With a Little Luck (10 page)

“Why don’t you marry her?”

“Liking isn’t loving.” Luck cast an irritated glance at his son. “And I thought it was understood that that subject was closed.”

There was a long sigh from Toby but no comment.

LATER THAT NIGHT Toby was sprawled on the floor of the living room, arms crossed on a throw pillow, his chin resting in the hollow of his fists while he watched television. At a commercial, he turned to glance at his father in the easy chair — only he wasn’t there.

Frowning, Toby pushed up on his hands to peer into the kitchen, but there was no sign of him. His father hadn’t been acting right since the boat ride. That fact prompted Toby to go in search of him.

He found him in a darkened bedroom. The hallway light spilled in to show him sitting on the bed, elbows on his knees and his chin resting on clasped hands. Toby paused in the doorway for a minute, confused until he saw that his father was staring at the framed photograph of his mother on the dresser.

Toby walked up to him and laid a comforting hand on his shoulder. “What’s wrong, dad?”

Bringing his hands down, Luck turned his head, paused, then sighed heavily. A smile broke half-heartedly. “Nothing, sport.”

But Toby glanced at the picture. “Were you thinking about mom?”

There was a wry twist to his father’s mouth. “No, I wasn’t.” Pushing to his feet, he rested a hand on Toby’s shoulder. Together they left the room. As they walked out the door, Toby stole a glance over his shoulder at the picture of the smiling tawny-haired blonde. He slipped his small-hand into his father’s, but he knew it was small comfort.

THE NEXT DAY Toby’s stomach insisted it was lunchtime. Entering the house through the back door, he walked into the kitchen. His arrival coincided with his father saying a final goodbye to an unknown party on the telephone extension in the kitchen.

“I’ll tell him. Right…I’ll be there,” Luck said, and hung up.

His curiosity overflowed, as it usually did. “Who was that? Tell me what? Where will you be?” The questions tumbled out with barely a breath in between.

“Your granddad said hello,” Luck replied, answering two questions,

“Why didn’t you let me talk to him?” Toby frowned in disappointment.

“Because he was busy. Next time, okay?” his father promised, and glanced at the wall clock. “I suppose you want lunch. What will it be? Hamburgers? Grilled cheese? How about some soup? “

“Hamburgers,” Toby chose without a great deal of interest or enthusiasm. Hooking an arm around a chair back, he watched his father take the meat from the refrigerator and carry it to the stove, where he shaped portions into patties to put in the skillet. “You said you’d be there. Be where? When?”

“I have to drive to Duluth this Friday to meet with your grandfather,” Luck replied, and half turned to instruct, “Put the ketchup and mustard on the table.”

“I suppose you’re going to ask Mrs. Jackson to come over to stay with me,” Toby grumbled as he went about setting the table and putting on the condiments.

“You are absolutely right. I’m calling her after lunch.”

“Oh, dad, do you have to?” Toby appealed to him. “Sometimes Mrs. Jackson is a real pain.”

“Has it ever occurred to you that Mrs. Jackson might think you are a real pain?” his father countered.

“She always thinks I’m making up stories.”

“I wonder why?” Luck murmured dryly.

Toby let the silverware clatter to the table as a thought occurred to hm. “Why couldn’t you ask Eve to come over? If I have to have somebody sit with me, I’d rather it was Eve.”

Luck hesitated, and Toby studied that momentary indecision with interest. “I’ll ask her,” his father finally agreed.

“You’ll call her after lunch?” Toby persisted for a more definite agreement.

“Yes.”

EVE WAS HALFWAY OUT THE DOOR with her arms full of suntan lotion, blanket and a paperback for an afternoon in the sun when the telephone rang. She ended up dropping everything but the lotion onto couch cushions before she got the receiver to her ear.

“Rowlands,” she answered.

“Hello, Eve?” Luck’s voice responded on the other end of the line.

She tossed the suntan lotion on top of the blanket and hugged her free arm around her middle, holding tight to the pleasure of his voice. “Yes, this is Eve.”

“Luck McClure,” he needlessly identified himself. “Are you busy this Friday?”

“No.” She and her mother had tentatively talked about a shopping expedition into Cable, but that certainly could be postponed.

“I have a large favor to ask. I have some business I have to take care of on Friday, which means I’ll be gone most of the day and late into the evening. Toby asked if you would stay with him while I’m gone instead of the woman who usually sits with him.”

Swallowing her disappointment, Eve smoothly agreed, “I don’t mind in the least looking after Toby. What time would you like me to come?”

“I’d like to get an early start. Would eight o’clock be too early?” Luck asked.

“I can be there by eight.”

“Thanks. Toby will be glad to know you’re coming,” he said. “We’ll see you on Friday.”

“On Friday,” Eve repeated, and echoed his goodbye.

Toby would be glad she was coming, he’d said. Did that mean that Luck wouldn’t? Eve sighed wearily because she simply didn’t know.

ON FRIDAY morning her father dropped her off at the lake house a few minutes before eight. As she got out of the car, he leaned over to remind her, “If you need anything, you be sure to call us. Your mother or I can be over in a matter of minutes.”

“I will. Thanks, dad.” She waved to him and hurried toward the house.

Toby had obviously been watching for her because the front door opened before she reached it. He stood in the opening, a broad smile of welcome on his face.

“Hi, Eve.”

“Hello, Toby.” Her gaze went past him to the tall figure approaching the door as she entered.

The fluttering of her pulse signaled the heightening of her senses. Eve had never seen Luck in business clothes, and the dark suit and tie altered his appearance in a way that intensified the aura of male authority, dominating and powerful.

“Right on time.” He smiled in an absent fashion. “I left a phone number by the telephone. You can reach me there if you have an emergency.”

“Which I hope I won’t,” she replied, trying to respond with her usual naturalness.

After a glance of agreement, he laid a hand on Toby’s head. “Behave yourself. Otherwise Eve will make you stand in a corner.”

“No, she won’t.” Toby dipped his head to avoid the mussing of his father’s hand.

His smile held a trace of affection and indulgence toward his son when

Luck turned to Eve. “I shouldn’t be too late getting back tonight.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she assured him. “Toby and I will be all right.”

“You know how to reach me if you need me,” Luck reminded her, and she tried not to be disappointed because the remark held no underlying meaning. It was a straightforward statement from a father to a sitter. “I have to be going,” he addressed both of them and smiled at his son. “See you later.”

“Tell granddad hi for me,” Toby instructed.

“I will,” Luck promised.

To get out the door, Luck had to walk past Eve. His arm inadvertently brushed against hers, sending a little quiver through her limbs. When she breathed in, she caught the musky scent of his male after-shave lotion, potently stimulating as the man who wore it. The essence of him seemed to linger even afer he’d walked out the door.

With Toby standing beside her on the threshold, Eve watched him walk to the car. She returned his wave when he reversed out of the driveway onto the road and felt a definite sensation of being part of the family — standing at the doorway with her “son” and waving goodbye to her “husband.”

Eve shook the thought away. It was that kind of dangerous thinking that would lead to heartbreak. It was definitely not wise. She was a baby-sitter — that’s all.

Fixing a bright smile on her mouth, she looked down at Toby. “What’s on the agenda this morning?”

He shrugged and tipped his head back to give her a bright-eyed look that reminded her a lot of his father. “I don’t know. Do you want to play catch?”

“Do you think we’ll break a window?” Eve teased.

“I hope not,” Toby declared with a grim look. “I had to spend half the money I was saving for a minibike to pay my share of the damage to your windshield. Dad paid for most of it ’cause it was mostly his fault for throwing the ball too high, but he wouldn’t have been playing if it hadn’t been for me. We share things.”

“Yes, I can see that,” she nodded, because the two seemed to have a remarkable relationship, unique to anything she’d come across in her meetings with parents at school.

“Do you want to play catch?” he repeated his suggestion.

“Sure,” Eve agreed, even though she didn’t feel obligated to entertain him. The idea of being active appealed to her. “Go get your ball and glove.”

“I’ll bring dad’s for you,” he offered. “Sometimes I throw it pretty hard — ” Toby warned “ — and it stings your hand when you catch it.”

The driveway seemed the safest place to play catch since there weren’t any windows in the line of fire. When Toby tired of that, they walked down by the lake, where he gave her lessons in the fine art of skipping stones on the lake’s surface.

At noon they returned to the lake cabin. “What would you like for lunch?” Eve asked as they entered through the kitchen door.

“A peanut butter sandwich and a glass of milk is okay.” He didn’t sound enthused by his own suggestion.

“Is that what you usually have?” she asked.

“It’s easy,” Toby shrugged. “Dad and I aren’t much for cooking.”

“How about if I check the refrigerator and see if there’s anything else to eat?” Eve suggested, certain that Toby would like something more imaginative if she offered to fix it.

“Go ahead,” he agreed, then warned, “There’s not much in there except some frozen dinners in the freezer section of the icebox.”

When she opened the refrigerator door, she discovered Toby was right. The shelves were nearly bare, except for milk, eggs, bacon and a couple of jars of jam.

Toby watched her expression. “I told you,” he reminded her. “Dad fixes breakfast and sometimes cooks steaks on the grill. Otherwise we eat out or have frozen dinners. They’re pretty good, though.”

Eve found a package of cheese in the dairy drawer of the refrigerator. “Do you like grilled cheese sandwiches?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded.

While the skillet was heating to grill them, Eve searched through the cupboards and found a lone can of condensed tomato soup. She diluted it with milk and added a dab of butter. When she set the lunch on the table, Toby consumed it with all the gusto of the growing boy that he was.

“Boy, that was good, Eve!” he declared, and leaned back in his chair to rub his full stomach. “You sure are a good cook.”

“Grilling a sandwich and opening a can of soup isn’t exactly cooking,” she smiled. “I was thinking that I might call my father and see if he would drive us to the store this afternoon and pick up some groceries. I’ll cook you a
real
dinner tonight. Would you like that?”

“You bet!”

Chapter Six

AFTER A FEW inquiries Eve was able to discover some of Toby’s favorite dishes. Being a young boy, he had simple tastes. Dinner that evening consisted of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy and some early sweet corn-on-the-cob. For dessert she fixed fresh strawberry shortcake with lots of whipped cream.

“I can’t ever remember eating food that good,” Toby insisted. “It was really delicious, Eve.”

“Why, thank you, sir.” With her hands full of dirty dishes to be carried to the sink, she gave him a mock curtsy.

“I’ll help wash the dishes,” he volunteered, and pushed away from the table. “Dad usually dries them,”

“You don’t need to help.” She had already learned while she was preparing the meal that Toby was accustomed to doing household chores. His sense of duty was commendable, but he was still very young and needed a break from it once in a while. “You can have the night off and I’ll do them.”

“Really?” He seemed stunned by her offer.

“Yes, really,” she laughed.

“I’ll stay and keep you company.” He dragged a chair over to the kitchen counter by the sink.

“I’d like that,” Eve said, and let the sink fill with water, squirting liquid soap into it.

Kneeling on the chair seat, Toby rested his arms on the counter and propped his chin on an upraised hand to watch her. “You know, it’d really be great to have a mother. It’s getting to be a hassle cleaning the house, washing dishes and all that stuff.”

“I can imagine.” She smiled faintly as she began washing the dishes and rinsing them under the running faucet, then setting them on the draining board to dry.