dire need of another top quality personal chef and Lucy wished people would be more open-minded. Raul couldn’t handle everyone; he’d even said as much to her when she’d had coffee with him before moving here. But he’d also implied he’d put in a good word for her. Apparently he hadn’t, or else she would have been on her way to establishing a client base by now.

Thank goodness the Greenbaums were willing to give her an interview. They’d read her ad in the Mountain Gazette. Ted and Shirley Greenbaum lived in the Knolls, an exclusive Timberline neighborhood. If they liked the sound of her menus and pricing, she was praying they’d hire her. She wished she could bring them the dishes to try, but it was against the personal chef regulations to cook in her home and carry it out.

“Where’s my—?” She ransacked the kitchen, moving pots and pans stacked on the counter, not finishing the question because her mind was already focusing on what she was looking for. A tiny book with notes. But she couldn’t find it.

“Mom,” Matt said as he came down the stairs. “Are you going to drive me to Ada’s or am I going to walk?”

“Drive you where?”

“So I can walk the dogs.”

Lucy had forgotten about that. She’d spoken to Ada several days ago and had even gone to Claws and Paws to meet her. She was a genuinely sincere woman with a good heart, and she needed some help in her shop. Although Matt was young, Lucy felt he had enough maturity and a grasp on responsibility that he could handle the job, since it was only a few hours a week. She wasn’t sure about the legality of hiring a twelve-year-old, but how could this be different than if Matt was mowing lawns? He’d be paid in cash.

“Of course, yes.” Lucy found her notebook and grabbed the loose papers that threatened to fall out.

But then Lucy paused. Jason. That meant Jason would be left home alone.

Not a chance.

“Jason!” Lucy rummaged through her purse and fished out her car keys.

“What?” His muffled response came from the loft. He’d been in bed all morning, a place she let him stay after the concussion. Normally she babied him, let him miss school and watch TV or play video games.

He’d been so out of it last night, he’d fallen into bed and gone right to sleep. When she woke this morning, he’d been out cold and she’d worried. She’d put her finger under his nose to feel him breathing. He was. And steadily. But then she toed the wheel of the bed frame just enough to jar him awake. He’d opened his eyes, looked at her, then groaned and put the covers over his head.

He’d live.

That had been about thirty minutes ago and he was still up in his room.

“Put some clothes on,” she said, finding her keys. “You’ve got five minutes to get downstairs.”

“Why?”

She didn’t answer. She let herself out the front door and began loading her car. When she returned inside, Jason sat on the second step of the loft stairs, his hair sticking out, still wearing the gray sweats he’d put on to go to bed.

“Get dressed,” she commanded.

“What for?”

“You’re going with your brother to walk dogs.”

“I can’t. I have a headache.” He rubbed his temple and made an exaggerated face.

Maybe he did have a headache, but frankly, she didn’t care. She wanted to shake him, to knock some sense into him.

“I’ll give you some aspirin. Get dressed.”

“I don’t want to.”

“It’s not a matter of what you want or not.” Her tone was strong and severe. He gazed at her through the loft spindles, saw she meant business, and rose to his feet. With his hand on the railing, he suddenly stopped, looked at her through the fringe of his hair.

“Where’s my baseball uniform?”

Lucy’s lips clamped together. She’d left it at the hospital so they could throw it away. Clearly, Jason just had a recollection of what he’d been hiding in his pocket. She wanted to make him fret about it, worry…wonder if she knew or if she didn’t know.

“They cut it off you and it got thrown away.”

“Where?”

“In the garbage. Now get dressed.” Pivoting on her heels, she turned and went outside before he could ask her what garbage and where. She could already imagine him rifling through their trash out back, sorting through the wilted vegetable skins and the pan grease she’d discarded.

Minutes later, she had both boys in the car and was dropping them off at the curb near Ada’s.

“Jason, you’re to stay with your brother the entire time. If I hear you’ve left, you’re going to be in big trouble.”

He glowered at her, his brows dark slashes. “Where am I going to go?”

She glared back. “You tell me.”

Straightening, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and went into Ada’s with Matt.

Lucy pulled away, her mind running in circles without a set direction. On an impulse, she dialed a number, but regretted it as soon as she heard the voice on the other end of the line.

“Hullo?”

“Gary, it’s Lucy.”

“Hey, Loose.”

She wouldn’t allow his pet name for her to distract her from the situation at hand. He’d always called her that, and why he chose to do so now only annoyed her.

“I don’t even know why I’m calling you,” she said, running the sentence tightly together. “You’re not here for the boys and there’s nothing you can do.”

“You called just to attack me? I’m going to hang up.”

Swallowing, Lucy blurted, “No. Wait.” She couldn’t apologize because she meant what she said, but since she had him on the line, she wanted his input. “I’m calling about Jason.”

“What’s the matter?”

He sounded somewhat interested, in spite of the music blaring in the background. It made her wonder if he were wearing a straw hat and sitting on a bar stool at a beach bar while Diane suntanned. Neither one of them did much of anything by way of working, and it chapped Lucy’s hide

Вы читаете Stef Ann Holm
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