Family by Design. Roxann Delaney
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She knew she should tell him the truth, but she hesitated to do it. Of course, it wouldn’t make any difference to him, but she didn’t want him thinking she was a hot divorcée looking for a new man. “Still worried about gossip?” she asked, her hand on the doorknob.
“You were the one who had the problem with gossip.”
She knew it probably had seemed that way to him, but it had been more her father’s problem than hers. “I guess so,” she said, knowing better. “Living here, outside of Katyville, has made me immune to it.”
“But I’m not immune to an angry husband who might decide to take a poke at me for drinking coffee with his wife. No matter how innocent it might be.”
Struggling with whether to be truthful or not, she opened the door and set the basket and bag of clothespins he handed her inside. Turning back to him, she knew she had to and wondered how to answer. If she told him the truth, would he think it was an invitation? But if she didn’t, he was bound to find out and wonder why she hadn’t said anything. She had only lied once, and that was to him, ten years ago. This time, she owed it to him to be honest.
“There’s no husband, angry or otherwise.”
His scowl deepened. “But I thought—”
She shook her head, not knowing what else to say and definitely not wanting to go in to the details. Standing half-inside the door, she waited for him to say something.
“You’d better get inside and get that door closed,” he finally answered. “I’ll wait here or in the car.”
Relieved and disappointed at the same time, she didn’t fail to notice that he had already taken a couple of steps off the porch. “Thanks,” she said, not knowing what else to say. “And tell Tony I’ll pay for the tire repair soon.”
“Like I said last night, it’s on the house.” Either that or he would pay it. He took a few more steps away and made it to the corner of the house. “Well, nice seeing you again, Becca.”
“You, too, Nick,” she said, but he had already disappeared.
Taking a deep breath, she let herself inside. As she moved the empty basket to a corner, she pushed all thoughts of Nick from her mind. There were more important things to think about.
The sounds of cartoon characters coming from the television in the living room assured her that Danny and April were occupied, at least for a few minutes. She’d found some cold medicine and given it to Daisy only an hour ago, so she was sure the baby would sleep for a while.
Reaching into a kitchen drawer, she took an envelope and a pad of paper from under the local phone book. The old kitchen chair scraped the linoleum when she pulled it away from the table.
“There has to be a way,” she whispered as she sat and removed the legal-looking document from the envelope. If she couldn’t find an answer, she and the kids would have nowhere to live. She needed to get control of her life. She needed just a little good news, a little break. Now.
NICK DRUMMED his fingers on the steering wheel, as he waited in Becca’s car for his ride back to the garage, his anger building by the minute. For as long as he could remember, his mother had scolded him daily for his hot, Italian temper. But, dammit, why the hell hadn’t Tony told him Becca was divorced? Why hadn’t his mother? She had told him everything else that had happened in Katyville during his absence.
He couldn’t believe his luck. He was on the verge of making a dream come true. All he needed was the old Watkins place. And it was his. His. But he couldn’t very well throw Becca and her kids out. Nobody had to tell him that she was struggling. How that could be, he didn’t know. If her stockbroker husband wasn’t paying the correct child support and alimony, surely her father would. It wasn’t his job to do it. Why should he care about her? She had made it clear ten years ago that she didn’t have any feelings or use for him.
But he really didn’t have a choice. If and when his mother got wind of any of this, there’d be hell to pay. He hadn’t mentioned the old Watkins place to any of his family, except Tony, and he was sure his brother hadn’t said anything.
His frustration hadn’t eased any after waiting twenty minutes for a ride back to the garage. Where was Travis? Clouds had rolled in and the day was getting colder. Nick pulled his jacket closer, refusing to turn on the engine to run the heater.
Getting colder and grumpier by the minute, he finally gave in and walked to the house. He had hoped he wouldn’t have to see Becca until he had a plan mapped out for telling her he was her new landlord, but he for damned sure wasn’t going to freeze in the process.
This time Becca answered his knock. “I don’t know how to thank you,” she told him when he handed her the car keys. She looked past him. “Do you need me to take you back to town? I mean, I don’t see anyone…”
He stuffed his hands in his jacket pockets. “I was wondering if I could use your phone to call Tony. I forgot my cell phone.”
“Of course,” she said, opening the door wider to let him in. “And I wouldn’t mind that cup of coffee you offered earlier. If you still have some.”
“In the kitchen. I just made a fresh pot.”
As he followed her through the house, he took the opportunity to get a closer view of what would need to be done to the interior, once he could start on the renovations. From what he could see, the house was in excellent structural shape. Much better than he had hoped, considering he doubted Mrs. Watkins had bothered with many repairs after her husband died.
“The phone’s over there.” Becca pointed to the phone on the kitchen wall.
While she poured coffee and set the filled cups on the table, he punched in the number for the garage. After several rings, Tony answered. Nick had to bite his tongue to keep from shouting at him.
“I thought you were going to pick me up,” he said, as calmly as he could.
“Something came up. Look, Nick, it’s going to be a while.”
Nick could hear Travis talking in the background, and the voice of what he assumed was a customer. Neither sounded all that happy. “How long? Any idea?”
“Half an hour. No more. Stan Perkins is leaving on a business trip, so we don’t have any more time than that.”
Nick hadn’t been prepared to spend more than fifteen minutes in Becca’s company, but he didn’t have a choice. “I’ll see you in forty-five minutes then,” he told Tony and hung up.
“Trouble?” Becca asked.
“Tony had an emergency come up, so it looks like you’ll have to put up with me a little longer.”
“Oh.” Twin lines appeared between her eyes. “I can always run you back to town,” she said with little enthusiasm. “The kids are down for naps right now. Not that Danny takes one, but…”
It was clear to Nick that she didn’t consider him being there a lucky break. “Don’t wake the kids,” he insisted. “If I’m in the way, maybe I can—”
He had a sudden thought. He was here, in his house, with the opportunity to do some poking around. This wasn’t the time to tell her the truth. He would, though. Soon. But he could take advantage of the situation and maybe make having him around a little easier for her. “Would you mind if I look around? This old place always intrigued me as a kid.”
Her worried frown deepened, but was quickly replaced with a soft smile. “It is something special, isn’t it? I hate the thought of—” Her eyes clouded for a moment and she shook her head.
Was she remembering? Or thinking about having to leave it?
But she smiled again, even though it was weak. “I’ll give you a quick tour and show you where the best things are, if you want me to. Then you can wander all you want.”
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