Right from the Start (17 page)

“Good night,” she said. “Drive safely.”

Good luck,
she added silently.

When she got right down to essentials, Kenzie wanted to give
students one new tool to take home, one revelation or skill or inspiration to
help them navigate divorce in a way that protected the family unit for their
children. She believed in that goal with her heart and soul. A family could take
many forms, and did, but children needed and deserved a solid unit.

Giving a final wave as the last student disappeared into her
car, she pulled shut the door. Kenzie usually left this task to the off-duty
police officer, but tonight she wanted to see if a truck with WLR General
Contracting and Developers emblazoned on the side sat in the parking lot.

Will’s truck was parked exactly where it had been every night
she’d been here. She suspected his truck was here even on nights she wasn’t.
He’d obviously been busy because until tonight Kenzie hadn’t seen him for
weeks.

The man had popped through her ceiling and started campaigning
with her students. In the middle of a class, no less.

Ruthless charmer, indeed.

“Sure you don’t want me to wait until you lock up? It’s late.”
The officer held the door so she could enter. He was one of a group who rotated
as rent-a-cop during classes.

“Thanks, but Lou was out today, and I’ve got a session at the
crack of dawn. I’d rather print everything I need tonight than drag myself in
here even earlier in the morning. It’s going to take a while.”

He glanced through the panel in the door. “Well, I don’t feel
so bad about leaving you alone here as I did at your old office. Parking lot is
well lit. Got good cops on this beat, too. Pay attention when you go to your
car. I don’t think your neighbor will hear you if you need help.”

“I don’t think so, either. Big place.”

“The parking lot is open so you can see in all directions.”

She smiled. “I’ll pay attention. Promise.”

After handing him an envelope with his moonlighting fee, Kenzie
let him out the door, the new chimes Will had sent a worker to install while
he’d been AWOL ringing cheerily, and loudly, as the officer departed. She locked
the door and headed to her office, wondering if Will still crawled around inside
her attic. Squelching her curiosity with effort, Kenzie organized the paperwork
needed for tomorrow’s session.

Mediating the Spencers had proven a challenge. They’d moved
past voluntary collaboration into court-appointed mediation, which always added
a level of resistance because people generally didn’t like to be told what to
do. That was human nature. And especially when it had to do with something as
personal as their families and hard-earned assets.

Mrs. Spencer resented that Mr. Spencer wanted to end their
marriage after fourteen years and two children, who were still relatively young.
It didn’t help that they were in that gray period where alimony wasn’t likely,
and Mrs. Spencer felt as if she would be left to maneuver the teenage years
alone and face the difficult task of getting her children into good colleges
without her husband’s support.

She would be forced back into the job market to make a living.
Not only was the economy difficult right now, but as a registered nurse, Mrs.
Spencer would be required to work twelve-hour shifts, which created problems
with car pools and after-school activities.

All because Mr. Spencer had decided to value wild monkey
sex—Mrs. Spencer’s words—with his massage therapist more than his wife and
children.

Despite that questionable choice, Mr. Spencer was attempting to
handle the divorce responsibly. Guilt, most likely, for placing his wants and
needs above those of his family. Of course, that was Kenzie’s read on the
situation based upon surface observation. The only people who ever knew what
really took place in a marriage were the people in it.

But she also knew that riding the guilt wave wouldn’t last
forever. The more Mrs. Spencer resisted negotiation, the more ammunition she
gave Mr. Spencer to feel justified in tossing up his hands and saying, “I did
the best I could.”

Kenzie had been mediating long enough to gauge the escalation
of frustration. Mr. Spencer was nearly there. Somehow she needed to help Mrs.
Spencer refocus her resentment and fear on to the best interests of her children
and the needs of her family. So far they’d only accomplished grudging baby steps
before Mrs. Spencer remembered how angry she was again.

Kenzie considered the problem while the printer whirred
steadily, spitting out the list of assets they’d successfully negotiated so far.
She’d recap their successes before addressing the issues that had been tabled
for further discussion.

Five copies. One each for Mrs. Spencer and her attorney. One
each for Mr. Spencer and his attorney. One copy for Kenzie.

Sinking into her chair, she placed her feet up on the desk and
reviewed the tabled discussions. Kenzie needed to get Mrs. Spencer to recognize
the good position she was actually in because North Carolina was a state of
equitable distribution. A judge would consider that Mrs. Spencer had given up
her career to rear children and keep the books for Mr. Spencer’s plumbing
business, which involved payroll, accounts payable and receivable. Her
contribution to the family and increasing the value of her husband’s business
would factor a great deal in the division of assets.

That was not the case in community property states.

They’d already addressed a number of the bigger issues such as
physical custody, visitation and housing, to name a few, but they hadn’t made
much headway because Kenzie couldn’t give Mrs. Spencer the only thing she
wanted—her life to remain unchanged.

Rubbing her temples, Kenzie rested her head back and closed her
eyes, reviewing the situation with the hope of finding some detail that might
break through Mrs. Spencer’s resentment.

The next thing Kenzie knew the whirring of the printer had
faded to silence. She must have dozed because her eyelids were heavy and,
blinking to clear her gaze, she sensed a presence. She glanced up and saw
him.

Will.

He stood in the doorway of her office as if he belonged there,
as if leaning against the doorjamb with his arms folded over his broad chest was
exactly where he should be. He watched her. Kenzie only knew she could feel his
gaze through her lingering slumber as a caress.

No, that couldn’t be right.

A voice in her head argued against the potency of the moment,
but Kenzie knew what she felt, an awareness that closed the distance, made a
simple glance feel alive.

Or maybe she only reacted to his presence. She hadn’t seen him
in so long, three weeks suddenly seemed a lifetime.

The absence should have let the memory of him to fade. But it
hadn’t. No, absence had only given rise to her imagination, to a thousand tiny
expectations every time she drove into the parking lot wondering whether she’d
find his truck, every time she finished up with a client or a class to wonder
whether he’d show up
finally
to continue work, every
time she turned a corner because he had a key to come and go as he pleased, a
key he wouldn’t turn over until renovations were complete.

And he had finally come. Tonight. Earlier.
Now.

The natural glow from the lamps she favored above the glare of
fluorescent lighting played tricks with her still-drowsy gaze, softened Will’s
features in an unfamiliar way, cast shadows on the clear eyes that sparked such
incredible turmoil inside her.

She was being ridiculous. Even half-asleep she knew it.
Especially when a thought niggled at the edges of her awareness, a thought that
urged how much easier it would be to let her inner child run the show. This
power struggle was exhausting.

She empathized with her students, realized how much she
complicated their lives—and her own—with her beliefs and her classes and her
coping skills. Letting her inner child run rampant then dealing with the fallout
seemed so much easier than battling her inner child for control. So much easier
to go with the powerful emotion sparked by this man than to constantly remind
herself he was off-limits for almost every adult reason she could think of.

Suddenly Kenzie felt as tired as Will looked.

And once she could see past her reaction to him, she recognized
that he looked exhausted.

“You’re working late tonight.” Her words were a whisper in the
stillness, intruding on the dreamy quality of the moment.

On the inherent danger of moments like this one when the
boundaries were blurred and reason prowled the edges of thought, unable to get
anyone’s attention.

But her words didn’t shatter the moment in the way she’d
counted on. Not when the light caught his hair when he nodded, a gleam that drew
her attention to the way it had started to curl at his nape. Sam’s hair. Will
needed a trim.

And definitely not when he replied in that gently gruff voice.
“You, too.”

Except that she hadn’t been working. She’d been sleeping.

And he’d been watching.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” he said. “You looked so
peaceful.”

Was that longing she heard in his voice, as if he didn’t find
peace all that much himself?

“I should be problem-solving, not sleeping.” She gave a nervous
laugh, reality rearing its head. There was no denying that what she’d once
thought of as Will’s ruthless ambition suddenly looked a lot like determination.
Or had it been determination all along?

Kenzie believed it had, based on what she’d seen with her own
eyes, not the impressions she’d had of Will and secondhand accounts. That
realization was a dangerous transition, proved she hadn’t been keeping her
distance as much as she’d intended.

She’d been dealing with her reaction by rationalizing,
reasoning, attempting to control.

But beneath the logic and sensibility, her opinion had been
subtly shifting. Until his exhaustion looked like determination, and Will didn’t
feel nearly as dangerous as he should.

“What exactly about him isn’t your
cup?”
Nathanial’s question replayed in her memory.

In this moment, when Kenzie gazed into Will’s quiet expression,
saw the shadows beneath his eyes, she couldn’t come up with one single
thing.

“I just wanted to apologize for crashing your class tonight,”
he said. “Totally unintentional. I was on a roll and not paying attention.”

“Oh, no problem. I’m sure you made the students’ night. No one
wants to be there listening to me preach for four hours.”

The corners of his mouth tipped up in a smile. A dimple peeked
from its hiding place beneath his five o’clock shadow.

Nearly eleven o’clock shadow now.

“Didn’t sound like preaching from where I was sitting.”

“Hanging you mean?”

The dimple made an appearance for real. “Yeah.”

“You’ve been here late a lot of nights recently,” she said,
desperate for this conversation to drown out the voice in her head, an awareness
of this man the quiet only amplified.

“Sam’s at camp. Putting the time to work.”

“How fun for him.”

Will nodded, his smile thoughtful now, somehow gentle in the
soft light. He had such an expressive mouth...she wondered how he kissed. He was
such an interesting blend of opposites, a big man who managed to be gentle, a
ruthlessly charming man who managed to be vulnerable, an ambitious local
politician who could work miracles with his hands.

Maybe she was seeing him reflected against his interactions
with Sam. Or maybe he made her think of kissing because she loved kissing in all
its forms, from the exquisite tenderness of shared breaths to the wild hunger of
needy exploration.

And now she was thinking about kissing him.

Kenzie was in so, so much trouble here.

“How much longer are you going to be?” he asked, thoughtful as
always, a gentleman. “I just dropped by to apologize. And now I’m heading out.
We can walk out together.”

This time, when offered a gentlemanly escort to her car, Kenzie
accepted.

CHAPTER NINE

A
N
UNUSUALLY
EMPTY
HOUSE
, a few hours of sleep and a frenzied day spent
rushing from one job site to the next didn’t do a damn thing to help Will shake
the memory of last night.

He didn’t even need to close his eyes to see Kenzie the way
she’d looked, fast asleep at her desk with her chin resting against her chest
and wisps of her hair playing about her face.

Her hair hadn’t come anywhere close to covering her legs
though, which she’d propped on the desk for his viewing pleasure. Gravity had
kindly worked its magic on her skirt so he’d gotten a prime shot of those dancer
legs, which is exactly how he thought of them—long, lean and shapely. He saw
more thigh than this proper miss would have revealed—to him, anyway.

Maybe not to her not-at-the-moment attorney.

Just the thought soured Will’s mood. Kenzie was making him
remember what he’d forgotten in the crush of his busy life.

He was a man who hadn’t been with a woman in a long time.

Okay, well, he hadn’t so much forgotten as he had been too busy
and preoccupied to notice anything that could be ignored. Sam. Work. Angel
House. City council. Family. Friends even still made it onto the list for
holidays and play dates for Sam whenever they found time. He’d pack up Sam and
off they’d go to Charlie and Nicole’s or Greg and Ashley’s to watch a game or
grill outdoors so the kids could swim.

But hell no to anything even resembling a woman or a date.
There hadn’t been room in his life to even think about someone let alone meet
someone and invest the one thing he didn’t have into a relationship—time.

To date, sex hadn’t made the list and wouldn’t as long as it
could be ignored. He wished he could somehow figure out that part of his life,
because he hadn’t been wrong about Kenzie. She was aware of him the way he was
of her. No question.

So how long could he go without sex? As he’d already broken his
personal record, Will supposed he’d go back to ignoring the situation. Any
possibility of sex would be even easier to ignore once Sam got home to keep him
focused on what was important in his life.

Glancing at the dashboard clock, he cursed.

Hunger was making him irritable, but he had to abandon his plan
of picking up a to-go dinner from the deli to make up for the lunch he hadn’t
had. Well, the protein bar and bag of peanuts he kept in the glove compartment
didn’t count. Deanne had wanted to meet at the new building at five, and it was
already 4:50 p.m.

Will would rather starve than complain, though. Not when he’d
been enjoying the break from dealing with food—the planning of meals, the buying
groceries, the meal preparation. A never-ending job on top of all the others.
And he still had to tackle gluten free. He had an entirely new appreciation for
his mother and Melinda, who had once fed houses filled with hungry guys. And
whatever Melinda’s difficulties with handling Sam’s situation now, she’d always
made sure there was plenty of food when they’d been together.

Kenzie’s car was parked where it always was. Amazing how one
stupid, midpriced sedan could spike his pulse. He was ignoring that. His crew
was still there, too, working on the plumbing and fixtures in the new classrooms
from the last phone call with his foreman an hour ago.

Deanne’s SUV was there already, too.

Will wound up burning another ten minutes in conversation with
his foreman about an unexpected problem with an inspector. It was always
something in this business. Rip down a wall to find the wiring fried. Get the
inspectors to actually show up when they said they would and they weren’t happy
with something.

Deanne finally hunted him down as he was wrapping up his
conversation. She smiled and waved, looking as she always did—focused and
frazzled around the edges and somehow amused by it all. She always said she’d
never have made it through a day without finding humor in it. She managed to
share that gift with everyone around her.

But her smile seemed forced today.

“Hey, you. Come on.” He gave Deanne a hug and led her out of
the hallway-in-progress where the framed walls didn’t provide any privacy. He
wanted to get out the way of his crew, who had to wrap up their day before six
otherwise Will would be looking at overtime and a payroll he couldn’t afford to
write checks for.

He led her into a room that would eventually be one of the
offices; which one hadn’t been decided yet. “I’ll give you a key if you want to
drop by to see how much work we’re getting done every day.”

“Like I have that kind of time.” Deanne pulled a face as she
half sat on a rung of the painter’s ladder—the only piece of furniture in the
room. “I just needed to be here, to be reassured. I wouldn’t have even bothered
you if I’d realized the crew would still be here.”

“What’s up?”

She exhaled sharply and waved a dismissive hand. “I’m being
ridiculous. I cut a check for the printer. I had to change the address on the
agendas and all the promotional materials for the apple festival, and by the
time I finished signing my name I was almost hyperventilating.”

With money tight, Will understood why writing any check could
create anxiety. He experienced his own fair share of that when he looked at his
supply bills and the payroll increase for the crew he kept yanking off paying
jobs to work on Angel House.

But he didn’t think that’s what was bothering Deanne.

“We’re moving along okay. On schedule.”
For the most part.
Not even he could have anticipated the structural
problem with the space the architect had allotted to move several of the
mechanical systems into. Not at least until they’d demolished walls. He didn’t
share that with Deanne. It was need-to-know information that would only add to
her stress.

“I know, Will.” She sounded apologetic and annoyed at the same
time. “I’m being so selfish. I needed to walk around here and see everything for
myself. I needed to hear you tell me we’re going to make it, and that I didn’t
just throw away a lot of money that would have been put to better use giving all
our wonderful employees at least a little severance pay.”

“Deanne,” he said on a long breath. Selfish was one thing this
woman had never been in Will’s acquaintance. But he also lived the life Deanne
did and could hear everything she wasn’t saying to him.

Something had rocked her boat. Could be as simple as a tough
few days with her daughter, who had outgrown her during the past year, shooting
up like teens did and now towering over her mother. Add the accompanying
hormones and her daughter had hit a transition point and the need for a new
skillset that would take time to learn.

Or it could be something complicated such as stress weighing on
her and her husband, their biggest support system for each another. That part
could be really tough. Will knew the toll autism took on a marriage. He’d lost
his to it.

But no matter what had Deanne’s faith wavering today, the
reason was personal, hers to share or not as she chose.

That was an unspoken rule with Angel House parents. They
supported one another, no questions asked.
Always.

Sometimes the parents in the support group were all each other
had when no one in their lives understood the unique challenges, and the unique
joys, of having a child with autism. Not family. Not friends. Not the strangers
in the stores who could be well-meaning or really unkind when they witnessed a
meltdown for reasons they didn’t understand.

When kids looked normal, they were expected to act that way,
too. People could even be cruel.

“It’s all good.” Will knelt in front of her and took her hands
in his. “We’re making it happen.”

She nodded, clenched his hands tightly.

“We haven’t gone through all this work to
not
move into this building. I didn’t exactly remodel this place,
Deanne. I renovated the space to fit our needs exactly. No one’s going to want
it after I’m through.” He smiled. “Besides, we’ve got a really long lease and
great rent.”

She inclined her head, dark hair falling forward but not hiding
eyes that glinted and her struggle to maintain a composed expression. She was
fighting, trying to keep her emotions from taking over.

Talking to help her through the moment, he said, “If the Ramsey
Foundation grant doesn’t come through, then something else will. You know what
I’m talking about. A door closes and a window opens. That whole thing.”

Silence was his only reply for a long moment then she took a
deep, steadying breath. “We do what we can do, and that’s all we can do,
right?”

“Right.”

There was more silence between them, a healing silence. He
suspected she was looking for humor to get her through whatever was happening in
her world, whatever had frayed her nerves.

Finally she met his gaze. “You’ve moved heaven and earth to
make this place happen, Will. You know how much everyone appreciates everything
you’ve done and are still doing?”

“We do what we can do.”

That’s when her expression melted and she smiled softly. He
witnessed the effort, hoped that whatever had her worried today would resolve
quickly, but she’d found her humor again.

“We do what we can do.” A reminder. “And trust that God’s got a
plan.”

“Yep,” Will agreed. “So you do your thing at Angel House, and
let me worry about this place for the moment. That a deal?”

“Deal.” She tightened her grip on his hands. “So what do you
have going on around here tonight? I know you’re not heading home yet.”

“I wish.” Will laughed. “Well, not really. House is quiet
without Sam around, to be honest.”

“I’ll bet. Crazy, isn’t it?”

“What?”

“How life might not happen as we expect, but somehow things
turn out exactly the way they’re supposed to. Different maybe, but better in so
many ways.”

Will let out a low whistle. “Different is right. Maybe we just
learn to appreciate things more, the simple things that get lost in the shuffle.
What do you think?”

“Could be.” Finally, a sincere smile. “Thanks.”

He had no reply because one wasn’t necessary. They were there
for each other. Period. That was what Angel House taught its parents. To care.
To have faith. To trust that everything would work out for the best. To let the
heartaches fuel appreciation for the victories. To find humor in the uniqueness
of the journey. For that last one alone, Will owed Deanne more than he would
ever get a chance to repay.

He walked her through the building, pointing out a few more
things that had been done since her tour yesterday morning.

Then he escorted Deanne to her car. “I’ll send the key over
sometime this week.”

“You don’t have to trouble—”

“I’ll send it with someone who’s headed in that direction.”
Which would likely be him on the way to City Hall. “Rekeyed the whole building
when we replaced the doors, and should have thought of it then. You come
whenever and start bringing your stuff.”

That made her laugh. “You are a total doll. Enjoy your free
time. I might be able to finagle a few extra days of camp for Sam but that’ll be
it. The program age group shifts next week.”

“
You’re
the doll. I really needed
this extra time to get things under control here.” If that’s what he could call
it.

He opened her car door when the lock clicked and shut it behind
her. With a wave she drove off.

Will glanced at Kenzie’s side of the lot. Her car was still
there. He wouldn’t have minded avoiding her tonight. In general he found
ignoring the unattended aspects of his life easier when he wasn’t around Kenzie
James.

After falling asleep at her desk last night, he was surprised
she hadn’t headed home early—and wished she had. But she was probably like
everyone else around here with too much to do and not enough time to do it.
Deanne wasn’t the only one on the verge of hyperventilating.

Which wiped out avoidance as one of his choices tonight. He
couldn’t dodge work. Not if he planned to keep his promises to Deanne and
Kenzie. Which brought to mind another promise. Will stopped at his truck to grab
his toolbox and sanding equipment.

After knocking on the side door, he rang the bell. When he
still didn’t get an answer, he let himself in with the key, unwilling to waste
any more time trying to be polite. For all he knew she could be dozing at her
desk again. He didn’t think she was in class since there were no cars
around.

He made a tour of the administrative offices but didn’t find
her. Maybe he could finish up the classroom with the missing ceiling panel,
compliments of last night’s stupidity.

* * *

“W
HERE
ARE
YOU
, Nathanial?” Kenzie asked when the call rolled
to voice mail yet again.

She frowned at the display and disconnected without leaving a
message. She’d already left two, one last night and another earlier today, when
she thought the judge might break for lunch. She’d sent her good-morning text
message wishing him a successful day as she always did when he was in court. She
hadn’t expected a reply to the text because she always tried to be his last
encouraging thought before he closed the door on his personal life to focus on
what took place in the courtroom. A very high-stress and surprising world by all
accounts.

“Not even a text, Nathanial, really?” she said aloud, but there
was no one in her office to reply.

Just Kenzie and her thoughts—exactly what she didn’t want to be
alone with right now.

Which was the problem. Nathanial was probably crazy busy. The
urgency was entirely hers, and she factored that in every time she began to get
impatient.

Dragging a fingertip across her touch-screen display, she
decided not to wait. She would send him another text. Then she stopped herself
before typing the first word of a message. Reason argued he would have replied
already if he’d been available. Desperation was transforming her into a
shrew.