Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Jeff

Sunshine streamed through my truck’s windows as I drove down Main, heading toward the office. Alcott’s season was officially underway. Over the past two weeks, most of the snow around town had melted, enough that we could start on a few larger projects.

It was muddy as hell, and there were still frozen patches in the ground, but spring had arrived and with it, my days were slammed with client meetings and site visits. It was two thirty, and I’d left the office this morning at seven.

The chime from my phone rang through the cab, Mom’s name flashing on the console. “Hey,” I answered.

“Jeff? Is that you?”

“Yes.” I chuckled. “You called me, Mom.”

“I did? Oh.” There was a pause, probably because she’d pulled the phone from her ear to check that she had in fact called me. “I thought maybe you’d called me because you haven’t called me in sixteen days.”

A smile stretched across my mouth. I ended the call, cutting her off, then immediately called her back.

“Did you just hang up on me?” she answered.

“Hey, Mom. Just calling to say hi.”

“Funny,” she deadpanned. “But you’re alive? You’re okay?”

“Alive. Okay. Just busy.”

She sighed. “I assumed as much, but I wanted to give you a hard time. I miss you.”

“I miss you too.”

My parents lived about fifteen minutes outside of town in the same house where I’d grown up. Dad was a ranch hand for a man who lived in Boston and only visited once or twice a year. Dad managed the property, maintaining the livestock and various buildings on the land. Mom was a bank teller at a local credit union.

But even though they lived close and she worked in town, we didn’t see each other as often as I’d like. They were great about keeping up with Katy, calling or texting her a few times a week. And next week, when her soccer season started, they wouldn’t miss a single Saturday game.

“Want to grab a coffee?” I asked. “I was just heading to the office, but I could swing by the bank instead. My treat.”

“You’re on. I’ll only have thirty minutes, so we’ll have to be quick. I’ll get my stuff and meet you out front.”

“Be there in ten.” I hung up, then slowed to take a side street and head back the other way.

Maybe we’d go to The Maysen Jar. It wasn’t far from Mom’s bank. Not that I expected to see Della, but I hadn’t been able to get her off my mind.

That dinner we’d shared hadn’t been anything special. Not a date, just a run-in. So why couldn’t I stop thinking about her? And why the hell had I spilled my guts about Rosalie?

There were only a few people who knew the whole truth about my marriage. Yet telling Della had been as natural as breathing. She’d stared at me with that caramel gaze and it was like the truth I’d kept buried deep for years just poured out.

I didn’t want Della believing Rosalie’s bullshit. I didn’t want her to think I was scum.

Because even though it had just been a run-in, I’d wanted it to be a date. At thirty-one years old, I’d met a woman I wanted to date. To win. Della had left me craving more.

More of that blush to her cheeks. More of those mesmerizing eyes. More of her sweet laugh and dazzling smile.

What were the rules about a parent dating a teacher? My guess…it was frowned upon. Or forbidden.

Meaning maybe I wanted more, but I wasn’t going to get it.

Probably for the best. My focus right now needed to stay on my daughter and work. Hans hadn’t mentioned the sale of Alcott again, but that didn’t mean he’d changed his mind. I didn’t have time for distractions, and Della Adler was just that.

Maybe I was reading more into this. Maybe I was just lonely. Katy was at Rosalie’s this week—I’d get her Sunday. Which meant all I had to do was survive tonight and tomorrow, then my house would feel like home again. I could breathe again.

Katy would be proud when she came to the house Sunday. I’d been working on the garage each night and there was almost enough space to park inside.

My phone rang again as I slowed for a red light. Rosalie . I groaned before I answered. “Hi.”

“You need to get Katy. I’m sick.”

“All right.” Years ago, I’d ask what was wrong. Not anymore.

It was probably a headache. Or a stomachache. Or a fever. Or a hangnail.

Before Rosalie, I’d never met a person who was sick so often. I wasn’t a doctor or therapist so I had no idea, but it was almost like she enjoyed it. She relished the attention. Maybe that was just me being bitter, but more often than not, she seemed fine.

The short years we’d been married, she’d been sick so often that Katy had needed daycare because Rosalie, who hadn’t had a job, couldn’t watch her. Infant childcare was insanely expensive, but it was either pay or lose my job because I’d have to call in sick to stay home with my daughter.

The illnesses were just as frequent now as they had been at the beginning. But I didn’t ask for details. Maybe Rosalie really was sick. Maybe it was a figment of her imagination. Maybe she didn’t feel like watching Katy this weekend. Whatever the reason, I didn’t give a shit.

The only thing that bothered me was how much time Katy spent at the ER because her mother was notorious for emergencies on her weeks with our child.

“Does she know not to ride the bus?” I asked.

“Yes, I called the school.”

“Okay. I’ll head over and pick her up,” I said. “Do you want me to bring her over tomorrow so you can have your Saturday with her?”

She huffed. “I’m really sick, Jeff. How could you want her to catch this cold?”

I bit back a snide comment. “Then she’ll be there next Sunday.”

Rosalie waited, like she was expecting me to give her well wishes for a quick recovery.

Instead, all she got was, “Bye.”

The moment I ended the call, I called Mom’s number.

“Are you here already?” she asked.

“No, change of plan. Rosalie is sick, so I need to get Katy from school.”

“Sick.” There was an eye roll on the other end of the phone. Mom had spent enough time around Rosalie to know that their definitions of sick were vastly different too. “I’d say something nasty about her always uprooting your plans, but I know you prefer it this way.”

“Yes, I do.”

“It’s just…what if you had a date or something?”

“Any woman I date would know that Katy comes first.”

Maybe that was why I hadn’t dated. Because no woman I’d met in years was one I’d want to introduce to Katy.

Until Della. And Katy already adored her.

“Rain check on the coffee?” Mom asked.

“Definitely. Next week.”

“Perfect. And don’t forget to send me her soccer schedule when you get it from the coach.”

“Will do. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you too, bud.”

I could be fifty years old and she’d always call me bud, just like she had when I was a kid.

By the time I turned around again and drove to the school, nearly all of the buses had left the parking lot, and the last few cars were pulling out of the pickup loop.

Katy was standing on the sidewalk, her backpack bulging and her coat tied around her waist.

Next to her stood Della.

They were both smiling, not paying any attention to the vehicles coming and going. They were entirely engrossed in conversation with each other.

My heart thumped a bit too hard in my chest.

The smile on Katy’s face was pure joy. But Della…

Damn, but she was pretty when she smiled.

I parked against the curb, shutting off the truck and rounding the hood.

The minute Katy spotted me, she stopped whatever it was she was saying and raced down the sidewalk. “Ready for impact!”

I laughed, bending to catch her as she leapt into my outstretched arms. “Hey, Dandelion.”

“Hey, Daddy.” She kissed my cheek, then squirmed to be set down.

“How was your day?” I took the backpack off her shoulder, slinging it over mine.

“Good.” She looked over her shoulder.

“Hi,” Della said, walking our way. Her eyes twinkled under the afternoon sun.

“Hello.” I’d been waiting two weeks for the chance to tell her hello .

“I thought Mom was coming to get me,” Katy said.

“She’s sick.”

Katy rolled her eyes, then looked up at Della. “She’s not really sick.”

Even my kid knew Rosalie’s symptoms were grossly exaggerated.

“Oh.” Della’s eyebrows came together as she tried to piece it together. There was more I hadn’t told her about the divorce.

“Can we go out to dinner?” Katy asked.

“Sure.” I hadn’t made it to the store yet. I’d planned that for Sunday morning. “The Maysen Jar?”

Maybe if I planted the seed, Della would just so happen to show up tonight too.

“Or Village Inn Pizza,” Katy said.

“So you can play in the arcade.”

She clasped her hands beneath her chin. “Please?”

“Okay.”

“Yes.” She fist-pumped, then looked up at Della. “Want to come, Miss Adler?”

“Oh, uh…” Della searched the area around us, like she was afraid someone was listening.

“I’m sure Miss Adler has other plans tonight, Katy,” I said.

“It’s sweet of you to think of me though.”

“But you have to eat.” Katy, my beautiful daughter, was nothing if not persistent in response to a no. “And everyone loves pizza.”

Della just gave her a kind smile. Her hair was down today, the chocolate strands winding around the hood of her thick, cream sweater. She tucked a strand behind an ear.

“Why don’t you go get in the truck?” I jerked my chin toward where it was parked. “I’ll be right behind you.”

“Okay.” She sighed. “Bye, Miss Adler.”

“Bye, Miss Dawson. Have a great weekend.”

“You too.” Katy walked to the truck, using the running board to open the back door.

I waited until she was inside before facing Della. “Sorry.”

She waved it off. “Don’t be.”

We stared at each other, both of us not quite sure what to say. The school loomed behind her like a father lurking in the doorway while his teenage daughter was in the car outside with her boyfriend.

Which meant it was time for me to head out. “Have a good weekend, Della.”

“You too, Jeff.”

I turned, about to disappear into the truck, but stopped. “Six o’clock. If you like pizza.”

“Everybody likes pizza.”

Was that a yes? This was the problem with never dating. I sucked at it. “Bye.”

It took an effort not to look back as I walked to the truck to see if Della was still watching. But when I climbed behind the wheel and checked my mirror, the sidewalk was empty. Damn .

“We’ve got to go to the office for a while,” I told Katy. “Then we’ll head to dinner.”

“Do I have to go to Mom’s tonight?”

“Nope.”

“Yes.” Another fist-pump.

It made my whole day that she wanted to stay with me.

So we went to the office. Katy took out the stash of art supplies in my desk drawer and sketched flowers while I spent a couple hours working—and watching the clock.

Would Della come to dinner tonight? After what she’d told me about her roommate, I realized they weren’t a couple. But still, I hadn’t asked about the school’s rules. Maybe she wanted to share a pizza. Maybe it was too much of a risk.

Still, by the time we left the office at five thirty, I was buzzing with nerves.

We made it to the pizza parlor, getting a booth close enough to the arcade that I could watch Katy play. Then I stared at the door while she raced to a game.

By six, my beer was gone, and Katy had already spent five dollars in quarters. By six thirty, I ordered pizza, trying to hide my disappointment.

Maybe this was a good thing. Hadn’t I told myself that earlier? I had other priorities. Besides, maybe she didn’t feel the same. Maybe this was entirely one-sided.

I was about to dig out my phone, busy myself with emails, when the door opened. I did a double take.

Della stopped just inside the threshold, her bottom lip worried between her teeth. She watched a waitress pass by, then smiled at the hostess who asked her a question. With a quick headshake, she turned, like she’d changed her mind.

My breath caught as she moved to push the door open, only to stop herself short.

This time when she turned, her gaze drifted into the restaurant.

To me.

She gulped.

Then she unzipped her coat.