Second-Time Lucky. Laurie Paige
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you to know we’re on the same side where the children are concerned.”
He looked as if he might dispute that, then he nodded, so solemnly it touched something deep inside her that hadn’t been disturbed in a long, long time.
A few minutes later, giving one last wave over her shoulder as he watched her departure, she turned onto the main road and headed for her office.
Her conclusions would be fairly easy to write up. The home was perfectly acceptable. The man was…
She considered several adjectives as she wound her way down the tree-lined country highway. Strong. Cynical. Self-contained. Kind. Caring. Responsible.
If her husband had been like Jefferson Aquilon, maybe they would still be together. Maybe life would have been easier for their daughter if she’d had a father who could have stuck it out during the hard times.
Instead, Brendon, her twenty-six-year-old surfer hero, had run out after five years of married bliss. Not that things had been much fun the last four of those years. With a child had come responsibility. Zia had needed a home, not a van, to live in. She’d needed medical treatment for her asthma.
The family had needed steady income, more than Caileen could provide from her nursing assistant salary while she tried to pursue her degree in counseling. Her parents, furious with her marriage, hadn’t offered help before or after the divorce.
Unfortunately, she now knew exactly how they’d felt. Experience was a great teacher. Putting thoughts of the past on hold, she finished her afternoon appointments and went home.
The two-bedroom town house was cold when she let herself inside. Her daughter wouldn’t be home for another hour or so due to a late afternoon class. She turned up the thermostat, changed to a pair of old sweats and ate leftovers and a salad for dinner.
Later, over a cup of hot tea, she pondered the visit to the Aquilon place.
Jeff’s many talents had surprised her. Obviously he was more than a glorified junk dealer. After the visit, she’d had to revise her opinion of him.
Not that she hadn’t been prepared for him to be a nice person. Lyric Dalton had assured her he was. But he was much more than the surface evaluation written up in the case notes by the former counselor.
For one thing, he hadn’t mentioned losing his foot in service to his country. He seemed to have adjusted quite well to the prosthesis that had replaced his left foot. Some people would have tried to engage her sympathy on that score, but he hadn’t. Although he had a slight limp, he didn’t let the disability interfere with his work as far as she could see.
Her impression was that he took life as it came and dealt with each issue head-on. His concern and questions had all been focused on the orphans in his care.
After having the two younger children taken from him for no good reason—in his estimation, at any rate—he had a right to be cynical and distrusting of her department. Most people were.
Welcome to the club, she should have told him.
Her mother and grandmother had been social workers. Like them, she’d gone into it wanting to help families—especially those with children—make it. Lately she’d wondered if the emotional toll was worth it.
She sighed and listened to the wind in the cottonwoods outside the two-family house she’d bought twelve years ago in order to provide a stable home for her daughter. The rent from the other half had paid for braces and the trendy—but pricey—clothing all teenagers thought they couldn’t live without.
Her handsome, perfectly built, young husband had left their cozy nest when his daughter was four. Zia had never had a clue about the daily struggle to pay the babysitter, her college tuition and all that was needed to keep body and soul together during the three years that followed. Caileen hadn’t wanted her to.
She’d lived in university housing and arranged a babysitting co-op with other student mothers. She’d worked afternoons in the psychology department and weekends as a dishwasher at a restaurant where they’d let her bring her child. She’d found she could survive with a heart that felt as if it had been trampled in the dust and left for dead.
With her master’s degree and a job offer from the local Family Services office, she’d moved to Council, bought the two-family home and settled into the hectic routine known as her life.
She hoped, for Jeff Aquilon’s sake, he had an easier time rearing his three kids than she was having raising her one. Speaking of which, where was Zia?
With Sammy Steele—she answered her own question. Her beautiful, precious child was in love…with a young man who bore all the charming but unreliable traits of her handsome, laughing father.
How could Caileen protect vulnerable, headstrong Zia from the temptation of a boy who promised the moon and stars, but delivered only heartbreak?
Ah, well, a parent could only do so much without alienating her child. Unfortunately, she’d already crossed that nebulous line. She sighed. When she’d been nineteen and madly in love, no one had told her how difficult it was to be a parent.
Not that she would have listened at that age. She mentally winced, realizing her child was as blindly trusting in the future as she’d once been. How did one learn to choose wisely?
She still wasn’t sure she knew the answer to that question, so how could she expect nineteen-year-old Zia to do better? After all, she was supposed to be the expert on family problems and solutions.
Right. As soon as she found a reliable crystal ball, she’d solve the problems of the world.
Chapter Two
“We passed our first inspection today,” Jeff told the other members of his household that evening. “I think.”
“Ah, the Family Services witch was here,” Jeremy wisely concluded. “Did she arrive on her broomstick?”
Tony and Krista grinned at the eighteen-year-old’s insouciant remarks.
Jeff did, too. “Nah, they use cars nowadays. It’s part of their disguise. She approved of the house.” He directed a glance at Krista. “She especially liked the way it’s decorated. I told her you did most of it.”
Krista, shy about any kind of praise, blushed and immediately concentrated on her task of setting the table.
When dinner was ready, Jeff paused before taking his seat. “Tonight we celebrate two special events. First, we pay homage to Anthony, who has reached the distinguished age of fourteen.”
Jeremy and Krista cheered and clapped.
“And Krista,” Jeff continued, “our own special princess, who will be eleven tomorrow.”
Krista had taken a lot of teasing over the years about being an April Fool’s baby. She’d asked if she could have her birthday dinner when her brother had his. Tony, good-natured and protective, had okayed the idea.
While Jeff and Tony applauded and offered compliments to Krista, Jeremy brought in the cake Jeff had baked and hidden in the pantry until it was time for it to serve as the centerpiece during the meal.
After eating grilled chicken and roasted vegetables, Jeff and Jeremy lit candles and sang the birthday song. Tony and Krista blew out the candles, then Krista cut the cake.
“Oh, I nearly forgot,” Jeff said. His smile belied his words as he removed two boxes from behind the sofa and handed them to the birthday honorees.
Jeremy pretended he couldn’t remember where he’d secreted his gifts. He looked behind chairs and in cabinets to no avail.
“In the hall closet,” Krista finally told him, somewhat exasperated by his memory loss.
Jeff hid a grin.
Jeremy snapped his fingers. “That’s right!”
Krista and Tony rolled their eyes, then