Grace Green - His Unexpected Family

Brodie shook his head. Unbelievable. “I heard Mitzi say she was going to put Sam on the job—”

Mitzi came back into the office and handed him a glass of iced tea. “That’s right Oh, before I forget, boss—Hayley called. She wants you to bring home a half gallon of milk after work. You’re clean out and she won’t have time to stop in at the supermarket.”

“Milk. OK.”

“She said to be sure you got fat-free.”

Brodie’s grin was self-deprecating. “Henpecked, that’s what I am! But hey, we all know who’s boss in my household!” He gulped down a few mouthfuls of his iced drink and set the glass on Pete’s desk. “So...Mitzi, about the Westmore job—have you mentioned it to Sam yet?”

“No, not yet.”

“Then don’t.” Brodie walked to the window and looked out. Even this early the yard was a hive of activity—customers walking among the rows of lumber, men hauling out supplies; trucks coming and going; women browsing in the garden furniture section, taking advantage of the end-of-season sale. He swatted the contract against his thigh. “I’m going to take this one on myself.”

“Good luck!” Pete said. “You’ll have your hands full dealing with Mrs. Westmore.”

“It’s not Mrs. Westmore.” Brodie’s response came absently. “She was a Westmore—I don’t know what her married name would be though.”

“It’ll be on the contract.” Mitzi took the papers from Brodie and riffled through them till she found the signature she was looking for.

“Kendra Westmore!” She made a face. “Well, I guess she never did change her name. Some women don’t. Me, I can’t think why. If you love a man, surely you’d want to bear his name...and have your kids bear his name. ’Course, the reason she and Edward Westmore fell out was because her grandfather disapproved of her intended—at least, that’s what folks around here said—and maybe she kept the family name thinking to appease the old man.” Mitzi turned to Pete. “Did you meet the husband?”

“Nah, he wasn’t around.”

“What about kids?” Mitzi asked. “Does she have kids? Did you see any when you were out there?”

“She’s got a daughter,” Pete said. “Spit of herself.”

“Well,” Mitzi said, “the kid must be pretty as they come. That Westmore girl might have been snooty as all get-out, but she surely was a beauty.”

She still is, Brodie thought. She still is!

And he couldn’t wait to see the look on her beautiful snooty face when he turned up at her front door tomorrow!

“Megan, you didn’t eat your lunch!” Frowning, Kendra took the bulging brown paper bag from her daughter’s backpack.

“I’ll eat it now, Mom.” Megan leaned forward in her chair and stuck out her hand as Kendra made to put the bag in the fridge. “I’m starving!”

“Well no wonder, if you didn’t eat at noon!” Kendra slid the lunch bag across the kitchen table.

“It was Hot Dog Day—the homeroom teacher forgot to tell you on Friday that I should bring money.” Megan opened the bag and took out a cheese-filled English muffin. “But my new friend had extra money—she was late this morning and was in a hurry and her dad gave her too much—so she paid for my hot dog and chocolate milk. She said I could pay for hers next time around.”

At the words “new friend” Kendra had felt a swift kick of relief. She’d worried about Megan starting over again in a school where most eight-year olds would already have their own special buddies; it seemed she’d had no need to fret. But then at the words “she was late...and her Dad gave her too much,” her nerves prickled a warning.

“So,” she said casually, “what’s your friend’s name?”

“Jodi. She’s my age and she’s got black curly hair...”

But Kendra was no longer listening. She didn’t have to. She knew the rest.

Of all the luck, Megan had to link up with Brodie Spencer’s daughter! If she was anything like her father, she’d be bad news, and likely to lead Megan into all sorts of trouble—

Oh, she was being ridiculous! This was only Megan’s first day at school. She would meet other girls, become friendly with other girls. More suitable girls. Water always found its own level.

“I’ll give you money for her tomorrow,” she said.

“But Mom—”

“You know I don’t like you to borrow. But it was kind of this Jodi to help you out. However, you’ll pay her back in the morning and that’ll be the end of it. All right?”

Megan shrugged. “OK.” She concentrated on eating her muffin. “But I hope I don’t hurt her feelings,” she mumbled. “She’s really nice. And she’s already asked me to come to her house on Saturday afternoon to play.”

“You know you’re not allowed to make that kind of arrangement without discussing it with me first!”

Her tone must have been unusually sharp because Megan’s head shot up, her brown eyes wide with astonishment. “I didn’t! But she’s got a brother and a sister and a dog and a swimming pool and her house seems like it’s just the funnest place to be!”

Kendra sat down at the table.

“Honey,” she said carefully, “don’t be in too much of a hurry to make a special friend. It’s a mistake lots of people make. Take your time, get to know everybody first. And then make up your mind who you like.”

“When you were my age,” Megan challenged, “did your mother pick and choose your friends?”

“I lost my parents when I was six. I’ve told you many times, sweetie, that my grandfather Westmore brought me up. And though he didn’t pick and choose my friends, he did try to make sure that my choices were...the right ones.”

“Well, why don’t we have Jodi over here on Saturday? Then you can see for yourself if she’s a right choice!”

Trapped. She felt trapped. Yet wasn’t what Megan was suggesting a sensible plan? How could she get out of it, without seeming totally unreasonable!

“It’s just Monday,” she said. “Why don’t we wait till the end of the week, see how it goes? Perhaps you’ll meet someone else you’d rather invite here on Saturday.”

“Sure.” Megan reached for the bottle of orange juice. “Let’s wait till Friday.”

Kendra heaved a sigh of relief.

But it was short-lived.

“I can tell you now, though,” Megan said as she popped off the lid and stuck a straw into the bottle, “that I won’t be meeting anybody I’ll like better than Jodi Spencer!”

The wall phone rang before Kendra could come up with a response. Pushing back her chair, she reached for the receiver. “Westmore residence.”

“Good afternoon, Ms. Westmore. This is Mitzi, at Lakeview Construction. Someone will be coming out tomorrow morning to talk with you about your new kitchen. Will eight-thirty be too early?”

“No, eight-thirty will be fine. Thanks.”

She hung up.

“Finished your snack?” she asked Megan.

“Yes, I’m done.”

“Let’s get our bikes then and cycle down to the school. I want to be sure we have your route all mapped out because I won’t be able to drive you in the morning. I have to be here, to talk to the workman from Lakeview Construction.”

“Full fat!” The hem of Hayley Spencer’s shortie robe fluttered around her sun-browned thighs as she swirled around from the fridge, half-gallon milk jug held aloft. Rolling her eyes, she set the jug on the breakfast table. “I’m trying to lose weight and the man buys me full fat milk!”

She lowered herself into her chair and pouring bran flakes into a blue-rimmed bowl, called after Brodie, who was headed for the door, “I told Ditsy Mitzi fat-free! Why don’t you fire the woman and hire somebody who can take a simple message!”

Brodie paused in the doorway and looked round with an apologetic grin. “Mitzi did mention it... and you know damned well she’s not ditsy—she just looks ditsy! The fault is mine. I guess I had other things on my mind yesterday.” Like the Westmore woman! “It won’t happen again—”

He stepped aside smartly as Jodi and her brother bowled by in tandem, Jodi in pretty pink dungarees and a candy-striped blouse, Jack in a grungy gray T-shirt and baggy shorts. The boy had combed his black hair in a middle part and plastered it to his skull with foul-smelling gunk. Brodie’s nostrils quivered, but he bit back a dry comment. He knew only too well how much Jack loathed his unruly curls. He had, too, when he’d been that age—too young to know that when he became a teenager, girls would find his hair irresistible! His lips twitched at the memory...

“Morning, kids,” he said.

“Morning, Dad.” Jodi threw him a cheery smile.

“Yo.” Jack had already thrown himself onto a chair and was grabbing his favorite cereal packet.

“How come you’re dressed so fine?” Jodi’s gaze flicked over him even as she reached for a bowl. “Aren’t you going in to the yard this morning?”

“He’s going to the Westmore place.” Hayley’s lovely cornflower blue eyes had the same inquisitive glint as Jodi’s, but added to that was a speculative gleam as she looked at his emerald polo shirt and neatly pressed chinos.

“If you’re going out there,” Jodi said, “will you do me a favor, Dad?”

Brodie glanced at his watch. “Look, I’ve gotta run—”

“There’s a new girl in my class. I forgot to tell you last night She’s Megan Westmore. She’s got no brothers or sisters so I asked her to come over on Saturday afternoon. She said she’d ask her mom. But you can ask her today!”

Hayley frowned. “Jodi, you know Saturday afternoon is a family time for us.”

“If you’ve already asked her,” Brodie said, “we’ll have to follow up on it.”

Hayley’s slender shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Yes, I suppose...”

But Brodie could feel her disapproval emanating from across the kitchen. He glanced at his watch. He should really be out of here!

He strode to the table and leaning over Hayley, planted a quick kiss on the tip of her nose. “Don’t worry, Hayle, her mother probably won’t let her come.”

As he left, he caught himself glancing around the kitchen—assessingly; something he hadn’t done in a very long time. The big square room was bright and cheerful and airy...and shabby. He’d always liked it that way...but this was undoubtedly a house where things were neglected.

From the beginning, he’d wanted to hire a housekeeper, but Hayley wouldn’t hear of it. He’d given in, and had never regretted the decision.

But minutes later, as he started his truck, he found himself wondering how the place would look to the snooty Ms. Westmore. And admitted it would come up short. The kitchen badly needed redecorating, as did the rest of the modest two-story house. What was that adage about the shoemaker’s kids having no shoes? It certainly fit in his case.

But hell, his decision to keep things as they were hadn’t been grounded in laziness. It had been grounded in a desire to give the kids stability. To give them a sense that, although a lot of things had changed, their roots would never.

Were they old enough now to accept change?

They’d been through so much.

But maybe it was time to throw them a challenge.

Maybe, after he’d finished with the Westmore project, he’d tackle instituting some changes at home.

Bit by bit. So the changes wouldn’t come all at once and be too distressing for them.

Yeah, he decided as he followed the road that led out of town toward Rosemount, one step at a time.

That was the answer.

Kendra was out back, getting Megan’s bike from the shed, when she heard the roar of a truck coming up the drive at the front of the house.