“I don’t like it.”
“Melissa – “
Preston, keeping his eyes on the girl, cut off Cynthia’s protest with a backward wave of his hand. “Why not? I’m a nice guy.”
She looked away, but not before he noticed her eyes well up with tears. “You’re not my daddy.” Her voice was so soft, he barely heard her.
“You still love your daddy a lot, don’t you?”
A slow nod.
“What if I told you I’m not trying to be your daddy? Just a friend for you and your Mom?”
She whipped her head around so fast he expected to hear a cracking noise. Anger flashed in her eyes, and a tear streamed down her cheek. “I don’t believe you! You’re going to fall in love with Mommy and ask her to marry you and she’ll say yes and then you’ll be my new dad and I don’t want a new dad!”
Preston couldn’t help himself. He looked up at Cynthia, whose face was horror personified. “Does she always move that fast?”
“You’re the first man I’ve gone out with since Justin died.”
That explained a lot. He turned back to Melissa. “Tell you what, Melissa. I’ll make you a deal. And just so you know I won’t go back on it, we’ll seal it with a handshake. Does that sound fair?”
She nodded, silent tears still streaming down her face.
“You let me try to be your friend and your mom’s friend for a little while. Give me two weeks. If you decide any time after those two weeks that I’m not a good friend, you just say the word and I’ll leave and never come back.”
It was a crazy thing to say, he knew, and completely unconventional. But he had friends and a cousin who had ended up in mixed marriages, and he knew how hard it could be when the kid was against the relationship. He wasn’t going to spend the rest of his life walking on eggshells around a kid he knew didn’t like him. Not for the most beautiful, most affectionate woman in the world.
Melissa stared at him for a long moment, her eyes at first reflecting skepticism. But that faded and was replaced by a twinkle of hope. She stuck out her hand. “Okay. Deal.”
As Preston shook her hand, the doorbell rang. Cynthia turned and opened the door to a teenage girl stamping her feet and shivering. “I’m so sorry I’m late, Mrs. Redman,” she said with chattering teeth. “There was an accident on Century and Fifth and it took forever to get around it. And the heater in my car decided not to work, and I’m freezing.”
While Cynthia invited her in and offered her a cup of herbal tea, Melissa asked Preston if he wanted to see the science project she was working on for school. He was genuinely impressed by her homemade weather center, including a thermometer, barometer, and rain gauge, and for the next ten minutes discovered that Melissa was a bright child who loved making new discoveries.
During that time, Preston made a decision. When they returned to the kitchen where the babysitter sat with Cynthia, drinking a cup of tea, he announced, “Cynthia, I’ve changed my mind about tonight.” By the disappointment that came over her face, she had misinterpreted his meaning. Understandably so. But hopefully he would redeem himself in the next minute.
He cut his eyes toward the teenager. “How much was Mrs. Redman going to pay you for watching Melissa tonight?”
The girl glanced at Cynthia with a lifted brow. “Fifteen dollars,” Cynthia replied.
Preston dug into the back pocket of his slacks and pulled out a wallet. “Here’s your pay for tonight.” He leaned in close to the girl to whisper as he handed her several bills. “Plus a little extra to get your car heater fixed.”
The girl’s eyes popped as she saw the denominations he had given her. “Oh, thank you, Mr. – “
“Brenner. It’s the least I can do, since I’m going to ruin your plans and send you home now.”
She glanced up from the money with a confused look, first at him, then at Cynthia. The latter looked just as confused.
He smiled at Cynthia. “I want to take both you and Melissa out for dinner, if that’s okay.”
**********
The chill in the air the next morning, along with the clouds that hung low in the sky, forewarned of yet another snowstorm. As he took his morning six-block walk, Preston hoped that it would hold off for a little while. At least until he could get to Cynthia’s house.
He couldn’t have been happier with the way last night had gone, and doubted it would have gone so well if it had been just him and Cynthia. Having a child present seemed to have served a kind of buffer between them, easing the typical first-date awkwardness and making it feel more like a family get-together than a date.
His only regret was that he’d had to lie to Cynthia about where he worked. He told her that he was vice president of a local company, but when pressed for a name he told her it was a new distribution company she’d never heard of.
On the other hand, he had confirmed his suspicions that Cynthia had nothing to do with the negative talk flying around about Delico. As far as he’d been able to ascertain, the only thing any St. Peter school parents had done was to participate in demonstrations. She had headed up a second one that past Tuesday, she’d told him proudly, and this time sixty parents had shown up. She doubted it did much good to protest in front of individual schools – they had walked the parking lot of Melissa’s school this last time – but she figured the more they annoyed principals and school cafeteria managers, the more they would annoy higher school district officials, and the more likely their voices would be heard.
The next bit of conversation had made Preston squirm. A little. For one minute.
“What we’re trying to do,” Cynthia said between bites of a chicken salad, “is to convince the school district to eliminate unhealthy sweets from the menu and provide a larger choice of healthy items. More fresh fruit and vegetables instead of the canned mush, and steamed and buttered potatoes to replace French fries. Organic milk.”
Melissa paused with a forkful of green beans halfway to her mouth. “You said pasteurized milk was bad for us.”
Preston quirked a brow at this. He’d never heard that before. How many of Delico’s soups and desserts contained powdered pasteurized milk?
Cynthia shrugged. “It is. But if most parents are going to insist that milk be included in the school lunch program – and they will, Lucy says – it might as well be from chemical-free cows.”
Lucy. Where had he heard that name recently? No matter. The more pertinent and important question was, should he feel uncomfortable sitting with a woman who was unknowingly threatening the well-being of his company – not to mention his job? If her grass-roots effort continued to grow and became a real influence among the school district Powers That Be, Delico would lose money. A lot of money. However, what the parents were demanding, the schools couldn’t possibly afford. Not to any extent that Delico would need to worry about, so he wasn’t going to worry about it. He certainly wasn’t going to let the issue affect his plans to see where his relationship with Cynthia might lead.
“I commend you for what you’re doing, Cynthia,” he said with a smile. “Not many people have the courage to actually take action to try to fix a perceived wrong.”
And he meant it. Of all the women he had ever dated – not that he was anything close to a playboy – this one seemed to have the most integrity, the strongest sense of purpose of any of them. Besides that, he’d felt an instant connection with her even before they had ordered the food. And the more they talked, the more he liked her – and her daughter.
But to keep things safe, he steered the conversation to more neutral ground. The three of them laughed and talked like they were old friends, rather than new acquaintances. Apparently Preston wasn’t the only one who didn’t want the evening to end, because Melissa had, as they got up to leave the restaurant, asked Cynthia if he could come over to their house the next day.
So here he was, taking a walk in one of the northern-most neighborhoods of the city, the area populated by doctors and lawyers and prominent businessmen, l
ooking forward to having lunch and watching a movie at a house on the more modest east side. On his way back into the building, he stopped to buy the Saturday paper from the stand just outside the front of the apartment building. He might not purchase it at all, except that he had always been a sucker for the comics. Since the St. Peter newspaper didn’t put out a Sunday edition, the comics were in the Saturday paper.
He tucked the paper under his arm as he made his way back into the building, back up to his floor. Out of idle curiosity, after hitting the elevator call button he unfolded it to glance at the front page. As his eyes hit the bottom of the page, he did a double take. He scanned the article, heart in his throat, and groaned.
Today wasn’t going to be such a great day, after all.
Chapter Twelve
Cynthia had been shocked and horrified when Melissa had asked Preston to come over today. Clearly, the girl needed some serious lessons in social protocol. “Melissa, Preston is a busy man. Don’t you think he might have better things to do – “
“I can think of nothing better than to join you two ladies for a few hours tomorrow,” Preston had interrupted with that smile that never failed to warm Cynthia like an invisible soft fleece blanket.
At first she doubted that he really wanted to see her so soon, and was merely placating Melissa. But a brief discussion ensured her that he was in earnest, so now tomorrow had arrived, and both she and Melissa walked around the house restlessly, waiting.
Cynthia could only hope that their casual date today would go half as well as last night. She came home last night feeling like she was floating, a feeling she hadn’t experienced since her first few months of marriage with Justin. She had connected with Preston in a wonderful way; even better, he had seemed to connect with Melissa.
How many men would have done what he had, first giving her the flowers he’d intended for Cynthia, then allowing her to be part of the date? It was genius, pure genius. And said a lot for Preston’s character.
At eleven o’clock, she and Melissa were finally able to occupy themselves with fixing lunch. They had decided on a carrot-cabbage-Romaine salad tossed with crumbled goat cheese and a simple olive oil-lemon dressing. Cynthia put out some leftover chicken, and they would have gluten-free oatmeal cookies she’d bought at the health food store for dessert. One of these days soon, she intended to learn how to bake gluten-free goodies from scratch.
At five to twelve, the doorbell rang. Melissa’s face lit up. “I’ll get it!” She ran to the door as Cynthia whipped off the apron she was wearing and smoothed down her hair. Hearing Preston and Melissa greet each other cheerfully caused an anticipatory thrill to shiver up and down her spine.
She took a deep breath and tried to reason some calmness into herself – she barely knew the man, she had no idea how he felt about her or what he was hoping from their relationship – but to no avail. She was as excited as a kid on Christmas Eve.
When he appeared on the threshold between the living room and dining room, her heart fluttered. Melissa had helped him shed his coat, and if possible he looked even more handsome today in blue jeans and blue-and-black striped sweater than he had last night in his more formal dress.
“I’m so glad you could make it.” She tried to sound calm as she took his proffered hand, but was afraid she’d failed.
“Me, too.” He sighed, and his smile faded slightly, as though he’d had a rough morning and almost hadn’t made it to her house.
“Is everything okay?”
His full smile returned, but it seemed a bit forced. “Oh, yes. Just thinking of work issues.”
“Oh, Preston,” Melissa protested, “today is Saturday. You need to leave your work problems outside.”
Preston gave a slight bow. “You are quite right, madam. Excuse me.” He went out the front door, closed it, and after a few seconds, returned. “There,” he said, his gaze taking in Melissa and Cynthia in turn, “I have taken those naughty thoughts outside and told them to stay there.”
Cynthia and Melissa laughed together, then invited Preston to sit down at the table while they went to get the food. He glanced at the table, complimented them on the pretty centerpiece, then insisted that he help with the meal. “I grew up with a brother and two sisters, and we were taught that life went much more smoothly when everybody did his fair share of the work.”
Cynthia allowed him to follow them, wondering when she was going to wake up from this dream. Not even Justin had seemed this perfect when they first started dating. Of course, they had been in their late teens, muddling their way through the whole romance thing. Unless she missed her guess, Preston had been around the block enough times to have learned a few lessons in that arena.
The thoughts had her emotions in a sudden tug-of-war. Guilt welled up at her at having considered that there might be a better man out there than Justin had been. At the same time, jealousy, unfounded and unreasonable, clawed at her heart. She suddenly couldn’t stand the thought that any other woman had ever been in Preston’s arms.
Ridiculous. She inhaled slowly and deeply as she opened the oven to take out the platter of re-heated chicken. Last night her only goal was to reboot her social life in the company of a potential friend. Now she realized she wanted more. Much more.
From him? Or was it just that he happened to be the first good-looking nice guy to turn her head in the past four years?
“We only eat organic now,” she heard Melissa telling Preston as the two of them walked into the dining room carrying food. “Mom says it’s a lot safer that way.”
She smiled, once again relieved that Melissa had taken all of the sudden diet changes in stride, and seemed to understand the reasoning behind it. As she carried in the chicken, Melissa informed Preston that they no longer ate meat produced in factory farms, and maybe one day they might even become vegetarian. At this, Preston’s smile faltered a little, and when he spoke, his voice was tight. “That’s nice.”
Cynthia felt a squeezing in her chest as she set the platter down on the table. Was he some sort of junk food addict who believed that Twinkies were okay, as long as you ate them in moderation? She quickly forced the thought out of her mind. He had probably just let one or two of his work-related thoughts back in the door, and was distracted.
She caught his gaze, smiled, and said, “I need to do everything I can to make sure Melissa – neither of us – gets sick again because of what we eat.”
His smile broadened. “You’re a good mother.”
Cynthia relaxed, and the meal went off without a hitch. Preston entertained them with stories from his childhood, enthralling Melissa and making Cynthia laugh. How long had it been since she laughed so much in an hour?
Preston helped to clear the table and do the dishes, and a few minutes later the three of them were settled on the couch, Melissa sandwiched in between the two adults, ready to watch Melissa’s favorite Pixar film. Who knows where the afternoon might have taken them if the phone hadn’t rung at that moment?
It was Lucy. “Do you get the paper?”
“No. Listen, could you call – “
“I won’t take your time, but I thought you’d want to know that there’s a big write up about one of the companies that sells food to the schools. The inspector found soup that was tainted so bad with chemicals he claims it could make any number of people sick.”
Cynthia went numb.
“You still there?”
“Uh, yes. Um, which company?”
“Delico Foods.”
She repeated the name, thanked Lucy, then hung up.
**********
Preston knew he was toast when he heard Cynthia say the name of his company. He worked hard to keep an expression of casual indifference, but when she got off the phone and came back to the couch, she was ready to take up arms.
“You won’t believe this, Preston. One of the companies that provides food to the St. Peter schools failed inspection big time!” Her cheeks flamed, and her eyes burned with fu
ry. “Idiots! They almost killed my daughter! How could they be so slovenly?”
If the sudden moisture in her eyes had come from any other cause, Preston would have had a hard time resisting the temptation to take her into his arms. As it were, he was getting angry himself. Nevertheless, he used every ounce of energy to control his voice. “How do you know the company wasn’t set up?”
“Why should I think that?” She stopped her pacing in front of the couch and glared at him. “Why shouldn’t I think that somebody did it on purpose?”
“Delico Foods has been around for a long time.” Preston prayed to keep his voice level. “They have a good reputation.”
“Not anymore.” Cynthia sat heavily down on the other side of Melissa. “Not in my book.”
Melissa immediately jumped up. “You guys ruined everything! You ruined it!”
Before either of them could respond or stop Melissa from running out of the room, Preston’s cell phone rang. He cast Cynthia an apologetic glance, then got up himself to take the call.
He knew exactly what it was going to be about.
As he approached the entryway, he answered the call. Guy got straight to the point. “Have you seen today’s paper?”
“Unfortunately.”
“You need to be at headquarters in an hour. The board wants to meet with us and find out what happened.”
Preston felt his throat constrict as his head began to throb. He knew what had happened. The inspector had gone behind his back. But why? Inexperience? Did he have a grudge against the company? Or had he gotten paid to smear Delico’s name?
“I’ll be there.” He hung up, then stood there for a minute rubbing his temples. He caught a movement out of the corner of his eye and saw Cynthia standing on the other side of the living room, watching him.
“Work. I’ve got a fire to try to put out. Not a literal one,” he added when Cynthia’s eyes widened and she gasped. Then he stepped toward her with a sigh. “Look, I’m really sorry. About…everything.” Especially that he’d upset Melissa.
Cynthia crossed her arms and shrugged. “It’s okay.” But the strained smile on her face neither reached her eyes nor brightened her voice.
Preston stopped where he was. If the stupid newspaper article had never been brought up, if they’d all enjoyed themselves watching the movie, he was sure he would have given them both a hug before leaving this afternoon. But now…