Claire Knows Best (11 page)

“What are you doing up, sweetie?”

“I’m thirsty.”

Darcy heads towards the kitchen. “I’ll get you some water, Jakey. Do you want to come down here and kiss your mom good night?”

My heart clenches as his little legs negotiate the enormous steps. I smile and open my arms. He clasps me so tightly around
the waist, I feel the blood rushing to my head. “You okay, bud?”

“Can I come home with you?”

Rick steps forward. “Remember, Jake, your house has to be fixed? Your mom is staying over at Mrs. Lewis’s house.”

As though his dad hadn’t spoken, Jake bends his neck back and looks up at me. “Can’t I stay with you?”

“Not tonight, sweetheart.” What’s a mom to say at a time like this? He’s always loved coming to his dad’s house, but I guess
it’s not the same when you factor in the uncertainty of not knowing how long you’ll be staying. It’s obviously messing with
his sense of security. “How about I tuck you back in bed?”

His little head bobs. I lift my gaze to Rick’s just to make sure. I resent his nod. I mean, since when does a mom have to
ask permission to tuck in her baby? Darcy returns with Jake’s water and he takes just a sip then gives it back.

She holds out her hand. “Want me to tuck you in, Jakey?”

A frown creases his perfect young skin. “No. Mommy’s going to.”

Surprise lifts her equally flawless skin. Hurt flashes across her eyes. “All right.”

My heart goes out to her a little, but come on. He
is
mine. “He just misses me.” I pat her arm as Jake grabs mine and pulls me toward the steps.

From the corner of my eye I notice Rick move next to Darcy and slip an arm about her shoulders. They’re waiting for me at
the bottom of the steps fifteen minutes later after I’ve read Jakey a story, sung him a song, and kissed him ten times.

“Hey, you two. Sorry to keep you up. Well, actually, blame Ari. She’s the one who caused all this.”

Rick walks me to the door. “What are we going to do about her?” He gives me a preemptive look. “And let’s don’t start fighting
about which of us is more lenient, please?”

“I wasn’t going to.” I wish I had the guts to stick out my tongue. “I’ve been thinking about her punishment. We should definitely
take away all driving privileges for at least a month. And ground her from going anywhere with any of her friends who drive.”

He nods in uncommon cooperation. “I agree. And maybe she should have to volunteer at the homeless shelter?”

I feel the blood drain from my face to Lord knows where. “I don’t want her to do that!”

“Why not?”

“Because she’s too young to be exposed to that sort of life.”

He folds his arms across his chest. When Rick folds his arms across his chest it can only mean one thing: he’s making a stand.
I don’t feel all that intimidating in SpongeBob jammies and leopard-spotted slippers. Nevertheless I pull myself up to my
full height and dig in my fuzzy heels.

“If she keeps sneaking out at night that might be the sort of life she’s headed for.” He towers over me and I fight the urge
to place my palms on his middle-aged, letting-himself-go, squishy pecs (and who says I’m gloating just ’cause I’ve been working
out?) and shove him backward to get him out of my personal space. I’m not about to let him make this decision about punishment
if he’s going to be so ignorant about it. My daughter is far from a homeless runaway just because she snuck out to meet a
nice guy at a pizza place. “Don’t you think that’s overreacting a bit?”

“No, as a matter of fact, I don’t think I’m overreacting. That girl has been getting away with entirely too much. Better to
nip it in the bud right off the bat, if you ask me.”

“Well, I didn’t ask you, buster.”

“Yes, as a matter of fact, you did.”

“No. I said don’t punish her without me. But since you put your spin on my meaning, let me be blunt. I’ll deal with my daughter
in my own way.”

“Your daughter? Since when did she stop being our daughter and start being just yours, Claire? What, do you just make up the
rules that suit you as you go along?” His face is red with anger and his blue eyes are flashing.

I fold my arms across my chest and plant my feet hip-distance apart. “Argue all you want. But the fact is, Ari has been in
my primary custody since you left.” I gather in a sharp breath for control. I refuse to turn this into a “woman scorned” conversation.
“For the last time, my child will
not
be volunteering down there. Unless you want to volunteer with her to keep her safe.”

His face is still red, and I notice beads of sweat on his brow. “You know I work sixty hours a week already. When do you suppose
I should do that?”

Darcy lays her hand on his arm and her soft voice lifts into the air between us. “Careful of your blood pressure, sweetheart.”

That explains the red face and sweating forehead. But Rick is only thirty-eight years old. He’s not in
that
bad of shape. “Blood pressure? What’s wrong with it?”

“It’s just a little high, that’s all,” he says, totally blowing me off. “My doctor just wants me to lose twenty pounds and
exercise. Now back to Ari.”

I was afraid he was going to say that. How am I supposed to argue with a man this close to a stroke? “All right. One time.
She can volunteer once just to make your point. I’ll go with her, since you’re too busy.” And obviously don’t need the added
stress.

“I have another idea,” he says.

Miffed that I gave in against my better judgment only to have him change his mind, I give an impatient huff. “What idea?”

“I volunteer my services at Hope House once a month. What if I have Ari come with me next time? It’s the day after tomorrow.”

“What good is that as a punishment?”

His eyebrow goes up, and he looks through hooded eyes. “What do you think, Claire?” Rick is an ob-gyn. And reading his suggestion
from that perspective I see his meaning all too clearly. Hope House is a multi-church-funded house for unwed teen mothers.
They’re allowed to stay for the duration of their pregnancy and for six months thereafter if they’ve nowhere to go. And you’d
be surprised how many have been kicked out or have run away from home.

Suddenly the image of Ari all big-bellied and swollen-ankled comes to mind. I shove the offending thought aside. “That’s just
about all you know about your daughter, Rick Frank.” I turn to Darcy. “Tell him, Darce. Ari is a good girl.”

Darcy’s about to open her mouth, but Rick interrupts. “But how long will she be a good girl if she’s sneaking out to meet
college guys?”

“Sneaking out for
pizza
.”

“But what if you hadn’t stopped her?”

“I wasn’t going to sleep with him, if that’s what you’re implying, Dad.” Ari stomps down the stairs, wearing men’s boxers
and a spaghetti-strap undershirt. “Thanks for the support, Ma. At least one of my parents believes in me.”

Her nose is about a mile in the air and she has an Angelina Jolie-sized chip on her shoulder. The implication scares me to
death. And despite the fact that she’s somehow allied herself with me, I know I have to be on Rick’s side if we’re going to
have any effect on this new side of her. “Watch your tone with your dad, Ari. He’s looking out for you, and if you had an
ounce of common sense, you’d appreciate it.”

She stops short midway down the steps. Her face registers her shock since she knows darned well that her father and I usually
don’t agree on much. And unfortunately the kids have seen and heard way too much of our opposing opinions. But even if I don’t
fully agree with Rick, I’m starting to understand why he feels the way he does. Especially in light of this attitude she’s
displaying. I mean, come on. The kid just got caught red-handed sneaking out. I take in the haughty expression on my daughter’s
face and suddenly I know he’s got a point. We have to nip this in the bud—pronto.

“Since you’re here, we might as well let you in on our decision about your punishment.”

“No need.” She continues her descent with jerky, twisty, I-don’t-give-a-rip movements. “I heard everything from the landing.
I lose my license for a month, can’t hang out with my friends, and I have to go sit with all the knocked-up teenagers at Hope
House.”

Ticked off! That’s me. Totally. And sleepy to boot. A lethal combination. I look at Rick. “Silly girl. She thinks she lost
her license for a month.”

He grins. It’s sort of goofy, considering he hasn’t the faintest idea what I’m getting at, but he does know me well enough
to play along. “Can you believe her?”

Darcy is wearing a confused frown. Totally not catching our drift.

“What do you mean?” Ari has reached the bottom of the steps now. “I heard you both agree to one month.”

I snag her with a firm, don’t-mess-with-me look and tone. “Well, that was before I saw how sorry you
aren’t
.”

Rick’s head inclines in approval just as Darcy’s eyes go wide with understanding.

The Angelina wannabe drops the ’tude. “Mom, I’m sorry I lied and snuck out.”

“Lied, too? This is worse than I thought. I didn’t know anything about a lie. Well, I mean I know you lied to that poor guy
who wasted his money on the pizza.”

She mumbles something.

Rick chuckles. Darcy covers her mouth to hide a smirk. Apparently I’m the only one who didn’t make out what Ari said.

“What was that, honey?”

Laughter rumbles in Rick’s chest. “She said she paid for the pizza.”

My lips twist into a grin. “Oh, good. Then I don’t feel so bad about eating some of it.”

Red-faced, she tries to regain her composure. “So how long are we talking, Mom?”

Behind her back, Rick holds up three fingers.

“Three months.” The instant I relay the message, a groan shoots from my daughter and she drops to the bottom step with a dramatic
flair that would make John Wells most proud.

“Look on the bright side, Ari.” I give a twisted grin, feeling slightly guilty for rubbing it in. But the fact that she is
so un-sorry grates on me.

“There is no bright side.” She pins me with a glare heretofore reserved for her little brothers and any remaining compassion
flees my heart.

“Sure there is, honey. Now’s your chance to dive into
War and Peace
. If you get started right away, you ought to have just enough time to finish before you get behind the wheel again.”

T
his looks like a good one.” I draw a red circle around the classified ad and pass it across the seat to Linda. “What do you
think? Three bedrooms and a finished basement. Tommy can sleep downstairs.”

“Not bad, but five hundred dollars a month. Can you swing that?”

I shrug. I know in some areas five hundred dollars a month would rent a dive, but in south-central Missouri, you can actually
get a pretty decent place to live for that.

“I don’t see that I really have a choice. Between that stunt the girls pulled last night, Shawn needing me, and Jakey wanting
to come home…” I don’t mention Tommy because I think he’d handle it no matter where he was staying as long as we didn’t
take away his skateboard. But the honest fact of the matter is that I miss them all desperately. “I just can’t leave them
for weeks or months.”

We’re sitting in front of my house waiting for the tree-removal guys to show up. Linda and I must have our morning latte after
the ordeal with our daughters the night before. Then she’s going to help me look over rental properties.

“Didn’t Helen say you can keep the kids with you there?”

I give her a look. “Sure, like that would really work.”

“Yeah, I guess you have point.” She frowns.

“What’s wrong?”

“Shh, listen.”

I cock my head and hear something very big and machine-sounding coming down the road. With all the noise, it’s a
War of the Worlds
sort of moment and I’m ashamed to say that my heart picks up rhythm.

“What the heck is that?”

“I think it’s a crane.” I look around and see an enormous piece of machinery driving noisily down the street. “Think that’s
for me?” I ask, without taking my eyes off the giant piece of metal.

Linda gives a short laugh. “I think that’s a fairly safe bet.”

“Well, that’s good, I guess. Since they’re charging by the hour.”

“I don’t follow.”

“Using a machine that size means they know what they’re doing, right? And surely it’ll be faster. I mean they don’t let just
anyone operate those things.”

By the look Linda shoots me, I think she’s finally figured out I’m not playing with a full deck.

As predicted, the machine pulls into the yard. A pickup truck pulls alongside the curb. I let out a sigh. The thought of dealing
with men who find me three fries short of a Happy Meal (and face it, all mechanically inclined men consider us the “little
ladies”) is about the last thing I’m in the mood for. But better to give them directions and get it over with.

The guy getting out of the driver’s side of the pickup is sliding into a harness and securing it around his hips. The other
man is elderly. He regards me with frank assessment. “You the little lady I talked with on the phone yesterday?” See what
I mean?

He extends a work-roughened hand and I slip mine into his for a second. “You surely do have one big tree in your yard, girlie.”

“Yes, sir. I take it you’re Roy?”

He nods and waves toward the guy getting all decked out in work gear. “That’s my boy, Roy Jr. He’s the arborist.” Whatever
that is. I don’t ask, because I don’t really care. All I care about is getting the tree gone so the contractor can come and
do his job.

He points toward the machine. “My nephew Orson’s the crane operator.”

I nod. “All right then. I don’t want to keep you.”

“Yep. We best get to work. Clock starts now.”

Then by all means get to work. If his estimate is correct, I can expect to shell out close to fifteen hundred dollars by the
end of the day. I will get reimbursed, of course, by the insurance company. But the initial investment is enough to make me
sweat.

Roy Jr. heads over to the tree as the crane makes dirt trails through my yard. Thinking about the yard repair I’m going to
have to deal with, I shake my head as I climb back inside my van. “Well, I guess they know what they’re doing,” I say.