The Parent Trap

“Hi,” she said. “I’m Sarah Stewart. My daughter, Casey, and I live next door and we wanted to welcome you and your daughter to the neighborhood, to Serenity Bay.”

Jon’s heart sank, and not in an entirely good way. The real estate agent had mentioned that a widow lived next door. This was the widow? This expensively dressed and stunningly beautiful woman whose poise and self-control reminded him of Georgette.

“These are for you.” Sarah held out the plate.

“Thanks. I’m Jonathan Marshall. Jon.”

“We baked them,” the girl said. She looked to be about Kate’s age, but the similarity ended there. This girl’s blond hair was pulled back in a casual ponytail, and Kate wouldn’t be caught dead in faded jeans, high-top runners, and a red-and-white T-shirt with the letters L-O-V-E across the front. The O was a soccer ball.

He accepted the offering, backed away from the door, and called upstairs. “Kate? Come down and say hi to our neighbors.”

“Be there in a minute.”

He gave them what probably looked like an awkward smile. It sure felt awkward. “My daughter’s minutes tend to be a little on the long side. Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, well, okay.” Sarah cautiously stepped inside and glanced around. “I have to work this afternoon and you have your hands full here so we won’t stay, but we would like to meet your daughter.”

“Of course.” There was an awkward pause. She had beautiful gray-green eyes, and he wished he hadn’t noticed. “So...where do you work?”

“I own a clothing boutique downtown.”

He’d checked out the town before putting an offer on this house. Serenity Bay’s shopping district on Shoreline Boulevard consisted of three or four blocks of high-end shops, art galleries, bistros and coffeehouses, which hardly qualified as “downtown.” Her occupation explained the elegant outfit, though, and justified his wariness. Over the years his ex-wife had become more and more fixated on appearances, until finally his appearance in her life was no longer important.

Sarah’s daughter was a different matter. “You’re a soccer fan?” he asked, referring to her T-shirt.

The girl and her mother shared a knowing look and a quick grin, which was both puzzling and just a bit odd.

“I love soccer! I play on the girls’ team at school.”

“You do? Then I’ll be your coach.”

“Cool,” Casey said. “Me and the other girls on the team were wondering—”

Kate’s descent down the staircase ended the conversation. “Princess is hiding under my bed. I’ve been trying to get her to come out.”

She’d swapped the pink sneakers for black sandals that had three straps buckled around her ankles and open toes that showed off the black-and-white-striped pedicure she’d insisted she needed before being dragged away from civilization.

“Princess is our cat,” he said for no particular reason. “Kate, this is Sarah and her daughter, Casey. They live next door.”

“Hi.”

The two teens eyed each other self-consciously.

“Kate’s going into ninth grade,” he said to break the ice.

“Me, too.” Casey sounded a lot more eager than Kate looked. “I can show you around if you’d like, introduce you to some of my friends. I’ve lived here forever so I know everybody.”

Jon held his breath.

“Oh. Sure, that’d be great.”

To his relief, his daughter’s tone was considerably sweeter than it had been earlier. Was it genuine? Only time would tell, but at least for now she was being polite.

“It’s lovely to meet you both, but I’m afraid we have to go.” Sarah stepped out onto the porch and her daughter followed. “You’re welcome to drop by my store sometime,” she said, turning back to speak to Kate. “It’s called To the Nines. A shipment of jeans and tees came in yesterday, perfect for back to school. If you’re interested, that is.”

“Really? Thanks. I’ll check it out for sure.” Kate’s voice held more enthusiasm than he’d heard in weeks.

Jon indulged in an inward sigh as his daughter retreated upstairs and he watched his new neighbors cross their adjoining driveways. Sarah Stewart’s makeup and blond hair were flawless. Her beige linen jacket and skirt were the kind of classic that came with a hefty price tag. He hadn’t counted on having another woman in their lives who put way too much emphasis on appearances. Not that the woman next door was in their lives, and to be fair, he reminded himself, there were subtle differences. Georgette had never baked cookies, not even the kind sliced from a roll of store-bought cookie dough. His ex-wife’s stilettos had been her personal trademark, but Sarah Stewart’s simple off-white leather flats looked as though they might actually be comfortable.

And he had to admit that a fashion plate of a woman who was raising a soccer-playing tomboy daughter kind of intrigued him on some level. Yes, her appearance and her occupation represented things he didn’t much care for, but were those sensible shoes an indication that she had more substance than he gave her credit for? Time would tell.

CHAPTER TWO

SARAH’S PHONE LIT UP as she was writing up her final sale of the day. A discreet glance showed a text from her daughter, which she would read after she locked up. She’d had a productive afternoon, and that was a good thing since she’d frittered away most of the morning. She was ready for some mother-daughter time, but her customer didn’t need to know that.

“Thank you, Mrs. Bentley.” Sarah folded a brightly patterned silk scarf in pale pink tissue paper, admiring as she always did the delicate fabric as it slid between her fingers. She sealed the paper with a To the Nines label and slipped it into the shopping bag with the blouse and jacket her customer had purchased. “I’ll have our seamstress shorten the skirt as soon as she comes in next week and call you when it’s ready.”

“Thank you, dear. I want to wear this to my grandson’s christening in Vancouver next Sunday.”

“You’ll be the most elegant grandmother in town.” Eleanor Bentley had a husband with deep pockets, a hairdresser who kept the gray away and a wardrobe most women would die for. “How is the new baby?” she asked.

“Oh, he’s the cutest little fellow. I know everyone says that about their grandchildren, but he really is,” the woman said, beaming as she opened her black patent Louis Vuitton clutch and produced a photograph.

“He’s adorable.” He really was. Sarah made a point of getting to know her customers on a personal level, and Eleanor Bentley was one of her most devoted. Sarah would agree to pretty much anything to make sure she was also a satisfied customer. “He looks like his grandfather.”

The woman’s smile widened. “He does, doesn’t he? The Bentley men are a handsome bunch.”

Sarah had learned that Eleanor, while tiny in stature, had raised four sons who all had their father’s height and good looks. The youngest had recently passed the bar and was now practicing law with his three older brothers, as their father had before retiring with his wife to Serenity Bay.

In some ways, the elder Bentleys’ marriage reminded her of her parents’, minus the bank account, of course. Her mom and dad still lived in Ucluelet, where Sarah had grown up, in a house full of books and cats where her mother gardened and cooked organic food and her father tinkered with various inventions and engineering projects. No designer duds for them and no sign of retirement, either. They were good people and she loved them dearly—so did Casey—but there had been times growing up that she would have given anything to have a conventional family.

“Speaking of handsome...” Eleanor said. “I understand the new high school teacher moved in next door to you. Have you met him yet?”

Sarah’s face went warm as she stepped around the counter and handed the shopping bag to the Bentley family’s matriarch. “Just briefly.”

Handsome hardly did the man justice, but that was no reason for her to be blushing like a schoolgirl.

“I’ll see you next week, Mrs. Bentley. If you bring the jacket back with you, and shoes you’ll be wearing with this outfit, you can try everything on while the seamstress is here and she can make any little last-minute adjustments.”

“What a good idea. Thank you, dear.”

After Eleanor left the store, Sarah flipped the dead bolt in place and returned to the sales counter as her assistant Juliet came out of the back stockroom that doubled as Sarah’s office.

“The back door’s locked and I shut down the computer,” Juliet said. “And I unpacked the dresses that came in this afternoon. They’re on hangers and I’ve gone over them with the steamer, but they may still need a little touch-up on Monday morning.”

“Thank you so much. Before you leave, could you put this skirt in the alterations cupboard while I close up?” Sarah checked her watch, then remembered Casey’s text message. She read it while she tidied up the sales counter and slid some paperwork into her briefcase.

Got the last Twilight movie. Luv ya! PS: 1 ham n pineapple, 1 pepperoni!

Sarah smiled at the reminder as she replied to her daughter’s message.

Leaving now. See you in a half hour.

Today had been busier than usual, but thanks to Juliet’s help with the hordes of back-to-school shoppers, Sarah’s financial records were up to date and ready to go to the accountant, and she’d entered the new merchandise into the inventory database. Now she could go home, change into comfortable clothes, and settle in for movie-and-pizza night with Casey.

They’d started the tradition right after Sarah opened the store, when Casey was only seven years old, and she was grateful that her daughter was still enthusiastic about it. Yes, she’d raised a great kid, but outside of school, Casey still spent more time with her menagerie of animals or her nose in a book than with kids her own age. Would that change after she started high school? Would her daughter want to spend Saturday evenings with friends? Maybe even a boyfriend, perish the thought.

Sarah often reflected on her own childhood and teen years spent as an avid bookworm and a committed wallflower. She’d missed out on a lot and she wanted more for Casey, she really did, but for now these precious Saturday nights were theirs, and Sarah intended to cherish each and every minute of them.

* * *

JON PULLED INTO the parking lot next to Paolo’s Primo Pizzeria. He doubted a “primo” pizza could be found in an out-of-the-way place like Serenity Bay, but as the saying went, beggars couldn’t be choosers. If it were just him, he would have settled for whatever he could find in the boxes in the kitchen, and then power through till he had everything unpacked. Kate was “starving,” though, and the only thing harder to handle than a hormonal teenager was a hungry hormonal teenager. Besides, they could both use a break, and one night of cardboard pizza wouldn’t kill them.

Inside, the warm air scented with freshly baked crust, spicy tomato sauce and melted cheese almost had him buying the primo promise. Two of the half dozen booths were occupied, one by a family of four and the other by a pair of teenagers, maybe sixteen or seventeen, who were obviously on a date, judging by the way they were nestled together on the same side of the table.

“Be right with you,” a dark-haired woman said, clearing plates and napkins from a recently vacated table, her Italian accent in perfect keeping with the ambient aromas.

“No hurry.” He scanned the menu options on the wall behind the take-out counter. One large should be plenty for the two of them if they would do different toppings on each half. Kate, who three months ago had announced she was vegetarian, wanted a Neapolitan pizza because everything else was gross. He was debating over pancetta or prosciutto for his half of the pie when he was greeted by a soft female voice.

“Jonathan? Hi.” His new neighbor smiled up at him.

“Oh, Sarah. Hi.” She appeared as freshly starched as she had earlier, making him glad he’d pulled on a clean T-shirt before he’d left the house.

“Are you settling in?”

“Getting there. Still haven’t tackled the kitchen, though, and the gas for the barbecue hasn’t been turned on yet so we have to settle for takeout tonight.”

“You won’t be disappointed. Paolo’s pizzas are incredible. Best in the world, according to my daughter.”

“Sarah!” A middle-aged man in a white chef’s apron waved at her from the other side of the pass-through. “Your pizzas will be outta the oven in a coupla minutes.”

“Thanks, Paolo.” She set her handbag on the counter and pulled out her wallet. “I always call ahead,” she said. “Casey and I have pizza and watch a movie together every Saturday night.”

Something akin to envy washed over him. Saturday movie-and-pizza sounded like the kind of routine a family should have, although his never had.

The woman who’d been clearing tables approached the counter. “Sarah, good to see you. How’s your beautiful daughter? She is getting ready to go back to school, yes?”

“We’re all set, Maria. This is her first year of high school so she’s excited and a little nervous, too.”

“Tell her she has nothing to worry about. That girl of yours, she can do anything.”

“That’s sweet. Speaking of high school, I’d like to introduce my neighbor. This is Jonathan Marshall, the new teacher at Serenity Bay High. Jonathan’s daughter is the same age as Casey.”

Maria’s scrutiny was intense. “You live next door to our Sarah? This is good, yes?”

There was no mistaking the suggestive sparkle in those dark eyes, and he didn’t have to look at Sarah to know her self-consciousness matched his.

“Paolo!” Maria angled her head in the direction of the kitchen. “This is the new teacher.”

“Benvenuti to Serenity Bay! You like it here, no? And for you today we give you your first pizza on the house.”

“Oh, no,” Jon said, taken aback by the unexpected display of generosity. “That’s not necessary.”

“Si, si.” Maria wiped her hands on a towel. “Any pizza you like. You a teacher, you work hard. That’s good, yes?” It was more a statement than a question, and it was directed at Sarah.

This time he did glance down to see her reaction, and he liked what he saw.

“Just you and your daughter? You are not married, yes?” Maria’s question was directed at him, although she hadn’t taken her eyes off Sarah.

Paolo’s leisurely amble out of the kitchen broke the tension. “Here you go. One for you and one for Casey,” he said, setting two extra-large pizza boxes on the counter in front of Sarah.

“You’re each going to eat a whole pizza?” The question slipped out before Jon could stop it, but Sarah simply laughed.

“Not all in one sitting.” Sarah handed her credit card to Maria. “We’ll save a couple of pieces for breakfast tomorrow.”

“Pizza for breakfast?”

“You’ve never had cold pizza for breakfast?”

He shook his head.

“You don’t know what you’re missing.”

And he could live with that.

“Here’s an idea,” Maria said. “You and Casey, you’re having pizza. And you are taking pizza home for your daughter, yes?”

He could see where this was going. Judging by Sarah’s reluctant nod, so could she.

“You all should have dinner together.” Maria waggled her finger from one to the other. “And your girls, they get to know each other, be good friends, yes?”

He liked the idea more than he had any right to.

Sarah tilted her head. Her eyes, more green than gray in this light, were serious but the creases at their corners hinted at an uncertain smile. He’d initially thought she was standoffish, even a little uppity. Not so, he realized. More on the shy side, and because of that she was going to say no way, not in his wildest dreams was he insinuating himself into her evening. He shouldn’t care but he did, because an evening in the company of another adult suddenly had a lot of appeal.

“It’s not a bad idea,” she said, the smile now real. “For the girls, I mean. And it’ll give you and your daughter a break from unpacking.”

Okay. Not the reaction he expected, but she was right. Getting his daughter out of the house, having her spend time with someone her own age, would be good for her. “Sure,” he said. “Your place? Mine’s still full of boxes.”

Maria and Paolo stood shoulder to shoulder on the other side of counter, each sporting a mile-wide grin.

“Buona idea.” Maria sounded surprised, as if the good idea hadn’t even crossed her mind. She was a sly one, Jon thought. He had a hunch he was going to like this woman and her husband, and their food, if the warm aroma wafting from Sarah’s pizza boxes was anything to go by.

She tucked her credit card back into her wallet and picked up the boxes. “I’ll see you when your pizzas are ready. It’s a nice evening, so we can sit out on the deck.”

He watched her walk away, again noting the sensible flat shoes. This time he also noticed how she managed to walk like a woman wearing stilettos, and then he wished he hadn’t.

“You have decided what you want, yes?”

Jon swung around. “Ah. Yes. Two pizzas, please. Extra large.”

Paolo was back in the kitchen, throwing dough as he chuckled to himself, and Maria’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she jotted his order on a notepad. “Bella donna,” she said. “Una buona mamma.”

His Italian was far from fluent but he knew enough to know that the softly spoken phrases did not translate to Neapolitan or prosciutto with caramelized onions. And pizza was all he wanted. Just pizza.

* * *

SARAH PARKED IN the driveway between her place and her new neighbor’s. Jonathan’s place. Randomly stacked cardboard boxes, empty, she presumed, littered the porch, and a pair of bicycles leaned against the rail.

Maria and Paolo were about as subtle as a ton of bricks. While she’d stood there in the restaurant, with the pair of them grinning shamelessly and Jonathan waiting expectantly, the suggestion that they share a meal had seemed like a good one. Mostly she’d been thinking about her daughter. Sarah loved that Casey was content to march to the beat of her own drum, but a mother always wanted her daughter’s adolescence to be different from hers. Sarah had been the quiet kid, the wallflower. The first one everyone thought of when they needed help with homework or the gym decorated for a school dance. The last one considered when sleepovers were planned and party invitations sent out.

Sarah knew she couldn’t arrange “play dates” for a teenager, but it might be good for Casey to have someone close to her own age, a classmate, living next door. And maybe for Kate, too. The poor girl had looked lost and sullen, like a kid who could use a friend.

So far today, Eleanor Bentley and Maria Donatelli had not-so-subtly hinted about how nice it was for Sarah to have a handsome, eligible man living right next door. Silly romantics, both of them. Yes, Jonathan seemed to be a nice man, and yes, he was one of the most attractive she’d ever met. Did that mean she would toss common sense out the window, risk everything she’d worked so hard for? Absolutely not. She and Casey had a good life, a secure life, and she wouldn’t jeopardize that for anyone, no matter how dazzling his cool blue eyes might be.

Sarah let herself in the front door, set her handbag and keys on the hall table, and made her way to the kitchen with the pizza. Casey had set out plates, glasses and napkins on the island, but she was nowhere to be seen. Sarah switched the oven on low, shoved the pizzas inside to keep them warm, and took two more sets of dishes out of the cupboard.

She dashed upstairs and found Casey sprawled on her bed, earbuds in her ears and head bobbing to music as she scanned the screen of their iPad.

“What are you working on?” Sarah asked from the doorway.

Casey glanced at her and smiled.

“There are so many animals at the shelter right now. It’s crazy. I’m posting pictures of them on Facebook so everyone can see how adorable they are and maybe decide to adopt one of them.”

“That’s a great idea.” Which meant Sarah would see them, too, because one stipulation of her daughter’s being on Facebook was allowing her mom to have full access. A stipulation that Sarah took full advantage of, including checking the privacy settings periodically to make sure only her daughter’s friends had access to the things she posted. “Is there a picture of Petey?”

“No. I’m starting with the older animals because they’ll be harder to adopt.”

Putting up photos of the animals was a good idea, although Sarah knew exactly why Casey hadn’t included Petey’s picture. She wanted to adopt him. There was no time to go there right now, so Sarah changed the subject. “We’re having company for dinner tonight so I need to get changed and get back downstairs.”

Casey’s expression changed in an instant. “Company? We never have company.”

“Of course we do. Your grandparents come to visit twice a year.” One week at Christmastime and two weeks in early July.

“Grandparents aren’t company, they’re family.” Wary now, Casey swung off the bed and faced her. “Who’s coming for dinner?”

“The new neighbors, Jonathan and Kate. I ran into him at Paolo’s. He was picking up pizza, too. It seemed the neighborly thing to do since they’re not settled in yet.”

“Are they going to watch the movie, too?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Twilight might not be his thing, but you and Kate can watch it.”

Casey responded with an adamant head shake. “No. You and I watched the others together and I want us to watch this one, too. Besides, she might not have seen the first three, and you can’t watch them backward.”

It was impossible to believe there was a teenager on the planet who had missed those movies, but her daughter’s insistence on watching this one with her lightened Sarah’s heart.

CHAPTER THREE

THE INSIDE OF the car now smelled every bit as good as the pizzeria, making Jon’s mouth water and reminding him how many hours it had been since he’d last eaten. He pulled into the driveway next to Sarah’s car, grabbed the boxes and took the front steps two at a time. Now to break the news to Kate that they were having dinner next door. Would she react favorably? He hoped so. It’d been a long day and he wasn’t up for a fight, or even a disagreement.

He unlocked the front door and pushed it open. “Kate? I’m home.” He held his breath till he heard her response.

“Be right down, Dad!”

Encouraged by her pleasant tone, he set the pizzas on top of a stack of boxes still waiting to be unpacked. He hoped she wouldn’t make a fuss about going next door to eat, and he hoped she’d make an effort to get along with Sarah’s daughter, because he was looking forward to having some adult company.

She was smiling when she joined him at the bottom of the stairs. “Mom called,” she said.

Thank heaven for small miracles. “The two of you had a good talk?”

“Yeah, we did. She apologized again for not making it back to Vancouver this summer. She thinks maybe Thanksgiving or for sure Christmas.”

Georgette’s “for sure” was as good as a “maybe,” but this wasn’t the time to dwell on the negatives. “Who knows,” he said. “She might make it for both.”

Kate shrugged. “I doubt it. She said she’ll book rooms at the Hotel Vancouver and we can spend Christmas there. You, too.”

“Oh, that sounds...nice.” Not. He couldn’t imagine anything more excruciating than spending the holiday with Georgette and Xavier. Lucky for him, that was months away and plenty could change between now and then, Georgette’s mind being one of them.

“Right now we have a more immediate invitation. I ran into our neighbor—Sarah—at the pizza place and she invited us to have dinner over there. I told her we would. I hope that’s okay with you.”

She shrugged again. “Sure. Do we need to take anything?”

He picked up the pizza boxes and held the door for her. “Just these.”