Right from the Start (11 page)

“You did. His name’s Sam.”

“How old is he?”

She heard the dolly wheels clatter again, but didn’t turn
around. Instead, she occupied herself with locating a hammer. The drill hung
from a hook on the outside of the cart as if it had been recently used.

“He just turned six.”

“I was right, then. That’s what I guessed.” She was babbling
now to fill up the quiet. All this to hang a shingle? Oh, and to avoid getting
caught staring at Will.

Yesterday, she’d had the distraction of playing hostess and
lots of people to help rein in her stupidity. Not so today. It was the being
alone with him that intensified her reaction, she decided. And except for
yesterday and the day they’d signed the lease in the mayor’s office, she’d
usually been alone with him. Another piece of the puzzle in place.

“Where are you hanging that shingle? On the door?”

“Next to it. Under the porch light probably.”

“That bit won’t work, Kenzie. You need a masonry bit. They’re
in that big orange case there. I’ve got every size so you should find what you
need.”

“Oh, okay.”

She found the case, and it appeared that Will did, indeed, have
every size known to man. She must have looked confused because the next thing
she knew he towered over her shoulder, so close she could feel the warmth of his
body.

Her chest tightened around her next breath, but as he had her
sandwiched between the tool cart and his big self, there was no slipping away
without some dramatic maneuver that would draw notice. She did not want to
appear anything but casual.

“What size do you need?” His throaty voice was close enough to
send shivers through her.

“I’m not sure.”

“Where’s the thing you’re hanging?”

“My place.”

“If you’ll be working awhile,” he said. “I’ll come over and
hang it. I just got Sam settled in front of his game, so I’ll come when he takes
a break.”

That admission provided a welcome distraction from the way her
insides vibrated softly in the wake of his voice.

But she was surprised that Will didn’t want to disturb his son.
She hadn’t pegged him as one of those divorced fathers who overcompensated by
allowing his child to call all the shots. If that was the case, he was doing his
son a disservice. Poor kid was in for a tough time if he grew up thinking people
would cater to his every desire.

“I don’t want to be a bother, Will. I can figure out how to
drill a hole in brick. I’ve hung lots of things in my house.”

A flicker of movement in her periphery drew her around to stare
into his face. Against her better judgment, of course.

Something about the sudden granitelike expression suggested he
might be assessing all the things that could go wrong if she screwed up, things
he’d be called upon to repair.

“You’re leaving right now?” he asked.

She shook her head.

“Then let me come. Won’t be too long, and it’ll take me only a
couple of minutes to install, tops.”

“You’re sure you don’t mind? I’d have done it already if
Nathanial hadn’t forgotten my toolbox in his car.”

That brought Will back a step so he could look at her full in
the face. “Nathanial? The blond attorney?”

She nodded, miraculously able to breathe again with the added
space between them.

“Boyfriend?”

“Sometimes.”

“Right now?”

“Not at the moment.” The admission was out of her mouth before
she had a chance to decide whether or not she wanted to answer such personal
questions. She supposed his curiosity was natural, though, considering she’d
dragged him over to eat and introduced everyone yesterday.

And he was still curious. She could see it all over his
expression, but he just asked, “Do you want me to come over?”

“Only if you’re sure you don’t mind.”

He shook his head, and Kenzie got the sense that he was
suddenly as eager to end this exchange as she was. This fact seemed to be borne
out when he walked to the doorway and gave a thumbs-up to his son. Whatever
response he received brought a small smile to his face.

“No, I don’t mind. I’ll do it as soon as Sam takes a break.
I’ve got to feed him, anyway.”

Kenzie knew she shouldn’t open her mouth, but her unruly inner
child got the better of her. “You’re welcome to feed him and yourself from my
fridge. Lots of leftovers from yesterday.”

That surprised him, she could tell by his expression. Surprised
her, too, truth be told.

“Still have any of those chicken strips and carrots left?” he
asked.

She nodded.

“That could work. Okay, then. Thanks.” The dimples flashed.

Kenzie headed toward Will and the door. “Come over when it’s
convenient for you, then. I appreciate the help.”

“Won’t be too long.”

Kenzie got to the door where Will still stood and glanced
through at the adorable boy still engaged in his game. “He’s six, you said? Is
he starting kindergarten this year, or has he started school already?”

Will’s gaze fixed on his son, and the dimples vanished,
replaced by a thoughtful expression. “He’s been in a program for almost two
years now. When he graduates from that, he’ll start school—probably the private
school at the church that started Angel House. That’s my hope, anyway.”

There was so much in his expression that he didn’t bother to
hide that Kenzie could only issue a vague, “Oh.”

Because suddenly the pieces started falling into place, all the
little things she’d noticed, all the questions about why Will would fight his
beautiful and ultraprofessional wife for custody of their son in court and win
primary custody.

“A program?” she asked, curiosity getting the better of her.
“Like a preschool?”

His crystal gaze fixed on her, one glance that stole her breath
again. “An ABA program. Applied Behavior Analysis. That’s why Angel House needs
more classrooms. Lot of kids around need the program.”

So many things clashed in her head at that exact moment. A
special-needs school. Will’s private agenda with Family Foundations. So private
in fact that he was willing to renovate this property himself. Primary physical
custody. A young boy who didn’t acknowledge her.

Looked like she had her answer about Will’s personal interest
in creating Family Foundations.

But Kenzie couldn’t pull it all together that fast, not when
Will awaited a reply, not when she felt compelled to make it a reply that
counted.

“He’s a beautiful boy, Will,” was all she could think to say.
“And he’s very handsome. Like his dad.” Then she headed through the door,
whispering, “Bye, Sam. Nice meeting you.”

She wasn’t sure what else to do because she didn’t know the
first thing about autism, didn’t know what was allowed and what wasn’t. Didn’t
know why she had asked such a personal question in the first place.

The only thing Kenzie knew was that nowhere in the initial
consultation and preliminary information Will’s ex-wife had provided had she
mentioned anything about her son’s special needs.

CHAPTER SIX

W
ILL
RUFFLED
S
AM
’
S
hair to
get his son’s attention. “Computer time’s up, buddy.”

Sam protested. He hadn’t found his words yet, as Deanne called
crossing the language barrier, but there was no mistaking that growl of
frustration even if Will hadn’t recognized the mutiny in his son’s demeanor.
Will held up a laminated checklist on a clipboard. Sam’s schedule. They laid out
every minute of the day in dry-erase ink, whatever color Sam chose each
morning.

Today was a green day.

“Remember?” Will handed Sam the marker. “Check.”

Sam’s scowl didn’t fade but he did place a big check mark next
to the word
computer.
The word
eat
had originally come next, but Will had added in another
direction.

Meet.

He’d needed the lead time to give Sam a heads-up about changing
the schedule.

“What comes next?” he asked and waited.

It took a while. Sam really wanted to be in front of the
computer, but he finally shifted his gaze to the next item on the list.

“Good job, buddy.” Will ruffled Sam’s hair again. “Meet a new
friend. Then eat.”

Will waited while Sam slipped the marker into the holder that
kept it attached to the schedule. As a tool, the schedule wasn’t any good
without the marker, and both accompanied Sam from the minute he opened his eyes
in the morning to the minute he shut them at night. Good days were the ones they
could walk through scheduling a few steps ahead without lots of additions or
changes. Days when too many unexpected things happened could get hairy.

Sam was antsy from all the sitting, so Will took his time
shutting down the laptop and packing it up, giving Sam a chance to run up and
down the hallway. Back and forth, his footsteps echoing rhythmically in the
emptiness. The new Angel House in its unfinished state would be any kid’s dream.
Lots of space to run unobstructed by furniture. Lots of empty rooms to
explore.

Will grabbed the drill and a few things he’d need to hang
Kenzie’s shingle and stuffed them into Sam’s backpack, which he slung over his
shoulder. He tucked Sam’s schedule under his arm.

“Time to go.” He extended his hand to Sam and waited.

They dropped off the laptop in the truck and made their way to
Kenzie’s side of the building.

Will had known he’d taken Kenzie off guard with his explanation
about Sam. People would never know Sam was a child with autism by looking at
him. But she’d rallied by the time he had arrived with his son and his drill in
tow. When she appeared in the doorway, she greeted them with a welcoming
smile.

“Hi,” was all she said, allowing him to lead the
conversation.

“This is my son, Sam,” he said before leaning over to meet his
son’s gaze. “Ms. Kenzie is our new friend.”

Will whipped out a card from his pocket and showed it to Sam.
This card was the size of a small index card with instructions on it and was one
of a set that went with him wherever he went. Guadalupe kept a set, too. One for
Sam, and another for Rafael, who’d found his language and was now expanding his
vocabulary with the help of aids like these cards.

This card had an actual photo of a smiling Sam, a prompt for
how to respond when Sam met a new person.

Make eye contact.

Smile.

Sam smiled. One out of two wasn’t bad. Not when Kenzie waited
patiently with her calm firmly in place, as if she had all day and did not mind
the delay one bit. Will liked that about her.

She smiled in reply, a big, bright smile that illuminated her
features and communicated everything she didn’t say. He liked her smile,
too.

And he was impressed. She either had experience with autism or
possessed an abundance of common sense. He had no clue which, but very much
appreciated her patience right now. So many people got uncomfortable when they
dealt with Sam and let nerves dictate the encounter. Too many would get chatty,
which could be so confusing to his son, a really smart kid who didn’t process
sensory information the way most people did.

Handing Sam the marker, Will held out the clipboard with the
schedule. Sam checked off another item on their list. Will pointed to the
picture of an apple.

“Now we eat. Then you can spin.” He met Sam’s gaze and knew his
son was good with that. Will glanced at Kenzie, found her watching them with a
soft expression in her eyes. “I need a place to sit him down and eat. You may
regret offering to feed us.”

“Not at all, Will,” she said genially. “Just tell me what needs
to happen, and we’ll make it happen.”

This woman might be a stranger to his private life, to Sam, but
she was a compassionate one. She bridged the distance between their short
professional relationship and this understanding of his family circumstances
easily.

Will knew when he saw the paper cups, plates and silverware
stacked on the table in her break room that she was already prepared. She’d
readied what she could in anticipation of their visit. There was three of
everything, so Will guessed she planned to eat with them.

So many people avoided dealing with Sam when they couldn’t
engage him in expected ways. Not necessarily unkindness, just uncertainty, and
sometimes fear. People could be
scared
of his son,
this smart and funny boy who loved to laugh and play ball and give hugs, simply
because they didn’t understand him.

Will had taken a long time to accept that truth, the
frustration, the anger, the ache.

But Kenzie was rolling with the situation. Brave? Or naive?
Will didn’t know, but he appreciated her effort as she retrieved containers from
the fridge.

“What about you, Will? I have sandwiches. Turkey? Ham? There’s
still some potato salad, too.”

“Sounds great. Turkey would be good. Although ham works, too.”
Food was food. He wasn’t picky nowadays. At least until he tackled gluten-free
again.

After directing Sam to the table, Will watched Kenzie, all
brisk efficiency and effortless grace as she separated plates and set out
sandwiches. She stood at the sink with her back to them, red hair tumbling over
her shoulders, still somewhat unfamiliar to him in her jeans and sneakers.

“Anything to drink?” she asked.

“Water’s good for both of us. You?”

“Me, too.” She reached for the cups, but Will was already
there, taking them to the dispenser.

He caught a sight of her smile in profile, and decided he liked
this glimpse of the woman he’d seen this weekend. Not so distant.
Approachable.

He had no idea what had changed, didn’t doubt she’d still keep
him busy with her never-ending requests, but he understood that she appreciated
all his work around here, enough to want to thank him however she could. Food
worked. For him, and Sam.

Setting the cups on the table, he prepared Sam’s plate,
chopping chicken into thin strips with a plastic knife so they resembled the
shape of the carrot sticks.

“Anything else?” she asked.

He shook his head, and Kenzie sat, slipping napkins beside
their plates while Will tackled the backpack, forced to pull out the drill
before tracking down the plastic container that protected Sam’s apple from
bruising.

“Rectangle day, buddy. First rectangles then the circle.” He
held up the apple. “Sam’s on an apple kick lately,” Will explained, taking his
seat. “That’s all he wants to eat.”

“Couldn’t pick a better place to live if you like apples.”

Will laughed. “You’re right there.”

Hendersonville was so renowned for its apples that people came
from all over to attend the annual apple festival on Labor Day weekend. Angel
House’s booths were their largest fund-raiser of the year, and parents staffed
booths from sunup to sundown. The booths provided everything from cultural foods
to crafts. This year they were adding a 50/50 draw in the bingo tent.

The thought occurred to Will that city council would likely
make some sort of appearance with the mayor that day, too. He made a mental note
to ask at the next council meeting. Advance notice was always good for arranging
Sam’s care. Particularly as Will was already committed to grill in Angel House’s
American booth.

“So how’s the unpacking coming along?” he asked. “Besides the
shingle, I mean.”

Kenzie set the sandwich on her plate—she’d gone for the turkey,
too—and met his gaze. “Accomplished a lot. Although I’m not close to done, I am
ready to work in the morning, and that’s what I was hoping for.”

“Looked like you had a lot of help.”

An animated expression that dispelled some of her calm crossed
her features. “Right? Any excuse for a party. I thought about hiring movers, but
given the time frame I was working with...well, the thought of trying to find
everything that someone else packed gave me nightmares. I’m a bit of a control
freak.”

She shrugged sheepishly as if admitting something that wasn’t
readily apparent to anyone who had dealt with her and her lists and her intense
attention to detail.

“Really?” He feigned innocence.

She eyed him as if gauging whether or not he was serious. “Just
a little.”

“Running a business, right?”

“You know. At the end of the day, everything comes right back
to you. You’re the key decision-maker.”

“True.” He didn’t think she’d decided whether or not he was
serious, but she’d latched on to his reasoning with both hands.

Sam made quick work of the chicken but left the carrots
untouched. Sliding his chair back, Will reached to the counter and grabbed a few
carrots from the container. He dropped them onto his plate. “Mm, carrots. My
favorite.”

Kenzie surprised him by reaching toward his plate. “Carrots are
my favorite, too. Do you mind?”

“Help yourself.”

She plucked up a carrot stick and nibbled appreciatively.

Will ate a carrot, too, suddenly so grateful for her
participation. He knew this feeling intimately, felt it every single time
someone interacted with Sam in a positive way. Deanne. Therapists. Aides.
Teachers. Guadalupe. The other parents at support group.

People who weren’t scared of his son.

Every positive interaction managed to dispel the weight of
feeling as if he was the only one interacting positively with Sam, the only one
who saw the possibility of a normal future. Will barely noticed it anymore, not
like he did at first anyway, but the feeling was always there, underlying
everything, most especially noticeable when he got an unexpected breather.

Sam got the hint and was soon munching away like a rabbit. He
liked carrots. Today. And they were gluten free.

And Kenzie noticed, a smile playing around the corners of her
mouth as she brought the cup to her lips and sipped.

She made things easy, Will realized, an entirely unexpected and
ironic realization about a woman who had been running him ragged with her
never-ending list.

“So tell me about my new neighbors, Will,” she said. “Angel
House is a school.”

“Yes and no. It does have a school but probably not in the
sense you’re thinking of. It’s a resource center.”

A Sanctuary for Families Facing
Autism.

“There are classes for kids and parents,” he continued, giving
the layperson’s overview of services. “Angel House provides just about
everything a family needs to deal with the disorder. There’s a lot involved with
helping parents, a lot more than most people realize. Angel House has it
all.”

Except enough money. Angel House never had that.

“Wow. I keep meaning to look into it for my own information,
but I haven’t found the time.”

“This came up pretty suddenly.” He gestured to the room around
them.

The delicate line of her eyebrows furrowed. “Seventy-two hours
was a challenge. I’m not going to lie.”

“Sorry about that. We’re on a time limit.”

“You mentioned that. For the school year, right?”

He nodded. “Can’t move the kids once the school year begins.
That would be unsettling for students in a normal school setting. Angel House’s
kids already have problems transitioning. And if we have to push the move back
until next year, Angel House will miss out on a big, private foundation
grant.”

“Sounds important.”

“It is.” Kenzie had no idea, and Will didn’t share exactly how
important that grant was.

Leaning back in her chair, she tucked a strand of hair behind
her ear, clearly considering. “Okay, so Angel House outgrew its current location
at the church. Is that right?”

Will nodded. “And not for the first time. The program started
in some empty classrooms in the grade school, but didn’t last long there. So the
parish donated a house that sits on the property behind the school. That’s when
it officially became known as Angel House.”

“How does a resource center work? Do people pay for the
services like private education? Is it sliding scale?”

Will knew exactly what she was asking—to understand the
relationship between the church and school and city funds.

Back to that religious designation.

“It’s a not-for-profit, Kenzie. The church continues to
contribute to the program, since it started as a parish ministry, but Angel
House has grown way beyond their means. The director is a positive genius at
fund-raising. She’s the one who heard about your agency from Judge Parrish.”

Kenzie inclined her head but her gaze flicked to Sam. “I think
someone’s ready for his apple.”

“Here you go, buddy.” Will grabbed the apple from the counter
and handed it to Sam, who crunched into it, clearly content. “Good job.”

Will removed the empty plate and tossed it in the trash before
sitting down again.

Kenzie was silent while finishing her sandwich. “So that’s why
Family Foundations is so important, isn’t it? To get Angel House funding, like
with that grant you mentioned?”