A Man for Mom Read online

  “But I—”

  “Damn, my other line’s buzzing. I’d better take it. I’ll call you later, okay? Bye, Rachel.”

  “But, Seth, I—”

  She was talking to a dial tone. She stared at the receiver in her hand for a full minute before she quickly shook her head and slammed the handset down on its base. “Of all the—”

  She felt as though she’d just been railroaded. Talk about a bulldozer dinner invitation! The man hadn’t even given her a chance to answer—yes or no! And it would have been no, of course—would still be no when he called her back. She’d get her refusal through to him if she had to shout to get his attention.

  Why had Seth Fletcher asked her to dinner? The man was years younger than her, for heaven’s sake, she thought in exasperation, though she was aware that she was exaggerating a bit. Still, he was younger by at least three years. And very good-looking, if one preferred the hard-bodied, lifeguard type. Surely there were lots of single young women who’d jump at the chance to go out with him. Why would he be interested in having dinner with a widowed mother of two? He’d even offered to take the kids along with them! How very odd.

  She looked again at the piles of paperwork on her desk and sighed. Now she’d have to spend the rest of the day worrying about Seth’s call. She really should just call him right back and make it quite clear that she wasn’t interested in having dinner with her attorney. A business relationship was all she wanted with him—or with any other man for now.

  Maybe there’d come a time when she’d be ready to date again. But not yet, she thought with the faint touch of panic that always accompanied the possibility. No. Not yet.

  She reached determinedly for the first stack of bills. She frowned deeply at the figure printed at the bottom of the invoice from the tire company. Something was going to have to be done about this, she thought firmly, picking up the telephone. She was beginning to suspect that she was being charged for new tires she didn’t really need. Well, she’d take care of that soon enough!

  She punched the buttons fiercely, trying to concentrate all her attention on business. But Seth Fletcher’s dinner invitation stayed at the back of her mind, refusing to be completely forgotten as she went about her usual routines.

  * * *

  It was after four when Seth called again. Rachel was just about to lock up and make her daily run to the bank and post office when the call came through. As soon as he identified himself, she took a deep breath and began to speak, “Seth, I wanted to talk to you about your invitation....”

  “Couldn’t get a baby-sitter, huh? No problem. We’ll find a kid-friendly place and we’ll all get to know one another. How about Bubba’s Barbecue?”

  “Please let me complete a sentence.”

  He chuckled, and he didn’t sound offended by her curt tone. “Sorry. What would you like to say?”

  She spoke very clearly. “Thank you for the invitation, Mr. Fletcher, but I’m afraid I have to refuse. I’m sorry you didn’t give me a chance to say this earlier, to save you the trouble of calling again.”

  “Oh, but calling you is a pleasure, Rachel. If you’re tied up for tomorrow night, how about Saturday evening?”

  “No, I—”

  “Sunday lunch? Or we can take the kids to the skating rink Sunday afternoon. Do they like roller skating?”

  “They’ve never tried it. But—”

  “Never skated? Then we really should take them. I just happen to be an expert at the sport, myself, and I’m a great teacher. Not that I’m bragging, of course, but—”

  “Mr. Fletcher,” Rachel all but shouted into the telephone.

  “It’s Seth,” he reminded her. “Was there something you wanted to say?”

  “Yes. I want to say no. Thank you, but no.”

  “To which? Dinner? Lunch? Skating?”

  “All of the above. This isn’t a good time for me.”

  “So, when is a good time for you?” he asked insistently.

  “I, uh—” She didn’t quite know how to answer. “I’m just not interested in dating right now,” she said finally. “Not even casually.”

  “I see.”

  She frowned, wondering if it could possibly be that easy. “I’ll let you know if Holder gives me any more trouble,” she said carefully. “Thank you again for looking over my paperwork. I wish you would charge me for the time you spent with it.”

  “We’ve already discussed that, remember? When I do something worth charging for, I’ll send you a bill.”

  She sighed, but gave in to the inevitable and dropped the argument. At least he seemed to have given up on asking her out.

  “By the way, Rachel...”

  “Yes?” she urged when he paused.

  “When we finally go out together...something tells me it’s not going to be casual.”

  Her mouth opened, but nothing came out. It was just as well, since he’d already hung up.

  For the second time that day, she found herself holding a telephone receiver and listening blankly to a dial tone. A moment later, she muttered an unladylike expletive and slammed the telephone home with enough force to make the instrument jingle a protest.

  She was definitely going to have to talk to her brother about this fruitcake he’d recommended as a lawyer!

  * * *

  There was a long line at the bank. Rachel shifted restlessly from one foot to the other, checking her watch every two minutes, fretting about the other errands she had to run before she picked her children up at the day-care center where they stayed each afternoon after school. She was going to be lucky if she made it to the post office before the window closed, she thought, inching forward in the slow-moving line.

  She made it to the post office, but with less than five minutes to spare. She was breathless and tense and working on the beginning of a headache. She hated being rushed.

  She arrived at the day-care center to find Aaron in tears because he’d broken the zipper on his windbreaker. Paige was perturbed that she’d fallen on the playground at school and gotten the knees of her new pink jeans filthy. Neither child was in a particularly good mood during the drive home, though they perked up a bit when Rachel suggested they pick up something for dinner. She didn’t like to buy fast food often, but she hadn’t had time to go to the grocery and she was too tired to cope with cooking this evening.

  “I want a Chicken McNugget Happy Meal,” Aaron immediately spoke up.

  “No, tacos,” Paige argued. “Can we have tacos and cheese dip, Mama? Please?”

  “No, a Happy Meal,” Aaron insisted. “They’re giving Batman toys in the Happy Meals this week. Please, Mama, I want a Chicken McNugget Happy Meal.”

  Rachel massaged her throbbing temple with her right hand, keeping the left gripped tightly around the steering wheel. “We’ll get a Happy Meal for you, Aaron, and tacos for you, Paige.” It meant another fifteen minutes in a take-out line, but she figured it was worth it just this once to avoid the confrontation.

  The telephone was ringing even as Rachel unlocked her front door and struggled inside with sacks of food and the stack of paperwork she would work on after dinner. She dumped everything onto the dining table and snatched up the closest receiver. “Hello?”

  “You sound breathless,” Celia commented.

  “I just made it through the door.”

  “Oh. Sorry.”

  “I still have to feed the kids. Is anything wrong, Celia?”

  “No. I just wanted to ask if I could borrow your silver jacket for tomorrow night. You know, the one with the crystal beads.”

  “I only have one silver jacket, Celia, and yes, you’re welcome to borrow it.”

  “Thanks. I love the way it looks with my black silk dress.”

  “Why don’t you just keep it,” Rachel said with a shrug, digging fast food out of paper bags as she balanced the phone on her shoulder. “I’ve only worn it a couple of times. I never seem to have the right occasion for it.”

  “Oh, I couldn’t do
that. Cody bought it for you for Christmas a couple of years ago, didn’t he?”

  “Yes, but he won’t mind. He’ll probably never even know.” To change the subject, she asked, “Do you have a date with Cleve tomorrow night?”

  “Uh, no. Not with Cleve.”

  Rachel didn’t like her younger sister’s tone. Nor did she care for her sudden suspicion. “Damien Alexander wouldn’t happen to be in town, would he?”

  “Well, yes, he is,” Celia admitted defensively. “And I’m going out with him. We’re just going into Little Rock for dinner and a symphony performance, Rachel. It’s no big deal.”

  “And after the symphony performance?” Rachel couldn’t resist asking.

  “After the symphony, he’ll be bringing me home,” Celia retorted. “Darn it, Rach, if you weren’t loaning me your jacket, I’d...”

  “I know, it’s none of my business, really,” Rachel conceded. “You are twenty-three years old. It’s just that I can’t trust this guy, Celia. There’s something about him that doesn’t ring true.”

  “You don’t trust him because you’ve never met him. You’ve read about him in a couple of gossip magazines, so you’ve decided he’s a sleazy playboy. That isn’t fair, Rachel. Damien is really a very nice man. He’s always been a perfect gentleman with me.”

  “So far,” Rachel muttered.

  Celia responded with a gusty sigh.

  “All right, I’m sorry,” Rachel said, rubbing at her temple again. “I’ll butt out. But, Celia—be careful, okay?”

  “I’m always careful,” her sister grumbled. “That’s why I’m probably the oldest living virgin in central Arkansas. I appreciate your concern, Rachel, but it’s only a date. Something you should try yourself, occasionally,” she added archly.

  Rachel winced at the unconscious reminder of Seth Fletcher’s dinner invitation. She wouldn’t tell Celia about it, of course. Celia would demand to know why she’d refused.

  Actually, Celia seemed more Seth’s type to Rachel. And Rachel would much rather see her little sister involved with a nice young attorney friend of Cody’s than an older, jet-setting, shady hotel magnate like Damien Alexander. Maybe she’d talk to Cody about arranging an introduction for Celia and Seth.

  * * *

  Rachel and her children had just completed their nutritionist’s nightmare of a dinner when the phone rang again. Leaving Paige and Aaron engrossed in an old Partridge Family rerun on cable TV, Rachel answered, half expecting it to be Celia, asking to borrow something else for her date the next evening. She was delighted to hear her paternal grandmother’s voice on the other end of the line.

  “Granny Fran!”

  “Hello, darling. I’m calling to thank you for the beautiful flowers. I’ll call the others after you and I have talked.”

  “I’m glad you enjoyed the flowers. How are you feeling?”

  “Very well, thank you. How are you and the children?”

  “We’re fine. Paige is making all As so far in second grade. And Aaron’s thoroughly enjoying kindergarten.”

  “That’s wonderful. I’d love to see them. They must have grown several inches since I saw them last month.”

  “Not quite that much,” Rachel said with a smile. “But I’m sure they want to see you, too. Maybe we’ll get down to Malvern one weekend soon to visit you.”

  “Actually, dear, I was thinking about coming to visit you, instead. Lila’s going to stay with her daughter in Denver for a couple of weeks and it will seem lonely here without her morning visits. I thought, if you don’t mind, that I’d—”

  “I would love to have you stay with me for however long you like!” Rachel interjected sincerely. “You know how often I’ve asked you to come visit. The guest room is all ready for you. When can you come?”

  “Sunday? I know this is short notice, but you did say the invitation was a standing one. If it’s a bad time—”

  “It’s not a bad time. Paige and Aaron will be thrilled.”

  “You’re sure it wouldn’t be too much trouble for you? I’ll help around the house, of course. It will be so nice to cook for a family again.”

  Rachel didn’t bother to protest; the truth was, she knew that her grandmother thoroughly enjoyed cooking for others and would be delighted to do so for Rachel and the children. “You won’t be any trouble,” she assured her. “And we’ll work out the details when you get here. I’ll come pick you up Sunday morning.”

  “No, thank you, dear, that won’t be necessary. I’ll ask Adam to bring me.”

  “Adam?” Rachel repeated skeptically.

  “Yes. He has that fancy new car he’s been bragging about. This will give him a chance to use it,” Frances said with a touch of smug certainty that her eldest grandson wouldn’t refuse her. “Besides, I can use the time in the car to have a talk with him. Adam’s been getting a bit big for his britches lately, don’t you think? Someone needs to remind him that he’s still the same little boy who fell out of my apple tree and broke his nose.”

  Rachel swallowed a laugh at the thought of Adam’s discomfort at being lectured for two hours within the close confines of his expensive new sports car. Yet she knew he wouldn’t risk hurting his grandmother by giving her one of his famous put-downs. Granny Fran was probably the only person in the world who could get away with lecturing Dr. Adam Jason Stone.

  “Let me know if Adam’s unavailable,” she said. “I’ll come pick you up.”

  “Thank you, dear. I’d better call the others now. I think I’ll start with Adam,” Frances mused, sounding as though she was greatly anticipating the call.

  Rachel was smiling when she hung up, but her smile quickly faded. She really was looking forward to her grandmother’s visit, and she knew that Granny Fran wouldn’t be any trouble, but there was always some pressure involved in having a houseguest. And additional pressure was one thing she didn’t need right now!

  She took a deep breath and reached into a kitchen cabinet for a bottle of aspirin.

  All it would take to top this day off, she thought as she swallowed two chalky tablets with a gulp of lukewarm tap water, would be a call from her mother, who called frequently from Saint Louis to fret about Rachel’s health and the well-being of her poor, fatherless children. Rachel’s father had been transferred to Saint Louis some six years earlier, and Evelyn Carson still worried about her three fully grown children and two young grandchildren being an entire state away from her guidance.

  Rachel had just rinsed her glass and put it away when the telephone pealed again. Somehow she just knew it was her mother. She groaned and buried her face in her hands for a moment before reaching resolutely for the telephone.

  What an exhausting day this had been!

  Chapter Three

  Seth knew he was taking a chance when he pulled into the parking lot of Rachel’s office Friday afternoon. There was the possibility that she would tell him to get lost, tell him he was being more trouble than she’d anticipated when she’d asked for his assistance with her ex-employee. But he wanted to see her. Maybe he just needed to find out why she’d stayed in his mind since that one brief meeting with her. Maybe if he saw her again today, he’d realize she wasn’t really all that memorable.

  He lingered in his car a moment after parking, looking over her place of business. A small, white frame building sat in the center of the lot, with a neatly lettered sign over the door proclaiming it to be the offices of Evans Industries. The parking lot was paved, decorated only with two large security lamps and a couple of Bradford pear trees on either side of the driveway.

  Behind the office building, several trash containers of varying sizes were grouped on a large, paved pad, and two huge Mack trucks were parked behind the other side of the office. A heavy chain-link fence ringed the business, the open gates sporting large padlocks that Seth assumed would be secured at closing time.

  He couldn’t help thinking that it was a very masculine-looking business. He glanced again at the oversize trucks and smiled at the
thought of Rachel behind the wheel of one. He’d bet that was one aspect of her business that she left fully to her employees; he wouldn’t have attempted to drive one of those complicated monsters, himself. Mechanics and hydraulics had always been mysteries he’d never been interested in exploring.

  Three other vehicles were parked in front of the office—the practical compact he’d seen Rachel driving two days earlier, a battered station wagon and a sportier little red number with personalized plates that read “Celia C.” He recognized the name of Cody’s youngest sister. He was about to meet the remaining Carson sibling.

  He hesitated for a moment outside the closed door, wondering whether he should knock. But, since it was a business office, he finally decided to just turn the knob and go on in.

  A heavyset woman with flaming red hair and a purple knit pantsuit sat behind a computer in a minimally furnished reception area, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she entered numbers from a stack of paperwork on the desk beside her. She looked up when Seth entered. “May I help you?” she asked curiously, apparently surprised to see him.

  Seth would have bet this was the owner of the station wagon outside. “I’m here to see Rachel. Is she in?”

  The woman glanced at a closed door to her right. “Yes, she’s in. Is she expecting you, or should I ask if she has time to see you?”

  Seth bit the inside of his lip against a smile at her obvious reluctance to stop what she was doing in order to announce him. “I’ll just knock on the door.”

  She gave him a cheery smile. “Okay. I have to finish these load reports, anyway.” She turned back to her work.

  Seth tapped on the closed door, hearing muffled feminine voices through it. The voices stilled, and then Rachel called out, “Come in.”

  He saw the startled surprise that crossed her face when he opened the door and stepped through. She masked it quickly, replacing it with mild curiosity. “Seth,” she greeted him. “Has something happened with Holder?”

  At least she’d used his first name, he thought in satisfaction, remembering how she called him Mr. Fletcher whenever she was trying to keep him at a distance. “No, nothing’s happened,” he assured her. “I just wanted to see my new client’s offices.”