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A chorus of excited voices pitched in, adding opinions. Sam wrote them down as quickly as possible, feeling pretty good to have come up with a popular possibility. When she glanced at Eric, he was watching her. She smiled. He didn’t return it.
This voluntary position was going to be harder than she’d imagined.
After they had hashed out the initial ideas and responsibilities, Eric announced the next meeting date, then leaned back to gaze around the table. A cute smile danced at the corner of his lips. “Anybody hungry? I brought food.”
With rumbles of approval and a clatter of chairs, the teenagers rushed the pile of snacks like a swarm of hungry locusts. Potato chips and cookies flew off the table while Eric handed out sodas from an ice chest. The man understood the language of kids, whether they were American or African.
“Thanks, Eric.”
“Yeah, thanks, man.”
The kids adjourned to the TV room and plopped down to eat. Sam found a diet soda and settled onto the floor beside the girl named Gina.
“Cold?” she asked.
Gina nodded and pulled a sweater closer to her narrow body.
“She’s always cold,” Jeremy answered as he slid down beside his girlfriend, paper plate piled high with food. Though he was tall and lanky, the brown-haired boy showed the muscular promise of coming manhood. He plunked a cookie and napkin in front of Gina. “Eat.”
“I had supper.”
“You did not.” He waved the cookie under her nose. “I ate. You watched.”
Gina turned her head away from the tempting chocolate sandwich. “My stomach’s a little off today.”
With a shrug, Jeremy placed the cookie on her knee and concentrated on demolishing his own plateful. Gina picked off a tiny corner of the cookie, then placed the remainder on her boyfriend’s plate.
As Sam observed the exchange, a suspicion niggled at the back of her mind. After a bit, she shrugged it off. She didn’t know these kids yet. Her concerns were likely the result of her own long struggle with food.
She sat quietly, getting to know the group by listening to their chatter. The lively talk reminded her of the days in junior high before food had taken control of her life. Other than Eric’s odd behavior, tonight was fun and relaxing, a welcome respite from her hectic life.
Freckle-faced Tiffany obviously had a crush on Billy, but the shaggy-haired boy was clueless. Sam hid a smile when Tiffany took Billy’s empty plate and Coke can, asking if he wanted anything else. Nikki, the Goth girl with kohl-rimmed eyes and black clothes, was the obvious leader. Young Dylan stayed on the perimeter, watchful and quiet.
Samantha wanted so badly to talk to Eric the way she had in Africa. How was he? Why was he here in Virginia? How were the boys, Matunde and Amani? She still treasured the single photo of them. She’d even had it blown up and framed to sit on her dresser—if the suite of rooms being remodeled at Harcourt Mansion was ever finished.
Soda can empty, she went to find a trash can.
“In the kitchen,” Nikki called, guessing her intent.
The Youth Center had been built during Sam’s long absence from Chestnut Grove and she was unfamiliar with the layout.
Rounding a corner, she slammed into the back of a broad-shouldered man. Eric.
He turned, his ready smile fading as soon as he recognized her. With a curt nod, he said, “Excuse me,” and turned away again.
Sam caught his arm. The muscle beneath her hand tensed, rock hard.
“Eric, wait.”
Reluctance hanging on him like a baggy shirt, he complied.
“Have I offended you in some way?” she asked quietly.
“Of course not. You’ve only just arrived.”
“Then why the cold shoulder?”
Indecision came and went. Sam suspected he wanted to blow her off and escape. The honest man she’d met in Africa couldn’t do that. “You should have told me who you were. It was a pretty big shock to come home to.”
“Did it matter? Would you have treated me any differently?”
She saw the truth in his eyes. He would have. She would have been a fashion model, an object on display, instead of a person.
“You don’t have to serve as cochair of this committee,” he said. “I can find someone else or handle the job alone.”
The words hurt. He neither needed nor wanted her. “You’d like me to quit?”
He hitched a shoulder. “I figure you’re too busy for something like this. How did Rachel rope you into it?”
Sam didn’t want to tell him, but she might as well. He’d find out soon enough. “She thought my involvement might be helpful.”
“Helpful? In what way?”
Sam knew the minute he figured it out.
“Oh,” he said. “I get it. People will come to see the famous model.”
Trying not to bristle at the slight note of condescension, she squared her shoulders. “If using my name helps the kids, I’m willing to do it.”
“Yeah,” he said softly. “You’re all about the kids, aren’t you?”
His words weren’t cruel but they cut just the same. And Sam knew as well as she knew the number of calories in a slice of bread that Eric didn’t trust her goodwill one little bit.
Chapter Three
Sitting cross-legged on Ashley’s pink duvet cover, Sam watched her sister gobble down three slices of thick pan double-cheese pizza and mentally calculated the calories and fat grams. To tell the truth, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d tasted pizza but the smell was tantalizing. For most of her life, smelling pizza was as close as she dared come.
Following an afternoon around the family’s magnificent backyard pool, she, Ashley and two-year-old Gabriel had come upstairs to Ashley’s large bedroom suite to eat and talk, a sisterly act they hadn’t embraced during their growing-up years. Funny how maturity and a little baby could change one’s attitude.
Maturity had other effects, too. Or perhaps she could blame the perspective change on Africa. Her sister’s living quarters included a private bathroom and balcony, as much space as the entire bedroom facility in Eric’s orphanage.
In fact, the spectacular Harcourt Mansion, with seven bedrooms and nine bathrooms, was considerably larger than the space where thirty African children lived, slept and attended school.
The comparison made her feel guilty. Worse yet, her parents were renovating a huge area into a private apartment every bit as elegant as the best hotel, just for her.
“Have some pizza, Sam.” Ashley pushed the opened box toward her.
Sam patted her empty stomach. “Not hungry.”
Baby Gabriel, sitting on Sam’s lap, reached for a slice. Ashley gently pushed his hand away and made a face. “I’ve been with you all day and you haven’t eaten a bite. Eat. You’re not going to lose your skinny-model body over a single piece of pizza.”
Sam blinked, stunned. No wonder the pizza smell was killing her. She really hadn’t eaten anything all day. Six years ago the monster of anorexia had sent her to the hospital, malnourished and dehydrated. Nobody, not even Ashley knew about her secret shame.
Since that frightening wake-up call and the subsequent months of treatment, she was regimented about her eating, making sure she took in sufficient nutrition every day. Somehow she’d gotten off schedule since coming back to Chestnut Grove.
With every ounce of willpower she possessed, Sam reached for a pizza slice. “Smells awesome.”
Ashley chowed into a fourth slice. “Tastes even better.”
Sam forced the pizza to her lips and took a bite. “Mmm. Delish.”
The food lodged in the back of her throat. She grabbed her diet soda can and swigged, forcing the pizza down. During times like this, times of high stress or emotional unbalance, the anorexia tried to rear its murderous head. She’d done enough damage to her body already. Damage that might never heal. She couldn’t allow the disorder to take control again. Next time, it might kill her.
“Why don’t you come to church with us tomorrow, Sam?” Ashley asked as she handed LEGO blocks to her son with one hand and stuffed away pizza with the other.
“Chris is coming down after service.”
Ashley’s face glowed when she mentioned her fiancé, Chris Sullivan who pastored a church in Williamsburg. Some Sundays she and Gabriel drove up to spend the day with him. On others, he drove down to spend the afternoon with them. He was a great guy who’d helped Ashley forgive herself for past mistakes, and Sam was glad to finally see her sister so happy.
“The whole church thing seems weird to me.”
“There’s nothing weird about being a Christian.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Since coming home, Sam had noticed a radical change in her family. Once cold and distant, her parents suddenly wanted to be close, to make up for lost time. They’d started attending church with Ashley and Gabriel and wanted Sam to do the same.
“I wish Mom and Dad had been this enthused about family when you and I were kids.”
Gabriel threw a block onto the floor and laughed.
“Me, too, but if I learned anything through the ordeal with losing Gabriel and trying to get him back again, it’s that we can’t change the past. We have to move on, and try to do better in the future.”
Ashley’s teenage pregnancy had been a pivotal event for all of the Harcourts. Too afraid and ashamed to tell anyone, she’d given Gabriel up at first. When Sam had found out, she’d rushed home to help her sister regain custody of the baby. She couldn’t imagine not having this precious boy in their lives.
Since then, Ashley was working hard to complete a degree in fashion design and looking forward to a future as Christopher’s wife. She’d been lucky to find a man who not only didn’t hold her past against her, but who loved her son as his own.
“I’m glad you found your path in life, sis. Really, I am. But church is so foreign to us Harcourts. All we’ve ever needed was money.”
“Look what that got us.” Ashley ripped off a piece of pizza, blew on it, then slid it into Gabriel’s open mouth. Though the little guy had been well fed before the pizza had arrived, he responded with a toothy grin.
“Yeah. Reporters calling day and night to ask what we know about the adoption scandals. The whole town acts as if we personally stole babies and still have them hidden in the attic thirty years later.”
They both laughed at the silliness. Gabriel patted the side of Sam’s face with Bob the Builder. She caught his hand and kissed it, drawing in his clean baby smell as a powerful love welled up inside.
“I don’t know why Grandfather falsified adoption papers and birth certificates. I wish I could understand. He hurt a lot of people.”
“Money, Sam. Barnaby Harcourt was all about making money. That’s all I remember about him. He looked like a kindly grandfather but he spent every waking moment getting richer.”
“He could have made money by adopting out children honestly.”
To the deep embarrassment of all the Harcourt family, Barnaby had extorted money from people who had given up their babies and then had spent years blackmailing them. Even the town mayor had fallen victim.
“Life has been insane around here since the construction workers found those papers in your wall,” Ashley said.
“The Cavanaughs are nice people. Ben didn’t deserve to find out about his birth parents that way.”
Ironically, one of Ben’s construction-company employees, Jonah Fraser, had discovered the hidden files. Since then, reporters had been hounding the Harcourt family, trying to blame them for Barnaby’s misdeeds.
Hammering issued from the other end of the house.
“Funder,” Gabriel said, eyes wide. For some reason, he’d developed a fear of thunder and lightning. Even though the hammering had continued off and on for weeks now, the toddler considered every sudden noise to be an ensuing storm.
“It’s okay, sweetie,” Sam crooned, raising the sturdy two-year-old body up to her shoulder. “Someday they will actually finish those rooms and stop hammering.”
Ashley chuckled. “And about the time they have the entire suite just the way you want it, you’ll run back to Chicago.”
“I don’t think so. I’m thinking of renting out my condo.”
“Are you serious?” Ashley’s face registered disbelief. “Why?”
“I’m not sure I want to go back to modeling.” Even while she was on hiatus, the pressure never stopped. Only today her agent had called, urging her to get back to Chicago. “Not full-time anyway.”
The idea horrified her sister. “Are you crazy? Why wouldn’t anyone want your life?”
“Africa,” she said simply.
Ashley titled her head, puzzled. “Now that makes perfect sense. Care to elaborate?”
Sam shrugged. “Africa did something to me, Ash. Poverty like I can’t even express and yet the people have this joy, this strength about them.”
“Excuse me if I have no clue what this has to do with your amazing career.”
“Everything.” Gabriel wiggled to be let down, so Sam turned him loose. He scooted toward the edge of the bed. “I want my life to matter more. I want to make a difference. Standing in front of a camera in pretty clothes seems so empty after what I saw there.”
“Well, half the female population would take your place in a heartbeat if they could.”
Sam knew it was true. She also knew a lot of things about the business her sister didn’t. Sure, hers was a great job, but money and success in modeling came with a high price. A price she wouldn’t share with anyone, even her baby sister.
She fiddled with the edge of the pizza box, tempted to have another slice. “What do you think of Eric Pellegrino?”
“He’s a hunk and a half. Almost as cute as my Chris. A nice guy, too. Everyone at church seems to like him.” Ashley poked a finger at Sam’s knee. “Why? What does Eric have to do with our conversation?”
“We met in Africa.”
Ashley’s mouth formed an O. “No kidding?”
Gabriel turned onto his belly and started to slide off the high bed feetfirst. Without breaking the line of conversation, Ashley helped him safely down. He toddled to his push pony and climbed aboard, saying, “Horsey, go.”
“I worked at Eric’s orphanage for a day,” Sam said. “It was like nothing I’ve ever experienced. I found myself wishing I could stay there forever.”
