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“Tom Dewey here, Trent. How soon can I expect your bid?”
The phone call he’d been prepping for. Tom Dewey was NWAC, Naval Warfare Air Command, a military man and commander who fully appreciated Trent’s upgraded magnetron design for this radar system. A good man who wasn’t afraid to go out on a limb.
“I’m finishing up the specs and overnighting it to you first thing in the morning. Soon enough?”
“Perfect. We just got a bid in from Davison in Maryland and while they’re good, I’d like to see some of these bids go to areas with more economic challenge going on. With Walker’s strong track record on small contracts, Helen’s already got a foot in the door.”
“That explains your encouragement when the economic preference bill went up before Congress,” Trent noted.
“Exactly. I’ll be watching for the bid. And don’t be afraid to follow it up with others if Walker can handle the workload. We’re not in a hurry, but we’re not good at waiting games either.”
Trent knew that firsthand. Military wheels dragged in some cases, but when push came to shove, things could happen in an instant. “We’ll be ready for whatever comes our way, Tom. You have my word.”
“Well, good. Nice talking to you.”
“And you.”
Trent hung up the phone, closed the web page concerning Vaughn Maxwell and refocused his attentions on the bid. He was here to do a job, to meet his goal of procuring new and long-lasting employment for the community. He needed to be at the top of his game, unfettered by past or present.
He refilled his coffee mug and settled into his chair, reconfiguring estimates and numbers until he was satisfied long hours later. The bid was tight, accurate and hard-hitting where it needed to be. Once they had a successful track record with various military units, he could afford to be less stringent. But not now when being passed over could spell the downfall of a grassroots company refitting their manufacturing to meet the needs of a contract that might not come.
Trent refused to let that happen.
“Mommy, can I come, too?” Cory’s plaintive voice trailed as Alyssa loaded the back of the car with her mother’s strudels on Saturday morning. An Edge mainstay, the cheese, apple and triple-berry melt-in-your-mouth texture of the fresh pastries provided a sweet touch to end a meal or as the base layer of an Edge favorite, super strudel sundaes.
Alyssa nodded toward the backseat. “Sure you can. Hop in. Do you need help with your buckles?”
“I’m fwee,” Cory reminded her, her right hand displaying three tiny fingers that looked suspiciously sticky. “I’m big.”
“That you are, sugarplum. All right, have at it and then you and I will take these up the hill.”
Cory’s endearing smile sent a pang of regret through Alyssa. The past two weeks had been incredibly hectic, and Cory’s bright acceptance of a little time with Mommy cut deep.
“Alyssa, can you take these up as well?” Susan came across the yard with a large box of silk florals, the bright summer tones magnified by the morning sun, birdsong and the sheen of dew dampening her sneakers.
“Sure. We’ll put them back here.” Alyssa opened the wide tailgate of her mother’s SUV and whistled appreciation. “I love driving this thing. Total power rush.”
Susan laughed. “While I prefer your little car. Except on snowy winter days. Then this four-wheel-drive monster becomes my new best friend.”
“I can imagine. I’m taking Cory with me.”
“Shopping?”
Alyssa shook her head. Cory needed new summer clothes but they weren’t in the budget yet. Alyssa kept her gaze averted. “Next week. Today we’re just dropping this off at the restaurant and maybe a trip to the playground if Cory’s super-duper good.”
“I will be, Mommy. I pwomise this much.” Cory spread her arms wide, her sincere look matching her tone.
“Prrrrrrromise,” Alyssa corrected, stressing the R sound.
Cory nodded. “Pwwwwwwwwwwwomise!”
“Good girl.”
Susan exchanged a grin with Alyssa. “She sounds just like you did at the same age. A little trouble with R’s and L’s.”
“Really?” Her mother’s assertion pleased Alyssa. She had a hard time seeing much of herself in either child and that just seemed wrong after nine months of pregnancy. On the other hand, considering the way she’d mucked up her life, maybe taking after others was a good thing. “I’ll be back later then. Rocco’s doing afternoon/evening like always and I’m closing.”
Rocco was the head cook at The Edge, a tough-as-nails, my-way-or-the-highway–type guy. Her mother moved forward, her voice soft. “Is he still giving you a hard time?”
If by hard time her mother meant was Rocco an overbearing chauvinist jerk, then the answer would be an overwhelming yes. Still the cook knew his stuff and Alyssa couldn’t afford histrionics in the kitchen. Rocco’s fits were renowned and Alyssa didn’t have the time to mollify him like her father would.
Or the guts, but that was a different story. “Rocco’s Rocco. I just stay out of his way.”
Guilt stuck in her craw.
Wasn’t that exactly what she’d tried to do with Vaughn? Mollify things once they’d gone bad and stay out of his way? Self-recriminating memories churned inside her. If she’d stood her ground and left Vaughn when she should have…
She felt gutless for good reason. Standing her ground didn’t come naturally. She’d been a mouse, quiet and cowering long past the time when she should have made a stand. If she had, things might be different now.
Shame cut again.
She’d done everything she could to make sure Jaden didn’t suspect his stepfather’s temper. That meant no crying, no begging, but it was a small price to pay to protect Jaden’s formative years. And Vaughn had changed after Cory’s birth, her sweet, baby face giving him something to work for, to build for until another financial bad turn brought him down shortly after her first birthday.
She caught her breath, refusing to revisit those months, hindsight clarifying what seemed so muddled then.
Get out. Save your children.
If she’d only had the courage to do that sooner…
But she didn’t and there would always be a gap in her heart, a chasm, a small yawning space that could never quite be filled.
She’d made up her mind she’d never be fooled again, that she’d never be the object of another man’s anger. Vaughn’s crash put an end to that bout of craziness, but financial ruin brought its own share of troubles.
She was stronger now. She knew that. Made sure of it.
And right now Rocco’s finesse in the kitchen was important to the well-being of her family, her father’s health and their restaurant. She wasn’t about to do anything to mess with that, not after a long, tough winter.
“I’ll be back later. Jaden’s practicing this afternoon.”
“With Chris and Trent. I remember.”
Susan’s upthrust brow showed her concern, but she said nothing more. “Bye, Gwammy!”
“Goodbye, sugarplum. I’ll see you in a little while, okay?”
“’Kay.”
Susan sent Alyssa a sideways glance and kept her voice low. “She’s wide awake now.”
“And then some. The cold and the move must have really tuckered her out.”
“I’ll say.”
They’d had to wake Cory up the last several mornings, long after her normal greet-the-sun rising. And her afternoon naps were elongated as well, but Alyssa knew illness and change taxed little ones. Now that they were here and almost settled, Cory would have time to relax, be the preschooler she was meant to be.
Chapter Seven
Alyssa dropped off the boxed strudels, double checked the staff to make sure the luncheon shift was well-covered for a gorgeous spring Saturday, then headed down to the village where a castle playground anchored the southwest corner of their town park. She grabbed a water bottle, opened Cory’s door and nodded encouragement as Cory’s little fingers finagled the release tab. When Alyssa reached in to help, Cory shook her head, chin thrust out, brow tight. “I can do it.”
“Okay.”
Alyssa drew back, patient. Cory was such an easygoing child that quests for independence were broadly encouraged. Long moments later, a tiny click spelled success. “I did it!”
“You did, clever girl. Good job.” Alyssa closed the door and motioned toward the playground with her head. “Ready?”
“Oh, yes.”
Excitement tremored her tone. In the bright sun, the shadows beneath Cory’s eyes seemed deeper, more pronounced, violet smudges against porcelain skin. But her nose wasn’t running any longer, and the cough had gone from chronic to occasional. Day-by-day she was regaining her normal strength and tone.
Cory dashed across the crushed gravel, pigtails flying, her eyes on the tall, spiraling castle tower.
Of course.
Alyssa moved at a slower pace, watching Cory’s progress until the little girl’s saucy grin peered down from the wooden rail. “Look, Mommy! I’m way up here!”
“You are. Good job, sugarplum. Now how do you plan to get down?”
“Over the bwidge.”
“Ooooo…” Alyssa nodded to show she was impressed. “The very wiggly, rickety bridge?”
“Yes.”
“Good luck.”
“Fank you.”
Alyssa grinned. Obviously the th sound needed tweaking as well. She watched as Cory tested the wood with one foot, the suspension bridge designed to wiggle and jiggle beneath busy feet. Gripping the handrails, Cory put foot after foot until she swung up into a turret on the opposite end. “I did it!”
“Wonderful.”
“Can you play wif me, Mommy?”
“Sure.” Alyssa set the water bottle down, crawled through a space that obviously wasn’t designed for a woman’s build, and worked her way to the upper level through a series of tunnels. Just before the top, she called Cory’s name, teasing her.
“Where are you, Mommy?”
“I’m stuck.”
Cory giggled.
“I need help,” Alyssa continued, pumping desperation into her tone.
Cory giggled again. “I fink you’re kidding me.”
“Help.” Alyssa stuck a hand up through the tunnel, waving it wildly.
Cory laughed out loud. “I will help you.” She scampered back across the bridge, grabbed Alyssa’s fingers and pulled. “Come on, Mommy.”
Alyssa pretended to try. “Not working. I appear to be too big.”
“Reawwy?” Cory tugged again, then approached the problem with all the innocence of a small child. “Mister Man? Can you help get my mommy out? She’s stuck.”
Mister Man?
Cory was calling a stranger for help.
Alyssa wriggled through the last stretch of tunnel, but her capri pocket snagged a post. She had to wiggle back down to free the fold of material, then back up, thoughts of Cory calling out to a perfect stranger spurring her to fumble. “Cory.”
“You need help?”
No.
Oh, no.
She stared up into Trent’s face, a hint of humor softening the glare that had marked their initial meetings. “No, I’m fine, actually. I was just…” She tried to pull herself up and out of the tunnel, but the cuff caught once more. Biting her lip she wriggled down, undid the cuff again and shifted back up.
Yup. Trent was still there, Cory alongside him. Her little girl tapped his arm. “Mister Man can help you.”
Before Alyssa could protest, Trent caught her beneath the arms and pulled.
The fact that she slid forward easily made him frown. She stood, shook her clothes into place, decided she’d never wear anything with cuffs again and faced him. “I wasn’t really stuck.” She nodded Cory’s way. “We were playing a game.”
“But you were,” Cory protested. She grabbed Trent’s arm and stared up into his face, imploring. “I pulled and pulled, but I couldn’t get her out. You wescued her.”
“Glad to be of service,” Trent murmured wryly. His glance scanned the tunnel and her hips. His lips twitched. “And it appears you may have been stuck for some time if I hadn’t answered the young lady’s call for help.”
Great. Add fat to her list of daily problems because her girth was too wide to make it through a playground tunnel. “My cuff caught the edge,” she told him, not ready to concede a width problem. “And I was teasing her. I could have gotten out anytime.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Wight, Mommy.” Cory’s look of disbelief joined Trent’s. She stepped forward, her little face sincere. “It’s okay to ask for help when you need it, wight?”
Wonderful. The kid was throwing her words back at her. Alyssa decided the high road offered a better tactical choice for the moment. “Right. And you did help me, but you’re not supposed to talk to strangers without Mommy, are you?”
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