His First Choice. Tara Taylor Quinn
Sounding truly compassionate now, Tressa’s voice was fading.
“I’ll talk to you later,” Jem said, reminding her that he was still there.
“Yeah, fine, Jem. Call me.”
She’d disconnected before he heard the doorbell ring. Call me. That was Tressa. I only want people in my life who prove they want to be there.
It was always about meeting her expectations. As long as you could do that...
Jem looked down at the bundle resting on the counter beside him. He’d been about to carry it out to the grill, but had decided to check in with Tressa first—right after Lacey had called him, butting into his evening, bothering him all over again...
He picked up the bundle—broccoli and corn with a little bit of butter, wrapped in foil. Weird way to prepare them, maybe, but Levi liked them that way.
And only broccoli and corn. Not carrots. Not beets. And certainly not the Brussels sprouts Jem tried on him one time.
He’d eat raw cucumbers, too. But only if they were peeled...
Not once, in the entire five minutes they’d been on the phone, had Tressa asked him how Levi was doing with his cast. She’d asked about his day in school, asked if he’d missed her. But not a word about the broken arm their son was carrying around, learning how to adjust to. Not a word about the T-ball he’d missed.
In that aspect, she was a bit like their son—able to let go of regrets. Except Levi’s disruptions were truly gone once he let them go. Tressa just swept hers under the rug.
Lacey Hamilton didn’t seem like the type of woman you swept away.
* * *
HAVING TAKEN A moment to prepare herself, to erase her morning with Levi and focus only on the woman she was about to meet, Lacey felt ready as she climbed the step up to the small, neat porch.
She liked the wicker bench and table, the red geraniums blooming in a pot in the corner. Geraniums took care to maintain, she knew.
The only way to help Levi was to open her mind up to whatever facts might present themselves. No matter how hard or bad they could turn out to be.
The flowers were a nice touch. And based on the pale pink discoloration of the white picket rail behind them, the blooms had been there awhile.
She knocked, expecting to wait a minute while the resident checked her out through the peephole. Or the nearby window, she revised, as she saw the curtain move.
Would the woman answer the door? Or slip out the back?
Pretend she wasn’t home?
She’d once had a parent climb out of a second-story window with the endangered child in her arms.
There was no second story here. And she knew for a fact that the child wasn’t in residence. She’d called Jeremiah Bridges before she’d left her office to see how Levi was doing after his meeting with her that morning. She’d wanted to know if he had any questions that needed answering. She’d told him that he was to refer all such questions to her. According to him, there hadn’t been any.
Could be true. Considering the fact that Levi was only four. It could also be that his father was very calmly and politely telling her to go to hell.
The front door opened.
“Hi. Can I help you?” The first thing Lacey noticed, besides the warm and welcoming tone, was the woman’s smile. Had she not been working, it might have put her immediately at ease.
“My name is Lacey Hamilton. I’m from social services. May I come in?”
The model-beautiful blonde frowned. “Social services? Is there a problem? Someone in trouble?”
The questions came faster than she could answer them. The woman’s bewilderment seemed completely genuine.
“Is it my brother? I told him not to come to me if he got himself into trouble again. I just can’t help him. I promised Jem... Sorry.” The woman shook her head. “That’s my husband...ex-husband, really...but if you’re here about Kenton, you probably already know that.”
Wow. Could someone put on an act that good if they were really feeling tense inside?
Records showed that Tressa Bridges was working as a manager of a small local branch of a major bank. She’d had the job for a little over a year. Before that she’d been an account manager for a well-respected investment firm. People who worked with large amounts of money had to first pass rigorous background and character checks.
People who did poorly in one financial institution, or left under negative terms, were not generally hired by another. Not in the same town, nor in a close time frame.
Tressa had paused long enough to ask her in. “I’ll tell you anything you need to know about Kenton. I’ll do anything I can to help him. But he needs to know he has to stay completely away from Jem. I mean, he’s lucky Jem didn’t press charges. And he can’t live with me, and I can’t give him any money.”
Wow, again. Lacey followed the vivacious woman to a small but meticulous living room with a camel-colored sectional that perfectly complemented the one camel-colored wall. The other walls were a peaceful cream color.
Lacey’s eye went straight to the built-in bookshelves on either side of the mounted flat-screen television set. In addition to books and DVDs, there were some trinkets. And a lot of photos of Levi.
Scanning the movies, she did indeed notice preschool titles on a higher shelf.
Wondering if the trunk-size wicker basket that served as a side table contained the preschooler’s toys, Lacey said, “I’m not here about your brother.”
“Oh.” The woman blinked and sat down. “I’m so sorry,” she said, “going on about my personal stuff like that. Jem says that I need to watch that. I tell him I will, and then off I go again, not even realizing. So, forgive me.” She stood up. “I was about to have some tea. I’ve just come in from work. Can I get you a glass?”
“I’d like that,” Lacey answered, more because she wanted to be able to follow the woman to the kitchen, to get as much of a look at the house as she could, to see how Levi’s mother lived when she wasn’t expecting company, than because she actually wanted a drink.
Tressa didn’t ask why she was there. Contrary to her previous behavior, she didn’t say anything at all, just pulled a couple of glasses out of the cupboard and filled them with ice. “Sweet or unsweetened?”
“Sweet.” She didn’t allow herself the indulgence often.
“Me, too.” Tressa crinkled her nose and then grinned. “I manage to make myself drink it unsweetened about half the time.”
Lacey was up to about three-quarters of the time. Most weeks.
Maybe not this one.
Walking around to the other side of the breakfast nook off the kitchen, Tressa pulled out one of four white wooden chairs at a block table similar to the one Lacey had seen at Jem’s house. “We might as well sit out here,” she said, indicating the chair directly across from her. Lacey sat.
The table had professionally embroidered, flowered linen placements. Bright and colorful. A matching print on the wall behind Tressa caught Lacey’s eye as she sat down.
“I love this room,” Lacey said, glancing out the sliding glass door to a small walled courtyard lined with flowers and a little birdbath-type above-the-ground fountain.
“Me, too,” Tressa told her. “I work at a bank, and while I love the challenge of making money work for you, some days I can’t wait to get home to my little oasis.”
What about her son? What did she think about not getting home to him every night? And on days when Levi was there, did he disturb the oasis?
Lacey