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After an uneventful but successful trip to the supermarket, Summer pulled into the driveway.
Instantly, Ken popped out the front door with Scott. “Can we help?”
She clicked the trunk release on her key fob. “You bet. The paper bags go in your kitchen, the canvas ones are mine.”
“Scott,” Ken directed, “you get ours, and I’ll take Summer’s.”
“Oh, no. I’ll take my own.”
He shook his head. “You wouldn’t prevent an old man from doing a pretty lady a favor now, would you?”
“Well, no, but your heart—”
“Isn’t going to give out from a few bags of groceries. You just get the doors and let us he-men take care of the heavy stuff. Right, Scott?”
“Whatever you say, Gramps.” He hefted three of the plastic bags in one hand and nearly spilled the apples all over the driveway.
“Easy, there,” Ken said as he grabbed the off-balance bag. “We can make two trips if we have to.”
“Or I can take a bag or two,” Summer suggested.
“No way. In this household, ladies do not schlep heavy bags.”
“Even the hired help?”
“Not a friend who’s helping us out in our time of need,” Ken clarified.
She pursed her lips. Hmmm... not exactly the way Craig made her feel with his remark about taking care of his family.
As Scott took off toward the front door with his share of groceries, Ken murmured, “Don’t let my son’s bark scare you off. He’s under a lot of stress right now between me, the kids, and his ex. He’ll come around, I promise.”
“I’ll remember that.”
“Good. Did you get everything I asked for?”
“Yes and no.” They’d debated his choices before she left, but when she arrived at the store, she made some quick compromises she hoped wouldn’t offend the man.
“Aw, Jeez,” he groaned. “You didn’t get veggie burgers or tofu, did you? I don’t care what my doctor says. If I’m going to die anyway, I’m going with a smile on my face and the juice of real meat on my lips.”
“I got real meat,” she replied. “Just not beef. I went with turkey. I’ll marinate it for an hour or two with my secret array of seasonings, and you won’t know the difference. Trust me. You’ll love it.”
His expression turned distrustful. “We’ll see...”
They entered the house, and Ken shouted toward the kitchen, “Scott, start putting those groceries away while I help Summer upstairs.”
Thinking about the condition of the downstairs kitchen, she toyed with the idea of asking Ken to help there. She could handle putting away the meager groceries she’d picked up: milk, sweetener, fruit. Taking control of the disaster area the Hartmanns called a kitchen was a bigger obstacle. But she’d manage. As she climbed the stairs to her apartment, she made a mental list. First stop, the cluttered counters. Then the dishes. Last but not least, the floor. And all before she could start preparing the side dishes for tonight’s dinner.
I love a challenge, she reminded herself.
♥
CRAIG RETURNED HOME three hours later, sweaty, irritable, and exhausted. Still, his senses recognized all the signs of a backyard barbecue in full swing. The aroma of grilling meat tantalized his stomach. Maddie’s giggles danced on the evening air.
Nate, beside him, inhaled and grinned. “Cool. A cookout. I’m starving.”
Craig’s posture stiffened. Summer was crossing the line already? It would seem she and he would have to hold a serious discussion about respecting family boundaries. Later. When they were alone.
Clapping a hand on Nate’s shoulder, he forced himself to relax. “C’mon, sport. Let’s go see what’s up.”
With Nate beside him, he traveled the circular walkway around the house to the gate leading into the yard. As the cooking aromas intensified, his stomach growled, raising his ire several degrees. Hunger warred with pride, which waged a simultaneous battle with logic. Pulling the cord that lifted the latch, he opened the six-foot stockade gate. Once at the edge of the backyard, he stopped to stare at the domestic scene spread out before him.
Dad, dressed in jeans and a t-shirt, stood at the gas barbecue grill in a circle of smoke, fussing with a London broil and a rack of hot dogs. The meat hissed and sizzled over the flames while Dad swigged from a can of diet soda.
On the slab of cement that served as a basketball court, Scott dribbled past Brandy, who played point guard. The dog barked. Scott faked left, and then swooped the bright orange ball at the backboard. Kathunk. The ball hit the rim and slipped through the net. His back still to the newcomers, Scott shot up his arms and mimicked the reaction of the elated crowd in a hushed, “Rawwwwwwr!”
In the opposite corner of the yard, far from where Scott practiced for his future with the New York Knicks, Summer sat upon a red and black fringed blanket under a pink dogwood tree in full bloom. Behind her, a wall of honeysuckle added bright green leaves and golden trumpet flowers like a halo around her head. Her floral print skirt spread across her thighs and knees, creating a flat garden scene on his lawn. An artist could have painted her as the season she was named for right now.
Beside her, Maddie stood in a white sundress and matching sandals, waiting, hands on her skinny hips. “More!” she demanded.
Summer shook her head. “Not until you ask me nicely.”
“More, please?” Maddie amended.
On a nod of satisfaction, Summer lifted a tiny plastic wand, pursed her lips, and blew a chain of bubbles that floated into the softening dusk. His laughing daughter, alert and apparently well healed from her foot injury, chased the fragile orbs, clapping her hands to pop them one by one.
Suddenly, a rogue firefly illuminated neon green near Maddie’s head.
“Lightning bugs,” she shouted and took off after the insect, hands now cupped to capture a bit of nature’s seasonal light.
The smile on his daughter’s face eliminated the last vestiges of anger in Craig’s gut, at least temporarily. If he’d held a camera right now, he would have snapped a photo to hold onto this image for the rest of his life. Despite his resentment at Summer’s preparing this evening’s entertainment, he couldn’t argue with the results. They all looked so happy, so relaxed. So much happier than they’d be with pizza delivery or Chinese takeout.
While the weight of the world eased from his shoulders, he stepped deeper into the backyard.
Dad spotted them first. “Hey, guys! How’d the game go?”
“We lost,” Nate said as he raced toward Scott and the basketball court. “Dude. Toss that ball my way.”
“Change out of your cleats first,” Craig scolded.
With a grin, Nate sat on the grass, untied the laces, and removed the cleats. Leaving them at the edge of the basketball court, he shot up and raced forward to play against his twin in his royal blue baseball socks.
Dad snorted. “I can see he’s all choked up about losing the game.”
“Yeah.” Craig headed for the back door to the attached garage. To hold off the darkness settling around them, he flipped the switch on the outside lights. A growing colony of fireflies flitted around the yard, doing their best to attract their mates and keep the night at bay. “They got creamed, twelve to nothing. At the end of the game, the only one upset over the score was the coach. Maybe a few of the parents. Once the ice cream truck showed up in the parking lot, the kids couldn’t have cared less about baseball.” He nodded at the grill. “You need help?”
“Nah. Everything’s under control. Have a seat, grab a beer.”
“Soda’s fine.” He strode to the patio furniture and ducked under the canvas umbrella where lit white mini-lights entwined around the stand and spines. He picked up a two-liter bottle and poured some chilled cola into a large red plastic cup. “You know you’re not supposed to be eating beef.”
“It’s not beef,” his father replied, focus still on the cooking meat. “It’s a marinated turkey London broil.”
“Turkey?”
“Summer picked it up. Along with some heart-healthy side dishes. She claims I won’t notice the difference between tonight’s meal and standard beef and potato salad.”
Yeah, sure. And the moon was made of Swiss cheese.
Beverage in hand, Craig strolled over to the barbecue grill, tipped the cup to his lips, and murmured only loud enough for his father to hear. “Why didn’t you stop her from insisting on this?”
“Stop her?” Dad replied in the same soft tone. “The barbecue was my idea.”
Caught in mid-sip, Craig sputtered. “Yours?”
“Yeah. It’s the least I could do after last night’s calamity.”
“Dad, we’ve been through that already. It was a mistake.” He glanced at Maddie still chasing bubbles and bugs. “And judging by Maddie’s hot pursuit, I’d say she’s completely over last night’s calamity.”
“Well, I’m not,” Dad grumbled. “And judging by the rings under your eyes, you’re not either. So since Summer was headed to the supermarket anyway, I added a few things to her list and together, we whipped up tonight’s dinner.” He pushed the hot dogs with a long-handled fork, rolling them over to cook evenly. “Speaking of whipped up, wait’ll you see the kitchen. She’s got it completely organized and looking like something out of a catalog already. Summer’s gonna be a big help to us, trust me.”
Craig arched a brow. “Et tu, Brute?”
Dad smirked. “I know, I know. I wasn’t wild about this whole Rainey-Day-Wife idea. But I’ve been doing some investigating online. The owner... April? I’m guessing she’s related to Summer?”
“Her sister.”
“Yeah, well, she seems to have a good head on her shoulders. Lots of testimonials from happy clients. And then I spent the last several hours talking to Summer.” He pointed the fork in Summer’s direction. “She’s good people.”
Good people. Highest praise from Dad.