Cinderella's Sweet-Talking Marine. Cathie Linz
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was one of those times Tiny decided to be difficult. Muttering under her breath, Ellie yanked on the hood release and hopped out of the vehicle to lift the hood and jiggle a wire.
“What are you doing?” Ben was at her side.
“Working magic.”
He could believe that. She’d already worked magic on him. She wasn’t anything like he’d pictured. He’d imagined a sweet young woman. Sure, she had a child, so he knew she wasn’t innocent. He just hadn’t expected her to have a will of steel. And a basic knowledge of the workings of a car. He’d never met a woman who popped the hood on her car and went to work on it herself.
“That should do it.” Ellie was startled when Ben lowered the hood for her as if she were a delicate flower. She wasn’t accustomed to being looked after. Her ex-husband had opened doors for her and pulled out chairs when he’d been courting her, but had stopped after they were married. It hadn’t happened overnight, but had been more of a gradual thing.
Ellie took a deep breath and kicked Perry out of her thoughts. She needed to stay focused on the here and now. Thankfully, Tiny behaved this time and obediently started up. There were no further exhibits of the car’s temperamental nature on the short drive home.
The two-story brick apartment building didn’t look like much from the outside, but it was across the street from a small park. It also had hardwood floors in the living room and two bedrooms, which made things easier with Amy’s asthma. And it had Frenchie Sanchez.
In her early sixties, Frenchie didn’t look like anyone’s idea of a grandmother. She wasn’t tall and willowy, but she moved as if she were. She was proud of the relatively few wrinkles on her face. She had short cropped hair which she frequently dyed when she got bored. Last month she’d been a platinum blonde, now she was a redhead. She had brown eyes, a loud laugh and a fondness for huge earrings. She wore flowing dresses and pants in colors like papaya and lime.
Frenchie attributed her colorful appearance to marrying a Cuban trumpet player in the early fifties and then moving with him to Europe. She had a Parisian woman’s flair for scarves and a dancer’s graceful confidence. She also had a heart of gold.
Ellie knew how extraordinarily lucky she was to have a neighbor like Frenchie to help out with Amy, to watch her while Ellie was at work. Frenchie resisted taking any money from Ellie, saying that Amy was wonderful company for her and prevented her from getting lonely. But Ellie had insisted, and had paid her what she could, which wasn’t anything near what the older woman was worth. But then Frenchie Sanchez was priceless.
She greeted Ellie with her customary wide smile. “How was work today, ma chère?”
“Mommy, Mommy, look what I drewed!” Amy waved a piece of paper at her. At five, she was small for her age. She had Ellie’s dark hair and brown eyes. Today she was wearing one of her favorite shorts sets, the T-shirt with a cat’s face complete with rhinestone eyes.
Gazing down at her, Ellie felt her heart expand with emotion. It didn’t seem like that long ago when she’d given birth and held a newborn Amy in her arms, marveling at her perfectly formed tiny fingers and nails, awed by the intensity of her love for her child.
Where had the time gone? Her baby had become a little girl. She knew it, but every so often it hit her again. Her daughter would only be small a short time, and Ellie hated missing a moment of the new discoveries to be had at this age.
“Let me see.” Ellie bent down to hug her before looking at the artwork. “That’s a beautiful drawing.”
“It’s a cat.”
“I can see that.” Well, she couldn’t really. It looked like a circle with eyeballs to Ellie. But because her little girl drew it, it was beautiful.
“Who’s he?” Amy pointed at Ben.
Ellie had been so distracted that she’d forgotten to make the introductions. “He’s a friend of Uncle Johnny’s. His name is Ben.”
“Uncle Johnny is in heaven now.” Amy pointed skyward.
Ellie’s throat tightened. “That’s right.”
“Are you from heaven?” Amy asked Ben.
“I’m from the Marines.”
“So you’re not an angel?”
“No.”
“That’s too bad. I thought you could take a message to my Uncle Johnny for me. And show him my drawing.”
“I wish I could.”
Ellie noted the strained expression on Ben’s face.
Frenchie helped ease the moment with her usual skill. “Welcome to my home, Ben. Can I get you something to drink?”
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
“Call me Frenchie. All my friends do. I got the nickname from all those years of living in Paris with my musician husband.”
“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Frenchie.” Ben’s voice had regained its customary tone. It sounded deep and very male.
Ellie looked down at her daughter, smoothing her hair away from her forehead. “Honey, Ben has invited us out to dinner tonight.”
“So we don’t have to eat beans again tonight? Yeah!” Amy quickly gathered her backpack. “I’m ready now.”
“We have to go home so I can change out of my work clothes,” Ellie reminded her, hoping her blush wasn’t too obvious. Amy’s enthusiasm made it seem as if she’d been eating beans for a month.
“Okay, but change fast, ’kay, Mommy? Are we going to have a Happy Meal?”
A meal at a fast-food place was a special treat as far as Amy was concerned. “No, we’re going someplace even better.”
“I didn’t know there was any place better.”
“Would you like to join us, Frenchie?” Ben asked the older woman.
“How sweet of you to invite me, but no thank you. The cable station is running an Antonio Banderas movie marathon. I can’t miss that.”
Ellie hugged her. “Thanks again for taking care of Amy, Frenchie.”
“It’s nothing, ma chère. Enjoy your evening out. You deserve it.”
Amy raced across the hall to the door to their second-story apartment. Ben picked up her backpack and held the door open for Ellie after she’d unlocked and opened it.
“I…uh, I’ll just be a minute or two. You’re welcome to sit down and watch TV while I change.” She gestured toward the couch and tried not to imagine how the place looked to Ben. Not that Marines were that interested in interior decorating. But he probably noticed that there wasn’t much furniture. “I won’t be long. Come on, Amy.”
Ellie had her daughter sit on her bed with one of her favorite books. Then Ellie grabbed some clean clothes from her own bedroom before returning to the bathroom. The tobacco smoke that clung to Ellie’s skin and hair as a result of working at Al’s wasn’t good for Amy. It wasn’t particularly good for Ellie either, but her requests for a larger no-smoking area had resulted in her boss laughing at her.
Ellie rinsed off the bargain shampoo and turned off the faucet before reaching for a towel. She used the hair blower for about three minutes before turning it off and quickly braiding her still-damp hair into a single braid.
It didn’t take her long to get dressed in the clothes she’d grabbed. Her wardrobe choices were extremely limited. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d bought new clothes. Any extra money was spent on getting things for Amy. Which was fine by her. That was as it should be in her book.
Ellie tugged on a pair of black capri pants and a red knit top. She stuck her feet into the pair of sandals she’d picked up for a song at a discount store in the after-season