His Ideal Match. Arlene James
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tried the key again, but the lock refused to budge. Phillip pushed forward.
“What’s wrong?”
“The key doesn’t work.”
“You sure it’s the right one?” he asked, taking it from her and trying it himself.
“Absolutely,” she mumbled, slipping the note from her pocket. While he tried to unlock the door yet again, she read the words on the paper, her heart pounding. “Um, I have to speak to the manager.”
Phillip’s head snapped around. “What?”
She made an attempt at a smile. “Would you wait here with the kids? I won’t be long.”
Pivoting on one heel, she hurried down the sidewalk and around the corner to the on-site manager’s apartment. The thin, sixtysomething woman with long, graying hair and thick eyeglasses wore a series of interchangeable knit pantsuits as a kind of work uniform.
She smiled at Carissa and said bluntly, “You must have realized by now that we changed the locks.”
“But why?”
“You can’t stay, I’m afraid. You’re not on the lease.”
“Guests are allowed for six weeks at a time,” Carissa pointed out. “We have at least a couple weeks left.”
“Not once the legal tenant vacates the property. Legally, we could have put your belongings out yesterday, but given the circumstances, we want to be as compassionate as possible.”
Panicked, Carissa tried to think through her options. “Listen, I can continue to pay the rent, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
The manager shook her head. “This is a subsidized apartment intended for disabled tenants, and I have a lengthy waiting list of approved applicants. I’m sorry, but I can’t let you and your children stay.”
The breath left Carissa’s lungs in a rush. She couldn’t believe it. The very thing she’d feared most had just come to pass.
Homeless.
She and her children were now truly homeless.
Carissa felt a presence at her back and knew without looking that it was Phillip. She could only wonder how long he had been standing behind her. Biting her lip, she dug her fingernails into her palms to keep from lashing out at him. She turned and coolly said, “You were supposed to stay with the children.”
“Nathan is perfectly capable of watching the other two for a few minutes,” he replied before asking the apartment manager, “Could you let us into the apartment long enough to pack up some personal things tonight? If so, I’ll return tomorrow to take care of everything else.”
“What are you doing?” Carissa whispered under her breath.
“Just what has to be done,” he answered, proving that he’d overheard everything.
“I’ll get the key,” the manager said, disappearing inside her apartment.
“You can’t just take over,” Carissa declared, trying to keep her voice low when she really wanted to yell at him.
“I’m not trying to take over. I’m just trying to help,” he told her, his copper eyes so soft with compassion that she had to look away. She felt his big hands hovering near her upper arms, but thankfully, he didn’t touch her. If he had, she would’ve crumbled into pieces. “We’ll figure this out, okay? One thing is certain, though. You can’t stay here.”
She gulped, feeling perilously close to hysterics as the truth sank in. She and her children were actually homeless.
“Dear God,” she whispered, closing her eyes. “Help me!”
Chapter Four
“It’s all right,” Phillip said, slipping an arm about her. “Everything’s going to be all right. You’ll see. It’s going to be a surprise for the kids, though.”
The kids. Carissa gasped, looking up. “What are we going to tell them?”
“We’ll just say that we talked it over and decided that Chatam House is the best place for everyone after all.”
Carissa frowned. We, he’d said.
“They’ll want their own things,” Phillip went on, “toys, books... Nathan said something about a pillow the other day.”
“He’s had it since he was a baby,” Carissa murmured, her mind awhirl with all that had to be done. “It’s hardly even a pillow now, more like a pillowcase with some feathers in it.”
“Whatever. He wants it, so he should have it with him. Don’t you think?”
Carissa nodded, hardly aware of what she was doing. The utilities had to be cut off, the mail forwarded, bills paid.... What were they going to do with the furniture? The door opened behind her, and the manager briskly stepped out.
“Sorry. Phone always rings when you’re busiest.”
“No problem,” Phillip told her. “We appreciate your cooperation.”
“Oh, I’m happy to help,” she said, setting off. “Wish I could do more, but it’s out of my hands, you understand.”
Glumly, Carissa fell in behind her. Phillip kept pace, his hand hovering in the small of Carissa’s back as if he feared she would turn tail and bolt. The kids were plucking leaves out of the shrubbery and pelting one another when they got back to her father’s apartment. The manager unlocked the door but didn’t enter.
“I can just wait, if you won’t be too long, or you can stop by when you’re done, and I’ll come back and lock up then.”
Phillip looked to Carissa. “Give us thirty minutes.”
“I’ll just visit the tenant in 307, then. She always welcomes an unexpected chat. You can pop over and knock on the door when you’re done.”
“Thank you.”
As soon as the manager left, Carissa took the children into the living room and sat down with them, explaining that they wouldn’t be staying after all.
Little Grace looked around her before commenting solemnly, “I don’t want to stay, not without Grandpa.”
Nathan glared at Phillip and declared, “I’m not going back with him!”
“We’re going in our car,” Carissa said huskily, too exhausted to argue with him, “back to Uncle Chester and Aunt Hilda.”
Tucker rose and wandered about the room, touching this lamp and that photo. “Grandpa would want us to go,” he said sadly. Phillip went over to him and patted him on the shoulder.
“Your grandfather wanted you to have a safe, comfortable home, Tucker. That’s all he cared about.”
“I wish he could go with us,” Tucker whispered in a choked voice.
“I know,” Phillip replied gently, “but his house is in Heaven now.”
Tucker glanced around. “It’s probably nicer than here.”
“Much nicer.”
“It’s probably even better than Chatam House, isn’t it?” Tucker said, looking up at Phillip.
Nodding, Phillip told him, “The Bible says that where your grandpa lives now, even the streets are paved with gold.”
“Oh, that’s just a story,” Nathan scoffed.
“I don’t think so,” Phillip refuted blandly. “It’s written in the Bible.”
“Where?”
“I’m not sure,” Phillip admitted, “but we can look it up.”