A Ready-Made Family

“Get paper plates,” Lia said matter-of-factly.

A roundly pregnant woman with a heaped cart gave Lia a wry look as she wheeled by. “Ah, the joys of motherhood. I can’t wait.”

“Your first?”

“Yes.” The woman rubbed her belly, her face serene. “Due in a few more months.”

Lia felt a pang. She remembered touching her ex’s hand over her belly that way, with Samantha, when they were young and still in love. “Good luck,” she said, moving on.

The woman looked past her shoulder. She was tall and queenly, with a burnished brunette bob and a wide smile. “You’re new in town.”

Lia paused. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only in Alouette. I’ve lived here for just about a year now and already I’m on a first-name basis with the entire population.” She added chummily, “And you have to wave at them every time your cars pass or they’ll think you’re mad.”

“Then you’d know—” Lia broke off. She had to remember not to be forthcoming.

The woman looked curious, but she covered the awkward silence by introducing herself. “I’m Claire Saari.”

“Lia Howard. We’re not…uh, I’m not sure, but—” She took control of her stumbling tongue. “What I’m trying to say is that we may be only visiting overnight. I haven’t decided.”

“Where are you staying?” When Lia hesitated to answer, Claire laughed. “Sorry. I could blame small-town nosiness, but really it’s that there aren’t many accommodations in town and I run one of them.” She produced a card from her purse. “Bay House, a bed-and-breakfast. June is early in the season yet, so I can get you a room if you’re looking.”

Lia studied the card, which was embossed with a line drawing of a Victorian mansion perched on a cliff-side. Too ritzy by far. “Must be a nice place.”

Claire lowered her voice. “I’ll give you a discount.”

“Thanks. I’ll, uh, keep that in mind.”

Claire glanced at the food in Lia’s cart. “Your only other local choice may not be viable, but you might prefer it if they’re open. Maxine’s Cottages.” She pointed. “Thataway—on Blackbear Road.”

“I know it.”

“Oh. You’ve been there already? With most of the family away, I wasn’t sure if the cottages—” Claire stopped and looked at Lia with dawning knowledge. “Wait a minute. You’re Rose’s friend from below the bridge, aren’t you? I remember she mentioned a Lia who couldn’t be at the wedding and so she had Tess as her maid of honor instead.”

“This really is a small town,” Lia said with some dread. What had possessed her to believe that she would be able to keep her secrets here? Except that Rose had managed for a very long time—until the man she’d wound up marrying had persuaded her that she could come clean.

“Yes.” Claire had laughing eyes. “We’re terribly small and gossipy. But we don’t hold a grudge if you tell us to butt out when we get too intrusive. Like me now.” She started to wheel her cart away, then stopped again. “Call me if you need anything, all right?”

“I had car trouble,” Lia blurted. It was good to have an honest excuse. “That’s why we missed the wedding. And now we’re here and Rose is gone.”

Claire made a sympathetic tsking sound. “You have to stick around until she comes back. I’m sure she’d want to see you.”

“I’d like to, but…”

“Rose’s brother should be at the cottages. I heard he’s planning to renovate them and reopen.”

“We met him already, the kids and I.”

“Of course.” Claire nodded at the groceries in the basket. “Then you are staying? Rose will be so pleased. She’s not one to gush, but I could tell she’d really hoped to have you at the wedding.”

“We’d been out of touch for a while.” Lia was dismayed that she’d been thinking mostly of herself and how Rose could help her out of a dire situation.

But that had been their pattern as friends, since Rose had always been so cussedly independent, even taciturn, about her own desires. Lia was still having a hard time wrapping her head around the idea of the gruff woman she’d known marrying the town’s widowed basketball coach and making a family that included his daughter and the teenage son Rose had given up for adoption when she was young.

“A few years apart doesn’t matter between friends,” said Claire. She tipped her head. “What did you think of Jake?”

Lia gulped down the thickness that formed in her throat at every thought of him. “He’s a lot like Rose.”

“The old Rose.” Claire’s eyes narrowed slightly as she considered Lia. “Maybe the new Rose, too.”

What did that mean? Lia didn’t want to ask because she suspected the observation involved her and the kids. “I don’t know the new Rose.”

“She’s much like the old one except she smiles more often and even carries on a conversation. She has a great rapport with Lucy, her new stepdaughter.”

“Uh-huh. She was always good with my kids. I have three.” Lia lifted her head to the sound of the trio squabbling in the next aisle of the small grocery store. She gave a wry smile. “That’s them. I’d better go.”

“Tell Jake I said hi.”

“Sure.” Lia made a hurried wave and wheeled away, her face growing warm as she puzzled over the idea of how Jake might be like the newly married, newly mothered Rose. The likeliest explanation was too absurd to hold in her head. She shook it loose. Crazy. Although she barely knew the man, she was certain that Jake was not the family type.

Pretty certain.

CHAPTER THREE

TWENTY MINUTES LATER , Lia poured a sixty-four-ounce can of tomato juice over Jake’s head. The thick red waterfall coated his hair and face, then streamed in slimy globules over his shoulders and chest. He was stoic, not making a sound as she shook the can and the last droplets landed all over his face.

“Cool,” Howie said. “It looks like blood. Dump some on me.”

“Ugh.” Lia cranked open another can.

Jake used a washcloth to smear the juice over his skin. He and Howie sat in a big iron claw-foot tub. Howie had insisted on the communal bath, which was unusual because he’d always been a serious little guy, private about his personal business from an early age. Lia had expected Jake to refuse or at least hesitate, but he’d merely shrugged and climbed into the tub in his boxers. It was the same with the grocery receipt and remaining cash that she’d carefully laid out on the kitchen table so he could see she’d accounted for every penny. He’d barely spared a glance. Jake certainly wasn’t a fussy man.

Not like Larry.

“Sauce me,” Howie said.

“Seinfeld,” Jake said. “The entity.”

Howie pumped a fist, making a splash in the pink water. “Yes!”

“What did I miss?” Lia dumped juice over Howie’s head. He shrieked and sputtered with delight. She smiled to hear it, and her lungs expanded, taking in a deeper breath than she’d known for months, even years.

Jake leaned back in the tub. “Don’t you ever watch Seinfeld reruns?”

“Not really.”

“See, there was this episode with a stink in the car, called ‘the entity,’” Howie said, forgetting to breathe he was so excited.

“The stink clung to everything it touched,” Jake added.

“So Elaine, her hair smelled, and she had to get a tomato-juice shampoo, and she said—”

“Sauce me,” Jake and Howie chorused. They looked at Lia, waiting for a laugh.

“I see.” She shook the empty can. “But this is juice, not sauce.”

“Mom.”

“Same thing.” Jake shook his head at Howie. “She doesn’t get it.”

Howie shook his head at Lia. “You don’t get it, Mom.”

“I guess not.” She caught Jake’s eye and lifted an eyebrow. “Seeing as you’re the man with so much stinkin’ entity experience, how fast does this remedy work?”

Jake sniffed himself. “We stay in as long as it takes.”

Howie leaned forward to get a whiff. “I smell tomato juice.”

Lia took a pitcher of water and poured it over her son’s sandy-colored head. “You’re going to have pink hair.”

Howie wasn’t sure how to take that news. “Jake, too?”

“His hair is dark. The tomato won’t stain as much.”

Jake passed her a bottle of shampoo. Lia snapped it open and squeezed out a dollop. She began massaging the lather into Howie’s hair and scalp, but he pushed her away. “I can do it.”

“Want to wash mine?” Jake’s question seemed serious—until Lia detected the smile in the laugh lines carved around his eyes. He had a very masculine face—strong bones, blunt features, a firm jaw bristling with a five-o’clock shadow. His dark hair was peppered with gray.

“I’m sure you’re capable.” She collected the cans and can opener. “I’ll leave you two to finish up. Howie, rinse off thoroughly. I don’t want to find sticky tomato juice behind your ears.”

Jake saluted. “We’ll proceed accordingly and present ourselves for inspection, ma’am. Right, Howie?”

“Yes, sir.” Howie saluted with a sudsy hand.

Lia smiled at them. “Here are your glasses, Howie.” She placed the spectacles on the surround of a chipped white sink of fifties vintage and caught sight of herself in the mirrored medicine cabinet. Her hair was as fuzzy as a played-out Barbie doll’s. The touch of lipstick and mascara she’d applied that morning was long gone. She looked bone-tired and at least ten years older than thirty-two.

She turned her face aside. Some days she felt that old. But not right now. Being around Jake was rejuvenating. He put out a lot of rugged male energy. Her spirits perked up and her body responded whether or not she wanted it to. Even though she was usually not focused on that stuff, him being half-naked most of the time was mighty distracting.

The girls were hovering outside the door to the bathroom. “When can we leave?” Sam asked.

Kristen tugged on Lia’s hand and said plaintively, “I’m hungry.”

Lia mouthed, “Quiet,” and hustled both of them toward the kitchen. The stone house was small—two bedrooms, one bath, with a fairly roomy kitchen that opened onto an L-shaped dining and living room area. Though neat as a pin, the kitchen showed the wear and tear of time on the scuffed linoleum, ancient fixtures and stained ceramic sink. A pair of faded print curtains hung in the window that overlooked the new garden and the stand of evergreens that crested the riverbank. Altogether, it was a homely but homey place. Lia wished she could curl into a fetal position on the sagging plaid couch and sleep for the next twenty-four hours.

The shower was running. Jake shouldn’t have been able to overhear, but Lia spoke quickly in a low voice nevertheless. “Samantha, we will go as soon as we can.” Even though I don’t know where we’re going. “Krissy, baby…” She sank onto her heels and gave her youngest a quick hug. “Dinner’s coming. Eat a few animal crackers to tide you over.”

The box of cookies hung from a string wound around Kristen’s finger. Her stuffed rabbit, Cuddlebunny, was clutched in the other hand. “They’re gone.” She was on the verge of tears, a sure sign that she was overtired. “Sam ate ’em all.”

“I did not.”

“Did, too! I said she could have one of the elephants and she taked a big handful.”

“Girls, shhh. It’s okay.” Lia pinched between her eyes. “I won’t let you starve.” She looked at Jake’s cash on the table and thought of the food he’d placed just so in the almost bare cupboards. At the store, she’d counted out her remaining coins to pay for the animal crackers. There was still her credit card, but they could be tracked through that. She didn’t want to use it unless she had no other choice.

One look at Kristen’s welling eyes said that point may have been reached. Lia’s head drooped. She put a hand on the floor to steady herself. Running away from home in the Grudge with less than four hundred dollars in cash had been a foolish decision but necessary. Absolutely necessary.

Except where did they go now?

“Help yourselves,” Jake said from the hallway.

Lia pulled herself together and stood on shaky legs. Weak from hunger, she told herself. Not just weak.

To Jake, she said, “I’m sorry. You know children. Or maybe you don’t. They get weepy when they’re hungry and I—” She let out a choked-off laugh. She was feeling kind of weepy and hopeless herself.

Even though he spoke easily, Jake’s grip tightened on the towel he’d draped around his shoulders. “No problem. I’ll get dressed and we’ll make dinner.”

Lia opened her mouth but didn’t speak. She was in no position to refuse. “You’re being very kind, considering how we barged in on you.” Their eyes met and she cringed inside, reading his expression as pity. She didn’t want pity. She wanted respect. Independence.

But first, dinner. “Thank you.”

After a nudge, Kristen and Sam chimed in. “Thank you, Mr. Robbin.”

He brushed off the gratitude in his abrupt way. So much like Rose. “All of you—call me Jake,” he said before disappearing into one of the bedrooms.

“I NOTICE YOUR MOTHER isn’t here,” Lia commented in the careful tones of a guest bent on making polite conversation. “I know Rose has been caring for her for the past few years.”

Jake rolled a beer bottle between his palms. He was sprawled in one of the Adirondack chairs they kept around for the cottage guests—when they had any. The grill smoked nearby as the charcoal cooled. He’d given Lia a choice of hamburgers or fresh-caught fish. She’d chosen the fish, to her offspring’s displeasure. They’d been polite about eating at least some of it and had filled up on corn on the cob and the biscuits Lia had produced after scouting his kitchen for flour and baking powder.

Jake met her inquiring eyes. “Maxine…uh, my mother is in the hospital.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Nothing too serious, I hope.”

“She got overwrought and her emphysema worsened.”

“Too much wedding excitement?”

“In a way. More a case of the wedding demanding too much of my sister’s attention. If you knew our mother, you’d understand.” While no one in their household had ruled the roost but Black Jack, his mother had become passive-aggressive to get her way. Particularly with Rose.

Jake glanced at Lia. “Or do you know? I forget that Rose might’ve confided in you about the history of our family.”

“She told me some of it. But not everything. Not even close.”

“That sounds like Rose.”

After a minute of silence, Lia cleared her throat. “Will your mother be home soon?”

“Not right away. She’s being moved to a care facility. They want to monitor her for a while longer. Of course, she’s putting up a fuss, but making her stay was the only way for the newlyweds to get a honeymoon. If she was here, she’d have insisted that Rose stick around to look after her.” Jake was bemused by his loose tongue. After the goings-on of the wedding, he’d been looking forward to solitude. But having Lia and her kids around wasn’t so bad. “I was never much good at that sort of thing—caretaking. No patience.”

“You were great with Howie.”

“I’ve worked at staying calm under pressure.”

“In the Army, huh.” She did a marching-in-place gesture that made him smile. “All that discipline.”

He nodded.

“Well,” Lia said after a minute, searching for another topic when he would have been fine to sit with her in silence, “family illness hasn’t been an issue for me. My parents are young yet, in their midfifties.” She looked down and picked at a fingernail. “We’re not close.”

“How come?” he asked after a beat. Talking like this made him slightly uncomfortable. He didn’t believe in revealing your feelings to passing strangers—or even lingering strangers. Hell, he didn’t even talk to his own brother. He’d tried to stay in touch with Gary after the prison sentence, but there was too much anger and resentment there. Jake and Lia had found ways to straighten themselves out. Gary was a casualty.

“They didn’t approve of me marrying so young.” Lia laughed a little to cover the obvious pain. “Not that they would have approved of me having a baby out of wedlock, either.”

“I thought that in these cases, once the grandchild arrives, the grandparents come around.”

“You’d think so.” She sighed. “I mean, yes, they have made an effort with their grandkids. We visit back and forth a few times a year. But they never quite let me forget what a disappointment I’ve been, including the divorce.”

There was another, longer silence. “Rose—a newlywed,” Lia said suddenly with a fond smile. He could tell she was deliberately lightening the mood. “Incredible.”

“Evan seems like a good guy.”

“He’d better be.”

Jake liked Lia’s fierce loyalty. He’d felt that way about his battalion. Good guys, most of them, and excellent soldiers. With his mother and sister, the family ties were tangled up in turmoil and guilt. He hadn’t been able to protect them the way he’d have liked to. But then, that way would have likely resulted in his own prison sentence. Back when they’d needed him the most, the only solutions he’d known involved hot temper and flying fists.

Black Jack’s legacy. Like father, like son.

Jake slapped a mosquito that had landed on his arm. He wiped away the bloody smear and lifted the beer, tipping it toward Lia. “You’re sure you don’t want one?”

“Not tonight. I’m too tired. A beer would put me right to sleep.” She looked at the sun slipping past the tops of the looming evergreens. “We should be going before it gets dark,” she said, but didn’t move.

“Where to?”

“Um…” Her lids lowered. “I met a woman at the grocery store. Claire. She gave me her card, said we could get a room at her bed-and-breakfast.”

“Free?”

“Well, no, I don’t suppose so.” Lia’s face crumpled. She looked miserable whenever the question of money came up. He assumed she had very little, maybe none given that she’d balked over the price of tomato juice, but apparently pride wouldn’t let her admit it.

He could understand that. Pride—and hurt pride—had caused him a lot of grief back in the day.

“You might as well stay here,” he said. His voice came out raspy and gruff, making the offer less than inviting even though he didn’t mean it that way.

Lia gazed across the property, taking in the small cottages hidden among the trees. Birds twittered in the gap before she spoke again. “I don’t want to disrupt your business.”

He snorted. “What business?”

“There are no guests?”

“We’ve got a few diehards scheduled for later in the season. I’m planning to have the place fixed up some by then.” He tried to soften his voice. “I can give you one of the cottages for as long as you need it. No problem.”

Lia closed her eyes and pressed her lips together, taking a breath through her nose. “We’d—I’d be so grateful.”

“I don’t need gratitude for doing what Rose would want.” Jake figured he owed his sister, not Lia. He drained the bottle and set it on the ground beside his chair, then resettled himself, stretching out full length with his arms folded behind his head. “Your car shouldn’t be on the road anyway. I took a look under the hood while you were at the store. You’ve got bad brakes. The struts need replacing. Front tires are bald, too.”

Lia’s face got that pale, drained look again. “That sounds expensive. I’m not sure the Grudge is worth that much repair. But I need a car.” She glanced his way. “Are you a mechanic?”

“Not as a profession. But I can do the work.”

“I couldn’t ask you to.”

“You didn’t.” He eyed her. How could one small woman be so uptight and wrung-out at the same time? He’d seen from the start that there was something off about her arrival. Through dinner, she’d hushed the kids whenever they’d mentioned their previous life, which had only called his attention to her evasiveness.

Jake wasn’t one to wait for explanations. But he sensed that Lia would bolt if he got too curious. This once, he could bide his time.

“What I meant was that I can’t pay you,” she said.

“I didn’t ask to be paid. We can figure something out. Do you have a job to get back to?”

“No.” She was studying her lap again. “I quit my job. I was actually hoping to find work up here.”

“In Alouette?” That explained the car stuffed with luggage and boxes. He’d figured them for heavy travelers.

“Maybe.” She shot him an arch glance. “Don’t worry. We won’t count on your generosity forever. Just until I get a paycheck and can find a place to rent.”

“It’s not so easy getting a job in this town. What do you do?”

“I’ll do anything.” She moved restlessly. “I don’t have specialized training or a degree. I managed only a few college courses after Sam was born, before Lar—” She cut herself off again. “Since the divorce, I’ve worked at several jobs. Supermarket checker, office clerk for a used-car dealer, waitress. I’ll find something.”

“Sure.”

“You sound skeptical.”

“It’s a small town. I can ask around for you, but I’ve been out of touch for too long. Been back only a few weeks.”

“Thanks, but that’s not necessary,” she said. “I’ll go out tomorrow, first thing. There has to be some kind of job available for an untrained single mom.” She smiled bravely. Tension radiated off her.

He leaned forward. “No rush.”

“Maybe not to you, but I’m in a fix.”

“You said you’re divorced?”

“Yeah. For about three years now officially, but we were separated before that. I was pregnant with Kristen when we moved out of our house and next door to Rose. She was a good friend to me while I had the baby and went through the divorce mess. My ex fought it, so, uh, the process took a while.”

He sensed a world of complication in the brief explanation. He had some vague memory of getting the rare letter from his sister that mentioned Lia, but he hadn’t paid close attention to the details. Now he wished he had. Something about her engaged his interest more than other women. Maybe the fortitude he sensed beneath her exhaustion. If he ever got involved again, it would be with a woman who had staying power.

He continued to probe despite his usual disinterest in chitchat. “Don’t the wife and kids usually get the house?”

Lia winced. “Not always.”

“He was a son of a bitch, huh?”

“To put it mildly.” Lia glanced over her shoulder. “We’re well rid of him.”

Jake’s radar went ping. The look in her eyes…was it hunted, not haunted?

Stay out of it, man. “I’m sure you’ll be okay from now on,” he said, feeling as if he was mouthing a useless platitude.

She clutched her arms tight and shook her head.

“Yes, you will.” He’d see to it.

Jake bit back a groan. His resistance was low for damsels in distress. Always had been, even at age nine, when he’d attacked his own dad for yelling at his mother. He’d earned a cuffing for that, one that had taken out a couple of loose baby teeth.

“Right,” Lia said, worn out but taking hold. “Of course. We’ll be fine.” She cocked her head, listening to the sound of the TV inside the house, where her two youngest were ensconced on the couch. Behind them, Sam was hunkered down in the car, attached to her iPod, reclining in the backseat with her feet dangling out the window.

“We’ll be fine,” Lia repeated, trying to convince herself.

Jake got to his feet before he found himself offering not only a house but his left arm, too, if it’d take the trouble from her eyes. “We should check out the cottage. It might need freshening up.” Plus a bug bomb, mousetraps and a scrub brush.

He sniffed his hand, then held it out to Lia to help her up from the low-slung chair. She complied readily, though her small laugh sounded uncomfortable and she let go as soon as she was on her feet.

“Do I still smell of skunk?” he asked. He’d been cutting onions and squeezing lemons for the fish.

She grinned. “You smell like an especially pungent spaghetti sauce.”

“Great.” He pointed to the first cottage to the west of the main house. “Here’s the one you want. It’s the biggest.” As they walked by the car, Sam’s blue-tipped head popped up. She’d probably snap if he told her she looked like a blue jay.

Her glare bored holes into Jake’s skull, but he’d been glowered at by a two-star general with a Napoleon complex and hadn’t backed down. One sullen teenager could be conquered. Not that he had any intentions of getting involved in their lives beyond today.