Claire Knows Best Page 9

  “Your daughter? Since when did she stop being our daughter and start being just yours, Claire? What, do you just make up the rules that suit you as you go along?” His face is red with anger and his blue eyes are flashing.

  I fold my arms across my chest and plant my feet hip-distance apart. “Argue all you want. But the fact is, Ari has been in my primary custody since you left.” I gather in a sharp breath for control. I refuse to turn this into a “woman scorned” conversation. “For the last time, my child will not be volunteering down there. Unless you want to volunteer with her to keep her safe.”

  His face is still red, and I notice beads of sweat on his brow. “You know I work sixty hours a week already. When do you suppose I should do that?”

  Darcy lays her hand on his arm and her soft voice lifts into the air between us. “Careful of your blood pressure, sweetheart.”

  That explains the red face and sweating forehead. But Rick is only thirty-eight years old. He’s not in that bad of shape. “Blood pressure? What’s wrong with it?”

  “It’s just a little high, that’s all,” he says, totally blowing me off. “My doctor just wants me to lose twenty pounds and exercise. Now back to Ari.”

  I was afraid he was going to say that. How am I supposed to argue with a man this close to a stroke? “All right. One time. She can volunteer once just to make your point. I’ll go with her, since you’re too busy.” And obviously don’t need the added stress.

  “I have another idea,” he says.

  Miffed that I gave in against my better judgment only to have him change his mind, I give an impatient huff. “What idea?”

  “I volunteer my services at Hope House once a month. What if I have Ari come with me next time? It’s the day after tomorrow.”

  “What good is that as a punishment?”

  His eyebrow goes up, and he looks through hooded eyes. “What do you think, Claire?” Rick is an ob-gyn. And reading his suggestion from that perspective I see his meaning all too clearly. Hope House is a multi-church-funded house for unwed teen mothers. They’re allowed to stay for the duration of their pregnancy and for six months thereafter if they’ve nowhere to go. And you’d be surprised how many have been kicked out or have run away from home.

  Suddenly the image of Ari all big-bellied and swollen-ankled comes to mind. I shove the offending thought aside. “That’s just about all you know about your daughter, Rick Frank.” I turn to Darcy. “Tell him, Darce. Ari is a good girl.”

  Darcy’s about to open her mouth, but Rick interrupts. “But how long will she be a good girl if she’s sneaking out to meet college guys?”

  “Sneaking out for pizza.”

  “But what if you hadn’t stopped her?”

  “I wasn’t going to sleep with him, if that’s what you’re implying, Dad.” Ari stomps down the stairs, wearing men’s boxers and a spaghetti-strap undershirt. “Thanks for the support, Ma. At least one of my parents believes in me.”

  Her nose is about a mile in the air and she has an Angelina Jolie-sized chip on her shoulder. The implication scares me to death. And despite the fact that she’s somehow allied herself with me, I know I have to be on Rick’s side if we’re going to have any effect on this new side of her. “Watch your tone with your dad, Ari. He’s looking out for you, and if you had an ounce of common sense, you’d appreciate it.”

  She stops short midway down the steps. Her face registers her shock since she knows darned well that her father and I usually don’t agree on much. And unfortunately the kids have seen and heard way too much of our opposing opinions. But even if I don’t fully agree with Rick, I’m starting to understand why he feels the way he does. Especially in light of this attitude she’s displaying. I mean, come on. The kid just got caught red-handed sneaking out. I take in the haughty expression on my daughter’s face and suddenly I know he’s got a point. We have to nip this in the bud—pronto.

  “Since you’re here, we might as well let you in on our decision about your punishment.”

  “No need.” She continues her descent with jerky, twisty, I-don’t-give-a-rip movements. “I heard everything from the landing. I lose my license for a month, can’t hang out with my friends, and I have to go sit with all the knocked-up teenagers at Hope House.”

  Ticked off! That’s me. Totally. And sleepy to boot. A lethal combination. I look at Rick. “Silly girl. She thinks she lost her license for a month.”

  He grins. It’s sort of goofy, considering he hasn’t the faintest idea what I’m getting at, but he does know me well enough to play along. “Can you believe her?”

  Darcy is wearing a confused frown. Totally not catching our drift.

  “What do you mean?” Ari has reached the bottom of the steps now. “I heard you both agree to one month.”

  I snag her with a firm, don’t-mess-with-me look and tone. “Well, that was before I saw how sorry you aren’t.”

  Rick’s head inclines in approval just as Darcy’s eyes go wide with understanding.

  The Angelina wannabe drops the ’tude. “Mom, I’m sorry I lied and snuck out.”

  “Lied, too? This is worse than I thought. I didn’t know anything about a lie. Well, I mean I know you lied to that poor guy who wasted his money on the pizza.”

  She mumbles something.

  Rick chuckles. Darcy covers her mouth to hide a smirk. Apparently I’m the only one who didn’t make out what Ari said.

  “What was that, honey?”

  Laughter rumbles in Rick’s chest. “She said she paid for the pizza.”

  My lips twist into a grin. “Oh, good. Then I don’t feel so bad about eating some of it.”

  Red-faced, she tries to regain her composure. “So how long are we talking, Mom?”

  Behind her back, Rick holds up three fingers.

  “Three months.” The instant I relay the message, a groan shoots from my daughter and she drops to the bottom step with a dramatic flair that would make John Wells most proud.

  “Look on the bright side, Ari.” I give a twisted grin, feeling slightly guilty for rubbing it in. But the fact that she is so un-sorry grates on me.

  “There is no bright side.” She pins me with a glare heretofore reserved for her little brothers and any remaining compassion flees my heart.

  “Sure there is, honey. Now’s your chance to dive into War and Peace. If you get started right away, you ought to have just enough time to finish before you get behind the wheel again.”

  7

  This looks like a good one.” I draw a red circle around the classified ad and pass it across the seat to Linda. “What do you think? Three bedrooms and a finished basement. Tommy can sleep downstairs.”

  “Not bad, but five hundred dollars a month. Can you swing that?”

  I shrug. I know in some areas five hundred dollars a month would rent a dive, but in south-central Missouri, you can actually get a pretty decent place to live for that.

  “I don’t see that I really have a choice. Between that stunt the girls pulled last night, Shawn needing me, and Jakey wanting to come home…” I don’t mention Tommy because I think he’d handle it no matter where he was staying as long as we didn’t take away his skateboard. But the honest fact of the matter is that I miss them all desperately. “I just can’t leave them for weeks or months.”

  We’re sitting in front of my house waiting for the tree-removal guys to show up. Linda and I must have our morning latte after the ordeal with our daughters the night before. Then she’s going to help me look over rental properties.

  “Didn’t Helen say you can keep the kids with you there?”

  I give her a look. “Sure, like that would really work.”

  “Yeah, I guess you have point.” She frowns.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Shh, listen.”

  I cock my head and hear something very big and machine-sounding coming down the road. With all the noise, it’s a War of the Worlds sort of moment and I’m ashamed to say that my heart picks up rhythm.r />
  “What the heck is that?”

  “I think it’s a crane.” I look around and see an enormous piece of machinery driving noisily down the street. “Think that’s for me?” I ask, without taking my eyes off the giant piece of metal.

  Linda gives a short laugh. “I think that’s a fairly safe bet.”

  “Well, that’s good, I guess. Since they’re charging by the hour.”

  “I don’t follow.”

  “Using a machine that size means they know what they’re doing, right? And surely it’ll be faster. I mean they don’t let just anyone operate those things.”

  By the look Linda shoots me, I think she’s finally figured out I’m not playing with a full deck.

  As predicted, the machine pulls into the yard. A pickup truck pulls alongside the curb. I let out a sigh. The thought of dealing with men who find me three fries short of a Happy Meal (and face it, all mechanically inclined men consider us the “little ladies”) is about the last thing I’m in the mood for. But better to give them directions and get it over with.

  The guy getting out of the driver’s side of the pickup is sliding into a harness and securing it around his hips. The other man is elderly. He regards me with frank assessment. “You the little lady I talked with on the phone yesterday?” See what I mean?

  He extends a work-roughened hand and I slip mine into his for a second. “You surely do have one big tree in your yard, girlie.”

  “Yes, sir. I take it you’re Roy?”

  He nods and waves toward the guy getting all decked out in work gear. “That’s my boy, Roy Jr. He’s the arborist.” Whatever that is. I don’t ask, because I don’t really care. All I care about is getting the tree gone so the contractor can come and do his job.

  He points toward the machine. “My nephew Orson’s the crane operator.”

  I nod. “All right then. I don’t want to keep you.”

  “Yep. We best get to work. Clock starts now.”

  Then by all means get to work. If his estimate is correct, I can expect to shell out close to fifteen hundred dollars by the end of the day. I will get reimbursed, of course, by the insurance company. But the initial investment is enough to make me sweat.

  Roy Jr. heads over to the tree as the crane makes dirt trails through my yard. Thinking about the yard repair I’m going to have to deal with, I shake my head as I climb back inside my van. “Well, I guess they know what they’re doing,” I say.

  “Surely a guy wouldn’t start climbing a half-uprooted tree if he didn’t know what he was doing, right?”

  “Presumably.”

  I pull the van out of my driveway without a lot of confidence. But by the time I get back around four that afternoon, I’m pleasantly surprised to find that they are all but gone. I’ve already dropped Linda off at home so I don’t have my moral support, but it appears as if all is going according to plan. Another truck has been added to the mix and is removing the tree from the street, where the crane has placed all the branches.

  I’m careful of the crane as I walk toward the truck, where Roy is still watching the entire process. “How’s it going?” I ask when he sees me and meets me across the yard.

  “Good. We’re just about done.”

  Fantastic. I go back to the van and grab my checkbook as the crane pulls away from the yard and chugs down the road. “Soon as Ralph there has the branches all picked up, we’ll be ready to leave.”

  We stand, silently watching the grapple truck picking up branches. “So, who you hiring to fix the roof and walls?” He slugs down a mouthful of coffee from a to-go cup.

  “Milton Travis.”

  The coffee goes flying across my yard.

  “What?” I ask.

  “You already hired Milt, have ya?”

  “Pretty much. My boyfriend recommended him. I agreed to hire him as soon as the tree was removed.”

  “That right?” He shakes his head, and I don’t find this comforting in the least.

  “Why do you ask, Roy? Isn’t Milt any good?”

  “Well, now. It’s not Christian of me to speak poorly of someone. But if I was you, I wouldn’t let him get started on this. I’d hire someone more reliable.” He lifts the bill of his cap and swipes at the sweat on his brow with the back of his hand. “My boy Edgar never was much one for tree moving, but he’s done right good for himself at construction.”

  “I see.” Perfectly clearly. Roy wants me to keep all the money for this job in his family. Yeah, okay. Thanks but no thanks, Roy.

  I dazzle him with my brightest smile. “Well, like I said, I’ve already verbally agreed to hire Milt. I wouldn’t feel right going back on my word. I hope you understand.”

  “Suit yourself.”

  I try to ignore my growing sense of dread about Milt, but sheesh.

  I open the door of the new place and watch the kids’ faces as one by one they step through ahead of me. I don’t know what I was hoping for, but these looks of confusion and dread aren’t even close to how I thought they’d react.

  Jake slides into home plate right in front of the entertainment center and opens the bottom drawers. “Where’s my Nintendo?” Well, okay. That actually is how I expected Jakey to react. He’s predictably one-track minded. About once every six weeks to two months, I restrict him from all electronic games for a week or so. Breaks the addiction for a while. After a tough first day of withdrawal, he always seems to find other occupiers.

  “Come on, Jake,” I say, walking in behind everyone and shutting the door. “Don’t you want to see your new room?”

  “Temporary room,” Ari says. “Right?”

  “Yes.” I turn my attention to Tommy. He’s leaning against a bare wall holding his skateboard like a security blanket. “Listen, Toms, you won’t be able to do your skateboard out here on the sidewalks or parking lots.”

  Horror narrows his eyes. “What do you mean? I have to practice.”

  “I’m sorry. The complex has rules against skateboarders.”

  “That bites!” he grinds out. “I might as well tell Shane to find someone else to sponsor, Mom. If I can’t practice, I’m going to lose all my form.”

  “Can’t you practice over at The Board?” I ask, thinking it’s an excellent question. “It’s only for a few weeks at the most.”

  “I guess. If you’ll drive me over there.”

  “I don’t mind driving him when you’re busy, Mom.” Ari’s generosity as usual astounds me. Not.

  She gets what she deserves: a wide, knowing grin from me and a pat on the head as though she’s a six-year-old. “Nice try. If only you weren’t grounded from the keys.”

  “Even in an emergency?” Her wide-eyed innocence is truly moving.

  “I seriously doubt you’re going to have to deal with any emergencies when I won’t be around to do the driving.” I turn to my middle boy. “What do you think of our temporary place, Shawn?”

  Relief washes over his face and I know instantly what’s in my boy’s heart. I wrap my arms around him. “I’m glad we’re all together again,” I say.

  “Yeah, I guess it’s okay,” Tommy concedes. “As long as we don’t have to do it for very long.”

  Jakey’s plugging in all the cords to hook up his game. “What do you say, Jakey? This place going to work for you?”

  “Yeah, I like it.”

  I can’t help but smile. I turn to Ari. “How about you? Can you live with it for a couple of months?”

  “I don’t mind it,” Ari says graciously. Then she gives me an impish grin. “This is the apartment complex most of the college kids live in.”

  Too bad I didn’t check into that before I signed the three-month lease. Suddenly that makes sense, too. A three-month lease isn’t real common. But if a student—or a group of students, most likely, for a three-bedroom townhouse like this one—were going home for summer break, it would make sense to allow a short lease.

  I have a feeling I’m going to be busy all summer keeping a close eye on my girl. Oy.


  I settle in that evening, more than ready for my call with Emma. I can’t wait to open up about Ari and Rick. And this dinky apartment with vibrating walls from the loud music next door.

  She picks up on the third ring, sounding a little breathless. “Hello?”

  “Emma? This is Claire Everett. Did I get our appointment time wrong?”

  “Oh, Claire! No. No, you’re right on time. I’m sorry to sound so frazzled. I was just finishing up with another client.” Her voice cracks a little.

  “Is everything okay?”

  “Of course.” She pauses a minute and I hear her swallow as though she’s just gulped a mouthful of water or something. “Tell me about your week.”

  She seems normal now. Or as normal as I know her to be, and at a hundred and thirty dollars per session, there aren’t too many minutes to waste. I lie back on my couch and begin by spilling out my discontent over my dinner at Rick’s. “I’m feeling undermined,” I complain. “As though I was being usurped just because I’ve been temporarily displaced.”

  “It sounds as though you made the right choice in finding an apartment and moving your children back in with you.”

  Okay, it’s good that she said that, because I was starting to have second thoughts. Guilty thoughts about how I was selfish to bring my kids to an apartment complex when they could be living in a nice home in an upscale neighborhood.

  I force myself back to the one-hundred-thirty-dollars-per-session giver of advice. She’s rambling whether I’m listening or not, so I best keep my attention focused. “You should see a bit of normalcy return soon. Everyone will revert back to their roles. Rick will again be their father but not their primary caregiver, and the kids will settle into their new environment. And I suspect you will be able to relax now that you have your children around you again.”

  I could swear I hear her voice crack again. “Emma, you okay?”

  She clears her throat in a manner I can only assume is an effort to regain composure and that doesn’t exactly reassure me. “If you need me to reschedule, I’d be happy to call back some other time. Or just add the last ten minutes to my next session if you want.”