I'm Your Man. Susan Crosby
HERE,” Riley said, standing at Maureen’s front window.
“A tall man with short gray hair?”
“Yeah. He’s skinny.”
Maureen preferred to think of Ted as lanky. He was fifty, eleven years older than she, and very handsome, turning heads everywhere they went. “That’s Ted. He’s my boyfriend,” she said, getting up off the floor and heading toward the hallway.
“You have a boyfriend?” he asked, as if shocked.
Yeah. A stunner, isn’t it? She laughed quietly as she went to the front door, opening it before Ted could knock. “Hi.”
He was nine inches taller than her five foot six, so he had to stoop a little to kiss her, even as she went up on tiptoe. She moved in for a hug, more for herself than him. She dreaded telling him—
“You must be Riley,” Ted said, stepping back and looking over Maureen’s shoulder.
She turned. Her grandson was peeking around the doorway. “I’m Riley Joshua Cregg,” he said.
“Ted Montague. Good to meet you.” They shook hands like gentlemen, which made Maureen smile.
They all moved into the living room. Ted stopped and stared. “You opened a toy store.”
Not exactly, but she’d dug out Jess’s old toys, and Riley had brought a lot with him. They were scattered and piled throughout the room. “We couldn’t decide what we wanted to play with.”
“I see.” He looked around. “And your daughter?”
Without comment, Maureen picked up the envelope and passed it to Ted. Halfway through reading Jess’s letter, he sat in the overstuffed chair he’d claimed as his over the past few months. She looked around the room as he poured through the documents. The place really was a mess, and she generally hated mess, but she didn’t mind this one, the scattering of toys and the noise of one small boy.
Her furnishings suited the Italianate Victorian facade of the building, with its pretty blue-with-white trim. The eleven-foot ceilings made the house seem bigger than its actual square footage. It was roomy enough for her—two bedrooms, a full basement with lots of storage space, a bright, cozy kitchen and big, sunny backyard. She’d bought it fifteen years ago, before the area had started to gentrify, and it was now worth a small fortune, at least to her.
Ted folded up the papers and slid them back into the envelope. He met her gaze. She’d never seen him angry before. Annoyed, maybe, but not truly angry—until now. His whole face frowned, making him look his age, when he usually looked younger.
“We’ll talk about it later, okay?” she said, angling her head toward where Riley was vrooming cars across the hardwood floor.
“Six weeks, Maureen? Six weeks?”
Riley looked up, responding to the strident tone by shrinking back. He shifted his gaze to Maureen, his eyes wide. She smiled and joined him on the floor, choosing a bulldozer from his construction zone and using it as if pushing a pile of dirt.
“Riley and I packed a picnic,” she said. “We thought we could go to Holly Park.” She felt a little guilty about telling Ted in front of Riley, since Ted would look like the bad guy if he said no.
He gave her a look that said he knew what she was doing. “Fine.”
They took advantage of the nice day to walk the less-than-half-mile trek to the park. Ted held her hand but said nothing. Riley didn’t hold her hand and talked nonstop. He pointed out houses, cars and dogs that caught his eye, stopping in his tracks and saying things like, “Look at that!” or “Isn’t that funny?” with open exuberance and wonder. Had Jess been like that? Surely she must have been, but Maureen couldn’t remember specifically.
They reached the green dome of Holly Park with its view above the rooftops. The marine layer was burning off, leaving a beautiful panorama of the city. Maureen had been to Holly Park only one other time—Jess and Riley’s last visit, a year ago. The recently renovated park that used to be a blight was now an urban paradise for families.
Riley wanted Maureen to stay close as he hopped from the playhouse to the slide, then onto the swings and cargo ropes. When he got to a stretch-rope merry-go-round, he watched the other children play but didn’t make a move to join them.
Even at six, he’s a loner, Maureen thought, watching him. Or maybe he needed to know the lay of the land before he threw himself into the fray—which was a smart move and the opposite of his mother, who had rarely thought through anything before taking action.
Maureen gave Riley a push on a swing then glanced to where Ted sat at one of the picnic tables, staring into space. He’d been married at thirty, divorced at forty and was childless—a conscious choice. He didn’t think the city was a good place to raise children, and he was a city man through and through. His ex-wife had at first been in agreement, then changed her mind and wanted a family, after all. She divorced him, remarried and now had four children—and lived in the city. He’d kept no photos of her, not even of their wedding, so Maureen had never seen what the woman looked like.
“Higher, Grandma! Push me higher!”
He giggled as she pushed him, and she saw Ted smile at the joyful sound.
Together they ate their lunch of turkey sandwiches, chips and cookies, all things Riley had selected at the deli section at the local market. He swung his legs while he devoured his lunch, the toes of his sneakers dragging the ground, his focus on the children playing. She wished she knew him well enough to read his expression. Was he tired? Or sad, perhaps? He looked solemn, anyway, had lost his former playfulness.
“Won’t be too long before you’re in first grade,” Maureen said.
“Grandma.” His tone was tolerant. “I’m already in first grade. I graduated, you know.”
“Do you like school?” Ted asked.
“It’s fun. But Cody says first grade is hecka hard.”
“Who’s Cody?”
“He lives next door. He’s seven.” He took a big bite of cookie. “He knows everything.”
They left the park soon after with a promise to return the next day. Riley skipped a little ahead of Maureen and Ted, stopping often to inspect items of interest. He would be ready for a nap, then Maureen would have to face the music with Ted.
“Can I have another cookie, plea—Papa!” Riley shouted as they neared the house. He took off running. “Papa!”
A man rose from his perch on Maureen’s tiny porch. She’d recognize him anywhere—Daniel Cregg, Riley’s paternal grandfather. Maureen’s nemesis.
The man who’d stolen her daughter and grandson.
CHAPTER 3
Rileyism #1: “I’m six. You know what that means, don’t you?”
“Papa!” Riley opened the gate and raced up the stairs into Daniel’s arms. Envy swamped Maureen. She’d gotten a hug from Riley only by taking one, yet he threw himself at Daniel.
Riley even had a nickname for him, Papa, while she was just plain Grandma.
“The grandfather, I presume,” Ted said as they reached the wrought-iron gate.
“In the flesh.” And she certainly couldn’t fault the flesh.
He wasn’t quite six feet tall, had a runner’s lean build with a weight lifter’s shoulders. His dark-blond hair was thick and wavy, not quite long enough to band into a ponytail. He dressed like the college students he taught, in jeans, T-shirt and a Cascade University sweatshirt, even though he was, like Ted, fifty years old.
And he was a vegetarian. And never on time for anything. And disorganized. All the things she disliked. But mostly she disliked—hated—that he’d