Made to Order Family

Brooks peered over her shoulder as Tootsie withdrew Cade’s family picture, her expression beatific. “Isn’t this just lovely?”

“You’re crying.”

“I’m not,” Tootsie protested. She sniffled.

“You are,” Brooks exclaimed, horrified. “Stop that. Now.”

“I can’t.” Tootsie trailed a finger along the frame, her gaze trained on the sweet family before them. “And how cute is that baby, Boss?”

“Cute enough.”

She swung around and offered him a stern expression. “He’s absolutely, positively beautiful. Couldn’t you just eat him up?”

Brooks couldn’t, actually, but he knew better than to argue. Cade called just then, saving Brooks from himself. “Hey, Chief.”

“Brooks, did my frame arrive yet?”

“We’ve got it. Tootsie’s actually framing the picture as we speak.”

“Sweet. Annie asked me about it and I promised I’d check. How does it look?”

Brooks eyed the framed print. Cade’s young family laughed back at him. He swallowed a sigh, worked his jaw and nodded. “Very nice, which is a good thing since these frames don’t come cheap.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Cade told him. “As long as it’s right, the cost is insignificant.”

His words touched Brooks’ heart.

Brooks was frugal. His lifestyle reflected that. He was constantly amazed at how quickly Rita went through money, week after week. Shoes here, doctors there, school supplies, car repairs, food, clothes. Her expenses boggled the mind.

Picturing Cade’s family, Brooks realized he was the anomaly, not them. His singular status and prudence labeled him different.

Usually that didn’t bother him.

Today it did.

A movement outside caught his attention, a flash of red-gold skirting the parking lot. “Cade, have you noticed this stray dog that’s been hanging around?”

“No. How long’s he been around?”

“Off and on for the last week or more,” Brooks told him. He taped the edges and slid the frame into one of his distinctive cord-handled bags. “A retriever.”

“Haven’t seen him.”

“I just caught a glimpse of him alongside the parking lot. He’s been getting into my garbage at night, making quite a mess.”

“Tags?”

“Haven’t gotten close enough to see. He’s furtive.”

“Or smart.”

“Either way, it’s a pain to have to chase him off.”

“I’ll keep an eye out and let Bill Pickering know.” Bill was the animal-control officer for St. Lawrence County.

The idea of the dog being caged niggled, but the thought of not having to wrestle garbage constantly won out. “Thanks.” Brooks hesitated, then asked, “They won’t put him down, will they?”

“That depends on a lot of factors,” Cade explained. “If he’s got an owner, tags, if he’s healthy, adoptable. A lot of strays get put down. There are no guarantees.”

“But he’s not that bad,” protested Brooks.

Cade went silent for a moment. When he spoke his voice held more than a hint of question and a good dose of amusement. “You either want him caught or you don’t. Which is it?”

Brooks ran a frustrated hand through his hair and frowned. “I’m not sure, myself.”

“Well, when you figure it out, call me back. I’m just across the road, so I’m fairly accessible.”

“Thanks, Chief.

He wouldn’t call, Brooks decided. The thought of the dog locked up in a pound bothered him. Not as much as the dog rummaging his garbage, but still…

Nothing to be euthanized for, right? A few scraps of paper, some old mac and cheese and one worn shoe that Brooks really should have tossed months ago.

Definitely not worth a death sentence, but Brooks couldn’t deny he’d like to get a full night’s sleep on a more regular basis, and hoped the locked-up garbage bin would ensure that.

Chapter Five

Rita took a deep breath, breathed a prayer for strength and dialed her brother-in-law Ed’s home. “Heather, it’s Rita. Is Ed available?”

Her former sister-in-law’s voice faltered. “I’m not sure, Rita.”

Rita sent her gaze upward, compressed her lips and bit back what she wanted to say. “I only need a minute.”

“Who is it?” Ed’s churlish voice came through gnarled, as if Heather tried to block the sensitive microphone a little too late.

“Rita.”

“What does she want?” His emphasis on the pronoun smacked of disregard. Obviously Ed felt she had nothing to say that he wanted to hear. But if she was going to garner enough courage to run her own business and her own life, Rita needed to lasso some guts, take charge and do what was needed on a daily basis. A good businesswoman didn’t put things off for her convenience or to shore up a sagging self-esteem.

“Tell him I need to talk to him, Heather. It’s either talk to me now or I’ll come right over.”

“She says she’s coming over if you don’t talk to her.”

Ed muttered words unsuitable for decent company and Rita hoped his kids were somewhere else. Anywhere else. But Ed’s kids had been raised around his late-day vulgarity, the ever-present twelve-pack of beer an after-hours habit.

“What do you want?”

Rita heard his words and figured he was about six cans into the night and it was only five o’clock.

“Ed, you’re aware the judge could make his decision any day regarding the pension fund, right?”

“I know you’re trying to finagle your way into messing up my retirement fund, yes. And that any decent judge will see right through your little scheme and tell you to get your drunken butt out of bed and get a better job. Take care of my brother’s kids.”

His words hit their mark, but Rita choked back a retort. “Ed, if you split the fund now, I’ll drop the case. I’m starting a bakery of my own and those funds would go a long way to helping me get on my feet.”

“I’ll tell you what,” Ed expounded. “I know you’re a worthless excuse for a wife and mother, that if Tommy hadn’t been working night and day to keep you in fancy clothes and cars, he wouldn’t have done what he did. You drove him to it, and we all know it.”

“Ed, if you wait for the judge to rule, you could be liable for legal fees and court costs. Those add up.”

“That judge ain’t gonna give you a dime,” Ed shot back. “You get your share when I get mine, at age sixty-five. That’s how Tommy and I set it up, and that’s how it is. Now leave me alone.”

Click.

Rita stared at the phone, thinking of all the things she wished she could say, then sighed. Not one of them would change the outcome, change Ed’s outlook or make a difference in the long run, so why say them?

Complete satisfaction?

Sure, yanking Ed’s chain with a long-winded spiel might offer some sense of momentary comfort, but it was better she leave things be. She’d called, she’d tried, made an honest attempt. Now she’d go to the banks knowing she’d given it her best shot with Ed. Yeah, she’d come up short, but she hadn’t chickened out or gone off on him. Two good things.

Having bank officers see her financial state of affairs unnerved her. Life hadn’t been easy since Tom died and her drinking had messed the whole family up, but since she’d gone into recovery a year before, everything had been paid on time. That should count for something, right?

Maybe.

She pulled in another deep breath, turned her back on the phone and called Skeeter’s name as she headed for the car.

“Liv? Skeets? You guys ready? We have to get to the wood shop.”

“We’re ready.” Liv’s light footsteps pattered down the stairs. Skeeter’s followed at a more measured pace, but she wasn’t testy, and Rita chalked that up as a quiet victory. “Do you need me to put anything in the car?”

“Nope. I did it while you were finishing your homework. Skeets, did you make progress on your room?”

Skeeter’s expression said she hadn’t.

Rita thrust up a brow. “This will come back to haunt you, kid. At some point you’re going to ask to do something and I’ll say, ‘Is your room clean?’” Rita slanted her best mother-knows-everything look down to her youngest daughter. “And then you’re going to be really mad at me and yourself for not getting it done like I’ve asked.”

Choosing to let Skeeter stew on that, Rita climbed into the driver’s seat, popped in a Taylor Swift CD, started the engine and headed toward North Country Woodcrafter, ready to immerse herself in creative expression. Sure, it was just painting whimsical wooden flowers to fit Liv’s perceived motif for the spring-summer window, but she’d been looking forward to this all day.

Because you love seeing Brooks. You love it when he asks your opinion on fabrics, colors and stain tones or washes. He includes you and that makes you feel good.

It did, she realized. He sought her opinions, her ideas, as if her thoughts mattered.

Of course, he was like that with everyone, she assured herself, shutting down that twinge of inner knowledge. Brooks liked to help people in his quiet way, and he’d been a good friend and a patient listener since meeting her in AA. That was all she wanted or needed. A friend, a confidant. There was absolutely no way she was interested in anything more than that, not now, not ever, despite how his gray eyes crinkled in amusement when she was around.

Rita hadn’t been accused of being amusing since about age eleven, and even then it was most likely accidental.

But Brooks laughed with her and at her, nudging her forward, fine-tuning her sense of humor. He wasn’t afraid to spar with her, go toe-to-toe.

She wondered to herself why on earth that felt so marvelously good.

Once parked, Rita tugged the big plastic tub from the trunk of her car, balancing it on the trunk’s lip as she juggled for a decent hand grip.

Strong arms descended around her, the scent of fresh-sawn wood and sweet oils tickling her nose.

Brooks. Smelling far too wonderful to ensure her peace of mind. A part of her longed to lean into the scent, the press of soft cotton knit comforting against her face.

He hoisted the tub from her hands, stepped back and surveyed it, then her. “You could ask for help, you know. It’s not exactly a foreign concept.”

“Why ask when I can do it myself?”

His frank expression offered more than his words. “Because I’m here? And available?”

Whoa. An opening too good to resist. Rita grinned. “I’ll spread the word. Half the local singles will be dropping by with cookies and cakes, showing off their talents.”

“I’ll let that pass,” Brooks told her. He grinned at Liv as she came around the side of the car, Skeeter’s hand clutched in hers. “Ladies’ night, hmm?”

Liv smiled up at him. “Yup. And Tootsie’s hanging out with us. Skeeter’s our gopher. What we need, she gets.”

To Rita’s relief, Skeeter smiled. She saw Brooks note that, and was pretty sure the big guy breathed a sigh of relief. She knew she did. “Liv, if you and Skeeter can get the door, I’ve got the grass mat to get.”

“Grass mat?” Brooks rearranged the tub to a more comfortable position and hiked a brow. “For?”

“You’ll see,” Rita promised. She hauled the folded mat from the backseat and headed inside. “We’re about to welcome spring full force at North Country Woodcrafter.”

“I see.”

She ignored the twinge of concern in his tone. Brooks didn’t hand over the reins often or well. Better he should go to a meeting or work in the wood shop or in the clean room or anyplace other than the showroom while they broke down the winter display and replaced it with Liv’s creativity. Having him on hand would make her the tiniest bit crazy. Just before they got to the door, Rita did an about-face. “Head in with that, Brooks. I forgot something.”

She hurried back to the car, swung open the front passenger-side door, reached down and grabbed the folder she’d brought for his approval.

Her prospectus, the layout of her bakery. Clutched in her right hand lay the career dreams and aspirations she’d kept on hold for years.

Would he laugh at it? Criticize? Advise?

She wasn’t sure. It had been a lot of years since her business classes at SUNY Albany, but Rita understood the basic concepts as well as anyone. Exercise minimal risk to the maximum financial advantage. Guard the pennies, the dollars will come. Sage advice.

Brooks met her as she pushed through the entrance door. He took the mat from her hands, frowned as if thinking too hard, then shrugged. “I’m getting pizza later for everyone. Seven-thirty good?”

Rita surveyed the window, measuring time and space. “That gives us two hours. We should be fine. If not, we’ll finish before the meeting at St. Luke’s tomorrow.”

Brooks shook his head. “I can’t ask you to give up two nights in a row. I know how crazy your schedule is, Reet.”

She waved a hand, already unpacking the tub, setting things out, giving Liv an overall view of what they had to work with. “You didn’t ask, I offered. Whole different thing. And Liv and I don’t do half-baked, Brooks. Really, you should know that by now.”

“And here’s more stuff,” offered Tootsie as she entered from the wood-shop area, her arms full. “These are things we’ve used in the past.”

“I’m totally loving the wooden flowers,” exclaimed Liv. She stepped back, hair swinging, head tilted in a manner much like Rita’s despite their dissimilar coloring, and nodded. “Skeets, can you help Tootsie carry the stuff that was in the window to the back room please?”

“Sure.”

Brooks almost choked. He stared at the little girl, wondering who had taken over her body in the past thirty-six hours, then realized the truth with a full-fledged thunk. Skeeter Slocum had been taken over by a pod person.

All Brooks really knew was that the sweet, smiling kid in front of him offered a welcome respite from her usual prickly nature.

“Brooks, you need to leave,” Rita instructed.

A part of Brooks loved seeing her take charge, get a little bit bossy. Another part fought for total control. He subdued that with effort. “Where would you suggest I go?”

Rita laughed. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it that way. It’s just that we want to surprise you and if you’re here, I’m going to second-guess myself, which will just annoy Liv. So we’re better off if you work out back. That way if we have questions, you’re available—”

“But not in the way.”

“Exactly.” She beamed up at him, tiny laugh lines crinkling the corners of her pretty blue eyes. A wisp of hair fell across her face as she turned, a tiny strand, just big enough to make him want to reach out, smooth it back.

So he did.

The warm expression his touch inspired threw him off guard. Eyes wide, her look swept up, met his, a flash of awareness ping-ponging between them until he broke the connection by dropping his hand. Stepping back.

She breathed deep, in relief or consternation, maybe a combination of the two, then thrust something into his hand. “If you have time, will you read this over? See if it makes sense from a business standpoint and has all the information a loan officer would need?”

Brooks recognized what he held. He smiled in approval, nodded and tried to pretend the whole sparks thing was a glitch. “You did it.”

“I did,” she admitted. She dropped her gaze to the folder, then brought it back to him. “I think it’s good.”

“Then I’m sure it is, but I’d be glad to go over it, offer advice if needed.”

“Thank you, Brooks.”

Her grateful smile melted another chink in his self-imposed armor. He hesitated, wanting to say more, then noticed Liv, Tootsie and Skeeter were all staring at them.

Time to go.

He held the prospectus up, nodded and headed out back. “I’ll be back here until the pizza comes.”

“Pizza?” Tootsie turned toward Rita and Liv as Brooks disappeared into the workrooms.

“Brooks is ordering some for later. Around seven-thirty. And we should be almost done by then.”

Tootsie paled. Her throat convulsed.

Rita angled her head, concerned. “You okay, Toots? You’re not still sick, are you?”

“I’m fine.”

Her words were less than convincing, but Rita understood the need for privacy. She nodded. “Okay, Liv, take it away. What’s first?”

“I need Skeeter to line up all the flowers and wooden animals we have so I can get an idea of height and balance,” Liv instructed.

Rita smiled inside. Liv was a born creator, and this task would keep Skeeter busy for a while and feel as if she was contributing. Great combination.

“And, Mom, I’m going to reverse-paint window images so that they appear to be moving forward from the outside vantage point. That’s going to take me a while, so if you and Tootsie could paint those flowers there, using bright summer tones, by the time they’re dry I should be able to lay the grass mat behind the painted grass stems.”

“Got it.” Rita handed Tootsie a brush. “If we do this in the clean room, we’re out of the way and have more space to work.”

“Perfect,” Toots agreed.

“You girls are okay out here?” Rita hiked a brow to Liv.

“A-okay.” Liv sent Skeeter a reassuring grin. “With Skeets’ help I can get this done fairly quickly. Right, Skeets?”

“Right.”

Rita blessed whatever combination had resulted in a noncombative evening, but was wise enough to keep her comments to herself. “We’ll be right back here if you need us.”

“Thanks, Mom.”

Rita grinned at Skeeter, her earnest expression warm and sincere. This was the kid she’d like to see on a more regular basis. Maybe her strategies were working at long last, but Rita had been Skeeter’s mother for a long time. She wouldn’t be banking on it. Not yet, anyway.

Chapter Six

“This is wonderful, Rita.”

Brooks’ voice jerked Rita out of her work zone. Her brush slipped and scarlet paint daubed his benchtop, the bright tone a standout against the clear, sealed wood. “Oops.”

His easy grin reassured her. “That’s why everything here is washable. Total necessity.”

His gaze canvassed the painted flowers, perky in their newly enameled finish. “Great effect already.”

Tootsie nodded. “Isn’t it, Boss? Talk about eye-catching.”

“As if you needed to catch any more business.” Rita made the observation as she used a fine-tipped brush to accentuate stem and leaf definition. “This place is hopping on a regular basis.”

“More business is never a bad thing.” Brooks held up her prospectus. “As you pointed out here. This is excellent, Reet.”

“Really?” Warmth spread through her, inspired by that heart-stopping smile.

But Rita had already made ginormous mistakes in the happily-ever-after department, and even though Brooks was a wonderful guy who would be Mr. Right for someone, he held himself just a little apart.

So had Tom.

Brooks liked his solitude.

So had Tom.

Rita had let herself be fooled by Tom’s charm, his brains, his charisma. She’d taken second place to his work, his fun and games, and then his embezzlement schemes.

Nope, she wasn’t looking for romance, not now. Her current efforts were best concentrated on raising her kids, keeping a semblance of order at home and striving to start a new business. That alone made her way too busy to contemplate silly things like fairy-tale endings with a guy who refused to darken the door of a church. While privacy wasn’t a bad thing, Brooks’ need for solitude sent warning signs flashing Do Not Enter!

“There are a couple of points I’d elaborate on a little more.”

“Such as?”

Brooks angled his chin toward their current project. “Let’s not discuss it now. Tomorrow night maybe? After the meeting? You’ve got Wednesday off, right?”

She did, but was surprised he remembered since her schedule changed weekly. Surprised and more than a little pleased. “Yes.”

“Then let’s talk about it after fellowship,” he suggested, his gray eyes thoughtful. “Have you considered where to apply?”

“I have. I’ll bring the list with me and we can go over it together.”

“Good.” He hesitated, his look saying he’d like to linger, his body language saying something else, although with a reluctance Rita didn’t often see. “I’ll head back to the workroom.”

Ah. He wanted to stay, be part of the action. Or maybe direct the action…

No, Rita decided, he just wanted to join in. Work with them. “Bunnies are next on our agenda. You ever painted a bunny, Brooks?”

Did he pale under that weathered skin?

“You’re kidding, right? Rabbits in my window? With the flowers?”

Rita shared a grin with Tootsie. “And birds,” Tootsie quipped. “You’ve read Bambi, Boss, right? All the little forest creatures hopping about, twitterpated.”

“Twitter-what? Never mind.” Brooks ran a big blunt hand through his hair and finished the action by rubbing the back of his neck, his face bemused. “You know where I am if you need me.”

Rita slanted a grin up to him.

The action stopped him. He contemplated her, his gaze a mix of rough and tender, sweet and strong, his eyes warming at her smile before he pulled himself away. He turned back at the door linking the clean room to the workroom. “Pepperoni and sausage?”

“Yum.”

Tootsie nodded, kind of, but Brooks didn’t catch her hesitation.

Rita did.

When Brooks had disappeared into his work area, Rita laid a hand along Tootsie’s arm. “What’s going on, Toots?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“Are you still feeling sick?”

“I’m fine.”

Her ducked chin told Rita otherwise. “You’re not. Have you seen a doctor? Seriously, honey, this has been going on too long. You’ve been sick off and on for the better part of a month.”

Tootsie swallowed hard, eyes down, then sighed. She averted her gaze, staring at nothing, then dragged her gaze back and met Rita’s eyes. “I saw Dr. Renson last week.”

One of the area’s busiest and most sought-after obstetricians.

Rita drew a breath, worked her jaw and reached out to clasp Tootsie’s hands. “When is the baby due?”

“December.”

“A Christmas baby.” Rita beamed, trying to lighten the moment, soften the situation. “The time for miracles, Toots.”

A tiny smile softened Tootsie’s worried features, but just for a moment. Worry redescended, pushing Rita to grab her in a hug. “It’ll be fine, honey. I promise. Does Matt know?”

Matt was Tootsie’s soldier fiancé, currently deployed to Iraq.

“No.”

“You haven’t told him?”

Tootsie paled. “No.”

“But why?” Rita wondered out loud, confused. “Toots, you’re engaged, it’s not the end of the world. Why haven’t you told him?”

Tootsie drew in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders. “Because Matt hasn’t been home since last Thanksgiving.”

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to do the math. Rita sank back in her chair. “Oh, no.”

“Exactly.” Tears pooled in Tootsie’s bright brown eyes, their cinnamon tone matching hair of similar color, such a pretty combination. “I don’t know how to tell him what I’ve done. I’m so ashamed.”

“Does Brooks know?”

Tootsie shook her head. “Absolutely not. Brooks is a good guy and a stellar boss, but he’s a staunch conservative and big on faith and following the rules. He’d never understand how I could do such a thing.”

Rita shifted forward, concerned. “Tootsie, nothing is unforgivable. Do you remember the gospel story about the adulteress? How the Pharisees sentenced her to be stoned?”

Tootsie drew back, remorse twisting her features.

Rita gripped her hands and leaned forward. “Jesus told the crowd that those without sin should cast the first stone. And slowly, one by one, they dropped their stones and walked away because we’re all sinners, honey. Each and every one of us. And God forgives those sins. All we have to do is ask.” She gave Tootsie’s hands an encouraging squeeze, hoping her empathy rang true. “Things happen, Toots. God knows that. And you’ve got friends nearby, people who will stand by you. Help you.”

“No family.”

“We’ll be your family,” Rita insisted. Tootsie had been raised by a live-off-the-land aunt in a smaller-than-small town near Malone, but her aunt had moved to Arizona several years ago, leaving Tootsie dating Matt and working for Brooks. This new turn of events would most likely sever Tootsie’s ties to Matt’s family, leaving her abandoned. “You’ve got us, kiddo. I promise.”