Mommy in Training. Shelley Galloway
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that her Kimber problems were not a surprise. “What’s this one about?”
“Sunday school, her lack of friends and one pudgy orange guinea pig.” A little more loudly, Minnie said, “Kimber, you’re about to be in a heap of trouble, and once more, Matt’s going to see you be in it.”
“You’re in trouble, too. I don’t like you, Aunt Minnie.”
Words from a fuming five-year-old weren’t supposed to hurt so much, but they did. Minnie closed her eyes to keep from reacting in front of Matt.
But obviously she wasn’t doing a very good job. “Hey,” he murmured, stepping a little closer. Close enough for Minnie to smell his aftershave and see the faint shadow of his beard. With the edge of a callused thumb, he gently brushed a wayward tear from her cheek. “It’s going to be okay.”
Even though she didn’t like him—Correction. Even though she didn’t want to like him, Minnie accepted his touch. “I know. I’m just tired of constantly battling.”
“One day, Kimber will be tired of it, too.”
“Promise?”
“I’ve been where she is, more or less. I promise.” After treating Minnie to one more reassuring smile, Matt stepped over to the door, rapped a knuckle against the wood and deepened his voice. “Kimber, I heard every mean word you’ve been saying, and I have to tell you, I’m kind of shocked. Little ladies don’t speak to their elders that way.”
After a pause, Kimber answered. “They don’t?” Her voice was small and insecure.
“No, they don’t. Nice girls remember how to listen and say yes, ma’am. Especially with people who love them.”
“But Minnie’s going to take George away.”
“George?”
“The guinea pig,” Minnie provided.
Matt’s blue eyes danced for a moment before he knocked on the door again. “Open up this door. If you still have that window open, I bet George is about to have heat stroke.”
One minute later, the lock clicked and the knob turned. Out peered a very flushed and freckled face. “I’m going to come out now.”
Matt crossed his arms. “It’s about time.”
Face all splotchy, Kimber stepped out, holding a cage tightly. “Minnie, are ya really going to send George away?”
“I should.”
Kimber pulled on Matt’s cuff. “Tell her no.”
“Why do you think I should say that?”
“Because Minnie likes you.”
Minnie felt her cheeks heat. “Don’t bring Matt into this.”
Kimber puffed up her chest like a medieval warrior. “But Matt, don’t you see—”
Matt looked tempted. But then he shook his head. “You’re making us late.”
“Are you going to church, too?”
“I am.”
“Really? Why?”
“Learn to be agreeable, Kimber.” Minnie felt her control on the situation slipping, which was actually pretty laughable, because she really didn’t have any control at all. She didn’t know what she was doing with Kimber. She didn’t know how to act around Matt Madigan.
Before Kimber and Matt had come back into her life, she’d thought she’d had everything she could handle with Carried Away.
Which just went to show what happened when you started thinking that everything was going to be just fine. Trouble came along. In spades.
Kimber was back to fighting about church. “I don’t wanna go. I never get to do what I wanna do.”
Minnie stifled a moan. Did that statement come from sheer willfulness and disappointment at their current argument, or was she speaking of other things? Like the fact that she’d been moved across the country and was still having to adjust to new people, new faces and new rules?
Kimber wasn’t spoiled, but she definitely had a stubborn streak, not unlike Paige’s. Added to the mix was the fact that she was still grieving. It sometimes made the simplest of decisions major battles.
And because the counselors had said that the best thing for dealing with losses like that was a firm, steady hand, Minnie did her best to be that way. “Kimber, we’re not going through this again. Say goodbye to Matt and go put George down.”
“But—”
“Or I’m going to pick up the phone and start calling everyone I know who might want him.”
After glaring at Minnie, Kimber looked sorrowfully Matt’s way. “Bye, Matt.”
“Bye, Kimber.” As the little girl marched to her room, Matt glanced at Minnie. Now that they were alone, she once again felt the tension that seemed to sizzle between them, just under the surface. “You going to be all right?”
“I’ll be fine. Thanks for your help.”
“No problem, Min. No problem at all.”
MATT HAD JUST SETTLED into the back pew and picked up a hymnal when his cell phone started vibrating. Quickly he fished it out of his pocket and noticed that it was Ben Lambright, the vice president of finance at SavNGo. This call had to be taken.
With a couple of nods in the direction of the folks around him, none looking too pleased that he was getting up and leaving before the service had even started, he moved to the entryway and answered. “Madigan.”
“Hi, Matt. Sorry to bother you on a Sunday. I hope I didn’t catch you at a bad time?”
With another nod toward the people entering, Matt pushed open the wide oak doors and trotted out to the parking lot, the bright sun blinding him as he did. “Not at all, Ben.” After all, if a guy at his level in the company was working on a Sunday morning, Matt couldn’t very well say he didn’t want to work either. Could he? “How may I help you?”
“I’ve got some bad news. Second-quarter earnings are about to be announced. They’re not good, Matt.” He paused. “I’ve been told to tell you that we’re going to need to rebid all the subcontractors for Store 35.”
Matt had been through this before. Although the chain was huge, the board and financial officers watched every transaction like a hawk. Two years ago in Arkansas, they’d had to rebid, too. But in Arkansas, he hadn’t known a lot of the subcontractors. Asking people to rebid had just been business. This felt vastly different. “All of them?”
Papers shuffled in the background. “All the contracts that haven’t begun. You know the drill, Matt. Explain the situation and tell them they’re going to have to rebid.”
“But—”
“They’ll do it, they always do. Cement poured yet?”
“It’s scheduled for end of next week.”
“Keep the cement contractors, but tell everyone else that we need lower bids, pronto.”
“Yes. All right.” Matt’s shoulders slumped. He’d fought like hell to get Store 35 built in Crescent View.
“It’s going to be busy. I appreciate your extra time on this, Matt. You’ve got quite a reputation of sticking to budget and getting things done the way we want them. I know you’ll meet our expectations for Store 35, as well.”
“Yes, sir. I’ll get back to you tomorrow.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” After a few words about baseball, they hung up. Matt slumped against his truck, deflated.
Nearby, a car zipped into the parking lot and a couple hurriedly unbuckled