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“Well no wonder, if you didn’t eat at noon!” Kendra slid the lunch bag across the kitchen table.
“It was Hot Dog Day—the homeroom teacher forgot to tell you on Friday that I should bring money.” Megan opened the bag and took out a cheese-filled English muffin. “But my new friend had extra money—she was late this morning and was in a hurry and her dad gave her too much—so she paid for my hot dog and chocolate milk. She said I could pay for hers next time around.”
At the words “new friend” Kendra had felt a swift kick of relief. She’d worried about Megan starting over again in a school where most eight-year olds would already have their own special buddies; it seemed she’d had no need to fret. But then at the words “she was late...and her Dad gave her too much,” her nerves prickled a warning.
“So,” she said casually, “what’s your friend’s name?”
“Jodi. She’s my age and she’s got black curly hair...”
But Kendra was no longer listening. She didn’t have to. She knew the rest.
Of all the luck, Megan had to link up with Brodie Spencer’s daughter! If she was anything like her father, she’d be bad news, and likely to lead Megan into all sorts of trouble—
Oh, she was being ridiculous! This was only Megan’s first day at school. She would meet other girls, become friendly with other girls. More suitable girls. Water always found its own level.
“I’ll give you money for her tomorrow,” she said.
“But Mom—”
“You know I don’t like you to borrow. But it was kind of this Jodi to help you out. However, you’ll pay her back in the morning and that’ll be the end of it. All right?”
Megan shrugged. “OK.” She concentrated on eating her muffin. “But I hope I don’t hurt her feelings,” she mumbled. “She’s really nice. And she’s already asked me to come to her house on Saturday afternoon to play.”
“You know you’re not allowed to make that kind of arrangement without discussing it with me first!”
Her tone must have been unusually sharp because Megan’s head shot up, her brown eyes wide with astonishment. “I didn’t! But she’s got a brother and a sister and a dog and a swimming pool and her house seems like it’s just the funnest place to be!”
Kendra sat down at the table.
“Honey,” she said carefully, “don’t be in too much of a hurry to make a special friend. It’s a mistake lots of people make. Take your time, get to know everybody first. And then make up your mind who you like.”
“When you were my age,” Megan challenged, “did your mother pick and choose your friends?”
“I lost my parents when I was six. I’ve told you many times, sweetie, that my grandfather Westmore brought me up. And though he didn’t pick and choose my friends, he did try to make sure that my choices were...the right ones.”
“Well, why don’t we have Jodi over here on Saturday? Then you can see for yourself if she’s a right choice!”
Trapped. She felt trapped. Yet wasn’t what Megan was suggesting a sensible plan? How could she get out of it, without seeming totally unreasonable!
“It’s just Monday,” she said. “Why don’t we wait till the end of the week, see how it goes? Perhaps you’ll meet someone else you’d rather invite here on Saturday.”
“Sure.” Megan reached for the bottle of orange juice. “Let’s wait till Friday.”
Kendra heaved a sigh of relief.
But it was short-lived.
“I can tell you now, though,” Megan said as she popped off the lid and stuck a straw into the bottle, “that I won’t be meeting anybody I’ll like better than Jodi Spencer!”
The wall phone rang before Kendra could come up with a response. Pushing back her chair, she reached for the receiver. “Westmore residence.”
“Good afternoon, Ms. Westmore. This is Mitzi, at Lakeview Construction. Someone will be coming out tomorrow morning to talk with you about your new kitchen. Will eight-thirty be too early?”
“No, eight-thirty will be fine. Thanks.”
She hung up.
“Finished your snack?” she asked Megan.
“Yes, I’m done.”
“Let’s get our bikes then and cycle down to the school. I want to be sure we have your route all mapped out because I won’t be able to drive you in the morning. I have to be here, to talk to the workman from Lakeview Construction.”
“Full fat!” The hem of Hayley Spencer’s shortie robe fluttered around her sun-browned thighs as she swirled around from the fridge, half-gallon milk jug held aloft. Rolling her eyes, she set the jug on the breakfast table. “I’m trying to lose weight and the man buys me full fat milk!”
She lowered herself into her chair and pouring bran flakes into a blue-rimmed bowl, called after Brodie, who was headed for the door, “I told Ditsy Mitzi fat-free! Why don’t you fire the woman and hire somebody who can take a simple message!”
Brodie paused in the doorway and looked round with an apologetic grin. “Mitzi did mention it... and you know damned well she’s not ditsy—she just looks ditsy! The fault is mine. I guess I had other things on my mind yesterday.” Like the Westmore woman! “It won’t happen again—”
He stepped aside smartly as Jodi and her brother bowled by in tandem, Jodi in pretty pink dungarees and a candy-striped blouse, Jack in a grungy gray T-shirt and baggy shorts. The boy had combed his black hair in a middle part and plastered it to his skull with foul-smelling gunk. Brodie’s nostrils quivered, but he bit back a dry comment. He knew only too well how much Jack loathed his unruly curls. He had, too, when he’d been that age—too young to know that when he became a teenager, girls would find his hair irresistible! His lips twitched at the memory...
“Morning, kids,” he said.
“Morning, Dad.” Jodi threw him a cheery smile.
“Yo.” Jack had already thrown himself onto a chair and was grabbing his favorite cereal packet.
“How come you’re dressed so fine?” Jodi’s gaze flicked over him even as she reached for a bowl. “Aren’t you going in to the yard this morning?”
“He’s going to the Westmore place.” Hayley’s lovely cornflower blue eyes had the same inquisitive glint as Jodi’s, but added to that was a speculative gleam as she looked at his emerald polo shirt and neatly pressed chinos.
“If you’re going out there,” Jodi said, “will you do me a favor, Dad?”
Brodie glanced at his watch. “Look, I’ve gotta run—”
“There’s a new girl in my class. I forgot to tell you last night She’s Megan Westmore. She’s got no brothers or sisters so I asked her to come over on Saturday afternoon. She said she’d ask her mom. But you can ask her today!”
Hayley frowned. “Jodi, you know Saturday afternoon is a family time for us.”
“If you’ve already asked her,” Brodie said, “we’ll have to follow up on it.”
Hayley’s slender shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Yes, I suppose...”
But Brodie could feel her disapproval emanating from across the kitchen. He glanced at his watch. He should really be out of here!
He strode to the table and leaning over Hayley, planted a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “Don’t worry, Hayle, her mother probably won’t let her come.”
As he left, he caught himself glancing around the kitchen—assessingly; something he hadn’t done in a very long time. The big square room was bright and cheerful and airy...and shabby. He’d always liked it that way...but this was undoubtedly a house where things were neglected.
From the beginning, he’d wanted to hire a housekeeper, but Hayley wouldn’t hear of it. He’d given in, and had never regretted the decision.
But minutes later, as he started his truck, he found himself wondering how the place would look to the snooty Ms. Westmore. And admitted it would come up short. The kitchen badly needed redecorating, as did the rest of the modest two-story house. What was that adage about the shoemaker’s kids having no shoes? It certainly fit in his case.
But hell, his decision to keep things as they were hadn’t been grounded in laziness. It had been grounded in a desire to give the kids stability. To give them a sense that, although a lot of things had changed, their roots would never.
Were they old enough now to accept change?
They’d been through so much.
But maybe it was time to throw them a challenge.
Maybe, after he’d finished with the Westmore project, he’d tackle instituting some changes at home.
Bit by bit. So the changes wouldn’t come all at once and be too distressing for them.
Yeah, he decided as he followed the road that led out of town toward Rosemount, one step at a time.
That was the answer.
Kendra was out back, getting Megan’s bike from the shed, when she heard the roar of a truck coming up the drive at the front of the house.
At the same time, Megan shot out through the kitchen door. She looked fresh and sweet in an ice-blue jumpsuit.
“Got everything, honey?” Kendra asked.
“Yes.”
“And you know the way? Along the—”
“Mom, we did that yesterday!” Impatiently, Megan grabbed the bike handles. “Thanks.” She jumped on the mountain bike and took off across the white gravel chips, her tires crunching. “’Bye, Mom! See you after school!”
“’Bye, honey! Take care...”
Kendra watched till her daughter disappeared around the corner of the house. Then she turned, letting her gaze sweep up over the enormous white mansion that had stood here, on top of the hill, for more than sixty years.
The breeze riffled pleasantly through her hair and the sun kissed her cheeks. She smiled and tucked her hands into the pockets of her white shorts as she walked toward the open back door. She was glad to be home. More than glad: elated! When her grandfather had thrown her out eight years ago, she’d left her heart in Lakeview. Now she was back, she would never leave again. No matter what.
She crossed the kitchen, walked along the corridor, and paused for a moment when she reached the foyer.
Sunlight flooded down from the tall window in the stairwell, its mellow rays glowing on the Persian rug and parquet floor. Sunlight gleamed, too, on the polished mahogany furniture, and enriched the opulent color of the tapestries adorning the walls. The staircase itself was the hall’s focal point, its elegant lines and luxurious blue runner drawing the eye up to the landing.
As a child she’d never been tempted to slide down the smooth banister...but Megan seemed to find it irresistible. Kendra was well aware that despite being cautioned several times to keep off it, the child still sailed recklessly, joyfully down it when her mother wasn’t around.
An accident waiting to happen—
The front doorbell clanged.
Kendra turned and crossed the foyer, and as she did, she found herself wondering if it wouldn’t be better to postpone the kitchen project and deal with the staircase first. Yes, that’s what she would do. And as soon as it was replaced, she could stop worrying...
Content with her decision, she opened the front door.
And came face-to-face with a man she had hoped never to bump into again. He was dressed to kill and she could smell the faintest hint of a musky aftershave over the sweet scent of roses drifting from a nearby flower bed.
“Brodie Spencer!” She rammed her hands on her hips and glared at him. ‘What on earth are you doing here!”
CHAPTER TWO
“A SIMPLE ‘Good morning,’” Brodie returned innocently, “would have sufficed!”
His lips twitched as he saw her gaze become even more belligerent. Boy, she sure was something else when she got mad! Sparks exploded like fireworks in her brown eyes, and her breasts quivered! Yup, quivered. Under that cobalt blue tank top, they quivered.
“I said—” her voice was icy “—what do you want?’
He cleared his throat and jerked his gaze back to her face. What did he want? Hell, she wouldn’t like his honest answer to that question. No, sirree!
“Lakeview Construction at your service, ma’am.”
She stared at him blankly for a full seven seconds... which gave him time to scrutinize her hair. It hung loose this morning, the heavy blunt-cut tips brushing her tanned shoulders, and each strand glistened as if it had been individually dipped in white gold. He felt a strong urge to reach out and run his fingers through—
She made a sound that reminded him of a piglet’s snort.
“You’re kidding,” she said scathingly. “Of course.”
“No, ma’am. I am not.” He pressed his right hand flat against his heart. And noticed it was beating just a tad faster than usual. “I’m here to discuss your...kitchen.
He saw the incredulity in her eyes.
He showed her the work order.
She scrutinised it but when she handed it back, her expression had become only marginally less hostile.
“You’d better come inside.” She made no secret of her reluctance to invite him into the house. And she flounced away, leaving him to close the door behind him. The rich, it seemed, did not always have impeccable manners!
She halted in the middle of the foyer and turned to him. She’d schooled her features into an emotionless mask.
“There’s been a change in plan,” she said. “I want to postpone work on the kitchen and start with the staircase.”
Brodie smelled coffee.
He’d been in such an all-fired rush that morning he hadn’t taken time to have his usual caffeine fix. He sure could do with it now, to set him up before he got down to the nitty-gritty of telling his client she’d be a fool to tear down her magnificent antique mahogany staircase.
“Let’s talk about that,” he said smoothly. “Over...a coffee, maybe?”
He could feel her irritation coming at him in waves. But she said, albeit stiffly, “All right.”
She took off along the corridor to the left of the foyer, and he followed like a sheep.
Except that a sheep wouldn’t have ogled her derriere the way he was doing—well, how could he not? It was sexy as hell in those skimpy white shorts—and she still walked with that tantalizing little wiggle of her hips, the way she’d done when she was a teenager!
