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When Craig entered the radio station on Monday morning, Maureen looked up from the pile of newspapers on her desk and grinned knowingly. “Wow. You look more relaxed today than you have in months.”
“Yeah, amazing what a good night’s uninterrupted sleep can do for a man.” Still, he needed a cup of strong coffee to bring Cliff Hanger, manic morning man, to the forefront. Since Dad’s heart attack, he only kept decaf in the house.
“So I take it your new ‘wife...’” She curled her fingers into quotation marks. “...is working out, huh?”
“She’s not my wife. She’s my employee.” Words that had become his new catchphrase, which he’d repeated until he fell asleep, while he showered and shaved, and on the drive to work. At least, with all that practice, it rolled off his tongue fairly smoothly. He strode past Maureen and into the kitchen area where the commercial coffeemaker sat, prepared to dole out its usual sludge.
“Uh-oh.”
To his dismay, Maureen had followed him and now stood in the doorway, a sly look on her round face.
“Uh-oh what?”
She pointed an accusatory finger at him. The enormous butterfly ring that reached to her knuckle glinted in the overhead florescent light. “You like her.”
He focused on the station’s call letters in royal blue script emblazoned on the white ceramic mug in his hand. “Of course I like her. You think I’d leave my kids with someone I despised?”
“No. Not you, Craig. You’re Super Dad. But there’s a huge void between despising someone and liking them. So tell me about the new woman in your life. What’s she like?”
“How would I know?” He poured coffee into the mug, inhaled the nutty smell to stimulate his brain. “She’s been in the house less than a day.”
“Uh-huh.”
After working with him all these years, Maureen knew him far too well. He wouldn’t look at her, wouldn’t give her an opportunity to see anything in his expression, real or imagined. Gathering a fistful of sugar packets, he turned and headed for his side of the studio for a little alone time prior to the start of today’s shift.
Her last volley followed him down the hall to the overhead “On the Air” light, which, thankfully, was not currently lit. “It’s no great crime to admit you like a woman, Cliff.”
“When I find one I like, I’ll let you know, sweetheart.” On that note, he opened the studio door.
Jerry Patton, overnight deejay, looked up from the soundboard and nodded. “Hey, Cliff. Welcome back.” He reached across to shake Craig’s hand. “How’s it going? How’s your dad?”
“Pretty good. How’s everything here?”
“Not bad. Line two is iffy today, keeps cutting out. I already told Lenny.”
“Great, thanks.”
As if their discussion conjured him up, Lenny chimed in over the loudspeaker. “Cliff? You got a personal call on line one.”
Panic slammed his chest. First day back and five minutes in there’s a problem. As he reached for the receiver, Jerry backed away and quietly slipped out of the studio.
Alone, Craig punched the blinking light on the phone. “Hello?”
“Craig? It’s Chelsea.”
Like he’d forgotten the sound of his ex-wife’s voice. “Chelsea?” He glanced at the clock overhead. 5:45 in the morning. At least, for him. “Where are you calling from?”
“London,” she replied.
That explained the early morning phone call, since London was about five hours ahead, as well as the slight British edge she’d added to her speech. Chelsea had a habit of absorbing accents wherever she went.
“London. Wow. How’re you doing?”
“We’re fine. How are you? I see you’ve gone back to work. Do you think it’s wise leaving our children in your father’s care all day, what with his condition and all?”
In other words, she was still asking for an excuse to seize custody. Good thing she didn’t know about Maddie’s trip to the emergency room the other night. “The children are fine, and so is Dad, thanks for asking.” Sarcasm sharpened his tone to a razor’s edge.
On a deep breath, he recalled Summer sitting on the blanket in the grass last night, lips pursed as she blew bubbles for Maddie to chase. The laughter, the relaxed atmosphere, the delicious and healthy food, and his first decent night’s sleep in God-knew-how-long. All thanks to Summer.
“Trust me, Chelsea. We’re all in perfect hands right now.”
♥
MONDAY MORNING’S ALARM clock buzzed at precisely six o’clock. Summer hit the floor with her usual high energy schedule running through her head, as well as scrawled in her notepad. Doug’s news last night went a long way to giving her a happy outlook on the coming week. And plans. She had more plans to make that would provide Lyn with the romantic moment she deserved. First, however, she had to see to her new charges.
After a quick workout with her laptop program, she prepared a cup of coffee and some fruit for breakfast. Showered, dressed, and hair styled, she descended the staircase to the first floor and knocked on the twins’ bedroom door at exactly seven-thirty. “Let’s go, boys. Time to get ready for camp.”
In the kitchen, she found all the morning materials the same way she’d left them last night. Place settings sat on the dinette table: cereal bowls, spoons, napkins, and tumblers. Backpacks stuffed with bathing suits, sunscreen, towels, and a change of clothes rested on the clean floor against the wall. Opening the refrigerator, she pulled out the lunches she’d made, then placed them into the individually labeled insulated bags for each boy. Sandwiches, drinks, fresh peaches for dessert, and because she didn’t want their little bodies to go into total shock, a few Oreos. Each completed lunch bag found its way into the corresponding backpack.
By the time the boys stumbled to their chairs, she had cereal with fresh strawberries in their bowls, milk ready to pour, and orange juice in the glass tumblers for them.
Nate looked down at the bowl, then up to give her the stink eye. “We usually just have juice and a Pop-Tart.”
“New person in charge, new rules,” she replied. “Besides, your bodies will go farther on better fuel.”
“Like a car on premium gas?” Scott asked.
“Yeah, sure. Why not?”
“Except most cars don’t need premium gas,” Nate replied, still studying his breakfast with the reticence normally reserved for a nuclear power plant. “It’s a rip-off to get people to pay more at the pump. The only cars that need premium gas are sports cars and stuff. Ferraris, Porsches, BMWs.”
This kid probably had a promising future as a defense attorney. “So, if you were a car, which would you rather be, Nate? A Ferrari or an old jalopy?”
“Neither. I’d be a Porsche Carrera. That car can go from zero to sixty in four and a half seconds. Vroom! Vroom!” He held his arms out straight, hands cupped slightly, pretending to grip a steering wheel.
“You think the Porsche does that on regular gas?”
“No.”
“You’ve just made my point.” Summer pointed to the bowls. “Now eat, both of you.”
As she turned her back on them, Nate’s loud whisper still reached her ears. “Dude. I think she’s serious.”
“Well, then,” Ken said from the doorway. “You better listen to her.”
Summer turned toward where he stood, scruffy and sleep-worn in another pajama top and sweatpants combination, with his granddaughter clad in her nightgown riding one hip. “Good morning.”
“Good morning, Summer.” He bounced Maddie. “Say good morning, sweetheart.”
“Good morning, sweetheart,” the little girl parroted.
Summer laughed. “How long did that little comedy routine take you?”
“About ten minutes,” Ken admitted with a grin, then turned to the two children seated at the table. “I think it’s safe to say, boys, that Summer’s not going to fall for any of your antics the way I used to. Better dig into that breakfast or she’s liable to give you kippers and eggs tomorrow.”
“What’s kippers?” Scott asked.
With a wink at Ken, Summer leaned close and declared, “Really stinky fish.”
A child’s chorus of “Eeeeeewwww!” broke out around the adults. A moment later, the music of spoons hitting cereal bowls resonated through the kitchen.
“Well played, Summer,” Ken said with a chuckle as he strode to Maddie’s booster seat. “This little one can have the same breakfast as her brothers, minus the strawberries.”
“Already got it.” Thank God, the paperwork Craig had filed included Maddie’s allergy.
“When I eat strawbabies, I get pink and itchy,” Maddie chirped.
“I know,” Summer replied as she placed the bowl of cereal topped with sliced banana in front of the little girl. “Your daddy told me.”
“What else did Daddy tell you?”
“What did he say about us?” Scott pressed.
Oh, no. Not again.
“Eat.” She pointed at all three bowls. “You boys have a bus to catch. And Miss Maddie and I have an appointment with Dr. Seuss.”
“Who’s Dr. Zoos?” Maddie asked.
“He’s not a real doctor, you know,” Nate said.
“Yes,” Summer replied. “Thank you for clearing that up.” She turned to Maddie. “Dr. Seuss writes storybooks.”
“I used to like One Fish, Two Fish, Red Fish, Blue Fish when I was little,” Scott said. “But you should probably read Fox in Socks to Maddie.”
“Don’t fall for it, Summer,” Ken said. “These imps recommended Fox in Socks when I read to Maddie last week. I nearly fractured my tongue getting all the rhymes out. The boys just want to amuse themselves at your expense.”
The snorts and giggles erupting from the male end of the table confirmed their guilt. Before she could offer them more than a scalding glare, a honk-honk outside signified the arrival of the camp bus.
With a screech of chairs on tile and the thump of backpacks, the twins raced out of the kitchen. “Bye, Gramps. See you later.”
Summer watched from the window as they climbed aboard the yellow school bus. The doors closed behind them, the red lights stopped flashing, and the bus pulled away from the curb.
In their wake, the boys had left behind a puddle of orange juice, spilled sugar, and bowls clogged with soggy cereal floating in lakes of milk. No farewell for Summer. Not even a thanks for breakfast had passed their lips.
I love a challenge, she reminded herself for at least the hundredth time since yesterday.
♥
WITH BREAKFAST DONE and the kitchen clean once again, Summer planned to get Maddie dressed after Ken left for his appointment at cardiac rehab. As she lifted the little girl from her seat at the table, Ken called to her from the front room.
“I took Maddie’s booster seat out of my car in case you have to run any errands before I get back. Do you need me to set it up for you?”
“No, I’ll be fine,” she replied.
Honestly. How hard could it be to put a car seat into a car?
“All right then. I’ll be home in a few hours.”
“Take your time.” She bounced Maddie on her hip. “Okay, princess. Let’s get you dressed.”
“Mini dress,” Maddie chirped as Summer carried her down the hall. “I want my mini dress.”
“Sounds good to me. Mini dress, it is.” She opened the door to Maddie’s room and stifled a gasp.
No brown in here. Maddie’s room was pink from carpet to walls to linens. The bed, dresser, and nightstands were French provincial. Their white and gold lines broke up the mass of pink like an aspirin floating in an ocean of Pepto-Bismol.
She bent to set Maddie on the floor and swallowed her distaste. “What a pretty room you have!” Kinda like the inside of a Barbie box.
Giggling, Maddie raced to the closet. “Mini dress.” On tiptoe, she reached the knob, and pulled open the door.
Apparently, the Pepto obsession didn’t end in the bedroom. Most of the dresses hanging from the low rail inside the closet were in some shade of pink, as if the men in this household would somehow forget Maddie was a girl unless she was surrounded by the most feminine of colors.
“Mini dress, mini dress,” Maddie sang over and over. “Mini dress, mini dress.”
Summer strolled to the closet and pulled out a pink dress with ladybugs embroidered along the hem. “How’s this one?”
“No. I want my mini dress.”
“Okay.” Which one was the mini dress? She opted for another sundress, this one candy-striped pink and white. “This one?”
Maddie shook her head vigorously. “No. My mini dress!”
Again, Summer studied the closet’s contents. Mini equaled short. What was the shortest dress in there? She found a tunic style top with floral leggings. “Let’s try this one.”
“No, no, no!” Maddie screeched. Face red, hands fisted, and feet stomping the floor, Maddie provided Summer with her first view of what she’d heard referred to as “a conniption.”
Thanks to the training she’d gone through with Rainey-Day-Wife, Summer knew what to do.
“All right then.” She had to shout to be heard over the child’s angry screams. “I suppose you don’t want to get dressed after all. I’ll just leave until you’ve calmed down.”
She turned and left the room but lingered in the hall outside the door. A minute passed where the noise from the bedroom grew louder, then Maddie began to gag. Oh, God, was she going to puke now? Second-guessing the wisdom of Rainey-Day-Wife’s guidelines when confronting a child as stubborn as Maddie, Summer reconsidered her strategy. She couldn’t leave this poor baby to scream herself sick.
She hadn’t taken more than two steps when the choking and the screaming stopped simultaneously. No doubt, the gagging had appeased the tantrum, and Maddie calmed down on her own. Summer stopped, waiting for the next turn of events.
At last, the fit of temper and threat of vomit abated on several snorts. Seconds later, Maddie poked her head outside her room, her elfin face awash in tears. “I want my mini dress.”
Summer folded her arms over her chest. “Well, Miss Maddie, a temper tantrum is not a good way to get what you want. So, once you’ve calmed down enough, you’ll tell me you’re sorry and we can begin again.”
The child had the grace to drop her gaze to her feet. “Sorry.”
Not the sincerest apology, but it was a start.
Summer sighed her defeat. “Okay. Now, since I obviously don’t know which dress you want, will you please show me?”
Maddie’s mood went from thunderstorm to sunshine, and she beamed. “Mini dress!”
“Yes, yes, I know. Show me.”
With Summer behind her, Maddie skipped to the closet and, arm extended upward, pointed to the shelf above her head. Bouncing, she continued her song. “Mini dress, mini dress, mini dress...”
Ah. Among the stack of books, hats, mittens, and scarves on the overhead shelf sat a folded square of red and white polka dot fabric. The moment Summer pulled the dress from the shelf, she realized her mistake.
Not a mini dress. A Minnie dress. The ten-inch image of Minnie Mouse’s grinning face sewn to the bodice made the child’s demands clear. The fabric was abrasive, some kind of polyester mix that wouldn’t breathe and would no doubt wilt any female past puberty. Due in part to the stiff tulle that flared out the skirt, the garment was also too heavy for a mid-summer day.
Summer frowned. “Are you sure you want to wear this?” She didn’t add, in this heat?, but the words floated between the two of them.
Maddie’s bouncing became a joyful dance while the song remained the same. “Minnie dress, Minnie dress, Minnie dress.”
Time to concede the battle, if only to halt that particular phrase from filling the air all day. Too much more, and the other adults would come home later to find Summer banging her head against the wall and repeating Minnie dress, Minnie dress in some kind of psychotic breakdown.
“Okay. One Minnie dress coming up.”