Daddy Next Door. Judy Christenberry
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your guest.”
“Oh.” Missy rested her chin on her hands and seemed deep in thought.
“Is iced tea okay, Nick?” his hostess asked.
“Yes, that’ll be fine. Uh, Missy said your name is Jennifer?”
“Yes, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Jennifer Carpenter, and these are my three daughters, Steffi, Annie and Missy, whom I believe you met earlier.”
“Definitely. Hello, girls. You sure look like your mother.” Okay, so he was fishing for information. He’d admit he was curious.
Steffi looked at him and calmly said, “Thank you.” Despite her earlier emotions she was now composed.
“Are you eight years old, Steffi?” he asked. He was pretty good at guessing the ages of children, since he’d been a schoolteacher and had several nieces and nephews.
“No, I’m only six.”
“Well, you seem much older.” From her slight smile she appeared pleased. “How about you, Annie?” he asked gently, realizing the middle child was much shyer than her older sister.
She stared at him, not saying anything.
Steffi spoke for her sister. “She’s five and Missy is three.”
He took another look at his hostess. She certainly didn’t look like the mother of three children. Her slender form, including a very flat stomach, would’ve fooled most anyone.
“You have a beautiful family, Jennifer.”
After sending the girls a special smile, she looked at him and said, “Thank you.”
She carried a platter of spaghetti covered in meat sauce, topped by grated cheese.
“You use cheddar cheese on your spaghetti?” he asked in surprise.
“Yes. The girls like it.”
Her voice was cool and he hurriedly said, “I’m sure I will, too.”
Since she added a tossed salad and warm garlic bread, he had no complaints.
As much as he tried to make conversation, there wasn’t much talking during dinner, nor the noise he expected with three young children. When they needed it, Jennifer corrected their table manners, but she was gentle and didn’t embarrass the girls. Despite the quiet, Nick couldn’t have enjoyed the meal more—unless of course Jennifer actually spoke to him. Still, he enjoyed stealing glances at her soft honey-colored hair and expressive blue eyes. He had time to find out her story, after dinner.
As soon as the girls were finished, Jennifer stood and said, “Thank you for joining us, Nick. We hope you like your apartment.” The polite version of “Here’s your hat. What’s your hurry?”
Deliberately he stayed put. “I’m sure I will. Do you know the owners?”
“Yes,” she said with some hesitancy, which made him even more curious about her.
“Do you think I need to contact them? Aunt Grace wasn’t clear about that.”
“No, the lease says she can sublet to a relative, so there isn’t anything the owner can do.” Diverting her gaze, she started to clean the table.
He stood up immediately. “Let me help you with that.”
She put a hand out to stop him, but when it landed on his arm, she yanked it back. “N-no thank you. I’ll clean up later, after I give the girls their baths and tuck them into bed.”
“I could do it while you take care of the kids.”
“No!” Then, apparently realizing the vehemence in her tone, she sidestepped him and regained her poise. “A guest never does the dishes, Mr. Barry.”
“Well, in that case, Ms. Carpenter, thank you.” As much as he didn’t want to, he walked to the door, his hostess behind him. When he reached the hall, she stepped out, too.
“Oh, look. I forgot you dropped your suitcases out here. I’m sorry.”
“Doesn’t look like a problem. Don’t you worry.”
“Well, then, good night.” She turned and walked back into her apartment, but something made him stop her. For some reason he felt an overwhelming urge to get to know Ms. Jennifer Carpenter. He reached out and grabbed the door before she could close it.
“I…wanted to ask you…” He searched for some innocuous question to prolong the evening. “Are the other renters nice?” How glib, old man. With lines like that you’ll dazzle her with your wit.
“Very nice. In fact, your upstairs neighbors will welcome you most heartily. They’re six flight attendants.”
He let his eyes slowly appreciate her face. She was a beauty, with soft, wavy blond hair that shone like the sun, and flawless skin. With a neighbor like this, he wasn’t sure the women upstairs could even compete. But she was obviously sending a message: Look elsewhere for your entertainment.
He had no choice but to comply. For now.
RIGHT NOW. SHE NEEDED TO get Mr. Nick Barry out of her mind right now. Her new neighbor had no business occupying her thoughts when she was in soapsuds up to her elbows and watching three little girls in the bathtub. Her attention had to be totally focused on her children.
But it was difficult. Not the bathing. The thinking. Every time she reined in her errant thoughts, they found a way back to Nick.
Truth to tell, the man was charming. Handsome. Great with the girls.
Not now, Jennifer! Now was the time she’d waited for, wanted so desperately. Her with Steffi, Annie and Missy.
One by one she took them out of the tub and helped them dry. “Did everyone get a clean nightgown and panties?”
Missy slapped a hand over her mouth. “I forgot!”
“Missy!” Steffi complained.
“It’s all right, Steffi. Come with me, Missy, and I’ll help you.” She’d carefully showed the girls where she’d put their new clothes earlier that afternoon.
She’d found out three days ago that she’d been approved as the girls’ foster mother while she waited for the court to approve her application for adoption.
As soon as she’d gotten work, she’d bought them each a couple of outfits and underwear and nightgowns to wear until they made a real shopping trip.
Missy clutched the clean clothes to her chest as they walked back to the bath. “Do I get to keep these?”
“Yes, of course, sweetie.”
“And I don’t got to share them?”
“No, Missy, these are for you all by yourself.”
“Good.”
She was learning a lot about children in foster homes. Missy and Steffi had regaled her with stories, many of which nearly broke her heart. Annie, on the other hand, didn’t say much, but she was the reason Jennifer had requested to foster the three little sisters until the adoption went through.
And probably the reason her request had been granted.
That and her uncle—a judge in the Dallas juvenile courts.
“Are you going to take more pictures of us?” Missy asked as they reached the bathroom.
“Of course I will. But not tonight.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“It’s too late for pictures tonight. You need to get in bed so you’ll get enough sleep to grow.”
Missy immediately stretched up as high as she could reach. “I’m going to grow this big!” she exclaimed.
“No,