The Accidental Encore Page 11

  “I don’t know how,” Leah cried. “I don’t know what to say to her.”

  “Start with ‘good morning’ when you get up and ‘hello’ when you get home from school,” Allie said, thinking of all the ways she’d screwed up with Suzanne. “You said she’s been putting her stuff out. Ask her about it. ‘Where’d you get this?’ or ‘why is this special?’ If you don’t talk to her, you won’t ever find any common ground. And Leah, you’ve already got one giant piece of common ground—you both love your dad.”

  Leah sniffled and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “She keeps asking me about lacrosse and school and stuff.”

  “Do you answer?” Allie asked.

  “No.”

  “Your dad taught you better than that,” Craig said.

  “I know that.”

  Craig reached out a hand and lifted Leah’s chin where it had fallen to her chest. “I think you know what to say to her. I think you can start with an apology.”

  Allie scooted between Craig and the coffee table and crouched down so she and Leah were eye-to-eye. “Leah, I’m twenty-eight years old and I have a terrible relationship with both my dad and my stepmom. I never tried with either of them, and I’m telling you it doesn’t get any better or any easier by just ignoring the problem or trying to wish your stepmom away. I’m not going to sugar coat this for you. I’m going to tell you straight out. My mom is a cold woman who never wanted kids. The best chance I had for a normal mom was Suzanne, and I blew it because I was too jealous and too selfish to let her in. Don’t make the same mistake I did. Give Carolyn a chance. You have so much to gain and everything to lose if you don’t.”

  Leah grabbed onto Allie and hugged her with so much strength she almost pushed Allie over. Craig righted her with a hand on her shoulder and kept it there as Leah sobbed into Allie’s coat. Allie shushed her and ran her hand down Leah’s soft, dark hair. “Let it out, sweet girl,” she cooed as memories of her own tortured childhood surged through her pounding head.

  She wouldn’t have noticed the doorbell if it weren’t for Blackjack’s barking and the feel of Craig’s hand leaving her shoulder. Allie stood up and wiped the tears from Leah’s cheeks.

  “Leah?” Mark said from behind them.

  Allie’s throat tightened when Leah leapt into his arms and buried her head against his chest. The look of relief on his face at having his daughter back made Allie turn away. She’d never had anyone, not anyone, look at her with so much love in his eyes.

  “I’m sorry, daddy,” Leah sobbed. “I’m so sorry I worried you.”

  “Leah, you can’t ever leave the house without telling us first. Promise me you won’t ever do that again.”

  Leah nodded and looked over Mark’s shoulder to where Carolyn stood at the entrance to the den. Her arms were wrapped tightly under her chest, her fingers making indents into her sweater. “I’m sorry, Carolyn, for being disrespectful.”

  “Oh, honey. We were just so worried.”

  “I know, and I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

  Carolyn timidly crept to where Mark held Leah and enfolded both of them in her arms, settling her head against Leah’s back. Allie walked around the couch and into the foyer where Craig stood by the door. “May I use your restroom?” she whispered.

  He pointed with his head to a door off the adjacent hallway and she quickly disappeared inside before the dam of her tears broke and she made a fool of herself. She could only stare at her pale reflection in the mirror and watch the tears silently pool around the corners of her mouth. She closed the toilet, sat down on the lid, and buried her face in a wad of toilet paper, hoping to muffle her sobs. Like everything else in the house, the bare walls only magnified her sniffles.

  ***

  Craig didn’t wait for Allie to emerge from the bathroom, but dragged his weary butt into the kitchen and fished a bottle of red from the rack he’d built into the island. He uncorked the bottle and reached for the largest glass he could find.

  “Craig?” he heard her call a moment later.

  “In the kitchen.”

  She’d done the best she could to mask the tears he’d heard her shed. Her eyes were swollen and she’d chewed off her lipstick, but she gave him a dazzling smile and accepted the glass of wine as though she hadn’t just cried her eyes out in his bathroom.

  “It hasn’t had time to breathe,” he said.

  He tried not to flinch when he saw her hands tremble as she lifted the glass to her lips. “So,” she said after taking a large sip. “That went well.”

  He chuckled. “You think that went well?”

  Allie tossed a shoulder in the air after easing out of her coat. She wore a silky button down blouse that tied at her waist. The mustard color made her appear pale as a ghost, but seemed to illuminate the golden color of her eyes. “It could have been worse,” she said. “Did they go home?”

  “Yep.”

  “Are you still mad at me?”

  He poured himself a glass and contemplated his answer while taking a sip. He really wanted a beer, but this wasn’t half bad. “It’s hard to stay mad at you when you look like I could knock you over with a weak poke.”

  She snorted and sank onto a stool. “Sorry,” she said. “That was hard.”

  He worried she was going to start crying again and needed to lighten the mood. He said the first thing that popped into his mind. “So, what’s a music transposer, anyway?”

  “What?” She laughed at him, but her smile didn’t reach her eyes.

  “Music transposer. That’s what your profile says.”

  “You read my profile?”

  He shrugged and wished something else had popped into his head. “You’re in my age range. Did you read mine?”

  “Yes.”

  He wiggled his brows and leaned against the butcher block.

  “But only to see how you did on your paragraphs,” she said.

  “And what do you think?”

  She took a sip. To his great relief, her hands were steady. “I think you did okay.”

  “Okay?” he asked. “I sweated over those two paragraphs for hours. Days. And all you can say is that I did okay?”

  “What do you want me to say, Craig? That it was the best, most descriptive string of words I’ve ever read?”

  “I wouldn’t want you to lie.”

  “Then okay is the best you’re going to get.” She splayed her hands on the counter and tracked him with her eyes as he pulled bread and sandwich meat from the refrigerator. “I transpose music.”

  “I’m familiar with the -er suffix. What I want to know is what it is.”

  She huffed out an impatient breath. “I change musical scores for different instruments.”

  “I thought all instruments used the same music.”

  “Most do, but some instruments’ pitch is transposed. The saxophone, the French horn, the clarinet, and a couple others.”

  “So how do you figure out how to transpose their music? Do you play all of those?”

  “No. Notes are vibrations of air. Their frequency is measured in hertz.”

  “So, it’s math?” He slapped ham and roast beef on bread. He didn’t ask, but put mustard and mayonnaise on both sandwiches.

  “Yes. There are computer programs that transpose music, but they’re not always accurate. For complicated pieces, musicians pay me to do it for them.” She shrugged. “It helps pay the mortgage.”

  “Sounds complicated.”

  “Not really. I’ve got a math mind.”

  He slid the plated sandwich in front of her and retrieved a jar of pickles from the fridge. He slapped one on her plate without asking.

  She sat up. “You don’t have to feed me.”

  “Sure I do.” He tapped her almost empty glass with his finger. “You won’t be able to drive home without food in your stomach.”

  “You’re right about that,” she said and put a hand on her forehead. “Do you mind if I grab some water?”

  “Water�
��s free.” He poured what was left of her wine from her glass into his and took a bite of his sandwich. “So, how old were you when your parents divorced?”

  She twisted the cap off the bottle she’d retrieved from the fridge and took a dainty sip. “Eleven.”

  “Ahhh.”

  “Yeah,” she said. “It’s hitting a little too close for comfort.”

  “Eat up,” he said when she sat staring out the window.

  “Sorry.” She picked up the sandwich. “You probably have plans for tonight.”

  “Not tonight, other than a shower. I’ve got my first online date on Friday.”

  “Do you?” She smiled at him with a smudge of mustard at the corner of her mouth.

  She licked it off and he looked away. Allie eating and drinking wine in his kitchen, swollen eyes and an unpainted mouth aside, also fell under the category of a little too close for comfort. He’d been so pissed off at her before, when he thought she’d planted a seed in Leah’s mind. She had, but unlike his initial assumption, it wasn’t intentional and it certainly wasn’t malicious. “I’m going the traditional route. Drinks with an option for dinner.”

  “What’s her name?”

  “Jealous?” he asked.

  She gave him a haughty stare. “No, just curious.”

  “Emily,” he said. “Emily Brand.”

  “Huh.” She wiped her mouth with a napkin and took another sip of water. Food was bringing all the color back to her face. “I’ve got a date on Friday, too. We’re going to see the Gladiators play.”

  He set his wine down without taking a sip. “I thought you didn’t like hockey.”

  “I didn’t say I didn’t like it; I said I don’t know the game.”

  “Why hockey?”

  “I don’t know. He’s from up north, so I figure he’s a fan. Like I said before, it’s a good way to spend an evening together without having to fill up every second with chatter.”

  He’d never had any lapses in chatter with Allie and he hardly got along with anyone, but he wasn’t going to point out the obvious. He wasn’t dating her. “So what’s his name?”

  “Steve Kellman. He’s an architect.”

  Craig thought back to the bevy of architects he used to work with through Archer Construction. “Never heard of him.”

  “I don’t think he does residential,” she said and gave her pickle a sniff.

  “It’s kosher.” It shouldn’t have bothered him, her assuming he was nothing more than a handyman. He’d lost everything because of Archer Construction, but he’d busted his butt building that company up from a one-man shop to a three million dollar operation. “I used to work with commercial architects. I’m pretty familiar with most of them.”

  “Oh.” She sat her sandwich down and pushed her plate away.

  “You’re not going to eat the crust?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “You ate your pizza crust. Why wouldn’t you eat your sandwich crust?”

  “Why are you so observant with trivial things?” she asked. “I like pizza crust. It’s basically a breadstick. I don’t like sandwich crust.”

  “But it’s just bread.”

  “I don’t like it,” she insisted. “You didn’t eat your pizza crust and you ate your sandwich crust. What’s the difference?”

  “I save the pizza crust for Blackjack.” The dog sat up at the mention of his name. “The sandwich crust is part of the sandwich.”

  “Technically, so is the pizza crust.” She took both of their plates to the sink and rinsed them with water.

  “No,” he said. “It’s more like a handle for the pizza.”

  “You’re an odd man, Craig.”

  He carried their glasses to the sink and snuck a sniff of her hair. She smelled like pumpkin tonight.

  She turned off the water and pivoted so they were face-to-face. Their gazes locked and stayed locked as his pulse beat in his head. She looked relaxed and vulnerable and way too tempting. He deliberately took a step back when every instinct in his body pushed him to do the opposite. “Are we becoming friends, Craig?”

  It was an interesting question considering he felt light headed from being in such close contact. He was pretty sure a friend had never made him feel like he’d been punched in the gut with just a look. “I’ve never had a female friend.”

  “I’ve never had a male friend, at least one that was straight.” She placed her palm on his chest and he felt anything but friendly at the intimate contact. “I guess there’s a first time for everything.” She pulled her hand away and retrieved her coat from the chair. “Thank you for dinner.”

  “Don’t mention it. Thanks for…helping out with Leah.”

  “I’m glad you called. If she pulls another stunt, will you let me know?”

  “I don’t think she will after tonight, but yes, you’ll be the first to know.”

  He walked her to the door. “Go grab your shower, Craig, you don’t have to see me out.”

  “I wasn’t born in a barn, Allie. I think I can manage.”

  “Good luck on your date,” she said as she turned to face him on the porch. Her breath came out as tiny puffs of smoke in the chilly night.

  “You too.”

  Halfway down the walk, she turned around. “Do me a favor, would you? Call me and let me know how it goes.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m curious. I’d like to know what it feels like from the other side.”

  Right now, watching her saunter toward her car, it felt damn uncomfortable having thoughts of her swirling around his head. “Yeah,” he said. “I’ll let you know.”

  Chapter 17

  Craig wasn’t surprised when he saw his brother’s number on his cell phone. Mark was either going to thank him or give him a hard time about Leah.

  “Hey,” Craig said to break the ice. Mark couldn’t be mad at a man who sounded like he didn’t have a care in the world. “How’s it going?”

  Mark huffed out a breath. “That’s a loaded question. Look, I’m sorry about last night.”

  “What are you sorry for?”

  “Leah. I’m just not sure what to do with her lately.”

  “Talking to her would be my suggestion.” Craig measured the stain grade trim and marked his spot while cradling the phone between his ear and his shoulder.

  “I have. We have. We talked for a long time last night. She’s feeling displaced by Carolyn and Carolyn’s feeling in the way. I should have listened to you when you tried to tell me to have them spend time together sooner.”

  “Too late to worry about that now. How’d you all leave things?”

  “We’re all going to try and understand how the other feels. Respect is the number one priority in the house, and that should eliminate a lot of our troubles.”

  “Good. I don’t like the idea of Leah walking to my house at night.”

  “Me neither,” Mark said. “I don’t think she’ll pull another stunt like that again.”

  “I hope not.”

  “So,” Mark said with a distinctive change to his voice. “What’s going on with you and Allie?”

  Here we go, Craig thought. He should have known Mark would hone in on her like a drone missile. “Nothing.”

  “Nothing? The last person I expected to see at your house—at night—was Allie.”

  “She and Leah have a bond. I told you I called her when Leah got her period.”

  “Yeah, but…what was she doing there? And more importantly, how long did she stay after we left?”

  “I called her because Leah mentioned something Allie said to her. I thought Allie had given her the idea to run away and I was pissed. I was wrong, believe it or not, but I called Allie so she could clean up the mess I thought she made.”

  “And that’s it?”

  He thought of Allie last night, the feel of her hand on his chest. He only wished it was the first time he’d thought of her that day. “Of course that’s it. What are you getting at?”

  “She’s a be
autiful woman,” Mark prodded.

  “I’ve got eyes, Mark.”

  “So what are you waiting for?”

  “Why are you asking me that question? She’s been at your house twice a week for years, befriending you daughter, having intimate dinners.” It wasn’t until he’d said it out loud that he realized he was jealous.

  “I was dating Carolyn.”

  “She was 700 miles away and you weren’t exactly committed.”

  “I’ve never been one to juggle women, Craig. Besides, she’s Leah’s piano teacher.”

  “Exactly. And she’s not my type.”

  “Ha!” Mark barked into the phone. “She’s exactly your type. I thought…”

  “What?” Craig asked quickly, a little too quick to hide his interest.

  “I thought it might freak you out how much she looks like Julie.”

  Craig sagged against the counter. Allie looking like Julie? “How so?”

  “Come on, Craig. She’s blonde, beautiful, a little bit mysterious.”

  “Allie’s nothing like Julie. I didn’t even put that together until you mentioned it.”

  “And now?” Mark asked.

  “And now I have to get back to work. Some of us do that, Mark. Work for a living.”

  “Yeah, some of us do,” Mark said with a snicker. “You’re not one of them.”

  “You’ll be happy to know I’ve got a date tomorrow night.”

  “Really? With who?”

  “Her name’s Emily Brand. She’s a paralegal who likes dogs and sports.”

  “Why does it sound like you answered a personal ad?”

  “Get with the times, Mark. I met her online.”

  “You?” Mark sputtered. “You’re online dating?”

  “Yep. Allie helped me get set up with that, too.”

  “So all roads lead back to Allie.”

  “I’m hanging up now, Mark. I’ve got work to do.”

  “You coming to Leah’s game on Saturday?”