Authors: Jannette Spann
****
Charlotte made it a point to avoid Jake the rest of the week, which wasn't hard, considering how late he got home. Out of sight didn't necessarily mean out of mind. She found it hard to concentrate at work, mostly because she figured his late nights were due to dumb-as-dirt Loretta.
While she was avoiding Jake, Ray seemed to be avoiding her, and rightly so. She'd made a point of talking to John Milner the following morning, and he'd assured her there'd be no more problems with the assistant manager.
When Thursday evening arrived, she was still tallying her bills in her head and trying to solve her Saturday night dilemma. Jeremy was fine for mornings and afternoons, but he wasn't old enough for nights. Without a sitter, she had no choice but to miss the shift and let something slide.
Straightening shelves was a no-brainer, and by the time she reached her decision, she'd worked her way from canned goods to cereals. She jumped when Annabelle tapped her on the shoulder.
Her co-worker held up her watch. “You'll have to cover the register. It's time for me to go.”
“So soon?”
“Yeah, I've had all the fun I need for one day.”
“You call this fun?”
Annabelle laughed, straightening a cereal box Charlotte had missed. “It is, compared to my husband's weekend, if I have to work Saturday morning. My sister and her kids are spending Friday night with us before heading to Disney World.”
“I'll trade,” Charlotte said. “If you don't mind working Saturday night?”
“Fine with me,” Annabelle agreed. “One to nine?”
Her friend was an angel. The McGregors would drop Becky and Maggie off around eleven, and she'd pay Jeremy to watch them until she could get home. She whispered a prayer of thanks on her way to the register and added an earnest amen when she discovered Ray was gone, and she would be closing with Mr. Milner. Good.
The rest of the day was busy, making it late when Charlotte arrived home, too tired to eat, but still curious enough to see if there was any soup left. To her dismay, only one small bowl, covered in aluminum foil, remained in the oven.
For the life of her, she couldn't imagine how one skinny teenager could eat so much. Before the ninety-pound weakling began sitting with her girls, it wasn't uncommon to have enough leftovers for an extra meal and some scraps for the cat. Now it seemed, regardless of what she cooked, only one serving remained for her supper. The week wasn't over, but her cabinets were almost bare. At this rate, she'd have to rethink her entire budget, and she didn't know where the extra money would come from.
When Friday afternoon rolled around, there was a courtesy call from the girls' grandmother, saying she'd picked them up at school. As always, Ellen was punctual. Unless her itinerary changed, the girls would dress for a boring dinner in the formal dining room with both grandparents, followed by an unexciting bedtime story and lights out. To ease her conscience, Charlotte told herself the girls needed to spend more time with the McGregors.
With only herself to please, she opted for a relaxing bath and sandwich, provided there was something out of which to make one. She stirred a cup of hot cocoa, while the rising steam transformed the bathroom into her personal sauna.
The soothing sound of violins filled the air, and with her hair bunched into a make-shift mop atop her head using an old scarf, she was set. A night of pampering would be perfect⦠except for the constant pounding at the door.
“Okay, okay. I'm coming!” Irritated at the interruption, she shut off the tap before water reached the overflow valve. It didn't sound as if they would leave, so she shoved the chain lock into place and opened the door a crack. “Oh, it's you.”
“Let's not show too much enthusiasm,” Jake said, pulling on the screen only to discover it too was locked.
Charlotte closed the wooden door and removed the chain before opening it again. “I thought you were someone else.”
“Someone even less welcome than me?”
She'd felt uneasy about Ray, but as far as she knew, he still thought she lived at Hidden Hills. She flipped the latch on the screen and stepped back so Jake could enter.
“Where are the boys?”
“You should know by now my boys don't knock.”
She laughed. “True, so where are they?”
“With Betty's parents. You aren't the only one needing a break.”
She understood completely. While debating on the amount of hospitality she should offer, he filled the coffeepot with fresh water and a filter, then added grounds and flipped the switch.
“Want some coffee?” she said.
A pink flush inched up his neck when he realized what he'd done. “I⦠this house is so much like mine, I sometimes forget I'm not at home.”
“It is homey,” she agreed, adding as an afterthought. “You're welcome to wash the pile of dishes if you'd like.”
He declined. “Seems a little too much like home.”
“I like this house. It's cozy, and I feel safe here.”
“Speaking of safe, you were trembling like a leaf when you got home the other night. Do you want to talk about it?”
She shook her head. “No, it's all taken care of. Will Jeremy be home in time to watch the girls tomorrow?”
“When there's money involved, you can depend on him.”
She pulled two chairs from the table, sitting on one and propping her feet on the other, leaving Jake to find his own. “You shouldn't talk about your boys like that. They're good kids, and you know it.”
He pulled the chair from under her feet and proceeded to make himself comfortable by stretching his legs under the table. His slow mischievous grin mimicked her earlier words. “There're out to get me!”
Not to be outdone, she hooked her toes on the edge of his seat. “Those days are in the past. Bruce and I had a long talk, and I think we'll get along just fine now.”
His blue eyes danced with laughter. “Okay. Find out the hard way, but don't say I didn't warn you.”
After the coffee finished brewing, Charlotte took the opener from the drawer and reached for the last can in the cabinet. Tuna wasn't what she wanted, but it was all she had, so there was no reason not to enjoy it with her coffee. “Have you eaten?”
When he didn't reply, she thought he was ignoring her, but his attention was focused on the overhead cabinets. Leaving his chair behind, it took a total of three steps with his long legs to reach her side.
The doors swung open, and he dropped a confused gaze to her. “What happened to all the food I saw in there last weekend?”
“We ate it.”
“All of it?”
Charlotte chose to ignore him. She drained the tuna, confident Jake was the nosiest man she'd ever met. After adding mayonnaise and pickles, she reached into the bread box her dad built for her last birthday.
“Good grief, woman! Y'all eat like an army over here.”
Anger gushed through Charlotte like an artesian well. Her elbow flew back, catching him in his midsection, and she realized her mistake when the air whooshed from his lungs. Being on a diet was one thing, but she was hungry and broke.
“For your information, I haven't eaten enough this week to keep a cat alive, so don't talk about what I eat. Didn't your mama teach you any manners?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed his midsection. “But she didn't warn me about elbows.”
Frowning, she slapped mayonnaise on the last of her bread. She wasn't sure why she was feeding him. Truth be told, she wanted to wring his neck and didn't know why.
Jake propped against the counter a safe distance from her arm. “Guess I should be glad you're slapping bread instead of my face. What's wrong?”
She laughed in spite of herself. “Would you shut up? I'm trying to stay mad at you.”
“Now why would you want to be mad at me?” His slow grin made her weak in the knees. The man had no idea how appealing he was, or did he? She'd bet money he was clueless.
“I'm not mad,” she said. “It's just⦔
“Because your cabinets are empty, and mine are full?”
“Now why would I care about your cabinets?”
“Well, I don't know,” he said. “But you were fine until a moment ago. If it helps, I've been working late at the new store so Mom's been bringing our supper.”
First his mother feeds him, and now here she was, strapping on the feedbag as if he was incapable of opening a can. She couldn't remember the last time someone had actually cooked for her. “Lucky you⦠what store?”
“We're opening in the Four Corner's Mall.”
The knife clinked in the mayonnaise jar and Charlotte held it up to the light. Empty. She chunked the dirty knife into the sink and slid the jar into the plastic bread bag with the tuna can before tossing everything in the garbage.
“Oh yeah, the kids told me you own Bett's. It's a nice store. I can see why no one cared when we used the van.”
“Does it bother you?”
“Of course not,” she said. “You've been nosey enough about me. I'm just curious as to why you've never mentioned it?”
Jake bit a hunk out of his sandwich and began chewing at a snail's pace. It was easy enough to see what he was up to. She'd seen his boys pull the same stunt with pancakes. The entire family were master procrastinators.
Charlotte grinned. “Oh, stop your dawdling. It's not important. Besides, a good lie is hard to conjure up on the spur of the moment.”
He swallowed. “Now, would I lie to you?”
She slid him his coffee. “Probably. But what difference does it make if you own a store? We all have to work.”
He didn't seem to mind she was out of milk. “This is good. We don't usually eat as well as we have this week.”
“Oh?” She decided to humor him. It was as plain as the nose on her face he wasn't going to elaborate on his job. Not to worry, she could always ask Norma.
“Mom's a terrific cook.” He devoured the rest of his sandwich in a couple of bites. “Monday night she made a chicken casserole. Then there was chili, beef stew, and last night we had homemade vegetable soup with cornbread.”
About halfway down his dream list, a nasty suspicion popped into Charlotte's brain. “I've cooked the exact things this week⦠and in the same order, too!”
Jake's cup hit the table so hard it splashed coffee over the rim. “Say what?”
“You heard me.” The tuna tasted like sawdust in her mouth. “I realize we have twin houses, and our situations are somewhat alike, but this is getting weird.”
He reached for his cell phone and punched in a couple of numbers. His long legs had him near the back door, too far away for her to eavesdrop before anyone answered, but the telltale hand on the back of his neck was a sure sign he wasn't happy. She'd seen the same gesture the day they'd met, when his boys had nearly killed Becky. The man had been furious then, and didn't appear much calmer now. After the phone snapped off, he came back to the table and sat down with a thud, his mouth tightening into a grim line.
“What was that about?” she asked, not sure she wanted to know.
He released a longsuffering sigh. “They did it again.”
She frowned. “Did what?”
A mixture of remorse and disappointment appeared in his eyes when he leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “I owe you an apology, and I honestly don't know how we'll ever make it up to you.”
“You aren't making any sense.”
As before, his hand went to the back of his neck. “I was talking to my mother.”
“So?” she said, not liking where this was going.
“She didn't cook for us this week.”
Charlotte thought of the saltine crackers she'd called lunch most of the week. “I've been feeding the whole gang, haven't I?”
He nodded. “I'm afraid so.”
“I've been had again?”
“Appears to be the case.”
“But⦠we had a deal.”
His large hands covered hers, and the gentle squeeze reminded her of the last time they'd been together. “I'm sorry,” he said. “But I'll be glad to repay you.”
There was no mistaking his sincerity, but she drew the line when he reached for his wallet. “I don't want your money.”
“I'd feel better.”
“Well, you'll just have to feel bad,” she said, her appetite a thing of the past. “I'm not upset with your kids for eating my food. If I'd known they were hungry, I would've gladly given them anything they wanted. It's just, we had a deal and⦔
“Jeremy and Bruce know you're working two jobs to make ends meet. My boys aren't helpless. They can thaw a frozen dinner.”
“Frozen dinners?” Sympathy for the poor kids melted away her anger. “You make them eat frozen dinners?”
“Not all the time,” he said, in his own defense. “Just when I'm late.”
“And how often are you late?”
Jake cupped his mug with both hands. “About as often as you, I'd say.”
She couldn't disagree with him. Her hours were ridiculous. It wasn't fair to her girls, even though she'd taken them to the shop some during their summer break. Her job at Milner's would be history, if she didn't need the health insurance.
“I can't do anything about my hours,” she said, resigned to the fact. “Not until I sell the house.”
“And neither can I, until the new store opens.”
****
The neighborly thing would have been for Jake to go home early and let Charlotte get some sleep, but his feet couldn't seem to get pointed in the right direction. After finishing their sandwiches, he'd poured more coffee and carried the cups to the living room, where they'd shared the couch and watched the late movie, until she began to nod off.
He waited for the chain to slip into place on her back door before making his way through the overgrown hedge. It was eleven-thirty.
The house was too quiet with the boys gone, even more so after the lights went out next door. He usually enjoyed the peaceful nights when the kids slept at the grandparents, but not tonight. His restlessness had nothing to do with his boys and everything to do with Charlotte.
She'd mentioned their twin houses, but it wasn't his stairs he'd wanted to climb or his bed he'd wanted to slide into. It had seemed the most natural thing in the world for them to climb the stairs together, but he knew it was his fantasy, not hers.
The wedding band remained on her left hand, and until she removed it on her own, he would have to be patient. The promise he'd made on her back steps, the night she'd been shaking like a leaf, came to mind. Her soft, pliant body had conformed to his, a perfect match until she'd gotten cold feet. He wouldn't rush, but he made another promise, this one to himself, to spend every minute possible getting to know her.
He pulled up the covers and closed his eyes, willing sleep to come, but it was no use as the night kept repeating itself over and over. “I can't do anything about my hours,” she'd said, and it was probably true. The woman was in over her head, and his boys weren't helping matters.
Sleep finally came as half-formed ideas floated through his consciousness. He awoke the following morning with the urge to see Hidden Hills again. Something about the place had bugged him for the last few days.