The Bakery Sisters (38 page)

“Because I could be annoyed by your high-handed assumption that I need protection from the man I used to be married to? You sent me basketball players.”

“They're bigger than baseball players. Drew's the type of guy to be afraid of size.”

Possibly, but not the point. “You had no right to do this.”

“He broke into your house.”

“He used a key. I'm getting the locks changed.”

“Not until tomorrow. The guys will stay until Raoul gets home. Can you be patient until then?”

“I don't know if I should hug you or hit you over the head.”

“Why don't you tie me up and have your way with me?”

That made her smile. “You're pissing me off, Hawk. This wasn't part of the deal.”

“It is now. I didn't like that guy showing up when he was pretty sure you'd be asleep. He wanted the advantage. That's not allowed.”

“I don't need a man to protect me.”

“I need to know you're safe.”

Because that's the kind of guy he was. Because he would take care of anyone in need. She knew that. He didn't mean anything else by what he'd said. She would have to remember that.

“I'll let them stay.”

“Good.”

“It's not like I could get rid of them on my own,” she muttered.

“You're always gracious. That's one of the things I like about you. Want to come over for dinner this week?”

The change in topic caught her off guard. “Dinner?”

“At my place. With Brittany. Just the three of us.”

Nicole didn't know what to say. Inviting her to his house wasn't a public date designed to further the lie that they were a real couple. It actually felt like a real date. Did she want that?

Stupid question, she told herself, remembering all the recent fluttering. “I'd love to.”

“How about Wednesday night? I'll cook.”

“I look forward to it.” Maybe more than she should.

 

N
ICOLE ARRIVED
at Hawk's house close to five-thirty. He and Brittany lived in one of the older Seattle neighborhoods with mature trees and houses with great architectural detail. The lawns were green, the porches wide, and kids' toys lined the sidewalks. Not exactly the sort of place one would expect to find a former NFL player worth millions.

She parked on the street and walked up to the front door. Hawk opened it before she knocked.

“Hi,” he said, drawing her in, then kissing her.

She closed her eyes and got lost in the feel of his mouth on hers. Heat grew, wanting stirred, then she heard the sound of footsteps on the stairs and reluctantly pulled back.

“Hi, yourself,” she managed, hoping she wasn't blushing. “This is not anywhere I would have pictured you.”

“What do you mean?”

“A middle-class neighborhood with lots of families. Where are the gates and the fancy cars?”

He laughed. “Not my style. Serena and I bought this place when I got my first signing bonus. After the small house we lived in during college, this place seemed like a mansion. We like it here. It's home.”

Brittany burst into the entryway. “Hey, Nicole. How are you? Dad said he's cooking, but it's just barbecuing, which doesn't count. He'll make us put together the salad. Want to see the house?”

If only they could harness Brittany's energy and use it to power a hospital or something, Nicole thought with a grin. “I'd love to see the house.” She set down her purse on the small table in the entryway. “I like craftsman-style homes. All the details and built-ins.”

Brittany wrinkled her nose. “It's old, you mean. When I'm on my own, I want a high-rise condo with a view.”

“How do you plan to pay for your fancy condo?” Hawk asked.

Brittany beamed at him. “You'll buy it for me, Daddy, because you love me.”

He grunted a response, but Nicole saw the humor in his eyes. Hawk wasn't just pretty—he had a great relationship with his daughter. She liked that about him.

“Here's the living room,” Brittany said, leading the way. “All the moldings are original. Even the dental molding, which is unusual for the time period. We think the builder brought it from another house. Maybe one he'd owned before.”

Nicole looked around at the crowded room. The dental molding was the least of it, she thought, taking in the oversize floral-print sofas and the knickknacks dotting every surface. While she usually loved the casual hominess of country-style decorating, this was country on steroids.

There were plenty of country prints on the throw pillows and curtains, braided rugs on the hardwood floor. A porcelain goose family posed by the fireplace and silk flower arrangements filled every corner. There were colored glass dishes and little bunnies on tables, along with photographs. Lots and lots of photographs.

Nicole walked toward a display on the wall. The grouping showed a younger Hawk with a pretty young woman. Serena, Nicole guessed. There were pictures of them laughing, wedding portraits, a few from an NFL ceremony. More photos showed happy parents with a pretty toddler.

The photos on the mantel showed Brittany from birth to age ten or so.

The room felt oppressively crowded—like a museum on crack. It reminded her of her grandma's house. Too hot, with too much stuff. She wouldn't have been more surprised to find faux fur and leather handcuffs.

The dining room was more of the same. The country theme continued with floral-print wallpaper and built-in cabinets filled with old-fashioned dishes. There were several cross-stitched sayings framed and hung on the walls.

Nicole felt awkward and out of place. This wasn't a house—this was a shrine to a lifestyle lost. She would bet that nothing had changed since the day Serena died.

She turned to Hawk and Brittany and forced a smile. “It's all lovely. Did Serena make these herself?” she asked, pointing to the stitched sayings.

Brittany nodded. “She was teaching me how to cross-stitch when she died.”

“Handmade projects give a house a real homey feeling,” she murmured, not sure what else to say. Hadn't Hawk ever wanted to move on? Keeping Serena's memory alive was one thing, but this?

“Serena was into flowers and lots of bright colors,” Hawk said. “I thought about changing a few things, but didn't see the point. This is the home she left for us.”

And why would he want to change that? Nicole thought, stunned by what she was seeing. Until this second, she'd never thought of Hawk as a widower. She'd known his wife had died, but hadn't considered he was still in mourning. Or at least living his life the way Serena would have wanted it. He always seemed too powerful and take-charge. This was totally unexpected.

The house was a shrine to Serena and screamed to any guest that she shouldn't bother getting comfortable. The crowded photographs on the wall proved there wasn't room for anyone else.

The tour of the downstairs continued. The house was large with a big family room, an equally massive eat-in kitchen, a library and a study Hawk used as a home office. Even there Serena's touch was visible. Silk flowers nestled up against football trophies.

Nicole felt as if the walls were closing in on her. When Hawk suggested they step outside, she was grateful to be able to breathe again.

But her relief was short-lived. While Hawk fired up the barbecue and then opened a bottle of wine, Brittany led the way to Serena's special garden.

“She loved flowers,” the teenager said. “She planted them every year. My dad and I plant the same ones. We want her garden to look exactly as it did when she was alive. There's herbs, too. Every time we use them we're reminded of her.”

Nicole murmured that it was all so lovely, but on the inside, her head was spinning. What was Hawk trying to prove? That no one would be welcome in his life who wasn't Serena? Did he even know what he was doing? Telling anyone who visited that she would never measure up to the memory of his late wife? Had he brought her here to warn her away?

D
INNER TURNED OUT
to be more pleasant than Nicole had thought. Talk turned to something other than Serena, although she ate her steak with the constant need to look over her shoulder to see if someone was watching. She did her best to shake the feeling of not being welcome, telling herself that Hawk wouldn't have invited her if he hadn't wanted to spend the evening with her.

After they'd carried their plates into the kitchen, Brittany led the way into the family room.

“I want to show you something,” she said, sitting on the sofa.

Nicole reluctantly settled next to her, wondering if home movies would be next.

She was close, she realized, as Brittany pulled several photo albums off built-in shelves and set them on the big coffee table in front of the couch.

“Aren't these great?” the teen asked, flipping open the first one and pointing to a high school dance picture showing a very young Hawk and a pretty brunette. “They were so in love. They're only sixteen here. Look at their smiles.” She sighed.

Nicole murmured that the pictures were lovely and wondered if the problem was her. Was she overreacting to the situation? Maybe she was just sensitive because of Drew.

No, she told herself. Remembering was one thing, but living in a shrine was totally strange.

Brittany flipped pages, pointing out ski trips and her dad after his team won the state football championship. “He was MVP,” she said proudly.

“Impressive,” Nicole said.

There were prom pictures, then a series showing an increasingly pregnant Serena.

“They couldn't get married when they first found out she was having me. She was only seventeen and her parents wouldn't sign anything saying it was okay. So they waited until her birthday.” Brittany sighed. “My dad said he would stand by her no matter what.”

A romantic version of what had to be a difficult time. “It had to be hard for her to fight with her family,” Nicole said.

“I know. It's kinda sad. They never forgave her for marrying my dad. Even though they were totally in love and their lives were perfect. I don't see my grandparents much. Dad says it's their loss.”

“I agree with that,” Nicole told her.

Brittany gave her a quick smile, then turned the page. “That's me. I was born in Oklahoma, where Dad played football at Oklahoma University. This is the house we lived in. It's small, but cute. My mom and dad were so lucky. They got to be together all the time, they had a baby they loved.”

Which sounded a little too movie-of-the-week for reality. “I'm sure it was a struggle,” Nicole said carefully. “Being that young, away from home, with a new baby. They had to have been scared.”

“Maybe.” Brittany dismissed her words with a shrug. “But they had each other. Dad talks about those early years all the time. How much fun they had. The boosters were really great, getting mom a job, helping with babysitting. College football is really big there and Dad was a star player.”

She turned another page. “Everyone said they were too young, that it wouldn't work out, but it did. My parents were in love until the day my mom died.”

Nicole ignored the reference to Serena. Being in this house made it impossible to escape her. But there were other issues. She excused herself and went into the kitchen to help Hawk with the cleanup.

“Brittany showing you pictures?” he asked as he loaded the dishwasher.

“Yes. Everything is well documented.”

He laughed. “Serena liked taking pictures and having them taken. I'm not as into that. People are going to think Brittany is twelve forever.”

“I doubt that.” She collected glasses and carried them over to him. “She talked a lot about what it was like when you and Serena first got married. How wonderful everything was.”

He looked at her expectantly, as if waiting for her point.

“It had to have been difficult at times,” she said, trying to sound casual. “You were both young and away from home for the first time.”

“Maybe, but we had a lot of local support. It was good.”

“Brittany seems to feel it was almost magical. As if with enough love, everything is fine.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And?”

“She's a seventeen-year-old girl with a steady boyfriend. Don't you want to be talking about consequences? Not every teenage pregnancy ends with little forest animals singing and dancing. Not every young marriage survives.”

He leaned over and kissed her on the forehead. “You're cute when you're worried.”

“And you're ignoring my point.”

He gave her an indulgent smile. “I've got this covered. Brittany's a good kid. We talk. I know what's going on in her life. She and Raoul aren't having sex yet. I'd know if they were.”

It wasn't his fault, Nicole thought, trying not to take any of this personally. He was a man. A father, but still a man. He saw what he wanted to see.

“Hawk, you didn't even know Raoul had been thrown out of his foster home. He'd been living in that abandoned building for weeks. Weeks in the summer, when it's warm and they were alone for who knows how long with no distractions. Are you sure about the sex thing?”

He straightened. “Nicole, I know you're trying to help, but this isn't your concern. Brittany and I are close. We talk and I trust her. You're not a parent, so you're just going to have to believe me on this one.”

She ignored the dismissal. “I raised my sister from the time she was little. I would say I have experience.”

“Look how that went.”

She stiffened. “It was a different circumstance.”

“I know my daughter a whole lot better than you do. Nothing's going on with Raoul.”

Nicole was willing to bet a lot that he was wrong. “Why wouldn't it be? You've taught her that young love heals all. You've taught her that getting pregnant at seventeen is just the beginning of the adventure.”

“I'm not going to talk about this anymore,” he told her.

“Why? Because there's only one point of view? Because only you get to be right? I actually hope I'm wrong, Hawk, because if I'm not, both of you are going to learn a hell of a lesson.”

He stared at her. “What is this really about?”

“What?”

“You have an agenda. You must. You're putting way too much energy into my daughter's personal life. What's your real problem?”

She couldn't believe it. She was just trying to help. To be a friend. But could he see that? Of course not.

“You're my problem,” she told him. “I'm going home.”

She walked to the front door, half expecting him to follow her and tell her to wait. That they could talk about the situation and find common ground. But he didn't.

 

N
ICOLE CAME HOME
from work in as crabby a mood as she'd left that morning. Nothing specific had gone wrong—she just felt out of sorts with the world.

She knew the cause was her stupid fight with Hawk, which bugged her. It wasn't like they'd gotten really angry with each other. They'd just disagreed. So what? People did that all the time. Why would she care more when the other party was him?

But she did care and that bugged her even more.

She walked into the house through the back door and heard the sound of voices and laughter. Raoul was there with his friends.

In her present mood she wasn't excited about a house full of teenagers, but she'd given him permission. It wasn't like any of them were doing anything wrong.

She debated a glass of wine to help her relax, but it was too early and she didn't want to drink in front of the teenagers. So she settled on chocolate, always a good soother. She poured M&Ms into a bowl and grabbed a diet soda. After all, balance was important.

The mail was on the kitchen table. She sat down with her snack and flipped through the mail, stopping to look at the cover of a magazine showing a very pregnant celebrity looking happy and radiant.

Nicole ignored the flashy headline and stared at the picture. Her mood took a turn for the sad. Was everyone on the planet pregnant but her? Was everyone in a real relationship and happy and starting a family?

Okay, Jesse probably wasn't happy or in a relationship, but she was going to have a baby and wasn't that a miracle?

Nicole touched the glossy photo and felt a deep, powerful longing inside. Nothing had turned out the way it was supposed to. Where had she gone so wrong with everything? What had she—

“Um, Nicole?”

She looked up and saw one of Raoul's friends, this one a girl, standing in the kitchen. “Hi,” she said, trying to remember the kid's name.

The girl, pretty, blond and a cheerleader, smiled. “Finola. Everyone calls me Finn.”

“Right. Finn. How can I help you?”

Finn had several papers in her hand. She crossed to the table and sat down. “I'm working on my college entrance essays. I wondered if maybe you could read them over and tell me what you think. My counselor said I shouldn't use the same exact essay for every college. That I should try to match their personality, like I know what that means.”

She grinned and Nicole found herself smiling back. “I don't know, either, if that's what you were hoping for.”

Finn laughed. “It would be nice, but I thought maybe you could just read them and give me some suggestions on how to make them better.”

Nicole was flattered, but surprised. “I'm not an expert.”

“I know, but you're so together and cool and stuff. Not like my mom. She doesn't get things anymore.”

Nicole felt a flash of sympathy for Finn's mother who probably tried to connect with her daughter, only to be dismissed.

“I'd be happy to.” She pushed the bowl of M&Ms toward Finn. “Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Over the next hour, Nicole and Finn talked about her essays. They were variations on a theme—talking about the summer her little brother had died in a swimming accident and how that had changed her family in general and her specifically.

“I haven't done much,” Nicole said when they were finished. “You did a great job with these.”

Finn beamed. “Yeah? I hope so. I've been working on them a lot. I want to go to Stanford as a biochemistry major, then become a doctor.”

Nicole eyed the cheerleader uniform and knew she'd been guilty of judging the teen for the wrong things. “Good luck with that. And for what it's worth, your mom probably understands a whole lot more than you give her credit for. You should try to talk to her more.”

“Really?”

“Uh-huh. Give it a try.”

Finn looked doubtful, but she murmured, “Okay,” as she left the kitchen.

Nicole returned to her magazine and M&Ms, only to have Claire walk into the kitchen a few minutes later. Her sister stared at her.

“You have teenagers in your house,” she said, sounding beyond surprised.

“I know.”

“A lot of them.”

“I'm a hangout. They're Raoul's friends. They seem to be fine. No one's doing drugs in the basement and they clean up after themselves.”

Claire shook her head. “You have teenagers in your house.”

“You said that already.”

“This is very strange.”

Nicole pulled out a chair. “Want anything? Water? Juice?”

“A latte with an extra shot,” Claire said, then shook her head. “Sorry. Momentary caffeine urge. It'll pass.” She sat down and grabbed some M&Ms. “What's going on here?”

“I told you about Raoul. How I've taken him in.”

“I heard the words but I didn't actually understand them. He lives here.”

“In the guest room.”

“You barely know him.”

“I know enough.”

“How long is he staying?”

“I have no idea. Possibly through June.”

Claire's eyes widened. “And you're okay with that?”

“I like having him around. He's a good kid and he deserves a break. Drew came back and Raoul protected me. Not with your style, of course.”

Claire laughed. “Does Drew still have a scar?”

“Oh, yeah.”

They smiled at each other.

Claire sorted her candy by colors and ate the green ones first. “Nicole, you know I love you, but you're the least easygoing person I know. You take charge of things, you're not especially patient. So how can you be so laid-back and casual about what's happening with Raoul?”

Nicole considered the question. “I don't know. I just am. Maybe I'm changing.”

“Maybe this is easy because it's familiar.”

Nicole's good mood retreated. “I'm not talking about Jesse. She's gone and that's a good thing.” She spoke firmly, even though she wasn't sure it was a good thing at all.