Matthew's Choice (3 page)

Allie swallowed the lump that suddenly clogged her throat. She licked her lips. Good. Matt had someone worthy of him.

“Your drink, ma’am.” Peter set down a crystal water glass with a wedge of lime adorning the rim.

At eleven on all the screens around the room, the ball dropped in New York City and confetti rained from an overhead vent as a rousing cheer went up. The evening was flying by. And without a glimpse of Matt.

“So, you forgive me for going behind your back to get a date with you?” Peter brushed confetti from her shoulder.

Allie tilted her head. “Why me?”

“You’ve got to be kidding.”

“About—?”

“Allie, you’re a beautiful woman. I’m surprised you’re still single. When Clint called and mentioned the party, I jumped on it. At least I’d have one night to convince you to date me.”

His confession stunned her into silence. Before she could recover, he touched his chest, frowning.

“It’s my cell, it must be important given how late it is. Excuse me,” he said and turned toward the wall as he fished his phone from inside his tux. “Elliott speaking.”

He fell silent, listening to whomever was on the other end. Allie turned her gaze to the dance floor, not wanting to eavesdrop. Even so, she couldn’t help overhearing his end of the conversation.

“I see.” Silence followed again. “No, you did right by calling. Take the boy to the shelter, and I’ll look into the matter in the morning.”

He touched her arm. “I’m so sorry for the interruption.”

“Don’t worry about it. And I couldn’t help overhearing. Trouble?”

“The usual. An overdose, with a nine-year-old child involved. Apparently there is no family for the child to stay with. Thank goodness for the shelter.”

Chill bumps raced over her body. Nine-year-old. The age of her third-grade readers. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Dance with me again.”

She cocked her head. The band had fired up the old Johnny Mathis song “Chances Are.” She could do that.

On the dance floor, Peter held her lightly, both of them moving to the music. Once she scuffed against his shoe. “Sorry.”

She focused on recapturing her rhythm as he leaned closer. “Have breakfast with me in the morning.”

Allie almost stumbled. “I...need to get back to Cedar Grove. School starts Tuesday, and I have a lot to do.”

“You would turn down the person who expedited your home study so you could become a foster parent?”

Peter had been responsible for her application being fast-tracked?

“That is blackmail,” she said as the song ended, and they walked back to their table.

“Just joking. The paperwork should be completed next week.”

They both turned as Clint called to them. “Look who I found!”

Matt and the girl in the photo trailed Clint.

“Matt...” Allie shifted her gaze to the girl who smiled at her. “And you must be Jessica.”

Her smile faded. “Have we met?”

“Earlier tonight, at the elevator in Matt’s building.”

Recognition flashed in her hazel eyes. “Ohh...”

Clint spoke up. “Jessica, this is my sister, Allie Carson and her date, Peter Elliott.” He punched Matt. “You remember Peter, don’t you?”

“Oh, yeah. Peter would be hard to forget.”

Whatever was wrong with Matt? He looked like he had indigestion.

“Clint mentioned you’d returned to Cedar Grove,” Matt said. “Something about working for the state?”

Peter’s lips pressed together. “I’m director of social services. Clint keeps me informed as well—he says you’re doing quite well. In sales of some sort?”

“You could call it that. I put together this little soiree. In fact, there are a couple of details I need to attend to.” He nodded then looped his arm through Jessica’s. “Come with me?”

Jessica turned toward her and smiled. “Happy New Year, in case I don’t see you all later.”

“Yes...” Matt glanced around, and his eyes settled on Allie. “Happy New Year.”

“You, too,” Allie said.

As they walked away, Peter raised his eyebrows. “Another dance?”

She lifted her gaze, and her breath quickened at the warm twinkle in his blue eyes. “You are a glutton for punishment, but yes, that would be nice.”

* * *

T
HE
NIGHT
SKY
detonated in bursts of light and window-shaking explosions. In the backseat of a patrol car, Noah counted as church bells tolled in the New Year. The cop had stuck him there after Noah had tried to escape. He kicked the back of the driver’s seat in a steady rhythm. “I want to go see my mom.”

“Sorry, kid. My orders are to take you to the shelter.”

Tears burned the backs of Noah’s eyes. He didn’t know what would happen there, but no way was he going there.

“But my mom, she’ll need me when she wakes up.” He tried to keep the whining out of his voice. Whining just made adults mad.

“Someone will come and get you, probably Monday, and take you to see her.”

Monday? That was three days away. She might be dead by then. He was going tonight. A plan popped into his mind. “You promise?”

“Kid, if nobody comes, you call the station, and I’ll come personally and take you. Just ask for Jason.”

Yeah, he knew those kinds of promises. His mom made them all the time. Besides, if the cop could take him Monday, he could take him right now. “Thanks.”

The cruiser turned into a dark drive and pulled up to an equally dark house. The cop spoke to him over his shoulder. “I’m going to open the door, and if you run again, I’ll catch you, and I’ll put handcuffs on you. Understand?”

Noah pressed his lips together to keep them from trembling. The cop’s eyes were kind, but Noah knew he was serious about what he said. “Y-yes, sir.” He’d just have to make sure the cop didn’t catch him.

At the back of the house, a light glowed in the window, and the door opened before they reached it. A thick black woman met them at the steps in her bare feet and ushered them into the kitchen. The door clicked shut as butterflies fluttered in Noah’s stomach. The door had some kind of box beside it that the black lady punched. Had to be a lock. His breath hung in his chest. He was trapped.

“Jason,” she said, nodding at the cop. Then she held out her hand. “I’m glad you made it, Noah.”

She knew his name? He gazed up. And up. She must be ten feet tall. He swallowed, and she knelt in front of him, making them eye level.

“I’m sorry, son.” She chuckled and the warm sound washed over him like a gentle rain. “Sometimes I forget that I can scare little people. My name is Miss Sarah.”

He stood a little taller. “I wasn’t scared.”

She still had her hand extended, and he stuck his out. Immediately it was swallowed in her dark one.

“Are you hungry?” She widened her eyes like adults did sometimes when they talked to kids. “Could you eat some scrambled eggs and biscuits?”

His mouth watered, but he shook his head, remembering the last time he’d been put in a shelter in another state. That lady was all nice as long as somebody was around, too. Probably as soon as the cop left, this one would do the same thing—get mad ’cause she had to clean up his mess.

She ruffled his hair, and her knees popped as she stood. “Well, maybe you don’t want anything, but I bet Jason here does. Right, Jason?”

“Some of your biscuits, Miss Sarah? Yes,
ma’am.
” The cop took off his hat and laid it on the table. “Noah, you sit there in the middle, and I’ll just take the end chair.”

Noah did as he was told. The kitchen was warm, and his eyelids drooped. If he weren’t so hungry...

Something smelled so good...he woke with a start. Jason and Miss Sarah were laughing, but not in a mean way.

“Didn’t know whether to let you sleep or wake you up.” Miss Sarah scooted him closer to the table, then slathered butter on a biscuit and put it on his plate beside a mound of scrambled eggs.

“I thought he was going to fall out of the seat,” Jason said. He leaned back in his chair. “Thank you, Miss Sarah. That was really good.”

The food tempted Noah. The last he’d eaten was the couple of slices of ham he’d found at the Dumpster, and before that, it’d been a bowl of ramen noodles. That’d been lunch, yesterday.
Don’t be taking any handouts. We don’t ask anybody for anything.
Butter oozed from the middle of the bread. Maybe just one bite...

The cop stood and picked up his cap.

“You gonna tell him about your phone call?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah.” He smiled down at Noah. “I called the hospital, and they told me your mom was doing better.”

Noah swallowed the lump that threatened to choke him. “Is she awake?”

Jason hesitated. “Not yet.”

“Then she’s not all right. I gotta be there when she wakes up.” His voice cracked, and he fought the tears that threatened to spill.

“What you need to do, son—” Miss Sarah cupped his face in her huge brown hands “—is to eat so you can keep your strength up. You won’t be able to help your momma if you get sick. Okay?”

He stared into her chocolate-brown eyes.

“Trust me, Noah. I won’t steer you wrong, and I won’t ever lie to you.”

Something inside him said she was telling the truth. At last, he nodded.

“Good. Now eat your food, and then we’ll get you into bed.”

He attacked the eggs, keeping his eye on Sarah and Jason as they walked to the back door. She punched in something on the box before Jason left, but he couldn’t see exactly what she did. He’d have to watch if he wanted to get out of here. He figured there were bars on the windows like the last place. The door was probably the only way out.

CHAPTER THREE

“S
O
YOU
’
RE
GUARANTEEING
me you can pull this off for this price?” The silver-haired building magnate drew a line under the dollar figure Matt had quoted for the Valentine’s Day banquet. “That’s all-inclusive?”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Bradford,” Matt said. “Except for the entertainment, and I can provide you with a list of bands and ensembles I’ve worked with in the past. I can even contact them for you, unless you want to bring in a comedian from Las Vegas. Then you’re on your own.”

J. Phillip Bradford rested his forearms on the table in the small conference room where Matt and the CEO were meeting. Bradford’s silver eyebrows arched in perpetual skepticism. He didn’t respond to Matt’s attempt at humor.

Matt swallowed the impulse to add another sales pitch. He’d laid it all out and there was no reason to go over it again. The older man’s steel-gray eyes bored into Matt’s, and he forced himself not to move. Keeping his mouth shut was harder.

Finally, Bradford nodded. “Thank you for coming in. Of the five hotels who have submitted a proposal, you’re the only representative who agreed to meet with me today.”

Surely that counted for something. Matt pushed to his feet as the older man stood, his hand extended. Even at seventy, J. Phillip Bradford was as tall as Matt’s six-one, his posture ramrod-straight, his grip firm as he still seemed to take Matt’s measure.

“This gala is very important to me. At last year’s affair, we raised enough money to fund an orphanage for a year. With the ambience you, or one of your competitors, provide, I expect to do even better this year. Thank you for coming by, Matthew.”

Outside the conference room, Matt allowed his shoulders to relax as he mentally ticked the meeting off his to-do list for the day and hurried to the elevator. When he stepped off on the ground floor, he dialed Jessica. Today was the day. Pick her up in twenty minutes, take her to his apartment and make his
special
breakfast, then pop the question.

“Good morning, love.” Sleepiness edged her soft voice.

She wasn’t up, much less dressed. Disappointment stole a little of his excitement. “The meeting is over, and I’m on my way to pick you up.”

“Now? What time is it?”

“Yes, now, and it’s eleven-thirty. I have a special day planned.”

“And I’m almost ready,” she said with a low chuckle. “Fooled you, didn’t I? But, since I’m not quite dressed yet, why don’t I drive myself to your apartment?”

Punctuality wasn’t Jessica’s strong suit so he was a little surprised. “See me in the next thirty minutes?”

“Forty-five. I’ll call you before I leave.”

Back at his apartment, he set the dining room table then picked up a magazine he’d left flopped open on the bar. He looked around for a place to stash it.

Allie materialized in his mind, how she’d hesitated when he asked her thoughts about the apartment. She hadn’t liked what she’d seen. It’d been written all over her face. Not that she would ever like anything about his new lifestyle.

Allie had looked good, and he wondered what made her lose all that weight? Not that she’d ever looked bad, or at least he hadn’t thought so. She’d been the one bothered by her Rubenesque figure.

Was it because of Peter? Surely, not that smug egotist. What was it Peter said he did? Director of social services. Perfect. A bureaucratic job suited him to a T. He just couldn’t see Allie and Peter together.

Matt glanced down at the magazine still in his hand. Maybe next week he and Jessica could pick out a new end table with a drawer. And maybe a couple of landscapes for the walls to go with the abstract painting. Scratch that thought. He’d mentioned that before.
No, no, Matthew, space and light will flow, creating the perfect decor for this room. Besides, this room is you.

His cell vibrated in his pocket, and he fished it out. Jessica. “Yes?”

“Just so you’ll know, I’m walking out the door. And did you remember to pick up the caramel coffee at Starbucks?”

His heart sank. Would Starbucks be open on New Year’s Day? It had to be. If not, maybe there was a number on the door for emergencies. “It will be waiting for you.”

“Good. See you soon.”

Matt had fifteen minutes to drive to Starbucks and get back. He grabbed his car keys and hit the door.
Please let the coffee shop be open.
He repeated the mantra all the way to his BMW convertible, and then for the next two blocks. Cars in the parking lot. There
was
a God in heaven. As he got out of the car, a plaintive meow halted him, and he glanced around. Sounded like a kitten. Another meow. Matt ignored it. Inside the store he grabbed a bag of caramel coffee and hurried to the checkout.

Back at his car, the meows intensified. He didn’t see a cat, but neither did he look too hard. Humming, he pulled from the parking space and turned onto the street, glancing one last time at the parking lot. A tiny kitten wobbled in the space he’d just left.

No! He didn’t have time for any distractions, especially a kitten. Maybe the mother cat would come and take care of it. He drove on. But what if someone ran over it? Someone with small children. Groaning, he made a left onto the next street and circled back to the coffee shop. Maybe the mother cat had made an appearance.

No such luck. Matt parked and, using his finger and thumb, picked up the still mewling kitten. “Aw, kitty, you’ve got blood seeping from your nose.”

The kitten stared at him through one opened eye. Just what he needed. An injured kitten and no vets open, but he couldn’t just leave it like this in the cold parking lot. Matt looked around for something to put the kitten in and spied a cardboard box. He hurried to get it, trying not to think about how Jessica was allergic to cats. He would put it in his bedroom. She’d never have to know. “All right, kitty, just for today. Tomorrow you go to animal rescue.”

* * *

N
OAH
BLINKED
HIS
eyes open and stretched his arms. The bed above him creaked, and seconds later a boy about his age popped his head over the side, his solemn brown eyes unwavering.

“You can’t have the top bunk. It’s ours.”

Noah glared at him. “I don’t want your old top bunk.” He hoped he fell out of it.

Another blond head popped over the side, and Noah rubbed his eyes. Was he seeing double? No, there were two of them—they wore different pajama tops. The new boy had stars on his pajamas.

“Don’t pay any attention to Lucas,” star man said. “I’m Logan. We’re twins. Why are you here? Our mom died and our dad got put in jail.”

Lucas nodded. “Nobody wanted us so they brought us here. Didn’t nobody want you, either?”

“I don’t have anyone but my mom.” Noah laced his fingers behind his head. “Doesn’t matter—I’m not going to be here long.”

“You’ll be here longer than you think.” Lucas swiped his nose with his white pajama sleeve. He poked his brother. “Come on. I smell breakfast.”

Both heads disappeared, and when the twins descended the ladder at the foot of the bed, Noah got a good look at them. They were identical down to the freckles across their noses, except for their pajamas. Logan was an astronaut. Noah squinted. Was that a sad donkey on the pajamas Lucas had on? Boy, did somebody know him.

“You coming?” asked Logan.

“I’m not waiting,” Lucas said and left, but Logan lingered.

“I’ll be there in a minute.” Noah had to figure a way to get out of here. A few minutes later, after Logan had exited and when no plan on how to get past the locked door came to him, he sniffed the air. Definitely wasn’t bacon he smelled, more like sausage. Maybe there’d be some more of those biscuits like last night.
Last night.
His mom, so white, not saying anything. He threw back the blanket and scrambled out of bed. Miss Sarah might have heard something from the hospital.

Where were his shoes? He dropped to the floor and searched under the bed. They weren’t there. He fought to get his breath. He couldn’t leave if he didn’t have his shoes. Maybe they were with his clothes. He looked in the chair, where he’d neatly folded his shirt and jeans the night before. They were gone. The room spun. He fisted his hands. “No!”

“Noah, honey, what’s wrong?” Miss Sarah’s arms wrapped around him, and the spinning stopped.

“You took my shoes. And my clothes. Give them back. They’re mine.”

“Oh, sugar, I just put your clothes in the wash, and your shoes needed cleaning. You can have them back as soon as they’re dry.”

He gulped and searched her face. Her brown eyes smiled back at him. “You promise?” he whispered.

“No one’s going to take your things here, Noah. This is a safe place. It’s where your mom would want you to be.”

Miss Sarah was wrong about that. His mom was going to be so angry when she found out. If she found out. “Have...you heard if she’s okay?”

She shook her head. “We’ll call after breakfast. So, come on and let’s get some food in you.”

“Can you take me to see her?”

Her shoulders sagged. “Son, I wish I could, but I have to stay here at the shelter. I’ll call Jason later. Maybe he can take you.”

In the kitchen, the constant clanging from the dryer reassured him. They’d lived in a house once with a dryer, and when his mom put his jeans in it, the sound was the same. Logan and Lucas were already cleaning their plates. Lucas even eyed the three links of sausage on Noah’s plate. “Don’t even think about it,” Noah muttered as he slid into his chair.

Miss Sarah piled scrambled eggs onto Noah’s plate. “Want your biscuit buttered?”

“Yes, ma’am.” Noah bit into one of the links.

“He didn’t say the blessing.”

Logan punched his brother. “Knock it off.”

Noah kept eating. What was Lucas? The blessing boss?

“Now, Lucas,” Miss Sarah said, patting Noah on the shoulder. “He may have said a silent one.”

He shot the twin a ha-ha-ha smirk. Lucas would never be his friend, ’cause first chance Noah got, he was going to knock his block off.

Miss Sarah walked to the phone on the wall, her house shoes slapping against the floor. Noah held his breath as she dialed.
Let his mom be awake.
He repeated the prayer until she put the phone back in its cradle on the wall and turned to him.

“I’m sorry, Noah, but she’s still...asleep.”

Why didn’t she just say it? His mom was in a coma. Like before. If he could just get to her, tell her he was sorry and that he never should’ve left her, she’d wake up. He pushed back his plate.

“Honey, you need to eat to keep your strength up.”

“I don’t want anything.”

“Can I have your sausage, then?” Lucas reached toward his plate.

“No!” Noah snatched the remaining link and bit into it. The taste nearly gagged him, but choking it down would be better than letting Lucas have it.

Miss Sarah placed another pan of biscuits on the table and the twins grabbed two each. “Boys, I have work to do in the office. You three behave until Brittany gets here.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the twins said in unison. Noah kept chewing.

After Miss Sarah left, he turned to Logan. “Who’s Brittany?”

“She helps Miss Sarah.” Logan smeared strawberry jam on his biscuit.

“How long have you been here? I don’t remember seeing you in school.”

“That’s ’cause you always sit with your head down.” Logan’s lips pressed into a thin line.

“So?” Noah sort of remembered the twins from the cafeteria.

Lucas leaned forward. “We’re not gonna be here much longer. Our dad’s gonna come get us.”

“I thought you said he was in jail.”

Lucas shot him a look of disgust. “He’s gonna break out. Boy, are you stupid.”

Noah’s hands curled into fists. Nobody was ever going to call him that again. “I’m not stupid. You’re stupid if you believe that.” He looked toward the door. “How are you gonna get out of here, anyway? Do you know the code?”

Lucas elbowed his brother. “Told you he was stupid. That ain’t no lock. It’s just something that tells when a door opens.”

“You’re kidding.” Noah’s mind raced. All he had to do was get his clothes on and walk out the door? He crammed the last of the sausage in his mouth and hurried to get his clothes from the dryer. They were almost dry and he quickly changed out of his pajamas.

“What’re you doin’?” Logan asked.

“What does it look like? Putting my clothes on.”

“You’re gonna run away.” Lucas’s voice raised a notch.

“Shut up.” Noah slipped into his still-warm jacket and headed toward the door.

Logan grabbed his arm. “Where’re you going?”

Noah shook his arm free and opened the door. Logan might not tell, but Lucas would rat him out in a heartbeat. A soft voice intoned a warning that the back door was open. His heart leaped into his throat. He darted through the door to the outside and didn’t quit running until he came to a corner with a traffic light.

With his chest heaving, he tried to get his breath and his bearings. Which way was the hospital? He’d been there, his mom had taken him to the emergency room when he cut his hand. Noah bit his lip. Maybe he could ask someone. He looked around—a patrol car idled in the convenience store parking lot across the street. Swallowing hard, he took a second peek. Empty. The cop must be in the store. Noah ran against the light and kept going until he reached the next corner. Another convenience store. Maybe someone inside would tell him how to get to the hospital.

* * *

A
LLIE
STARED
AT
the cell number Peter had given her last night. He’d said to call her if she changed her mind about having breakfast with him this morning. She dialed before second thoughts set in. He answered with his last name, sounding very businesslike.

“Uh, it’s me, Allie. You said to—”

“Allie! Oh, good, you’ve changed your mind. Great. I’m staying at the Winthrop, and they serve an excellent brunch until one this afternoon. Would you like me to pick you up at Clint’s?”

“No, I’ll drive.” She’d leave for Cedar Grove from the hotel. “I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”