With all sorts of answers, depending on the context. Don’t worry, kid,” she added when Rosie gave her the stink eye. “I’m not going to duck out on this, although I wish I hadn’t started it.”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, I find your dad extremely sexy.”

“Eeuww.”

“Hey,” Tess said. “You asked. If you don’t want to hear the answer, don’t ask the question.”

Rosie gave her a suspicious, sideways glance. “How come you’re talking to me like this?”

“Like what?”

“Telling me all this stuff.”

“Why wouldn’t I? If I don’t want to answer one of your questions, I’ll just tell you to mind your own business. It’s called conversation, kid, remember? People do it all the time.” She took another sip. “Besides, talking to you is kind of interesting. I wonder if you’d keep me interested past the first few dates.”

“Girls don’t go on dates.”

“Yes, they do. I go out on girl dates with my girlfriends all the time.” She took another sip. “What do you think this was?”

“You just picked me up from school.”

“Hey, we kicked some butt, we got some snacks. We’ve been stuck together in this car for half an hour.” Tess tilted her head back and drained the last of the coffee. “That’s longer than some of my dates have lasted.”

“Time for me to go.”

“Rosie.”

The kid climbed from the car and then turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“You’re not going to tell your dad I think he’s sexy, are you?”

“Puh-leeze.” Rosie rolled her eyes as she slammed the door.

Tess waited until she walked into her building. And then she leaned her head against her window and glanced at the figure staring down at her from the third floor. “She’s not so bad, Quinn. Fiesty, but I can relate.”

T
ESS PERCHED
on a stool at the wide kitchen island at Chandler House late Saturday afternoon. With the sun peeking below the awning and Aretha on the radio, Tess was certain there were no problems in the world that couldn’t be solved with a plate of Julia’s snickerdoodles and a tall glass of ice-cold milk. She’d figured out the answers to plenty of life’s questions in this particular spot. So she was certain that if she concentrated hard enough—and ate enough cookies—she could figure out what to do about Quinn, too.

Not that she wanted to do anything about him except hold on tight and enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted. She’d had a week to calm down and think things through after her flight from his apartment, and now she knew what she wanted: an affair. With him. And since her usual method of handling an affair—comfortable boundaries and a casual distance—had worked every time in the past, she reassured herself it would probably work again this time. Boundaries would be important with Quinn.

Distance would be essential with his kid.

So now that she had things figured out, all neat and tidy, why was her stomach looping in knots, and why were so many cookie crumbs catching in her throat? She grabbed for her glass.

“What time did you say Miss Addie and that fool Charlie were getting here?” Julia rolled her marble pin across a sheet of pastry dough. “I want to get this pie in the oven before I head to town.”

Tess glanced at the clock fixed to the wall above the big steel-fronted refrigerators. “Any minute now. And why is Charlie a fool?”

“I’ve seen her beau. Any woman who would drag her feet about marrying a man like that needs her head examined.”

“She loves Jack. She just isn’t looking forward to getting dressed up and having everyone stare at her.” Both concepts were completely alien to Tess, but she’d stick up for Charlie because she was a loyal friend.

Loyal to a fault, as Mémère was fond of reminding her.

“Then they should have decided to elope,” Julia said.

“She suggested that, but Jack doesn’t want to sneak away. He says he wants plenty of witnesses so she can’t back out of the deal later.” Tess sipped her milk. “He also says he wants to watch her walk down the aisle to him.”

“With a scowl on her face, most likely.”

“Probably.” Tess smiled. “Definitely.” She set an elbow on the counter, rested her chin in her hand and sighed. “I think it’s romantic.”

“The words
romantic
and
Charlie Keene
don’t exactly match up too well, do they?” Julia asked.

Tess smiled around the rim of her glass as she finished her milk. She wondered if all these doubters—herself included—would dissolve in tears at the sight of Charlie in white, clutching a fistful of flowers.

Julia draped the pastry over one of her wide pie dishes and began to fill it with shaved apple slices. “It’s been too long since Miss Addie came around for a visit. I miss her.”

“Well, you’ll get to see both of them now.” Tess scooted off the stool at the sound of a car in the drive beyond the kitchen door. “They said they’d meet me here.”

Julia wiped her flour-dusted hands on her apron. “They’ll be wanting some of my cookies.”

“Why do you think they told me to meet them in the kitchen?”

A few moments later, Julia had her arms around “her girls” and was offering cookies and milk, just like old times.

Addie pulled out a stool next to Tess, and Charlie slouched against the island across from them. “Mmmm,” Charlie said as she bit into a snickerdoodle. “Let’s skip those fancy frosted cakes and have these at the wedding.”

“Snickerdoodles on the south lawn.” Julia shook her head as she slid her pie into the oven. “Miz Geneva would never recover.”

Charlie licked a milk mustache from her upper lip. “A couple dozen of these might make a nice wedding present.”

“I can do better than that,” Julia said.

“Okay. How about a couple dozen every week for a year?”

“Enough about the cookies.” Tess pulled a notepad from her tote. “How about the cake?”

“Ooh, the cake. I’ve got some pictures.” Addie rummaged through her scuffed, sagging tote and hefted a thick pile of bridal magazines onto the counter.

“Not the magazines.” Charlie shoved her milk aside and buried her face in her crossed arms. “Anything but the magazines.”

“Let me see, sweetie.” Julia slid onto the stool next
to Addie and opened a bloated magazine bristling with sticky markers. “Now, isn’t that pretty?”

“We could use fresh flowers to decorate the tops of the layers,” Addie said. “Fresh flowers would work, wouldn’t they?”

“They add a nice touch.” Tess licked her fingers and craned her neck to peer at the photo over Addie’s shoulder. “I like the way those are draped and swirled over the edges. What do you think, Charlie?”

“I think I want another snickerdoodle.” She crossed the kitchen to the oversize bin near the cooktop.

Julia set the oven’s timer. “I’m leaving you in charge, Miss Addie. You see that this pie gets pulled out and set on the rack when that buzzer goes off, or you’re going to have me to answer to.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Addie grinned as Julia lightly flicked her arm with a tea towel.

“All right. Let’s get down to business,” Tess said when Julia had gone. She opened her notepad and clicked a pen. “Where do we start? Cake? Flowers? We should probably start with the flowers, because—What?” she asked when she saw the look that passed between Charlie and Addie.

“I heard you got sent to the principal’s office at Adams Elementary School,” Charlie said.

“Oh, that. That’s not exactly what happened.” Tess tried to wave it off, but Charlie crossed her arms and rested on the island, settling in to hear the whole sordid tale. “How did you hear about it?” Tess asked.

“Jason Cardoza’s mother was dropping off some flyers at the school office,” Charlie told her.

“And who is Jason Cardoza?”

“One of the boys on Jack’s Little League team.”

Tess narrowed her eyes. “Sometimes I think this town’s grapevine needs some serious pruning.”

“What we want to know is, what were you doing at the school?” Addie asked.

“Picking up Quinn’s daughter.”

“Hmm.” Charlie gave Addie another of those annoying looks. “Interesting.”

“There was nothing ‘interesting’ about it,” Tess said. “I was doing him a favor. That’s all.”

“You’re turning red.” Addie studied her over the rim of her glass. “You wouldn’t be turning red if it was just a favor.”

“Maybe she’s been doing other favors for Quinn.” Charlie wiggled her eyebrows. “Favors we don’t know about. Yet.”

“We could ask her,” Addie suggested.

“I have an idea,” Tess said as she stood and gathered her things. “Why don’t we continue this interrogation outside. You can plan for the wedding and torture me at the same time.”

“Okay.” Charlie straightened and headed toward the door leading to the back hall. “Dibs on the thumbscrews.”

“We can’t go outside yet,” Addie said. “I have to wait for the pie. And we don’t mean to torture you,” she told Tess. “We’re just curious about what’s going on between you and Quinn.”

“What makes you think something’s going on? What?” Tess asked. “There’s that look again. Stop giving each other that look.”

“What look?” Addie asked.

“The we-know-she’s-hiding-something-from-us look.”

“Guilty as charged.” Charlie returned and swung up on one of the stools. “So—what are you hiding from us?”

Tess tried staring them down, but she was outnumbered. “All right, all right. For crying out loud.” She inhaled deeply and blew out a put-upon sigh. “There was…this…kiss.”

“I knew it.” Charlie slapped the counter. “I knew there was something going on the night you two came over for dinner.”

“Just a kiss?” Addie asked.

“You sound so disappointed,” Tess said.

“She’s not.” Charlie shook her head. “I’m not. It’s just that we’re a little worried about you. Usually you’re…”

“Getting more than kisses?” Tess asked.

“Happier.” Addie ran her hand down Tess’s arm. “Aren’t you happy, Tess?”

It was the reassuring, uncomplicated gesture that did Tess in—the contrast between the sweet simplicity of that touch and the terrifying complications casting shadows over her personal life.

“I don’t know.” Tess swallowed, mortified by the sting behind her eyes and the burn in her throat. “I don’t know what’s going on, what’s going to happen between Quinn and me. I want an affair, but I know it’ll be painful and messy—there’s no avoiding it.”

“Are you sure?” Addie asked.

“He’s an alcoholic,” Tess said. “He’s got a kid. I’m working with him. How much worse could it be?”

“He could be married,” Charlie pointed out.

Tess huffed out a shaky laugh. “You’re right. Things could be worse. But I don’t do those things. I don’t do messy and painful. So I’ve been asking myself why don’t I just give up on the idea?”

“Because he kissed you,” Addie said.

“Yes, he did.” Tess shivered, remembering. “He kissed me. I mean, he
kissed
me, and omigod, I want him. I’m scared to death how much I want him. There,” she said, glaring at her friends. “Are you satisfied now? Totally-in-control, love-’em-and-leave-’em Tess Roussel has been brought to her knees by a moody, troubled man, with just one kiss.”

“Must have been some kiss,” Charlie said.

“Take my word for it.” Tess sucked in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “The man may have his faults—and plenty of them—but he knows how to kiss.”

O
N
S
UNDAY AFTERNOON
Quinn sat in the local minor league field bleachers with his daughter and a crowd of people he barely knew. He drank lukewarm lemonade, watched his newest crew member strike out twice in the first four innings and listened to Tess’s low-level whining about the sticky seat, the flat soda, the rude couple two rows down and the high price of the sandals she wanted for a new dress. He closed his eyes, tipped his head back and let the sun warm his face.

Life was good.

He still couldn’t believe he was here, instead of checking the equipment at the job site. But he’d thought Rosie might enjoy the outing. And when Mick and Jack had ganged up on him to twist both arms—not-so-subtly pointing out that Tess would be here, too—he’d agreed to help with the chaperoning duties for Jack’s Little League team.

Tess jostled his elbow as she scooted her feet out of the aisle, scrunching back and turning her face to the side to avoid a nose-to-butt-crack encounter with the fan
heading to an empty seat farther down their row. “Gee, Quinn. You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

“I’m having fun.” Behind them, Addie noisily slurped the last of her soda and then yelled at the ump. “I haven’t seen a Wildcats game in years. I forgot how exciting it can be.”

“Glad you’re enjoying it.” Quinn stole a handful of popcorn from Tess’s bag and shoved it into his mouth.

“Don’t get too impressed with yourself.” Tess brushed a stray fleck of popcorn from her light blue pants. “Addie doesn’t get out much.”

The batter caught one high and inside, sending a pop fly into left field. Addie gripped Tess’s shoulder as Mick went deep, deep, loping into position and making the catch look as easy as pie.

“He’s wonderful,” Addie said. “And incredibly cute.”

“Think so?” Tess leaned forward, giving Mick a squinting once-over. “Quinn can introduce you after the game.”

“No,” Quinn said.

“Why not?” Tess dug into her bag and pulled out two fluffy kernels. “He’s single. Addie’s single. And she’s right—he is sort of cute.”

“Bad combination,” Quinn said.

“I thought you liked him.”

“I hired him. I’m not going to date him.”

“I’m not going to date him, either,” Addie said. “Unless he asks me.”

“You don’t know anything about him.” Quinn stared into the outfield with a frown. “He might be lying about being single. He could be a bigamist with a wife in every town he’s ever lived in.”

“What’s a bigamist?” Rosie asked.

“A man who’s married to more than one woman at a
time,” Tess told her. “Which is something Mick could never afford on what your dad’s paying him.”

“He doesn’t look like a bigamist.” Addie jumped to her feet to boo with the crowd.

“What does a bigamist look like?” Rosie asked.

“Like any other man. Which is one reason they’re so scary.” Tess reached across Quinn to offer Rosie some popcorn. “Bigamists, I mean. Men aren’t scary at all.”

After a slight hesitation, Rosie took one piece.

Quinn silently released the breath he’d been holding.
Progress.
After Tess had picked Rosie up from school on Wednesday, Rosie had refused to tell him what had happened in the office or what she and Tess had discussed during the time they’d spent together. She’d been unusually subdued the rest of the week—not with her usual sullen silence, but with a considering sort of quiet.

Whatever Tess had accomplished with his daughter, Quinn wished she’d do it again. He glanced at her profile, enjoying her nearness, wishing he could hold her sticky hand. Instead, he took his daughter’s hand and gave it a quick squeeze.

Rosie squeezed back.

Quinn froze, afraid to let go but afraid to hold on a moment too long. Addie jumped up behind them again, cheering another of Mick’s plays and the end of the inning, nudging his arm with her knee. Rosie’s hand slipped from his.

“Can I get you something?” he asked her.
Anything. Right now, I’ll try to get you anything in the world you want.

“Nah.” His daughter sucked her soda through a straw as obnoxiously as Addie had done. Quinn caught her eyeing one of Jack’s Little Leaguers, who happened to
look back at the same time and then duck his head shyly. “I’m fine,” she said.

God. Maybe he shouldn’t have left her alone with Tess after all.

S
HORTLY AFTER
3:00 p.m. on Friday, Rosie plopped her ten-year-old butt on the passenger seat of Tess’s roadster and hauled her backpack onto her lap. Her it’s-an-ordeal sigh made it clear that everything—the end of the school day, Tess’s arrival, the weight of the books and homework assignments in the bag—was part of a plot to rob her of any chance of happiness. “This is getting to be a bad habit,” she said when she’d slammed her door.