Saving Grace (2 page)

They passed Hula Hut and meandered down Lake Austin Boulevard into the residential section. “Which house is yours?”

“There’s our gate.” She pointed to a huge wrought-iron affair covering a driveway wide enough for two cars side-by-side. “Don’t suppose you’d let me off at the gate?”

“What do you think?” Grace grinned.

“Yeah, I couldn’t be that lucky.”

“Tonight’s not your night.” Grace cranked the window lever to roll down the window. “What’s the gate code?”

“W-I-N-N or 9466.” CoCo sank lower in her seat.

“Is that your last name or something?” Grace typed in the numbers.

“No, it’s Robbins. My dad’s the head coach of the Austin Lone Stars.” CoCo did her best to sound bored, but the slight quiver of fear in her voice told the real story. “I apologize for Debra upfront.”

“Debra’s your dad’s girlfriend, right?” Grace was trying to keep all the players names correct in her mind.

Grace didn’t know much about football, but she’d heard the name Chord Robbins. If memory served he’d been
People Magazine
’s Sexiest Man Alive two years ago and was the current recipient of the “Best Ass” by the Austin Chronicle. She wasn’t sure if that meant he had a stellar backside or was the best at being an ass.

“Yep, Debra is working on reeling dad in, but he’s not into her. She’s too stupid to see that.” CoCo shook her head. “I pointed that out to her last time she babysat us, by offering to lend her a copy of
He’s Just Not That Into You
, but she’d already read it. Some people are so blind it’s pathetic.”

“Tell me about it. It’s like when some people meet slimy guys online, and then get in a car with them— blind. I hear ya’.”

Slowly, CoCo turned her head to stare at Grace. “I get it. I was stupid. It won’t happen again.”

“I know, just driving that point home. I like beating a dead horse; it gives me something to do.” Grace pulled in front of a fountain positioned in the middle of the massive circle driveway. “Wow, that’s um…”

Grace racked her brain for the right words to describe the enormous fountain. Four larger-than-life, buck-naked men with tentacles instead of legs were stationed in each of the four compass points. Smaller men on horseback did battle with merpeople on sea creatures, as water tumbled over three levels of mythic marble. “It’s really…um, large.”

“It’s terrible. You can say it.” CoCo pointed to the middle where a man on a platform rode what might be a giant eel, but Grace couldn’t be sure. “That’s the worst part. It looks like he’s peeing into the fountain.”

Grace leaned over to get a better look. Water was spewing from below the man’s waist. “It’s very Plaza Navona.”

She’d seen the original on a poster in a travel agency where she once worked, for all of two weeks. The job had cut into rehearsal time, so she’d quit.

“That was my mother’s inspiration. She and my father vacationed in Rome on their honeymoon.” Grace pointed to a large crushed granite parking spot. “Just pull over there, and I’ll jump out.”

“Right, like that’s going to happen.” Grace pulled onto the granite and glanced at the fountain again. CoCo’s father must have adored her mother to the point of blindness to let her put this in his front yard.

“My dad offered to donate the fountain to the Texas School for the Blind, but even they didn’t want it.” CoCo opened the door. “Last chance, you can leave now, and we’ll call it even.”

“Nice try.” Grace stepped out from behind the driver’s side and closed her door. “Not a chance.”

Stepping in and taking responsibility wasn’t new to Grace, she couldn’t help herself. Fighting other people’s battles was her only accomplishment.

For the third time that evening, Chord Robbins yanked at the bowtie noosed around his neck. Air was free, but inhaling it through this constricted monstrosity of a tuxedo was costing him. If he weren’t sitting at the head table of the Austin Human Heroes benefit and gala about to deliver the keynote speech, he’d chuck the damn tie and pop open a couple of buttons. Maybe he could anyway, the lights were dim, and a big-screen was showcasing all the dogs and cats the Austin Human Heroes had found homes for in the last year.

What he wouldn’t give to be home with his kids. All his life he’d wanted to be a dad. Kids to love, that loved him—just like a sitcom. If there were a problem, they’d resolve it in thirty minutes and laugh their asses off. His dream was of a family that had fun, played board games, and enjoyed each other’s company. Unfortunately, his reality was less Brady Bunch and more Super Nanny but without the whole learning to be a good parent thing. In his house, if something major wasn’t broken and someone wasn’t bleeding to death, he called it a win.

His phone buzzed with another new text message. Heaving a long sigh, he covertly wiggled the phone out of his pocket. Text messages blew up his screen. Glancing at them,
CoCo ran away
and
I’m leaving
…jumped out at him.

He elbowed Clint Grayson, seated on his left, “I’ve got a family situation. CoCo ran away. I’ve got to go.” He handed Clint the note cards with this speech. “Can you take over for me?”

Clint blanched. Then his gaze found his hugely pregnant wife, Summer, in the front row, and his color returned. “You bet, Coach. I’ve got your back. I happen to have a funny story about an attack cat that was rescued from the Austin Human Heroes.” Clint took the note cards. “I’ll make your excuses.”

“Thanks, man.” He patted Clint on the back.

When Chord had taken the head-coaching job with the Lone Stars, Clint was the first athlete he’d recruited. Building a team around his star quarterback had been risky, but it paid off.

Clint eye flirted with his wife who winked and blew him a kiss. “Go. Family always comes first.”

Seeing real love in action was nice. Clint and Summer loved each other—flaws and all. What was that like? To know someone loved him no matter what—someone who would always be there for him and had his back. Would he ever have that? His life with Alice certainly hadn’t been about unconditional love. To be fair, it wasn’t all her fault; he hadn’t been in love with her. He could see that now. He’d been in love with the family dream. Maybe if he had loved her, she wouldn’t have slept around and run off with the yoga instructor.

As quietly as possible, Chord scooted back his metal chair back and eased out. He tiptoed down the stairs at the back of the podium, and out the door into the hallway. As he ran to his car, he dialed Debra’s cell.

Debra picked up on the first ring. “I’m done. I’m out of here.”

“Wait.” He yanked at this tie and popped the two top shirt buttons. “You can’t leave. What happened?”

“CoCo is missing, and the twins are painting the living room with spaghetti sauce. Honestly, these kids are out of control.” Debra sounded pissed.

“Where is CoCo?” He was in no mood for one of Debra’s tantrums. His children might not be the most well behaved kids, but no one talked about them that way, least of all Debra who’d begged to stay with them when he’d wanted to call a babysitter.

“I don’t know.” Her voice was clipped and sharp. “She snuck out her bedroom window. I was about to call the police.”

“I bet she’s at Bethany’s house next door. Did you call her?” With his key fob, Chord unlocked the door of his Porsche Spyder and slid in the driver’s seat. He started the engine and roared out of the parking space.

“I don’t know Bethany. Get your ass home. I’m leaving. I’ve had enough of your little monsters. I’m your girlfriend, not your nanny.”

Girlfriend? They’d been out a couple of times and had sex once, but that didn’t make her his girlfriend. “Stay, at least until I get home.”

In the background, the doorbell chimed. “Someone’s here. Hold on.”

He raced up loop three-sixty toward Westlake.

“So you’re back.” Debra’s voice was muffled. “I was worried sick.”

Had she been worried? Because she sounded pissed off.

“CoCo’s back.” Debra said into the phone. “Some lady is with her.” There was a pause, and then she said, “She’s the nipple lady from The Voice.”

“Who?” Nipple Lady? What did that mean? “I’m twenty-five minutes away…”

His cell dropped the call. Damn, he slapped the steering wheel. He redialed Debra’s cell, but there was no service. He tried again and again. Finally five long, arduous minutes later, the call connected and Debra’s voicemail picked up. He hit end and dialed his home number.

After three rings, a female voice answered. “Hello.”

“Who is this?”

“Grace Kelley. Who is this?”

“Chord Robbins, you’re in my house. Where’s Debra?” He turned onto Bee Caves Road and screeched to a halt, as the light at Westlake Hospital turned red. He revved the engine waiting for the light to change.

“I threw her out—”

“Excuse me?” His voice was an octave higher than normal. “What?”

“She got in CoCo’s face and yelled nasty things at her. When she tried to slap CoCo, I tossed her out on her butt. Don’t worry. I’ve got things under control until you get here.” The woman was so confident and calm. His kids didn’t usually inspire calm or in his case confidence.

“Oh…um?” He hadn’t meant it to be a question, but it came out as one.

“No worries. I’ll be here. Boys, put the paint brushes down, and go get a bucket and two sponges.” The last part was muffled like she’d slid the phone away from her mouth. “Now.”

She didn’t raise her voice, but she meant business. “Your twins—”

“HW and Cart.” He heard CoCo volunteer their names.

“HW and Cart will have the wall cleaned up by the time you get home.”

“Okay.” If she could pull that off, he’d hire her sight-un-seen to be their new nanny. He didn’t hold out much hope … she wasn’t the Virgin Mary or Drew Brees, so miracles probably weren’t in her power. “I’m fifteen minutes away. Just try to make sure they don’t burn the house down before I get there.”

“Whatever you say.” She laughed. “Drive safe. Goodbye.”

She hung up.

The woman had balls, he’d give her that. Grown men didn’t have the guts to hang up on him, and she thought she could control his kids. Self-confidence was a beautiful thing, but an overabundance was dangerous. Clearly, she was in the dangerous category.

Seventeen minutes later, he clicked the opener for the gate, skidded through, gunned it down the driveway, and waited for the garage door to open. He pulled in, slammed the car in park and threw open the door. He raced inside and found … serenity. Nothing was broken that he could see, no one was yelling, and no one was gushing blood. In his book, that equaled serenity.

The twins looked up from the kitchen sink where they stood on stools, washing out a bucket. CoCo sat at the kitchen table reading a book, and a tall, willowy, brunette stood at the island whisking something in a mixing bowl. Chord glanced around to make sure he was in the right house.

The brunette stopped whisking, wiped her hands on the dishtowel hooked over her left shoulder, and walked to him. “I’m Grace. You must be Chord Robbins.”

He shook her hand and then let go while waiting for all hell to break loose. This version of his life had to be staged. “How much did you pay them?”

Bribery was his number one way to achieve order.

HW grinned showing off his two missing top front teeth. “If we do a good job, we get brownies…the homemade kind.”

Cart nodded and then HW added, “And maybe ice cream on top if we clean under our fingernails. Gracie says they’re atrostus.”

“Atrocious.” Grace corrected. “They’re atrocious.” She picked up HW’s left hand and inspected. “Better, but they’re not completely clean. Keep going.”

She turned to Cart and picked up his right hand. “Nice. Help your brother with his hands, then dry the bucket, and put it away.”

Cart leaned over, grabbed his brother’s hand, and shoved it under the faucet.

Chord made a big show of looking around. “Who are you people, and what have you done with my family?”

“Brownies.” HW whispered and the glee on his face rivaled Christmas morning. “Ice cream.”

He grinned at Grace. “If I’d known chocolate would make them behave, I’d have fed it to them by the pound.”

HW’s eyes turned huge. “Really?”

“No.” Chord laughed.

“My brownies have been known to bring uptight adults to their knees.” She whisked for all she was worth. “CoCo, I believe you have something to tell your father.”

Coco hung her head and didn’t make eye contact. “I snuck out and went to SXSW.”

There was silence.

“And…” Grace opened cabinets until she came up with a pan, sprayed it with cooking spray, and poured in the dark brown mixture she’d been whisking.

CoCo shot Grace a dirty look. “Okay, I met a guy online, and he took me to dinner, and we were going to see a couple of bands—”

“You did what?” Chord’s blood pressure shot to an all-time high. “You met some stranger…got in the car with a stranger?”

He took four deep breaths and fisted and unfisted his hands. Before his kids were born, both he and his wife had decided to deal with their children with a softer touch than they’d grown up with. According to Dr. Daniel Danbury’s
Childhood—Turning the Battle into a Ceasefire
, children didn’t respond well to shouting, and discipline stunted their emotional development. It took all he had to keep his voice even. “Are you sorry you snuck out?”

CoCo rolled her eyes and matched his even tone. “Yes.”

“Did you learn a lesson?” More than anything, Chord wanted to yell, but kids deserved love not anger. “Let’s put this behind us, and move forward.”

He glanced at Grace whose brown eyes were approaching cow size.

“Are you kidding me?” Grace shoved the pan into the oven, closed the door, and set a timer. “Boys, go put the bucket back in the garage.” She pointed to Chord, “Can I see you in the other room?”

He had a feeling she was upset. What did it matter? He didn’t know her, and she didn’t know him. He didn’t need or want her judgment. When it came to his children, he knew best.