Kitabı oku: «The Fake Fiancée», sayfa 2

Chapter Two

Lisa opened the door. Joe nodded to Ginger on his way out.

“Hoo-ee!” Ginger gawked after him. “Who was that?”

Lisa rubbed the tension from her temple. “Opportunity, unfortunately. I just lost that huge Riley and Ross job.”

“Which one is he?” Ginger’s gaze remained fixed outside.

“Riley.” Lisa watched his royal-blue convertible pull from the curb then slammed the door. “And good riddance.”

“I wouldn’t be so happy to see him walk away. Although he did have an excellent backside.”

Lisa shot her a wry look. “I’ll be sure to tell Kyle you think so.”

Ginger laughed. “Like he’d worry. The big lug knows I’m crazy for him.”

Lisa gathered up the glasses and took the tray back to the kitchen. She sighed. “There went that. What am I going to do?”

Ginger slid onto the bar stool at the kitchen counter. “Why did he come here to talk to you personally? Your bid couldn’t have been too far off.”

Lisa grimaced. “I have no idea where my bid was. He came for something else entirely.” She poured Ginger an iced tea and filled her in on the details.

Ginger stared out the window, one tangerine fingernail tapping against her glass. Lisa didn’t like the calculating look in her friend’s eyes. Although her hair fell to her shoulders in apricot waves, Ginger had a redhead’s temperament. She was bound to be plotting a nasty revenge for Joe Riley.

“I think you should do it,” Ginger said.

Lisa gaped. “What?”

“Seriously, hear me out. You get the R & R job, right?”

“Presumably, but—”

“No, just listen. You get to show off your catering skills. Lots of people find out how great you are. You’ll get loads of jobs, and you can pay off more of your debt.”

“But I’ll have to lie to his parents.”

“His relationship with them already stinks, right, if he’s doing this? You’re not changing anything. You come out ahead.”

“Ginger, he’s just like Brad. Lying to take the easy way out. Deceiving people who love him. I can’t have any part in that.”

After a moment, Ginger squeezed Lisa’s arm. “Of course you can’t. What was I thinking?” She rose. “I’d better get home.”

“Did Bobby behave?” Lisa dreaded the answer, especially after he’d just kicked Joe. Bobby’s emotions had teetered unpredictably since Brad left eighteen months earlier. Brad hadn’t said goodbye to the kids. One night, he just hadn’t come home. Only after hours of her worrying and frantic voice mails had he answered his cell phone.

“I’m not coming back,” he’d said. Then the phone went silent. He hadn’t used it since, according to the investigator she’d hired to track him down.

Another expense she couldn’t afford.

Abby had cried for days, then withdrawn, not talking about her dad again. Bobby had been sure Daddy would come home, but as time passed, his certainty turned to anger. The school psychologist, Mr. Swanson, advised Lisa to let them come to her when they were ready to talk. But “not pushing the subject” didn’t seem to be helping either child.

“He was good,” Ginger said. “No outbursts. He loved the arcade games.”

Lisa went boneless with relief, only then realizing she’d braced herself for a bad report. “Thanks for taking the kids out. I got a lot of flowers done and all my cookies baked.”

Ginger waved away her thanks with a distinct gleam in her eye. “My pleasure. It’s, you know, good practice to be around them.”

Lisa squealed and rushed to her, grabbing her arms. Her friend’s smile could have lit up Country Club Plaza for the entire Christmas season. “Are you—?”

“No, but we’re trying.” Ginger giggled. “Lordy, are we trying. If I’d known how much fun it was to conceive, we’d have started years ago.”

“It’s not like you haven’t had sex, Gin. You’ve been married for four years.”

“Yeah, but now we tangle the sheets with a purpose. Each time, after, we think, ‘Was that it? Did we just make a baby?’” She rubbed the bridge of her nose self-consciously. “Dopey, huh?”

Lisa hugged her. “No, it’s very sweet and special, like you. Good luck with this.”

“We don’t need luck,” Ginger called over her shoulder. “It’s all in the execution. And, boy, can Kyle execute.”

THE NEXT DAY, Lisa left off baking early to pick up the children from school. The oven had become temperamental, or perhaps it was Lisa’s thoughts of Joe Riley’s offer that had sidetracked her, making the cake for the petit fours cook just a tad longer than required. Two batches of cake had been ruined before she noticed the problem. The drive across town, normally about ten minutes, took longer at the end of the school day, as other parents cluttered the roadway on the same errand. She preferred to park and go in to get the kids rather than drive through the pickup lane, so she had to leave even earlier to find a spot.

She retrieved Abby in the lobby, as she was coming back from PE with her backpack all ready to go. They walked down the long hallway toward the kindergarten classes, dodging other kids. Spying Bobby’s teacher coming toward them, Lisa smiled. Miss Jensen’s mouth turned down at the corners, and Lisa’s stomach clenched. Uneasy about the answer, she asked, “What is it?”

“Fighting. He’s in the principal’s office.”

Lisa closed her eyes. “And I was having such a great day.”

“We sent home a note yesterday. I guess you didn’t get it since it didn’t come back signed today.”

Lisa’s jaw dropped. “What happened yesterday?”

“He pushed another boy, and we have a zero tolerance policy regarding any show of violence. He spent thirty minutes working in the hall. The other boy called Bobby names. I don’t know the details, as neither would tell me.” She sighed. “Today, Bobby hit the child. Arnold’s nose isn’t broken, but it bled a great deal.”

Lisa swallowed.

“Bobby appears to have gotten the worst of it,” Miss Jensen said, as though that counted in Bobby’s favor.

The principal’s secretary opened the door and gestured them in, forestalling any comment. Lisa turned to Abby. “You stay here.”

She stepped in and then froze as she saw her son. When she gestured for him to show her his face, he lowered the ice pack. “Oh, my God.” He had indeed gotten the worst of it, if that was Bobby under the swollen cheek and purple eye.

“We were about to call you,” said the principal, a smarmy-mannered chauvinist who always scraped Lisa’s nerves. “But the incident occurred right before dismissal.”

Lisa wanted to pull Bobby to her and rock him, showering him with kisses. The incident? Where was the teacher when some bully was beating her baby? She turned to Miss Jensen, forcing herself to remember how much she usually liked the young woman. “How did this happen?”

Mr. Bushfield cleared his throat. “Maybe we’d better ask young Robert that.”

Lisa locked gazes with her son. “I fully intend to talk to Bobby.”

Bobby grimaced, then winced and replaced the ice pack.

Bushfield held up his hand. “We expect our young people to own up to their mistakes. We prefer them to take responsibility for their actions.” He paused. “Of course, you must handle this however you think best.”

Lisa gritted her teeth. His implication hung in the air. She wanted the teacher’s version because she didn’t trust her own son to tell the truth. The guy was a jerk. She turned her back to him. “Miss Jensen?”

“Bobby hit Arnold.” She shook her head. “By the time I got across the room, Arnold had slammed Bobby to the floor. I didn’t see how it started.”

Lisa would have to find out what happened from Bobby, after all. She hated to give Bushfield the satisfaction. Dying to ask about punishment for this Arnold kid, Lisa said with forced politeness, “How is the other child?”

“His parents are coming from work,” Miss Jensen said, “so he’s waiting in the nurse’s office. His nose has stopped bleeding. I’m sure he’ll be fine.”

Taking Bobby’s hand in hers, Lisa faced the principal. “The question of ‘why’ will have to be settled later.”

“He must—” Bushfield blustered.

Lisa raised her chin and reached for dignity. “The real problem is that it happened at all. What discipline measures does the school enforce?”

The administrator gawked, clearly two beats behind and trying to catch up. “What do you mean?”

“Is he suspended? Do kindergartners serve detention?”

“We’ve found detention to be ineffective as a discipline tool for this age group. The child’s self-esteem can be severely damaged.”

Lisa exhaled slowly so he wouldn’t notice she’d been holding her breath. “I agree. I would recommend against suspension, as well. Bobby will learn more by facing Arnold and their classmates than by staying home.”

Bobby scowled then readjusted the ice pack.

Bushfield wiped his pudgy face. “This mustn’t happen again.”

“It won’t,” Lisa assured him.

He leaned forward and shook his finger in Bobby’s face, a looming figure in his dark suit. “This will be on your permanent record, young man.”

Miss Jensen uttered a soft protest. Lisa pushed Bobby behind her.

“It does little good to protect him,” Bushfield said.

“Good day.” She restrained the urge to slam his door.

“Ms. Meyer,” he called out just before she could escape. “There is an alternative program I’ve been considering for young Robert.”

Lisa stopped. If he mentioned juvenile detention, she would smack him. She swallowed a grin. Maybe the air in the school turned the Meyer family into violent reactionaries. “Bobby, wait outside with your sister.”

Bobby scooted around her into the secretary’s office.

Abby gawked at his face. “Cool.”

Lisa glared at them both before stepping back in and carefully closing the principal’s door. “What program?”

“In my opinion, Bobby is bored with school, and this is why he’s acting out.”

Lisa tried not to roll her eyes. Acting out. Sheesh. In her opinion, this Arnold kid had goaded her son, and Bobby had “acted out” with his fist. His problem stemmed from his anger at his father.

“Have you spoken with Mr. Swanson?” she asked, referring to the psychologist. She’d endured team meetings all year with Bobby’s teacher, principal, the school psychologist and the social worker, appreciating their concern for her son, even though she didn’t always agree with their assessments. Bobby met with Swanson every week, trying to talk through his feelings toward Brad and formulate ways to curb Bobby’s outbursts of temper. Anger management for a six-year-old. Lisa felt like such a failure as a mother.

Bushfield nodded. “He sees the merit in my suggestion. Unfortunately, he had another meeting after school today. We could wait until he’s available to discuss this, but I would hesitate to detain any help for Robert, given recent circumstances.”

Lisa turned to his teacher. “I thought this disagreement only happened yesterday and today. Is he fighting with other kids, too? Have you had other problems with Bobby?”

“Not fighting, no,” Miss Jensen said, “although I have noticed how withdrawn he’s become since Christmas. He doesn’t interact with the other students, usually preferring to read rather than play with them.”

“Withdrawn?” Lisa’s mouth went dry. He’d expected his dad home for Christmas, but they’d talked about it and she thought he’d accepted it. She hadn’t realized the depth of his disappointment. When had Bobby quit playing with his friends? He loved to join in any type of game. How had she not known? Of course, she only came to school on special party days. She’d thought his outbursts of anger were his only problem.

“In the program I’m suggesting,” Bushfield said, “the children meet with instructors before and after school to study art, music and a foreign language, as well as participating in some recreational activities to challenge their bodies as well as their minds. We, of course, offer breakfast and an after-school snack to keep their energy levels high.”

“Bobby doesn’t need day care, Mr. Bushfield.”

“But he needs challenge, Ms. Meyer. One of the problems with Bobby is that he’s brighter than his classmates. We can’t advance him into first grade this late in the school year.”

Lisa pushed down a surge of maternal pride. Of course, she considered Bobby brighter than average but felt gratified to hear it from educators. Why hadn’t they noticed how intelligent Bobby was before this? Shaking her head, she knew the answer. In their overgrown school district, only the special needs children got particular attention. The ordinary kids who didn’t struggle academically or misbehave were overlooked.

Before, Bobby had been evaluated as troubled. Now with the fighting, her son would be labeled a problem child. Smart, they could ignore and plan extra work for the next year maybe. Disobedience and fighting, however, had to be addressed immediately.

“With only weeks left in the school year,” she said, “I wouldn’t want you to move him. How will before-and after-school ‘challenges’ help him behave during class?”

Bushfield opened his mouth but offered no answer before closing it again.

“And,” Lisa continued, “his temper problems aside, today’s ‘incident’ sounds like a personality conflict between Bobby and this Arnold kid.”

“If my son were fighting,” Bushfield said, “I’d be concerned.”

Pompous ass. Lisa reached deep inside herself for patience. “I am concerned, Mr. Bushfield. I just don’t agree that this is the answer for Bobby.”

Bushfield leaned back in his black leather swivel chair and linked his fingers over his paunch. “We considered this program for Bobby in the fall because of his abilities, not because of his misbehavior.”

Her teeth clenched so tight her jaw ached. His misbehavior? What about that other kid, calling Bobby names and smashing his head on the floor?

“However,” the principal continued, “this opportunity cannot be offered to every child due to its cost.”

The blood drained from Lisa’s face. Because she’d had to sign up for reduced lunch prices and book-fee assistance for both children, all her financial information lurked in the kids’ files. No doubt Bushfield and every other administrator had access. It was degrading.

Now it came down to money again. Bobby hadn’t been considered last fall because she was broke? She swallowed her rage. Damn Brad.

“Unfortunately,” the principal continued, “it isn’t funded through tax revenue, and we must rely upon the parents—or parent in your case—to provide the majority of the tuition. Bringing highly talented professionals together to educate our children with the best cultural activities is expensive.” He cleared his throat. “Given that Bobby’s special needs have intensified this week, we might be able to provide a grant through the school district for the remainder of the year. Some monies have become available.”

Lisa tried to remain expressionless. Humiliated beyond measure because she couldn’t afford to give her child this special opportunity, she fought her anger—against Bushfield, against Brad, against anyone she could think of, especially herself. No way would she allow her children to suffer because she had been left with an overwhelming debt. If only that investigator could track down Brad, perhaps she could squeeze some child support from him. Unfortunately, rumor had it Brad had left the country.

She stiffened her spine and eyed Bushfield steadily. “If you have a brochure, I’ll look it over.”

She marched out with her head held high, determined to get the money somehow, even if she had to sell her soul to the devil.

Fortunately, she’d just met the devil. He was handsome and devious, and he needed a favor from her.

Chapter Three

The next day, Lisa paced the waiting area outside Joe’s office, recalling her adamant refusal to help him. Now she had to swallow her pride and ask for a favor. She could humble herself for her children. She’d had practice enough in the past eighteen months. But deceiving Joe’s parents stuck in her craw.

Unfortunately, she didn’t have much choice. She wanted to rise above the humiliation of being broke, but more importantly, she had to get Bobby into that program. Providing for her children drove her every action.

The night before, Lisa had seated herself beside Bobby as he climbed into bed. She brushed a stray lock of white-blond hair off his forehead.

“Bobby, why did you hit Arnold?”

He stared at his lightweight blanket, threading it between his fingers. His shoulders rose and fell in a shrug.

The cicadas started their nightly song outside. An early June bug thunked against the window screen, trying to reach the light. The overhead fan whirred. Her son said nothing.

She bit her bottom lip, then prodded, “Bobby? You must have had a reason.”

Still not looking at her, he mumbled, “He called me a name.”

Lisa sighed. She’d gotten that much from his teacher. “Honey, you can’t just hit people because you don’t like what they say. Miss Jensen said you shoved him yesterday, too.”

He shrugged again.

“And you kicked Mr. Riley.”

Bobby’s eyes flashed to hers. “But he was yelling at you!”

“No, honey, he wasn’t. Even if he had been, it would still be wrong to kick him.”

Bobby’s bottom lip stiffened. “I’m the man of the house now. Just like on TV.”

Lisa’s chest tightened. How could she scold him for protecting her? She kissed his forehead. “I love you. But no more hitting, no matter what the reason. Hitting doesn’t make a boy into a man.”

He didn’t respond, but Lisa knew he’d heard her.

Now she glowered at Joe’s pretty young secretary, who kept her gaze on her computer monitor. The brunette might appear to be a bubblehead, but she’d guarded Joe like a pit bull, not letting Lisa speak to him. Lisa had hoped to make this distasteful arrangement on the phone or at her house, giving her home-field advantage. But Joe’s secretary screened his calls and relayed his messages, limiting her access—no doubt on his orders. He could only fit Lisa into his schedule if she came to see him that morning. Given Bobby’s increased violent streak, the sooner she received the advance money and could enroll him, the better.

“Lisa.” Joe’s deep voice shivered through her. He leaned against the door frame of his office, hands in his pants pockets. “I must admit I’m surprised to hear from you, but I’m very pleased.”

He radiated confidence, with a touch of smug victory. In a dark charcoal three-piece suit, he looked even more handsome than she remembered. Her mouth went dry. Nerves, not attraction, she assured herself. She nodded cordially. “I’d like to discuss something with you.”

A second man emerged from Joe’s office, sans jacket or tie, with his gray shirt unbuttoned at the throat. Dark blond hair brushed his collar.

“This is my partner, Dylan Ross,” Joe said. Turning to Dylan, he added, “This is Lisa Meyer, owner of Goodies to Go. We’re about to negotiate the fine points to her providing desserts for our first fiscal year-end party in Howard.”

“Nice to meet you.” Dylan stepped forward and shook Lisa’s hand.

“Are you staying for the meeting, too?” She darted a look at Joe, relieved when he shook his head. At least he hadn’t spread the tale of their distasteful pact.

“Sorry,” Dylan said, a teasing light in his blue eyes. “Joe conveniently forgot to mention how attractive the caterer was he had to meet with. How’d you let that happen, Sue?” he asked Joe’s secretary, who watched their exchange avidly. Dylan glanced at his wristwatch. “Come to think of it, I might be able to spare a few minutes.”

“No, you really can’t.” Joe took his arm and marched him a few steps on his way.

“See you again,” Dylan called with a laugh as he continued on his own steam toward the door.

“Nice to meet you.” Lisa was still smiling when she met Joe’s narrowed gaze.

“So you’ve reconsidered?”

She glanced at his secretary, who bent over her keyboard, actively not listening. “Under certain circumstances, I might agree to your…proposition.”

Joe smiled. “I’m intrigued. Shall we step into my office?”

Said the drooling wolf to the lamb. Not fooled by his charming facade, she ignored the warmth of his hand on her elbow, as well as the tingle chasing through her blood.

Lisa couldn’t decide what to make of his enormous office. Neutral colors and light wood tones blended into blandness. Dark glass in the windows cloaked the sunlight. No plants to add life; no photographs graced his desk. Although tasteful and professional, Joe’s office presented an impersonal face to his associates. It certainly chilled her.

“Thanks for meeting with me here,” Joe said after seating her on a tan leather sofa. He settled in one of the three chairs across from her. “Would you care for a drink?”

Lisa declined with a shake of her head.

“Perhaps I could take you to lunch afterward?”

She smiled with insincere sweetness. “That won’t be possible. I had to rearrange my morning to suit yours. I have work to complete this afternoon.”

He chuckled as she evened the score.

“The flower show is in four days, you know.”

He winced. “I remember.”

Lisa almost crowed with satisfaction. She had him. He’d have to agree to give her the contract.

“You said you’d help me under certain conditions.” Joe’s manner turned less personal. “I assume you’re talking about catering our company party.”

“Yes, but that’s not the cond—”

He held up his hand. “I assure you I didn’t mean it as a bribe at the time, and I don’t think badly of you for agreeing to it now. It’s just a—” he waved his hand vaguely “—an exchange of services.”

Lisa bit her lip. For two cents, she’d walk out and leave him hanging—for two cents and about half a million dollars, which she didn’t have. Joe might need her to extricate him from this tangle of lies he’d woven, but she also needed him.

Dammit. She’d worked her rear off whittling down that debt. They’d still have to live hand-to-mouth for a while, but she had started to rebuild her life. Maybe in a year or two she could get a credit card, although it would no doubt be a prepay deal. But to have a credit rating she could be proud of. To pay off her business loans. To take her children to the pizza place herself and not cower at the cost of the arcade games. Oh, she’d do a lot for that. She’d enroll Bobby in that enrichment program, then stuff the check for the whole amount, without any grants from the school district, right up Bushfield’s nose.

She took a deep breath. “First, let me assure you I wouldn’t do this if I could come up with another solution.”

Joe’s eyebrows rose.

“I stayed up all night, worrying over this. If there was any way not to have to make this deal with you, any way at all…” She clenched her hands together.

“Is this your way of asking me for a favor?”

Lisa’s face heated. She’d insulted him. Not a promising start. Rubbing her temple, she mentally altered her phrasing. “No, it’s my way of proposing a deal. I believe in honesty, and although I might agree to your deception, it goes against my nature. I want you to understand my desper—my position.”

Joe leaned toward her. “Go on.”

“You need me to pretend to be your girlfriend, to appease your mother. I need your catering contract, but I don’t want our arrangement to upset my children. My condition is simple. They’re not to be involved. You’re not to be around them. It’s out of the question.”

He studied her in silence. After an eternity, he said, “I don’t see how I can stay away from the children since we’ll be dating.” His tone laced charm with silken warning.

“I thought I’d just meet your parents once or twice. At the Garden Society exhibit and maybe one other time in a couple of weeks to cap off the pretense.”

He shook his head. “We’ll have to be seen out together. My mother has a network of friends. She wouldn’t believe we have a serious relationship if we aren’t spotted around town. We’re supposedly on the brink of getting married.”

Lisa sighed, conceding his point. “Fine, but no meeting the kids. They’re a little confused right now, basically due to their father’s desertion. Brad, my husband, wasn’t…He didn’t…”

She jumped to her feet, unable to stay still.

“It wasn’t an amicable divorce?” Joe asked.

She snorted, then caught herself and paced away. “No, it wasn’t. It’s been a year and a half of upheaval for the kids.” She leaned back against his desk and gazed into mid-distance between them as some of those upheavals ran through her mind. The children’s tears. Her shock at sudden bankruptcy. Their nightmares. Their confusion and hurt.

“Is there any chance you and your husband might—?”

“No.” She shuddered. Not even for the children.

Joe nodded. He tapped steepled fingers against his full lower lip. Lisa ground her teeth, both irritated at him for his relaxed position while her world teetered to disaster, while also impatient with herself for noticing his seductive mouth at such a time.

“So what am I supposed to be?”

She swallowed another lump of pride and confessed, “You’re the provider of a contract that’ll bail me out of a financial bind.”

“No, I meant what will your children think I am to you?”

She stared at him. Having forced herself to admit she needed money so badly, she couldn’t switch tracks fast enough to follow his train of thought.

“Am I posing as your lover or whatever the kids would call it?” His mouth twisted. “Your boyfriend, I suppose.”

Lisa snapped her mouth closed. “No, that’s not what I’d planned, at all. I thought you could just be my client.”

Joe stood and walked toward her.

She forgot how to breathe.

“I’ll be picking you up for dates, for my parents’ sake, remember? Your children will know we’re more than business associates.”

“Not…not if I explain that I’m doing you a favor.”

His smile was less than nice. “But you’re not going to explain that to them. You’re not going to explain it to anyone. Word gets around. Kids tell kids, who tell parents, who might know me or my folks.”

“Oh.” Her pounding heart impeded her thinking. She couldn’t breathe; she couldn’t think. Maybe being around Joe wasn’t such a great idea.

“It’s our secret. You’re my girlfriend, lover, or whatever you want to call yourself.”

“Girlfriend,” she interjected, shying away from the thought of being Joe’s lover.

“Fine.” He leaned so close his cool breath brushed her lips. She inhaled his male warmth. His gaze held hers. “My parents will consider us almost engaged. We don’t tell anyone the truth.” His low voice compelled her to agree. “We pretend to be madly in love with each other. Understand?”

Compelling was one thing; intimidating was another. She simmered. Who did he think he was? She’d put up with too much garbage in the past eighteen months to be pushed around by Joe Riley.

She locked her gaze on his. “I understand perfectly. Do you understand you have to pretend to be honorable when you’re around my children?”

He straightened, blank surprise on his face.

“Can you keep your real character a secret?”

“What are you talking about?”

Lisa advanced on him. “Your tendency to lie your way out of trouble—”

Joe backed away, his hands up to ward her off.

“Your attempt to bribe me.” She stepped forward. “Your—”

He stepped back. “Now wait a minute—”

“I only hope you can fake it.”

He halted. “I don’t have to fake anything. If you had any doubts about my character, you wouldn’t have begged me for this contract.”

“If I had another choice,” she corrected, “I wouldn’t have agreed to help you out. I’m taking a chance on you.”

The calculation in Joe’s smile sent shivers of warning across her skin. He stepped toward her. “But I’m taking a chance on you, as well. I have to trust you to behave as though you love me.”

“You can trust me.”

“How do I know?”

“I can fake it.”

He smirked. “I’ve never had a wom—”

“Don’t even say it.”

“Maybe I ought to put you to the test.”

She eyed him with suspicion. “What test?”

“We’ll be performing in front of my mother, who can sniff out a fraud like a bloodhound.” He smiled. “Maybe we ought to rehearse.”

“What? Why?”

“We’re not exactly friends. My mother—everyone—will be able to tell if it’s our first kiss. We should practice, just until it feels natural.”

Lisa glared at him, disgusted with his tactics. Another manipulator, just like Brad. “I should’ve expected something like this from you.” She stalked to the door, followed by Joe’s laughter, soft, but edged with triumph. “Mail me the contract.”

“Coward,” he called across the room.

“With the advance money.” She slammed the door on his grin.

LISA TOOK HER CHECK to the principal’s office the next day as school let out, Joe’s advance having arrived by special courier. Laying down the money for Bobby’s program, without having to apply for any grants from the school district, didn’t offer her the satisfaction she had imagined.

Abby jumped into the car. Bobby had been invited to practice soccer at the house of one of his teammates. Tomorrow she’d tell him about his starting “a new adventure,” which was how she’d decided to view the program.

Lisa hated to cut into her special time alone with Abby doing a mundane chore, but she needed to stop at the grocery store on the way home. Time seemed to slip away from her these days, never leaving enough for all the things she had to do.

“Sally Turner’s having a birthday party, Mom, and she invited me! Everyone’s going. Can I go? Please.”

After an affectionate glance at Abby, Lisa checked the rearview mirror for oncoming cars then pulled into traffic. “When is it?”

“Her birthday is next week, but the party’s not till June eighth. It’s a Sunday. We have lots of time to shop.”

“What are you planning to get her?” She could stretch the budget to include a present, as long as Sally “The Girl Who Has Everything” Turner didn’t expect expensive name brands. “Why is her party so far in the future?”