A Sweetbrook Family (You, Me & the Kids) Read online

  As if that had worked every other time he’d tried.

  It was some kind of sick cosmic joke that he was Daniel’s best shot at a normal life now. The kid needed love so badly, and neither one of them knew how to make sure he got it.

  “Hey, buddy,” he rushed to say as the ten-year-old reached the door. He hated the strained silence between them, almost as much as he hated the thought of Daniel leaving his office in worse emotional shape than when he’d come in. “Hot dogs for dinner again tonight?”

  He held his breath, hoping Dr. Rhodes hadn’t been placating him when he’d said to play the intense times loose and easy.

  Daniel looked back, his eyes too old, too lost, and so much like his mother’s the last time Josh had seen her.

  The last time he’d seen his baby sister.

  “Sure.” The ten-year-old yanked open the door, his bored expression an improvement over the wariness that had been there just a moment ago. “Why not?”

  Josh watched his nephew amble through the outer office and disappear down the hall.

  What do I do now?

  He’d asked himself the same question once before, when his wife had filed for divorce two years ago.

  A decade into marriage, Josh had blissfully assumed he had the world under control. Granted, they’d had trouble getting pregnant. But with his family’s money, they could have hired the best specialists in the world. They could have kept trying. But one day out of the blue, Lisa’s bags were packed and she announced she’d been accepted to law school in New York. That she wanted more than what they had together. Namely, a life of her own that didn’t include him, his agenda for having a baby and his dream of raising a family in the small town he’d grown up in.

  One minute he was standing in their living room listening to Lisa recite everything he’d never understood she needed, the next she was gone. And for the first time in his life, he’d had no idea what to do next.

  Just like now.

  Ruthlessly philanthropic, Josh gave away by the handful the White family fortune that had never bought him an ounce of peace, supporting organizations in the area that needed the money far more than he did. He was organized, compassionate and hardworking, even progressive by Sweetbrook standards. He could educate the one-hundred-and-fifty kids in his school like nobody’s business. But none of that had won him points as a husband. His wife’s unhappiness and longing for a different life had gone unnoticed and unchecked until it was too late. He’d made a mess out of loving her.

  And now he was making a mess out of caring for his sister’s troubled child.

  * * *

  “I KNOW BECKY’S NOT HAPPY there, Mama.” Amy Loar rested her head in her hands, her elbows atop the Kramer Industries files that would take her the rest of the night to organize for tomorrow’s meeting. It was only Wednesday, but she’d already billed forty hours to her client’s account that week. She had at least another forty to go. “I’d give anything to have her here with me.”

  She fingered the heart-shaped pendant dangling from the chain around her neck. Last year’s Christmas present from Becky, back before things with Richard had exploded one time too many. Amy never took the necklace off now. It reminded her why she was doing all this.

  “I hate to say it, because I know it’s impossible for you to get away,” her mother replied pensively. Amy could almost picture Gwen. Her close-cropped graying hair, originally the same dark red as Amy’s, was always finger-combed into an unruly mess by this time of night. “But Becky needs you, honey.”

  Gwen Loar never meddled. She never passed judgment nor laid blame. So the touch of disapproval in her voice told Amy how dicey things were getting in Sweetbrook. Becky was staying with her grandmother temporarily, while Amy moved them from their pricey Buckhead condo into a two-bedroom apartment closer to her job in midtown. While she fought to get their lives back on track.

  Gwen’s tiny house, her life in Sweetbrook, had once been a slice of heaven for Amy. But growing up poor in the rural South had left a lot to be desired. For as long as she could remember, she’d longed to get out, to do better, to snatch for herself a speck of the security everyone around her took for granted.

  So she’d earned her scholarships and attended college in Atlanta, only to meet wealthy, sophisticated, ten-years-her-senior Richard Reese during her junior year. At the time, he’d seemed the answer to all her dreams—a charming, successful man offering her marriage into a world she’d never dreamed of. But all dreams come with a price.

  Now she was hoping the small-town life she’d turned her back on would work its magic on her daughter. If only Becky would give it a chance.

  Just hold on for a little while longer, honey. I’ll make everything up to you.

  Amy checked the clock at the corner of her computer monitor and winced. It was almost nine. She’d meant to call home hours ago.

  She forced herself to stop wilting into her desk chair, and smoothed a manicured hand across her expensive silk blouse. Her career uniform. One more tool she needed to get her where she wanted to be.

  “Put Becky on the phone,” she said to her mother. “Let her vent about what happened at school today. Blaming me for everything for a while will do her some good.”

  “I’ve tried to get her to talk.” Gwen’s sigh sounded like it came from her toes. “I tried all afternoon. But she headed straight to her bedroom after school and locked her door until dinner. She’s finally asleep. I don’t think it’s a good idea to wake her and start things all over again. Maybe you could be here when she gets up in the morning? You could talk with her before the bus comes—”

  “I can’t come home right now, Mama.”

  “It’s only a four-hour drive.”

  “I have the Kramer Industries sign-off meeting at three tomorrow afternoon. We’re finalizing the proposal with the senior management.”

  She was a project leader for Atlanta’s high-profile Enterprise Consulting Group, a position she’d had to fight for after her divorce. The partners had finally agreed to give her this shot, and the Kramer account was going to land her the manager slot she’d declined three years running at Richard’s urging. The promotion came with an immediate bonus and a hefty increase in her annual salary. And tomorrow’s meeting was the last step before they presented the contract to the CEO in a few weeks.

  “I can’t pull out now for personal reasons,” she said, trying to drown out the second thoughts that she never completely silenced. She was going to secure this promotion. She and her daughter were going to finally have some peace. “Phillip Hutchinson’s watching me like a hawk. I have to stay on top of this project.”

  “Of course, you’re right.” Even though her mother sounded disappointed, her voice rang with the support and encouragement Amy had always depended on.

  Simple, solid, no-nonsense living and unconditional love. Those were Gwen’s gifts. The very gifts Amy hoped could break through her daughter’s anger and confusion.

  Gwen knew firsthand the sacrifices required of single mothers. Amy’s father had died when she was just a baby, and Gwen had worked three part-time jobs some years to keep them off food stamps.

  But she hadn’t been able to soften the blow of having so little in a world where everyone else seemed to effortlessly have more. So Amy had worked nonstop making something of herself, vowing to build a better life for them both. And that’s exactly what she’d done, even though Gwen had refused every offer Amy made to share her and Richard
’s financial success.

  Her house was paid for, Gwen had argued. Her needs were simple. She had some savings, and she was still a part-time teller at Sweetbrook’s one and only bank. Unlike Amy, she hadn’t wanted more, as much as she’d wanted what she already had.

  “I wish I had another solution, Mama. But I need this promotion. I don’t mind giving up the condo, the car or that fancy private school Richard insisted Becky attend. But I can’t afford to live in Atlanta on my current salary.”

  “Then move back home,” her mother urged, as she had for months. “You two can stay with me until you find a job here.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that. And I can’t move Becky away from her friends for good and ask her to start over with nothing. Atlanta’s the only home she’s ever known. She wants to live here. I won’t rip her world apart any more than I already have.”

  “There are worse things than having nothing, Amy.”

  “Yes. There’s going back to Richard and asking him for money—”

  “Of course you’re not going back to him!” her mother interjected.

  For years, Amy had kept the details about her marriage secret from Gwen. But her mother knew every ugly bit of it now.

  “I have to prove to my daughter that a woman really can support her family on her own,” Amy continued. “That Richard was dead wrong when he said we’d never make it without him.”

  She’d never seen her husband as angry as the morning she’d worked up the nerve to leave him. He’d controlled her every move for years. What she thought, and wore, and did, and with whom. Even how much she was allowed to focus on her career, insisting she curtail her responsibilities at work after Becky was born.

  She’d tried to make the best of things when her marriage began crumbling less than a year after their wedding. She’d done everything she could to pacify Richard and save her dream of a perfect life with her perfect husband, downplaying the escalating verbal and emotional abuse. It took Richard striking her in front of their daughter before Amy had finally had enough.

  Richard could have fought her for Becky. Considering his connections as a high-priced corporate attorney, he would have won. But his sights had been on a priority far more important to him than his daughter. If Amy would agree to his demands of no alimony and the minimum child support the law allowed, he’d let Becky go. The money would be paid lump-sum into a trust account for Becky’s college tuition, not to be touched until she was eighteen. In return, he’d concede full custody, and Amy and Becky would be on their own—then maybe they’d wise up and understand just how much they needed him.

  “You’ll come back to me,” he’d said in front of Becky the last time they’d seen him. “Once you’re on your own and realize how tough the world is, maybe then you’ll have some appreciation for all I’ve given you.”

  He’d set Amy up to fail, just for the satisfaction of watching her crawl back to him. And as usual, he hadn’t concerned himself with their daughter, except for how he could use Becky to control Amy.

  “I’m going to make things work for Becky here in Atlanta,” Amy vowed to herself and her mother. “She needs to see me standing up to her father. She needs to understand that a woman doesn’t have to put up with the way he treated me to be financially secure. She was there all those years, Mama, when her father belittled me, and I just took it. She watched me be a doormat for the sake of holding on to a man who didn’t respect me. I can’t even imagine what that did to her.”

  “But you’re working around the clock now,” Gwen reasoned. “What happens when the promotion comes through, and Becky moves back in with you? Will you have any more time to spend with her after you make manager?”

  “I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.” Whatever it took, Amy was going to be the strong woman her daughter needed her to be. Becky wasn’t growing up afraid.

  “But if you moved back here—”

  “There’s no work for me in Sweetbrook, Mama.”

  Amy’s other phone line chirped at the same time that her computer dinged. She juggled the receiver between her shoulder and ear, checked the phone display and clicked the e-mail prompt with her mouse.

  It was Phillip Hutchinson on both counts, Enterprise Consulting’s senior partner, and her personal slave driver.

  She didn’t bother to read the body of the e-mail or pick up the call. Not a man to worry about the constructive use of anyone else’s time, Phillip Hutchinson didn’t stoop to discussing details until those he’d summoned had quick-stepped their way to his corner office. His two-pronged bid for Amy’s attention didn’t bode well.

  “I’ve got to go.” She typed and sent a quick I’ll be right there response to the e-mail. “I’ll clear a few hours Saturday to come down for a day trip.”

  “Joshua White wants to set up a meeting with you and Becky’s teacher on Friday—”

  “Josh White no doubt thinks the entire world moves at the snail’s pace he runs his elementary school.” Amy winced at the anger in her voice, rubbing her temples, where a headache was building.

  No one listening would have guessed she was talking about the best friend she’d ever had. The friend she’d told off when he’d dared to judge her decision to marry Richard and leave Sweetbrook behind for good. The friend whose angry kiss had almost tempted her to change her mind.

  “Honey, I really think you should talk with the man. He’s taken such a personal interest in Becky since she came here.”

  “I know he has.”

  Gwen had gone on and on about the time Josh was spending trying to make sure Becky settled into his school. He sounded like a bang-up principal. And before their friendship had imploded, he’d always been there for Amy. But why did he have to pick tonight of all nights to work her mother into a tizzy about Becky’s harmless antics at school? Wasn’t there something more important for the wealthiest man in town to be doing besides shoving Amy over the edge of sanity?

  “I’m sorry to saddle you with all this, Mama. If there was any other way…”

  “I love having Becky,” Gwen reassured her. “And she can stay as long as you need her to. But she thinks you’ve abandoned her. She needs to know that you want her with you, that you think this is the best place for her right now. That you care what’s going on at school.”

  “I’ve told her how much I care. I tell her every time we talk.” Another e-mail message from Hutchinson dinged for her attention. The subject line read simply, NOW.

  Amy e-mailed back a polite on my way.

  She was making compromises with her child she’d promised herself she’d never make. Her personal definition of hell. But sometimes a bad decision was the only alternative.

  She hoped she wasn’t wrong.

  “I’ve got to go, Mama.”

  “You’ll call Becky tomorrow?” In her mother’s voice was that hint of the steel Amy had always admired.

  Gwen was first and foremost a survivor.

  Amy hoped she could be half as strong.

  “I’ll call tomorrow evening,” she said as she stacked the Kramer Industries papers, shuffling the files into order. “Tell Becky I love her, and that I know she’s going to do better with the other kids at school tomorrow. She’ll be fine.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “So do I.” Amy closed her eyes against the doubt she couldn’t keep out of her voice. “I love you both.”

  Her mother’s “I love you, too,” had barely sounded when her office door jerked open. Amy push
ed to her feet and hung up the phone.

  “Mrs. Ree— Ms. Loar.” Phillip Hutchinson frowned in displeasure at his continued difficulty keeping her name straight. Even though she’d legally changed it back to Loar the same day she’d signed her divorce papers, he was still having trouble calling her anything but Reese. “I’ve got the Kramer IT director on the phone, and he wants to discuss the payout schedule.”

  “Those papers are right here.” She shuffled through her folders, wincing as the one she needed slid from under the others. Papers fluttered to the floor between her and the desk. “Um, why don’t you transfer the call down here?”

  “Pick up what you need,” he said with a shake of his head. “Leave the rest. I already have Jed conferenced in on the speakerphone in my office. If you’re too overwhelmed to handle a client’s unexpected requests, maybe we need to get you some backup on this project.”

  Amy returned the remaining folders to her desk with a slap and a cool stare.

  She’d managed every detail of this project from day one. This was her baby, and no one was taking this opportunity away from her.

  “I’ll be right there,” she said in as close to a civil tone as she could muster.

  Mr. Hutchinson’s eyebrow twitched upward, then he turned to leave. One final glance behind him at the disorganized mess covering Amy’s normally immaculate desk told her he hadn’t missed a single detail.

  She dropped to her knees to re-sort the five-year pay-out schedule for the computer system and HR applications she was determined Kramer Industries would purchase.

  Phillip Hutchinson. Richard. And Josh White. Why couldn’t they just let her be? Why couldn’t they let her win for a change?

  With fear of failing yet again nagging at her, she marched through her doorway and down the wide hall that doubled as offices for the executive secretaries.

  Everything around her looked expensive. Smelled expensive. Mahogany furniture glistened. She caught the subtle aroma of the polish the cleaning crew applied to keep everything sparkling. State-of-the-art computers and other office systems dominated each work space. Even the exquisitely maintained potted plants atop the desks had been arranged to present just the right image.