23

After school the next day, Chloe and Lindsay washed out cupboards in the kitchen at the bakery.

Chloe kept a careful eye on Lindsay. The girl was in the first trimester of her pregnancy, and Chloe’s mission was to keep her healthy, both emotionally and physically. Focusing on Lindsay and the bakery had the added benefit of keeping Chloe’s depression at bay. As well as her irritation over the deplorable lack of concern Mrs. Brown had shown when Chloe had talked to her.

She had finally managed to reach the woman earlier that day, only to be told in no uncertain terms—peppered with very colorful language—to mind her own business. And leave her kids alone.

Unfortunately, Chloe’s conscience would not allow her to do that. She’d keep trying to get Mrs. Brown to see reason, even if she had to track her down in Kingsville to do it.

Loud music poured from the radio in the restaurant area. Matt had repainted the walls to cover up the offensive red slashes. Now that his work at the youth center was finished, he’d started working at Chloe’s shop. The extra help was proving a Godsend to her. She should be ready to open by December.

Lindsay threw her rag into the bucket. “I’m finished with these cupboards. Do you want me to unpack the boxes?”

“Sure. If the bottom drawers are dry, you can put the baking tins away.” Chloe resumed scrubbing. Physical activity helped keep her from thinking about Aidan. She hoped one day he could forgive her, but in the meantime, praying seemed the only avenue left. She needed to have patience and trust in God’s timing.

Lindsay straightened from opening a carton, one hand on her stomach, the other over her mouth.

Concern shot through Chloe. “Nauseous?”

“A little.”

Chloe crossed to the fridge and pulled out a bottle of water. “Here, this will help.”

Lindsay took the bottle, sank onto a stool by the counter, and drank.

Chloe waited until a bit of color returned to her cheeks.

“Have you talked to Dylan again?” He hadn’t taken the news well, but Chloe had urged Lindsay to try again, once he’d had some time to digest the idea of a pregnancy.

“Not really.”

Chloe held back a sigh. Lindsay needed unconditional support, not pressure. “You’ve got lots of time. He may come around.”

Lindsay raised solemn eyes to Chloe. “The truth is, Miss Martin, I broke up with Dylan before I found out I was pregnant. He’s pretty immature, and he was always looking at other girls.”

Chloe’s tongue refused to work. She stared at the girl.

“I let him know about the baby. But I don’t expect anything else from him.”

Chloe was amazed at Lindsay’s maturity. The fact that she’d recognized Dylan to be unsuitable spoke volumes. “Sounds like you’ve given this a lot of thought.”

“I have.” Lindsay gave a soft smile. “I want to keep the baby and raise it on my own.”

“That’s incredibly brave of you.” Chloe slid a box across the floor, thinking how different the girl’s future would be.

When she turned, Lindsay was staring at her. “I have a favor to ask, Miss Martin.”

“Sure. What is it?”

A flush colored the girl’s pale cheeks. “Our rent is overdue and my mom isn’t answering my calls. Would you be able to…lend us the money until she comes with her paycheck?”

Lindsay shouldn’t have to deal with all these grown up problems at her age.

“I tell you what. Let me talk to your mother. If I can’t get her to come back and pay the rent, I’ll make sure it’s covered.”

Lindsay hesitated, and then gave a jerky nod. “OK. But you’ll have to do it soon. I don’t know how much longer the landlord will wait.”

The bell jangled out front.

Chloe whirled around. Hadn’t Matt locked the door?

Ever since the break-in, Chloe had been extra diligent with keeping the doors bolted. Her hands shook as she lowered the cloth into the bucket of soapy water. The sound of a baritone voice talking to Matt registered in Chloe’s consciousness, turning her terror to annoyance. Not again. With deliberate calm, she dried her hands on a towel, stiffened her spine, and marched out to the front room.

Richard’s gaze snapped to her. “Chloe, there you are.”

The sight of him looking smug in another designer suit only fueled Chloe’s irritation. “I thought you’d gone back to New York.”

“I want to talk to you. In private, if possible.” He shot a glance at Matt who had resumed painting.

She might as well get this conversation over with and sever the ties for good. “Matt, can you break down the boxes in the alley for me?”

Matt stopped rolling the paint. “Now?”

“Yes, please.”

He dropped the roller into the tray and wiped his hands on a rag hanging from his jeans. “You OK with this guy?”

“I’ll be fine. Give us five minutes.”

Matt threw Richard a warning glare, and then stalked toward the alley door.

“Make it quick, Richard. I have work to do.”

He strolled around the room, eyeing the newly restored wicker furniture and the glass display cases. “You’ve come a long way down from Oliver’s.”

Irritation prickled along her spine. “I’m sure you didn’t come here to comment on my shop. What do you want?”

He turned his attention to her. “I’m not giving up on us, Chloe. I’m willing to do whatever it takes.”

Part of her wished she could still be that naïve woman, waiting for Richard to sweep her away. If her priorities hadn’t changed so much since coming back here, she could’ve returned to New York and become Mrs. Richard Highmore as she’d dreamed.

Richard reached inside his suit jacket and brought out a black velvet box.

Her breath hitched as he flipped the lid to reveal the blaze of a multi-carat diamond.

“Marry me, Chloe. We’ll start a whole new life together. Just you and me. If it’s a bakery you want, I’ll find you one in Manhattan. We’ll be a team, working together.”

He was saying everything she’d ever wanted him to say and more. Only it had come much too late. No longer would she settle for a man who thought nothing of cheating, of losing a child, and of leaving his wife to handle everything alone.

Shame burned that she had once been selfish enough to ask him to do just that. Now Chloe wanted more. She wanted a life pleasing to God, helping kids like Lindsay and Matt reach their full potential. And someday, God willing, she wanted the love of a good man, an honorable man.

A man like Aidan North.

She took the box. With a wistful sigh for what might have been, she ran a finger over the diamond, and then snapped the lid shut. “I’m sorry, Richard. I can’t marry you.” She pressed the box into his hand, surprised at the tremor in his fingers. At first, she thought it was grief, but when she raised her gaze, anger blazed in his eyes.

“You have the nerve to refuse me? After everything I’ve sacrificed for you?”

She fought the urge to cower and stuck out her chin. “Go back to your wife, Richard. Work things out with Denise. For the kids’ sake.”

“I don’t want Denise. I want you. That fact was never in question—until you gave up too soon.”

Her nerves twisted into a whipcord of anger. “Waiting for you almost cost me my life. In more ways than one.” Her breathing came in shallow puffs. “I think you’d better leave before we both say something we’ll regret.”

“It’s that guy from the diner, isn’t it? You’ve got a thing for him.”

She stiffened, pressing her lips together.

He scoffed. “I’m guessing Mr. Outraged won’t give you the time of day now that he knows what kind of a woman you really are.” He went on, spouting foul names at her.

“Stop it,” she said evenly. “There are children here who do not need to hear that. But then again, you don’t care much about children, do you? Not even your own.”

He landed a blow before she could blink. The force of the impact threw her across the floor. Tears smarted as blood squirted from her nose. She held a hand to her throbbing cheek, moisture almost blinding her.

“You better leave, mister.” Matt appeared with one of her largest butcher knives gripped in his hand.

Dear God, no. She scrambled to her feet. “It’s OK, Matt. He’s leaving now.”

Richard froze, eyes glued to the blade. Then the air hissed out between his teeth, and the anger seemed to drain from his face. “If that’s the way you want it, Chloe. We could have had a great life.” Richard stomped out the door, the bell jangling.

Chloe’s knees shook. She leaned on the counter as the adrenaline seeped out, leaving her as limp as an overcooked noodle.

“Come on.” Matt led her toward the kitchen. “Get some ice, Linds. Her lip is swelling.”

Lindsay stood in the doorway. “Who was that man?”

Chloe winced at the horrified expression on the girl’s face. “My ex-boyfriend.”

Matt dragged a chair over, and Lindsay brought a wet cloth filled with ice cubes.

Chloe placed the cool pack on her cheek and lip.

“We should call the police.” Lindsay’s voice quivered.

“No.” The word erupted almost of its own volition. “Richard’s gone for good this time. Let’s leave it at that.” A puffy lip and a bloody nose were well worth the price to be rid of him.

She never wanted to hear the name Richard Highmore again.