Mistletoe Bay (9 page)

“You don't give a name to the main dish, and not everyone watches the game.” Jenni couldn't believe it. “I wasn't really paying too much attention to the song. Maybe it wasn't Tom they ate.”

“Could be.” Coop had an expression on his face that said he was pacifying her.

She decided to change the subject. It wasn't Coop's fault what her son was picking up in school. Here she thought he'd be bringing home four-letter words from the other kids, not songs about wielding an ax and killing a turkey from the teacher. She couldn't imagine what he'd be singing come Christmas. Reindeer burgers, mutilated elves, and Santa getting stuck in a chimney.

“Thank you again.” Jenni glanced around the now-neat kitchen. “You really didn't have to help clean up, but I appreciate it.” Dorothy and Jenni had an agreement—if her mother-in-law cooked, Jenni cleaned up. Jenni did a lot of cleaning up in the kitchen.

“It was the least I could do. The meal was delicious.”

“Dorothy's a great cook, and she loves doing it.” Her mother-in-law wasn't one for cleaning or sewing. As long as her kitchen was immaculate and the refrigerator was stocked, the rest of the house could fall down upon their ears. Dorothy also like to putter in the gardens, but so far she hadn't managed to get anything to live beyond six weeks.

Jenni had a sneaking suspicion that either the boys had something to do with that or Bojangles was watering the plants.

“It shows.” Coop swiped another chocolate chip cookie from the plate sitting on the counter.

“Let me at least pay you for the washer hose.” She felt funny accepting all of Coop's help. The man was a virtual stranger. She hadn't even known him a week and already he was sharing their dinner table.

“The meal was worth more than the hose. I'm the one who should be thanking you for such an entertaining evening.”

“The Wright family dinners are a laugh a minute. One of these days we'll put the show on the road and make a fortune.” She couldn't believe Felicity had gone into one of her snits with company at the table and that Dorothy had finished off two glasses of wine during the meal. Great, her sister-in-law's attitude was on a downward spiral and Dorothy was developing a taste for merlot.

If she could just teach one of the boys to juggle, they would have an act for every age group.

“It wasn't that bad.” Coop seemed to be taking the whole thing in stride. “I've seen worse.”

“When? I thought you said you were an only child.” Coop had explained that he moved back to this area from California about six months ago to be closer to his parents. His father had suffered a major heart attack.

“I worked on construction crews for ten years. You should have seen our Christmas party.”

She laughed as hard as he had earlier. Her beloved family was being compared to a rowdy construction crew. Somewhere her life had taken a left-hand turn instead of a right. Ever since she'd picked up not only her household but also Dorothy's and moved them all to the coast of Maine, nothing seemed to go according to her plans.

The good news was her business was taking off extremely well. Sometimes she thought too well. The orders were pouring in and she employed Felicity for about fifteen to twenty hours a week to help pick up the slack.

Her plan had been to grow the business slowly so once she would need the help, the boys would be in school full time and Dorothy would only have to work for her part time. She was grateful, because she knew most business owners would love to be in her shoes. It was just hard trying to be something to all people. There never were enough hours in a day.

Coop grinned, and he tugged on his coat and picked up his toolbox. He gave her a quick wink. “The only thing missing this evening was the stripper.”

Chapter Five

Dorothy chopped carrots with a little more force than necessary. She was angry, but for the life of her, she couldn't figure out whom or what she was angry at. Tonight she was cooking a roast, throwing everything into the pan, and shoving it all into the oven. She didn't even care how it turned out.

She would like to think it was a first, but not caring about cooking was happening more and more lately. So were the tears and the anger. Helping Jenni raise three very active boys was the reason she was tired all the time, and her seventeen-year-old daughter explained the gray streaks in her hair. Felicity was turning into a stranger right before her eyes, and she didn't know how to stop it or who her own daughter was half the time.

Raising a girl was so much harder than raising a boy. Kenny had been a dream child from the day he was born. She had barely made it to the hospital and the delivery had been easy. Kenny had been an excellent student and never once gave her or his father a moment of trouble. He even married a wonderful woman, gave her three precious grandbabies, and had never once forgotten about her or his baby sister. When his father had died, Kenny had stepped right into his shoes and handled all the work and worry concerning her home.

If she had a problem, Kenny handled it, without one complaint. What mother could have asked for anything more?

While she'd grieved and missed her husband dearly, Kenny had been there to lean on. Kenny had been her strength and her rock. Only now in hindsight, she realized she shouldn't have leaned quite as much or as often.

Felicity, on the other hand, took ten hours of hard labor, and she came out mad, red, and screaming at the top of her lungs. Teacher conferences were the norm, and her daughter questioned authority at every turn. Felicity pushed buttons Dorothy never knew she had. George, her father, had spoiled her shamelessly for the first twelve years of her life, then her brother had taken over the role.

Felicity had been devastated when Kenny had died in the fire. To Dorothy's shame, she hadn't been strong enough for her young daughter. Her own world had once again crumbled around her and she had been left floating aimlessly in her grief. It had been Jenni who had stepped in and held everyone together.

Jenni was now her rock.

“Grandmom, can I have a cookie?” Tucker, who was sitting at the kitchen table practicing his ABCs added, “Please.”

She was tempted to give him one for that “please” alone, but she knew she shouldn't. “I'm afraid not, hon. You're being punished. You heard your mother, no snacks.”

“Can I have a drink?”

“Milk or water?” Corey was upstairs taking a nap. Tucker had outgrown that habit before his fourth birthday. They had a hard enough time just getting him to sleep at night. Kenny's middle child was always on the run, from the moment his little feet hit the floor in the morning till his mother was blue in the face from telling him to close his eyes and go to sleep every night.

“Chocolate milk.” Tucker grinned.

“Sorry, kiddo, regular milk or water?” She glanced through the opening into the sun room that ran the length of the back of the house. The large room was used as the family room. Thankfully the previous owners had connected two radiators into the room, which supplied plenty of heat. Too much heat.

Then again, the entire house was too darn hot. If she hadn't opened both sets of sliding doors in the sun room to let in some cool air, Bojangles wouldn't have run through one of the screen doors to escape Tucker. Her grandson had been terrorizing the poor dog with Felicity's makeup. Jenni had heard the commotion from her shop and had come to investigate. A green plastic garbage bag and duct tape had fixed the screen door, but there was no hope for Felicity's green eye shadow, the plastic hair accessory, or the green tank top Bojangles had been wearing at the time.

Tucker was in for a world of hurt when Felicity got home from school and saw the disaster in her room.

If Dorothy found a few free minutes this afternoon, she would go upstairs and see if she could scrub off the eye liner that Tucker had used to sign the hallway walls. She should have been watching the boys more closely instead of taking inventory of what was in the pantry. Thanksgiving was coming up quickly, and she had wanted to make sure she had everything she would need.

Tucker was very proud of the fact that he could write his full name and a couple other words. Every one of them now were on display in the upstairs hallway. Corey, not to be left out of anything, had added his own artwork with Siren Green waterproof eyeliner. Of course it didn't help that Bojangles had eaten an entire tube of Felicity's cherry lip gloss before making his fashionable escape.

Bojangles, who wasn't known for his strong constitution, was sure to get the runs from that greasy treat.

One day she surely would laugh about this latest episode in what she now referred to as her Maine exile, but not today. Some days she didn't think she would live long enough to see the humor in Tucker's adventurous schemes.

Tucker frowned and gave a dramatic sigh. “Water.”

She contained her smile and got her grandson a cup of water. “Want to show me what you've been working on?” Dinner was ready to go into the oven and Tucker had been working diligently on his studies.

“Stupid letters.” Tucker gulped down the water like a thirsty camel.

“Letters aren't stupid. You need to learn them so you can learn to read and write.” She had noticed that upstairs he had spelled “cat” with a
k
. The boy needed some more study time. She put the covered pan into the refrigerator until it was time to go into the oven.

The hulking hunk of metal in the basement called a heater was stupid. It sounded like a 747 taking off every time it kicked on, and the thermostat refused to work properly.

She walked over to the ancient thermostat and pounded on the wall. No way was it sixty-three degrees in the kitchen. Eighty-three, she would believe. One of these days the heater was going to give up the ghost and blow them all to smithereens.

She sat down next to Tucker and looked at some of his work. This wasn't how she'd envisioned her life. The first week of the new year she would be turning fifty, and she had a horrible feeling menopause was kicking in. God, she really couldn't be that old, could she?

Life was supposed to be different than this. She wanted George alive, calling all the shots and carrying their world upon his broad shoulders. He had promised to always take care of her and their children. He had promised they would travel and see the world once he retired and Felicity was through college. George had lied.

She wanted her little boy, Kenny, who had turned into a man, alive, and not only managing his own family but also helping with hers. Instead she was staring at a stranger in her daughter's body, opening doors and windows in November, and discovering new uses for duct tape nearly every day.

The big, monstrous house her daughter-in-law had bought, though situated on a beautiful piece of property overlooking the bay, was being held together with duct tape, Gorilla Glue, and prayers. The fire department's number was on speed-dial, and they had gone through two handymen since moving here a couple months ago. To top it all off, the hot water lasted for only three-quarters of a shower, no matter how fast she washed.

Dorothy was very thankful when Coop, the UPS man, stopped by the other night and fixed the hose on the washer. But little alarm bells were starting to go off in her head. She hadn't noticed any hanky-panky between Coop and Jenni, but she was watching them closely. The man had practically pushed Dorothy off the basement steps racing her to the top when she'd invited him to dinner the other night.

Either Coop had been starving, or he had been looking forward to the company.

It was bad enough trying to keep her eye on Felicity and Sam when the high school football star came visiting. Both Coop's and Sam's visits were becoming more frequent. Although she knew what Sam was after, her little girl, she wasn't too sure about the UPS guy.

The saying, “What can brown do for you?” was starting to take on a whole new meaning.

 

 

Felicity loved her nephews, she really did. She just couldn't stand them most of the time. Today she wanted to murder one, and his name was Tucker James Wright. The kid wouldn't see his fifth birthday, in two weeks, if she had any say in the matter. She'd be doing the world a favor. He was going to end up in the prison system living off the taxpayers' hard-earned money and making license plates anyway.

Tucker had all the earmarks of becoming a drain on society.

Her sister-in-law, Jenni, didn't appreciate Felicity's opinion of Tucker. Of course, the kid's mother hadn't been arguing Tucker's virtues too loudly.

The little delinquent didn't have any.

His only redeeming quality was that he was cute and favored Jenni in appearances. Felicity was pretty sure that the prison system was filled with cute guys.

“Are you still upset?” Jenni sat a tray of bayberry oatmeal soap down on the opposite side of the workstation and then perched herself upon a stool. By the stubborn tilt of her sister-in-law's jaw, Felicity knew she would be staying awhile. Jenni looked like she wanted to talk.

“Wouldn't you be?” Felicity wasn't in a forgiving mood. It seemed all she ever did was forgive her nephews for one thing after another. After another. Today might have been the final straw. Tucker not only had ruined most of her makeup, written on walls, and totally trashed her closet. The little brat also had destroyed her favorite dark green tank top—the one that not only matched the color of her eyes but also pushed up her boobs and made her look like she had some cleavage for once.

Sam had really liked that top.

Felicity cracked a smile as she remembered the way Sam's tongue seemed to get tangled up in his words every time she had worn that particular top. She wore that stretchy green top at least once a week just to watch Sam sweat.

“See, it isn't that bad.” Jenni gave her a bright, big smile back and started to wrap the bars of bayberry oatmeal soap with Mistletoe Bay labels. “We'll go shopping this weekend for a new blouse and we'll replenish your supply of makeup while we're at it.”

Felicity mulled that over and continued to wrap the bars of the newest fragrance produced by the Mistletoe Bay Bath and Body Company: Snowflake. She loved the fresh, clean smell of the soap and had already confiscated a few bars for her friends at school. Jenni looked at the freebies as free advertising and test marketing. Everyone at school loved Jenni's products, and a couple of the local shops were now stocking Mistletoe Bay merchandise to cater to the new, younger customers.

“The last time I went shopping with you, I ended up wearing Corey's chocolate ice cream cone and we lost Chase in the bookstore for half an hour.” She would rather do sit-ups in front of the entire boys' gym class in a two-piece bathing suit than go to the mall with her nephews.

“They'll behave this time.” Jenni refused to meet her gaze. Felicity's sister-in-law kept her head bent and her fingers busy wrapping a label around each bar of soap before placing it into the appropriate box.

“Coop isn't going to find you nearly as attractive if your nose keeps growing.” Felicity thought it was cute the way the UPS guy kept coming around. She just wished he wouldn't come around as much when Sam was visiting.

Over the past several months Felicity had become used to being ignored by her mother, who never seemed to have enough time for her anymore. Her nephews terrorized her and invaded her privacy every chance they got. Only Jenni paid her some attention, when her sister-in-law had a minute to breathe, like now. Sam, on the other hand, had been all hers. Or at least he had been until the former high school football star started showing up on their doorstep and talking about stupid things like shovel passes and flea-flickers.

Whatever in the hell they were.

She missed her friends at her old school and on most days hated the fact that she'd had to move to the coast and away from everyone she knew back in Augusta. If it wasn't for Sam, she would seriously consider asking her mother if she could go live with Brittany and her family back in Augusta until she went to college. Kara's family, or even Michelle's mom would take her in.

“I'll ignore that comment about Coop, and my nose isn't growing.” Jenni rubbed her nose, as if she was checking to see if indeed it had grown. “What I meant to say was, I would try to make them behave.”

“How? Are you packing a Taser stun gun I don't know about?”

Jenni tried to cover up her chuckle with a cough. “I don't believe in using violence to control the boys.”

“That's your first mistake.” She got up and reached for another tray of Snowflake soap to wrap. Jenni must have been busy today cutting all the bars. It was her job to apply labels not only to the bars of soap but also to the assorted body creams, cranberry hand wash, and brown sugar body polish. All of Jenni's products were made from 100 percent natural ingredients, and the entire state seemed to be on a going-back-to-nature kick.

By the looks of things she was going to be busy until way after Christmas.

“You would have me hit the boys?” Jenni stopped wrapping the handmade soap and stared at her in horror.

“Of course not.” She felt terrible for even kidding about such a thing. Her nephews owned her heart and she would personally rip anyone apart who so much as laid a finger on them. She set the tray down and perched herself back on the stool.

She still couldn't resist teasing Jenni. “Leather restraints should do the job.”