The Super Mum

Angela was alone with David, nervous and excited as a kid on Christmas morning.

She had no regrets. They’d driven out to the community pond and had a blast skating. They’d moved as one. She’d been amazed how right it had felt to be with David. He’d kissed her in the gazebo, and then again in the car before the drive back to her house. They’d steamed up the windows until they couldn’t see out.

Not once had she asked herself what she was doing, because she knew. She was having fun. She was letting her attraction to David become more than a dream.

She was letting him in.

Dear Reader,

I’m a mom, so I understand my heroine’s need to be the Super Mom. As a woman, I think all women are blessed with the nurturing gene. But sometimes we want to take care of everyone else and we forget to take care of ourselves!

What I love about this series is that the women on Danbury Way take care of each other. As friends, they give each other reminders and advice on everything from their love lives to taking care of kids. My heroine, Angela, finds true love and answers to the problems with her son because she realizes she deserves to be happy, too—with a few gentle nudges from her sister and friends.

May we all be blessed with friends who encourage us to reach for our dreams.

All my best,

Karen Rose Smith

The Super Mum

Karen Rose Smith

www.millsandboon.co.uk

KAREN ROSE SMITH

An award-winning author, Karen Rose Smith has had over fifty romance novels published. Each book broadens her world and challenges her in a unique way. While writing The Super Mom, she recalled the friendships she’s experienced that have touched her the most. Some are lifelong. Some are recent. All have enriched her life. Readers can e-mail Karen through her Web site at www.karenrosesmith.com or write to her at P.O. Box 1545, Hanover, PA 17331.

To Lisa Smith—Thank you for your thoughtfulness

and support through a difficult time. May we always

find that ray of sunshine and feel its warmth.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Epilogue

Chapter One

She was a fraud.

Everyone in the neighborhood thought Angela Schumacher was a Super mom, which might have been true a couple of years ago. But now, handling two jobs, caring for Olivia, Anthony and Michael more or less on her own, she was frazzled and on the edge.

She parked in her driveway and leaped out of her van, just staring at the scene in front of her. Evening light was fading fast. Her neighbor and babysitter, Zooey, stood just outside Angela’s front door carrying Jack Lever’s toddler. Zooey’s hand was in a “stay” position to Olivia, Michael, and Jack’s daughter, Emily, as she called to someone around the corner of the house.

Concerned that her normally unflappable, beautiful neighbor seemed hassled, Angela rushed forward. Although her blond hair was cut to a chic chin-length bob, and she usually felt good about herself when she looked in the mirror, next to Zooey she felt like a shrimp at five foot four. She’d never understood why it had taken Jack Lever so long to fall in love with his beautiful, willowy nanny. But he finally had, and everyone on Danbury Way had cheered. Now they were engaged to be married.

“Jack, be careful on that ladder,” Zooey called around the corner of the house, her breath puffing white in the early December cold.

“What ladder?” Angela asked, astonished. What in the heck was going on here? Maybe a cat had climbed up onto the roof… “Why is Jack climbing a ladder?”

Shifting two-year-old Jack Jr. from one arm to the other, Zooey replied calmly, “It’s Anthony.”

The fact suddenly registered with Angela that Anthony wasn’t standing in the doorway with the other kids. Her heart raced. Her mouth went dry. Panic clamped her chest. “What about Anthony? What’s wrong? Why do you need a ladder? Is there a fire?”

Zooey gave her friend a hint of a smile. “No, no fire. Calm down. He’s locked in his room. We can’t get him to open the door. He and Olivia got into an argument. He took her rock collection, went into his room and locked everyone out.”

Seven-year-old Olivia came rushing to Angela now, and so did Michael. “Mummy, I hate him,” she cried, tears rolling down her cheeks. “He’s got my rocks.”

Olivia’s rock collection was her most precious possession. That’s obviously why Anthony had taken it. From the Super mom front, she was failing miserably with her oldest child. Anthony had been acting out in subtle ways for the past few months, ever since Jerome had missed his last two dates to see him.

Little Michael, whose fifth birthday seemed to give him permission to ask more questions than any other five-year-old in the world, gazed up at her with certainty. “You can make him open the door. That’s my room, too. He won’t let me in.”

“Jack just wanted to peek in the window to make sure he was okay,” Zooey assured her.

At that moment Jack rounded the house and smiled at Angela. “He’s as stubborn as any nine-year-old. He won’t look at me or talk to me. He totally ignored me when I rapped on the window. But he’s okay. He’s sitting on his bed with his earphones on, playing with his GameBoy.”

“I don’t know what to do with him,” Angela murmured. “I can’t make up for what Jerome won’t do.”

After she shooed the other kids into the house, Zooey bounced Jack Jr. a bit. “Maybe it’s time you look into the Big Brother program at the community center.” She glanced at Jack for support.

He shrugged. “You’d get a positive, male influence that way. On the other hand, you could get married again…” As usual Jack’s voice was full of mischief, and Angela knew he was just trying to make her smile. But right now, the idea of finding a husband ranked right up there with wanting to find a snake in her basement. She wasn’t looking for one, didn’t need one and would rather dismiss the whole scenario.

One thing she did know was that she had to take Anthony in hand. Up until now she’d been too lenient. She’d felt guilty because Jerome had left their Rosewood, New York, home without a backward glance. Disappointed he didn’t understand what gems he had in his kids, sorry that they didn’t feel his love, she’d overcompensated. That had to stop. Anthony had to understand reality, and she was going to explain it to him.

Turning to Zooey, she asked, “Can you stay for a few more minutes until I talk to Anthony?”

“No problem.”

As Jack took Jack Jr. from Zooey’s arms, he gave her a fast but resounding kiss. “Emily, are you coming with me?”

His daughter, the same age as Olivia, shook her head. “Olivia and I have stuff to talk about.”

Jack raised his brows at Angela to ask what she thought.

She could imagine what stuff the two girls had to chatter about. But they were great friends, and Angela didn’t mind Emily being around. “She can stay for supper if she’d like. I’m just going to make grilled cheese sandwiches and soup.”

Jack whispered to Zooey, “Maybe we can convince Jack Jr. to go to bed early.”

On a mission, Angela headed through the dining room to the kitchen, realizing how happy Zooey and Jack seemed. Planning their wedding for Valentine’s Day, they were the picture of what a couple was supposed to be. She didn’t believe she’d ever been that happy with Jerome.

They’d married because…

Because Angela had wanted a husband and a family. Her parents divorced when she was sixteen and her adopted sister, Megan, was fourteen. The break-up had hurt them both deeply. They’d turned to each other and were still best friends. Angela didn’t know what she was going to do when Megan got married and moved out of the garage apartment after New Year’s. Her sister had found love, too.

Maybe Angela had married Jerome because she’d wanted to believe in love…wanted to believe a man could stick better than her father had…wanted to believe in happy endings. But she’d learned the hard way that all men were alike. Well, maybe she was rethinking that a little because of the goings-on in the neighborhood. Megan and Greg seemed happy. Zooey and Jack couldn’t take their eyes off each other. Her neighbor Carly and her husband Bo were opposites but seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces. Neighbors Rebecca and Joe seemed content, too, and the buzz said they were going to get engaged any day.

Sometimes Angela felt as if she were operating in an alternate universe.

In the kitchen, Angela searched in the silverware drawer for a shish kebob skewer. Then she hurried upstairs, trying to figure out what to say to her oldest child.

At his door, she put the tip of the skewer in the small hole in the knob and popped the lock.

Anthony’s room had been messier than ever the past two months—another aspect of his acting out. Although Michael was untidy in his little-boy-getting-older way—socks on the floor, toys not put back on the red-and-blue shelves—Anthony’s messiness was different. It was deliberate. Candy bar wrappers lay strewn about. Half a banana sat rotting on his nightstand. There were clothes on the floor—his jeans and a shirt. His bedspread, patterned with soccer balls, baseballs and footballs lay sprawled over the footboard. She had a rule that the kids make their beds every day, and he’d been breaking it.

She had to take back control. She had to teach him he couldn’t act however he wanted, that life wasn’t always fair, that there were rules and boundaries.

When she approached the bed, he didn’t even look up. He was sprawled there, one leg crossed over the other, headphones on, his fingers pressing buttons on his GameBoy. Determined to get his attention, she simply went to him and removed the earphones from his head.

“Hey!”

“I don’t answer to hey. It’s Mom. And when I come into the room, or when anybody comes into the room, you look at them.”

His eyes went wide at her firm tone. Then he looked wary. He had Jerome’s brown eyes. The same jaw, too. But he was as blond as she was. Even at nine he was already getting tall. He’d be six feet before long.

She motioned to the bed beside him. “Can I sit? We have to talk.”

Again, that wary look and a half shrug.

“Things have to change around here. Especially your behavior.”

A defensive frown shaped his mouth and, remaining silent, he folded his arms over his chest.

“I know you’re upset because your dad canceled your last two outings. But you can’t behave badly because of it. We can talk about it anytime you want.”

“You’re never here.”

True she was at home a lot less than she used to be, but that couldn’t be helped right now. “I’m here as much as I can be. I have to work to keep this house, to buy your clothes, to buy food. I’m working more now because with Aunt Megan leaving and getting married, we’ll have more expenses. I’m looking for someone else to move in above the garage, but until I find that person, money’s going to be tight.”

His brows arched as if he’d never thought about all that.

“I don’t want you to worry about it. We’ll be okay. But that’s why I took the part-time job at Felice’s Nieces. I guess I should have explained all this to you before I did it. I forget that you’re growing up.”

When he lowered his eyes back to his GameBoy and didn’t respond, she remembered Zooey’s suggestion and plunged in. “There’s a Big Brother program at the community center, and I’m going to look into getting you an older buddy who can do things with you.”

“I want Dad to do things with me,” he grumbled.

“I know you do. But I can’t control what your dad does and neither can you. Instead of just being unhappy because he doesn’t come around, we have to do something about it.”

“I’m not going to hang out with some stranger!” Anthony exclaimed and rolled over on his side, turning his back to her. Angela sighed. Like everything else, this wasn’t going to be easy. She could bake a great apple pie, but her life was falling apart and she had to do something about it.

Felice’s Nieces, Rosewood’s upscale ’tween and teen shop, was always loud, colorful and usually busy. Angela’s full-time job as an office manager for a pediatric dentist was methodical and paperwork oriented. She actually enjoyed working here two nights a week, sometimes on Saturdays, and interacting with the kids. Besides that, she received a discount on her daughter’s clothes.

As she separated ringspun denim jeans from sand-blasted ones, she was aware of the plasma screen TV flickering with the latest DVD for the ’tween set. Surround sound blared from every direction.

Finished with the jeans, Angela moved toward a table laden with brightly colored sweaters. The kids picked at them and tossed them back down, and they constantly needed to be straightened. As she folded a lime one that Olivia might like for Christmas, the buzzer on the glass door sounded and she looked up.

Her heart beat faster as she examined the man who had just walked in. Tall, blond and broad-shouldered, he looked like every cheerleader’s dream. Square-jawed, his face too rugged to be called handsome, he looked totally out of place amidst giggling girls, tall displays of jewelry and carousel racks filled with the latest styles. She couldn’t quite gauge how old he was. Her age, maybe?

Reluctantly she returned her attention to the sweaters on the table, taking another peek at him as he went to the cashier’s desk and spoke to the manager. Those shoulders filled out the hunter-green sweater to perfection. She could only imagine the muscles there. His gray stone-washed jeans fit his backside even better. The cross trainers he wore were expensive, and she wondered if he’d come in to buy somebody a Christmas present.

Stop it, she scolded herself. As if you’d consider getting involved with anyone right now, let alone a hunk who’d be scared to death of three kids and a mortgage payment the size of the Eastern Seaboard.

Angela was stacking sweaters into a neat pile when a deep male voice made her jump.

“Are you Angela Schumacher?”

Spinning around, clutching a sweater to her chest, she looked up into the fascinating hazel eyes of the blond man who’d walked in a few minutes before.

Flustered, she had trouble finding her voice. Finally she managed to say, “I’m Angela.”

He extended his hand. “I’m David Moore. I’ve been selected to be Anthony’s Big Brother.”

“I see,” she replied inanely, not knowing what else to say. His hand was still extended and she slipped hers into it, immediately aware of the heat shooting up her arm, the increased rate of her pulse, the giddy feeling she hadn’t experienced since she was a teenager.

Composing herself, she pulled her hand away. “The community center said you’d give me a call before you stopped by the house.”

“When I called your house and explained who I was, your sitter told me you were working here tonight. Zooey, her name is.”

“Oh, Zooey’s my neighbor. She’s watching the kids for me while my sister’s on a business trip and…” She trailed off feeling foolish. “It’s complicated.”

“Life usually is.”

His smile curled her toes. What was wrong with her? Her ex-husband had taught her many lessons and she’d remembered them all. She wanted nothing to do with another relationship.

A little voice she didn’t recognize whispered, Who’s talking about a relationship? What about a torrid affair?

Feeling herself flush, Angela asked, “Do you live near here?” She still didn’t understand why he had just dropped in.

“No. But my store’s across the plaza—Moore’s Sporting Goods.”

She hadn’t made the connection. “That’s you?”

“That’s me. I coach high-school football on the side. That’s how I got involved with the mentoring program.”

His hazel eyes turned a bit greener, and Angela wondered how old he really was, how he’d come to own a sporting goods store and why he coached on the side. Too many questions. She didn’t care, did she? Well, she cared where Anthony’s well-being was at stake. She really didn’t know anything about this man…

As if he’d read her thoughts, he took a folded sheet of paper out of his back pocket, unfolded it and handed it to her. “Here are my stats with basic information and the names of parents of kids I’ve mentored. If you don’t like what you see there or you don’t get the information you want to hear from my references, you can choose another mentor. I know these days parents need to check out anyone who will be spending time with their kids.”

“Do you have children?”

“No.”

That’s all he said, but he wasn’t wearing a wedding ring. The absence of one didn’t mean anything, and besides, she shouldn’t even be looking.

“I thought I could spend some time with Anthony on Saturday.”

She’d have two days to check out his references. That should be enough time. “I work here in the morning, but afternoon would be okay. I have to tell you, though, my son doesn’t like the idea of a mentor or a Big Brother.”

“He might change his mind once we actually do some fun stuff. We’ll go easy and take it a little at a time.”

Her gaze fell to his lips and she felt that giddiness again. A little at a time. Is that the way he handled women, too? Shoot. Something must have triggered hormones she didn’t even know she had.

Someone nudged Angela’s elbow. “Ms. Schumacher? Does this go together?”

Angela looked down at Denise, a twelve-year-old who often came into the store without her mom.

“You’re busy,” David Moore remarked. “I don’t want to take up your time. “I’ll see you Saturday afternoon.”

“Saturday afternoon,” she repeated, reminding herself she needed help with Anthony, not a hot affair.

Then she laughed inwardly. Who could possibly have a hot affair with three kids around?

Angela shook her gloved hands, trying to bring some warmth back into them. Snow had fallen last night into this morning. Even though it was early December, the four inches that had fluttered down like fairy dust had collected and stayed. She knew she should probably wait to tack up the string of lights around her front door, but she had time right now, and that was something she didn’t often have. The sky was gray, as if snow could fall again at any minute, and the temperature hovered at freezing.

Angela concentrated on climbing the small ladder carefully and attaching nail-on clips that would hold icicle lights around the perimeter of the porch roof. Her two-story Colonial was gray-and-white brick. The breezeway attaching the garage to the house sported white siding with gray shutters. She loved the house and it suited her needs perfectly. After Jerome left, she’d used her settlement to turn the space above the garage into an apartment for Megan. The arrangement had worked well for both of them. But at the end of the month Megan would be moving out, and Angela would have to cover the entire mortgage herself, as well as the utilities, until she found a renter. The problem was she couldn’t let just anyone move in. It had to be someone she could trust around her kids.

The purr of a vehicle’s engine along Danbury Way slowed. Angela didn’t pay much attention. There were nine houses in the cul-de-sac; somebody was always coming and going. However, the vehicle pulled into her driveway. When she heard the slam of the door, she finished hammering in a clip then turned to look.

She almost lost her balance. David Moore was walking toward her, and she realized she was surprised. She’d half expected him not to show up, even though his references had said he was reliable. According to them, he’d kept all his appointments with their kids. But in Angela’s experience men usually bowed out of important events, didn’t stick around or keep vows.

“That doesn’t look too steady,” David noticed, as he motioned to the rickety ladder.

“I only have a few more clips left, then I’ll be finished.”

“It might be easier for someone taller to do it. I don’t have to reach as high. Come on, let me help you down.”

He was so tall, maybe six-two. From up here she could see his hair was a mixture of brown and blond. He seemed to have a tan that could be year-round, and she guessed the sun streaked his hair, whether he was skiing or swimming. There was no doubt he was athletic.

When he offered her his arm, covered by the red down jacket, she took hold of it, noticing how strong it was. At five-four and 105 pounds, she felt fragile as she stepped down and stood before him.

“I didn’t get a call from the community center saying you didn’t want me to come. You checked the references?”

“Yes. Everybody gave you glowing recommendations.”

“I enjoy being with the kids and I hope they enjoy being with me. That’s what matters.”

Whatever David Moore had been or was now, his ego didn’t seem to be as big as her house.

David took the hammer from her hand and went up the first step of the ladder. “Clips?” he asked.

Taking a few from her pocket, she handed them to him. In less time than it would have taken her, he had the lights fastened along the edge of the porch roof.

Facing her again, he asked, “Is Anthony around?”

“He’s up in his room, sulking. I told him you might come by. He wants no part of a Big Brother. So he says.”

Whenever she looked into David Moore’s eyes, she felt…stunned in some way. From the stat sheet he’d given her, she had seen he was twenty-eight, three years younger than she was. She’d never entertained the idea of being attracted to a younger man. Even before Jerome, she’d seemed to be attracted to men older than she was. But there was something about David that was so…breath catching.

“Since he’s not in favor of this idea, maybe we should go at it sideways,” David suggested.

“Sideways?”

“Kids are taking advantage of the first snow and tubing down the hill near there servoir. I saw them when I drove in.”

She understood what he meant. “Anthony has a sled.”

“The social worker who works with the community center said Anthony has a sister who’s seven and a brother who’s five. Do you think they’d like to go, too? If we made this a group outing, maybe Anthony would get used to me.”

“You want me to go along?”

“Wouldn’t you feel better about me spending time with Anthony if you were around?”

This man was perceptive. “Actually, I would. I didn’t like the idea of you just taking him away somewhere. Not yet, anyway.”

“Then sledding it is. Hopefully I can ease into a friendship without a lot of pressure on him to accept me.”

“I could make cocoa to take along, and I baked a batch of cookies when I got home. We can take those, too.” She didn’t have the reputation of being Super mom for nothing.

“A woman who actually bakes!” he commented with a grin. “You’re a lost breed.”

She laughed, a bit self-consciously. “I like to cook and experiment with recipes. Especially desserts.”

His gaze slid over her fitted green wool jacket and black leggings. “You mustn’t eat them.”

She blushed, feeling foolish. “I eat my share. I’m just so busy running from one job to another and taking care of the kids, I must burn it off.” She began to fold the ladder.

“I can get that. Does it go in the garage?”

She nodded. “You can come into the house and go through the breezeway off the kitchen. I’ll round up the kids and tell them to get ready.”