Catch a Rising Star (27 page)

My stomach sinks. So I was right. The two of them are together. If not getting married in Vegas, then probably together at
a hotel or something. I could just cry.

As luck would have it, Jeffy’s milk glass wobbles and goes down, spilling its contents all over the table. “Hey, David, I
need to clean up Jeffy’s milk. Have to let you go.”

“Okay, listen, Tabby. I won’t be home for at least another two or three hours. The meeting got off to an even later start,
and we’re going to have a dinner meeting. Do you mind getting the kids something to eat?”

“Already taken care of.” Does he think I’m going to starve his children just because he’s off somewhere neglecting them with
a lying hussy of a woman?

“Thank you. I owe you big.”

Got that right, buddy.

After I clean up Jeffy’s spill, the rest of my evening goes along smoothly. Amazing how just playing mother to these two on
the set has awakened maternal instincts I never knew I possessed. Rachel doesn’t deserve to have two kids as great as this
for her stepchildren.

We quickly clean up the leftovers. Jenn and Jeffy are so cute as they dry their dishes like a couple of little grown-ups.
“Good job, you two. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“I like it when you come over, Tabby,” Jeffy says.

“Jeffy!” Jenn’s reproving tone brings a blush to Jeffy’s cheeks. “I mean, Miss Tabby.”

Unexpected tenderness wells up in me. “It’s okay. I don’t mind if you call me Tabby.”

“Daddy says it’s dis-re-spec-ful,” Jeffy replies.

I ruffle the boy’s hair. “Well, I’ll talk to your dad and assure him that we’ve reached a level in our friendship where the
two of you can call me Tabby without any disrespect meant or taken.”

He frowns a little, and I realize I’ve completely talked over his head.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say. “I’m sure if I talk to your dad he’ll let you call me Tabby instead of Miss Brockman. I know
you don’t mean any disrespect. Now, what do you want to do?”

“Will you play a game with us?”

“Are you kidding? I love games.” Which isn’t entirely true. But I could if given a chance to play one.

“I call
Chutes and Ladders
!” Jenn shouts.

“Sounds like fun,” I say brightly, trying to talk myself into it.

And guess what? It really is fun. I’m having a total blast, even though I lose every single game, and only when I catch a
wide yawn stretching Jenn’s mouth do I call the playtime to an end.

“Do you take baths tonight?” I ask.

“Yes, after lessons we always have to.”

“Okay, I’ll run some water.”

“I call first bath!” Jeffy yells. These two are apparently big on “calling.”

An hour later, two very sleepy kids pad into the bedroom they share and climb into their respective twin beds.

I stand in the middle of the room and stare from one to the other, disappointed that they have to go to sleep. I’ll miss them.

“Will you read us a story, Miss Tabby?”

A thrill bursts through me. “Of course I will. What should I read?”

“Daddy’s reading us
The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe
.”

“Okay. Should I pick up where he left off?”

They both nod. “Jeffy, come crawl into bed next to your sister, and I’ll sit at the end of the bed and read.”

In two minutes, we’re ready to begin. I open the book to chapter four where it appears David has left off and begin to read.

The twins are nodding off in ten minutes, which bums me out a little because I don’t want to stop reading. I replace the bookmark
and sit in the dimly lit room watching them sleep.

I’m still sitting cross-legged resting my chin on my fists watching the steady rise and fall of their little chests when David
peeks into the room.

My cheeks warm as I realize I’ve been staring at the sleeping little angels for fifteen minutes. I slide off the bed as carefully
as I can and set the book on the nightstand. I switch off the light and follow David from the room.

He softly closes their bedroom door and motions down the hall. He gives a chuckle. “When I asked you to watch them, I didn’t
mean you had to watch them every second.”

“We just finished reading a few minutes ago.”

“How were they for you?”

“Good.”

“I see you got roped into
Chutes and Ladders
.” He nods toward the table where I’ve neglected to put away the game.

“Sorry. I’ll pick it up.”

He puts a restraining hand on my arm. “That’s not necessary.”

I jerk back and clear my throat. “They ate pizza for supper. There’s still some in the refrigerator if you’re hungry.”

“Thanks. I’m starving.” He grins and yanks at the tie at his throat. He loosens it, slides it from his collar, and unbuttons
his first two buttons.

“Um—no problem. The kids had baths. And they were so good at the skating rink. Did you know they can actually do single loops?
They’re amazing.” I hear the excitement rising in my voice as his eyes squint with amusement.

“They’re not exactly ready for the Olympics. But I think it’s important for kids to learn a sport. It keeps them active.”

I feel foolish for getting so caught up. “Yes, well. They’re really good, I think. You know what else?”

“What?”

“They’re smart too.” I look up at him and his lips are pursed like he’s trying not to smirk. “I mean really smart, David.”

“I know.”

He’s just too calm to be grasping the enormity of what I’m telling him. “I mean, maybe they’re geniuses. For instance, Jeffy
read the word ‘lion’ and Jenn can write her full name—not just Jenn, but Jennifer. That’s pretty—you know—”

“Amazing?”

He’s mocking me. “I think so.” I jerk my chin, realizing that I sound ridiculous to be so impressed with a couple of five-year-olds.

“I’m glad you three have reached an understanding.” He smiles. “Do you want to join me in the kitchen and keep me company
while I eat?”

“What would Rachel think of that?”

“I’m sure she couldn’t care less.” He gives me a puzzled smile. “Why? Do you think she’d care?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. You’re closer to her than I am.”

He gives me a conspiratorial wink that I totally don’t get. “Well, as one who knows her so well, let me assure you she wouldn’t
care if you sit and have a slice of pizza with me.” He slips off his shoes to reveal dark blue socks. “You don’t mind, do
you? Those shoes are killers. I’d rather wear my Nikes any day.”

“Be my guest.”

“Oh, before I forget. How much do I owe you for babysitting and for the pizza?”

I stand slack-jawed as he pulls his wallet from his back pocket. Is he kidding me?

“Will fifty do it?”

“Fifty?”

He misunderstands my inability to form words. I’m so appalled.

He narrows his gaze. “Sixty?”

Outrage clamps my mouth shut. I send him my meanest glare, grab my purse off the counter, and whip around. I catch my sweater
on the edge of the counter and it snags. Actually, snag is a mild word for the golf-ball-sized hole in the stomach of my favorite
cashmere.

“Tabby, wait. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it. You’re not the one that put a hole in it. I’m just klutzy, that’s all. I’ll see you and the kids tomorrow.”

“That’s not what I meant.” He stops me with a hand on my arm.

I whip around to face him. “What then?”

“I’m sorry for insulting you. I should have known better than to offer you money.”

“Yes, you should have.” I grab my leather coat from the closet by the door. “And by the way,” I say as I open the front door.
“Don’t make any
plans
on April eighth because the kids have an exhibition at the skating rink.”

“Thanks. I’ll remember. Be careful out there, it’s starting to snow.”

“I like driving in the snow.”

I have trouble holding back tears as I ride the elevator down.

“How was that pizza, Randy?” I ask the smiling doorman as he tips his hat and opens the door for me.

“Hit the spot. The wife doesn’t allow me to eat the stuff. Says it’ll take five years off my life.”

“I won’t tell her if you won’t.” Note to self, don’t offer Randy any more pizza. Could possibly be contributing to ill health
and/or marriage difficulties. Although that’s probably a moot point anyway because I won’t be coming back to David’s apartment.

I grab Dancy’s keys from my purse before I step outside, then turn back and smile at Randy. “Night.”

“I’ll keep an eye out until you drive away.”

“Thanks. I appreciate it.”

I don’t know how I lucked out enough to get a parking spot close to the building. I crank the engine. It makes a lot of noise,
but doesn’t start. Stupid eleven-year-old car! My heart picks up. This has never, ever happened before. I crank the engine
again. It fires up. But before I can feel a second of relief, it sputters and dies.

I pull the hood latch and jerk out of the car. I have no idea what I’m looking for, but popping the hood seems to be the right
course of action.

Help, Lord. I don’t know what to do.

“What seems to be the trouble?”

Pain shoots through my head as I jump and bang on the open hood. “Sheesh, David. Warn a person! What are you doing down here,
anyway? Where are the kids?”

“Sorry for startling you, I’m down here because Randy called and said you’re having car trouble, and the kids are still in
bed where you left them.”

“Alone in the apartment? Are you crazy? Get up there before someone steals them out of their beds.”

“Relax. Mrs. Rutledge, my next-door neighbor, is looking after them.”

Relief floods me even as I feel a little foolish. “Sorry for overreacting.”

He grins. “I liked it.”

“Well, anyway. I’d better get back under that hood and see what’s going on.”

“Know a lot about cars, do you?” Is he making fun of me?

“Well—not really, but maybe if I…” I reach out to touch a black, dirty cable of some sort. But David’s hand covers mine
before I actually make contact with the filthy vehicle.

His lips twitch. “May I?”

“Be my guest,” I say as though I’m doing him a huge favor.

“How about if you go turn the key so I can hear what it’s doing.”

“It’s not starting,” I huff. “That’s the problem.”

“Okay, humor me.”

I jerk around to the driver’s side and slide in the car. I turn the key. The car makes a valiant effort, but again sputters
and dies.

David drops the hood into place and walks around to my window. I open the door. “What are you doing?” I demand.

“Tabby.”

Is he trying not to laugh? I’m so glad he thinks it’s hilarious.

“What?” I ask.

“I think you ran out of gas.”

That is the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard. “Obviously you’re no mechanic! Because there is no way I’m out of—” I look down
at the gas gauge.
E.
“Oh.”

I slide my hand over to my purse and pull out my cell phone. “Know the number of a good taxi?” I ask glumly.

David reaches out and instinctively I take his hand. He pulls me from the car. “Why don’t I drive to the gas station a couple
of blocks away and get you enough gas to make it to the station? Then you won’t have to waste time and money taking a cab
home tonight and back over here tomorrow to pick up your car.”

Such a gentleman. And what a sensible solution. “Thanks. I’d appreciate it.”

“Will you come upstairs and stay with the kids for me so Mrs. Rutledge can go home?”

“Of course.” I mean, it’s the least I can do, right? He is going out to get gas for my car. And that’s when I realize, he’s
still holding my hand. Should I say anything?

“Are you staying, Miss Brockman?” Randy asks, and he’s sort of frowning like he doesn’t approve.

David drops my hand like a hot potato. “Miss Brockman is going to stay with the kids for a few minutes while I go to the gas
station and fill up a gallon jug with gas for her car.” He stares hard at the doorman. “That’s
all.”

Randy nods. “That’s good.”

David reaches into his pocket and hands me his keys. “Can you make it upstairs by yourself?”

“Yeah.” I’m a little depressed now. I mean, sure I wouldn’t want Randy to get the wrong idea about why I’m sticking around.
But on the other hand, why did David have to be so pointed in letting the doorman know there’s nothing going on between us?

What am I going to have to do to get this guy’s attention?

W
hy didn’t you just confront him and get it over with?” It’s been two days since my babysitting venture at David’s house, and
Laini has finally come back to the apartment. Dancy’s so sick with the measles she’s not up for a heart-to-heart, and I’ve
been dying to talk to one of my friends about David.

“What was I supposed to say, Laini?”

“How about, ‘Hey dude, how could you ask me to babysit again and go out with the woman who makes my life miserable?’”

“Dude?”

“Shut up.” She tosses a couch pillow at me. I catch it easily and laugh.

“Oh well. Maybe I’m just not cut out for love.”

“Me neither. Let’s just live together forever and get some cats.”

“Oh, and a goldfish.”

“And a guinea pig named Charley.”

Laughter erupts from us until reality strikes home in the form of our dear, measles-infected pal. Dancy’s pale, shaky form
exits her bedroom. “You guys are going to have to keep it down. My head is killing me.”

“We’re sorry.” I understand exactly how she feels. “Go back to bed. I’ll bring you some green tea.”

“Thank you,” she mumbles and heads back to her bedroom.

Laini coughs and I shoot around. “Don’t tell me you haven’t had the measles either!”

“I-I don’t know.”

Good grief. Looks like that so-called childhood illness is going to make the rounds in our grown-up apartment.

I give Jenn a wink and a smile just before Blythe calls “Action!”

Felicia: “I know this must be difficult, honey. But I’m sure I’ll start having memories of you and your brother soon. Others
are starting to come back, aren’t they?” (I smile at her. She walks across the living room set where I’m sitting on the sofa
and climbs up next to me.)