image
image
image

Chapter 13

image

Just when Summer had created a comfortable routine with Maddie, Scott’s injury threw a greased monkey wrench into the works. Once Nate left for camp on Monday morning, she set Scott up in the living room where he’d have access to television and video games while still remaining in Summer’s earshot at all times. Maddie, however, unaccustomed to sharing the television, her grandfather, or even Summer’s attention during the day, threw tantrums over the smallest incidents.

On Monday, when Scott wouldn’t change the channel, she threw a Barbie at him. On Tuesday, she pitched a fit because Summer wouldn’t let her eat her lunch on a tray in the living room like Scott. She tossed her spaghetti onto the kitchen floor, then dumped her chocolate milk on top of the pasta mess.

On Wednesday, she kicked Scott’s injured leg because he wouldn’t get off her side of the couch. At that point, Summer sent the little tyrant to her room for the rest of the day. Enough was enough. This child needed to learn to get along with others.

When Craig finally arrived home that afternoon, she waited for him on the porch, a familiar folded piece of paper in her fist. “Would you care to explain why I found this in with your dirty laundry?”

He stood on the step below her, studying the paper as if seeing it for the first time. “Sure. If you tell me what it is first.”

“It’s the list April compiled. The list of preschools for Maddie.”

“So that’s where that went.” He grabbed the paper from her, opened the front door, and stepped inside. “Sorry. I must have forgotten to take it out of my pocket. I’ll start making calls tomorrow.” He strode away from her, dismissing her concerns, and headed toward the living room. “Hey, kids! Daddy’s home.”

She stayed right on his heels. “I’m not done yet. I’d like to talk to you in detail about this.”

“Can it wait? Nate has football practice.”

“Nate has football practice in two hours,” she snapped. “He’s prepped and ready to go, right down to his cleats and mouthpiece in his gear bag. Since I give you all my time whenever you need it, I think you can reciprocate by giving me a few minutes when I ask.”

He stopped, blinked, then slowly exhaled a breath. “O-kay... Give me twenty minutes or so first? Please?”

“Fine. Meet me in my apartment. I don’t want the children to overhear our discussion.” As if to emphasize her mood, she stomped up the staircase with enough drama to out-diva Maddie.

Once in her shabby little kitchen, Summer couldn’t stop shaking. In thirty-five years, no one had ever prodded her into a full-blown hissy fit. Until now. While Maddie’s bad behavior played a role, a deeper current threatened her sense of balance. Craig unnerved her, a fact that didn’t sit well in her normally placid head.

Funny. She’d survived her mother’s strident demands in her childhood, sailed through the mean girl years of junior high and high school, and currently ran interference for the media event of the season, all without breaking a sweat. Even Brad had never cracked her perfect veneer. The night she’d tossed him out of the house, she’d been vindictive, but calm. She’d never raised her voice, never really lost her composure. Not like she had with Craig.

Barely two weeks into her position here, she’d become a virago, a shrieking siren of outrage. Not good, Sum. Not good at all.  

She pulled out her trusty pad to write a new list. This one would detail all the issues she wanted to discuss with Craig. Without a list, Craig Hartmann could wreak havoc with her concentration. The man had a habit of making her palms sweat, kicking up her heartbeat, and stealing her ability to think straight.

Well, not today. She had things to say—important things. She refused to allow his bright blue eyes and boyish charm to distract her. And that scruff on his face... mmm. Rugged and so appealing.

Stop. Focus, Summer.

For the next few minutes, she repeated the list over and over, committing the details to memory. Unfortunately, a rhythmic knock on her door sent all her practiced lines flying like dandelion fluff in the wind. She opened the door to find him holding a fistful of pink roses, daisies, and orange tiger lilies. Her steely composure melted.

“I come in peace,” he said as he thrust the cellophane-wrapped bouquet toward her.

She took the flowers and offered a shaky, “Th-thank you.”

On closer inspection, she noticed the yellow grocery tag stuck to the cellophane. The fireworks inside her head kaboomed to a crescendo. How sweet. When he’d asked for time, she thought he was stalling. Apparently, he wanted the extra minutes to create this surprise for her.

She quirked a smile. Who would have thought she’d appreciate a seven-dollar bouquet from the local convenient store? The woman who had always insisted on the very best? Sometimes, though, the very best had more to do with simplicity than shine or price tag.

She stole a glance at Craig over the crinkly clear flower wrapper. The man didn’t have an ounce of sophistication. Her ex-husband had the sheen of New York success: the right clothes, the right hair, the right car. At face value, to most people, Craig couldn’t compare to Brad. Craig wore his hair a little too long, and his jeans and t-shirt always lent him a slightly rumpled appearance. Yet Craig was ten times the man Brad could ever be. Because Craig had integrity, honesty, and the right set of values.  

While she headed to the tiny kitchen for a makeshift vase, he stepped inside the apartment but loitered near the door. “I owe you an apology.”

Pulling a long-necked water canteen from her cabinet, she looked up and managed a tremulous smile. “Good. That makes us even, since I owe you one, too.”

“You?” He shook his head. “No. I’m the villain here. I’ve been miserable to you, and you’ve been terrific.”

The smile lighting up his features hit her square in the heart.

Focus, Summer.

She turned on the tap and placed the canteen beneath the running faucet. “I berated you like a judge passing sentence on a convicted felon.”

“You wanna talk felon? I practically accused you of kidnapping my daughter last week. I think my crimes have been a lot worse.”

Well, she really couldn’t argue with that. “Okay, you win.” With a paring knife, while holding each individual flower under the running water, she clipped a bit off the stem at an angle. Then she arranged the blooms one by one in the canteen. When she had the arrangement adjusted perfectly, she set the bouquet on the counter between her and Craig—an effective barrier to keep her sane. “Apology accepted.”

“Good.” He moved to the side, rendering her wall useless in two easy steps. His eyes danced with delightful sparks like shooting stars. “So, what did you want to talk to me about?”

What had she wanted to talk about? Something about his kids, right? Frantic, she sought out the yellow lined legal pad she’d left in plain sight on the counter. The bold words on top of her list screamed at her. Don’t let him distract you! Yeah, sure. Easy to write when she was alone. Not so easy to heed when he was inches away from her suddenly flushed face and flip-flopping heart. She glanced at the list again.

Number one. Maddie’s behavior. Be nice, but firm.

“Ummm... I wanted to talk about your children. Ummm... about what exactly I can and cannot do with them.”

He quirked a brow.

Okay, that sounded totally creepy. “Discipline-wise, I mean.”

The light fled from his eyes, and deep lines etched his forehead. “Did you have some kind of problem today?”

Today? How about every day?

Recalling Madison’s tantrums, she found her mettle. “As a matter of fact, yes. You do realize your daughter’s a brat, right?”

Oh, God. She slapped a hand over her mouth, a minute too late.

Craig stiffened, eyes narrowed to slits. “Really?”

Wow. Way to go, Summer. You managed to be firm without being nice.

She blew out a breath to release the tension. Unsuccessfully. The air crackled with resentment.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”

“But you did.”

“Yeah, I did,” she admitted. In a moment of profound idiocy. “And I guess, well, to be honest, I meant it.”

“You meant it,” he repeated with a frown. “Do tell.”

She winced at the ice in his tone. Fisting her hands, she held her ground. Maybe blunt was best when dealing with this issue. With this man.

“Craig, I’m sorry. Honestly. But you must have seen the tantrums Maddie throws when she doesn’t get her way.”

He waved her off. “All kids throw tantrums.”

“Maddie screams herself sick—literally. She nearly vomits when she gets riled up.”

“Oh, come on.” He snorted. “You’re making that up.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Well, what did she want?”

“What doesn’t she want?” she retorted. “She started her demands the very first day with her Minnie dress. Since then, we’ve battled about picking up her toys, why she can’t eat in the living room, and how much television time she can have. Today, she kicked Scott in the knee. The injured knee. All because he wouldn’t move out of her spot on the couch.”

“I can’t believe she went that ballistic over something so simple. What else did she want?”

“Nothing. Apparently, she thinks if she creates a big enough drama, she’ll get her way.” She stared hard at Craig.

In response, he picked up an errant daisy petal and flipped it between his fingers. “Yeah, I guess Dad and I are a little softer with Maddie than we are with the boys.”

On a sigh, Summer leaned and folded her hands on the counter. “Then you’re doing her and yourselves a huge disfavor.”

He crushed the petal in his fist. “She’s four, for God’s sake. Her mother walked out before she was six months old.”

“She doesn’t need excuses for her bad behavior, Craig. She needs the social interaction and structure of preschool. She needs boundaries.”

His head snapped up, ire suffusing his face bright red. “Don’t tell me. Let me guess. You want to erect those boundaries.”

“No. I want to help you erect those boundaries. You’re her father. But I need boundaries, as well. I need to know how you expect me to discipline all three of your children, but especially Maddie. I’m with her most of the day. ‘Wait ‘til your father gets home’ isn’t an effective deterrent to bad behavior, particularly if Dad has a tradition of being too soft on her.”

“How have you handled the tantrums so far?”

“When she blows her stack, I usually leave the room.”

His mouth gaped. “Even though she’s making herself sick?”

“No, you misunderstand. I step out of her sight, but I’m never more than ten feet away from her in case she needs me. I only let her see I’m there after she calms down.”

“And does she always calm down?”

“Yes.”

“On her own.”

“More or less, yes.”

“So? Looks like you’ve got your answer. Just keep doing that.”

She sighed. “That’s a temporary fix, and it won’t work for every issue, particularly if the rest of the family continues to give in to her demands.”

“Why?” His glare hardened. “Have you caught her playing with matches? Or juggling meat cleavers?”

“No, of course not.”

“Then leave her alone. You’re making a big deal out of nothing.”

He couldn’t be that naïve. “It’s not nothing.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Craig, the boundaries you set now are vital to her well-being.”

He slapped the petal palm-down on the counter and raked a hand through his hair. “Jeez, what a day. First, Chelsea calls me for my weekly reminder that I’m a lousy father. Now you’re going to back up her accusations because my four-year-old didn’t want to pick up her toys.”

“She kicked Scott!” Summer took a deep breath, blew it out, then inhaled and exhaled again. Calmer now, she cupped his fingers in her palm. “I’m not saying you’re a lousy father. But you have to provide her with a strong sense of what’s right and wrong now. That way, she’ll be prepared to make smart choices for the rest of her life.”

He yanked his hand out of her grasp and pushed out of reach. “Look, just forget it. Leave Maddie’s discipline to me. I’ll talk to her.”

“She’s four. You can’t just talk to her.”

“She’s my daughter. I’ll talk to her.” He turned and strode from the apartment, leaving her door wide open. His heavy thuds as he descended the stairs echoed every beat of her heart.