Yours and Mine Read online

  “Mom.” A breathless Kristen bounded into the room.

  Joanna intercepted her daughter with one upraised hand until she finished stitching the seam.

  Kristen stalked around the kitchen table several times, like a shark circling its kill. “Mom, hurry, this is really important.”

  “Wlutt?” Joanna asked, her teeth still clamped on the pins.

  “Can Nicole spend the night?”

  Joanna blinked. This wasn’t the weekend, and Kristen knew the rules; she had permission to invite friends over only on Friday and Saturday nights. Joanna removed the pins from her mouth before she answered. “It’s Wednesday.”

  “I know what day it is.” Kristen rolled her eyes towards the ceiling and slapped the heel of her hand against her forehead.

  Allowing his daughter to stay over at a friend’s house on a school night was exactly the kind of irresponsible parenting Joanna expected from Tanner Lund. Her estimation of the man was dropping steadily, though that hardly seemed possible. Earlier in the afternoon, Joanna had learned that Nicole didn’t even plan to tell her father she and Kristen were going to be performing in the school talent show. The man revealed absolutely no interest in his daughter’s activities. Joanna felt so bad about Tanner Lund’s attitude that she’d volunteered to sew a second costume so Nicole would have something special to wear for this important event. And now it seemed that Tanner was in the habit of farming out his daughter on school nights, as well.

  “Mom, hurry and decide. Nicole’s on the phone.”

  “Honey, there’s school tomorrow.”

  Kristen gave her another scornful look.

  “The two of you will stay up until midnight chattering, and then in the morning class will be a disaster. The answer is no!”

  Kristen’s eager face fell. “I promise we won’t talk. Just this once, Mom. Oh, please!” She folded her hands prayerfully, and her big brown eyes pleaded with Joanna. “How many times do I ask you for something?”

  Joanna stared incredulously at her daughter. The list was endless.

  “All right, forget I asked that. But this is important, Mom, real important—for Nicole’s sake.”

  Every request was argued as urgent. But knowing what she did about the other little girl’s home life made refusing all the more difficult. “I’m sorry, Kristen, but not on a school night.”

  Head drooping, Kristen shuffled toward the phone. “Now Nicole will have to spend the night with Mrs. Wagner, and she hates that.”

  “Who’s Mrs. Wagner?”

  Kristen turned to face her mother and released a sigh intended to evoke sympathy. “Her baby-sitter.”

  “Her father makes her spend the night at a baby-sitter’s?”

  “Yes. He has a business meeting with Becky.”

  Joanna stiffened and felt a sudden chill. “Becky?”

  “His business partner.”

  I’ll just bet! Joanna’s eyes narrowed with outrage. Tanner Lund was a lowlife, kicking his own daughter out into the cold so he could bring a woman over. The man disgusted her.

  “Mrs. Wagner is real old and she makes Nicole eat health food. She has a black-and-white TV, and the only programs she’ll let Nicole watch are nature shows. Wouldn’t you hate that?”

  Joanna’s mind was spinning. Any child would detest being cast from her own bed and thrust upon the not always tender mercies of a baby-sitter. “How often does Nicole have to spend the night with Mrs. Wagner?”

  “Lots.”

  Joanna could well believe it. “How often is ‘lots’?”

  “At least twice a month. Sometimes even more often than that.”

  That poor neglected child. Joanna’s heart constricted at the thought of sweet Nicole being ruthlessly handed over to a woman who served soybean burgers.

  “Can she, Mom? Oh, please?” Again Kristen folded her hands, pleading with her mother to reconsider.

  “All right,” Joanna conceded, “but just this once.”

  Kristen ran across the room and hurled her arms around Joanna’s neck, squeezing for all she was worth. “You’re the greatest mother in the whole world.”

  Joanna snorted softly. “I’ve got to be in the top ten percent, anyway,” she said, remembering the cupcakes.

  * * *

  “ABSOLUTELY NOT,” Tanner said forcefully as he laid a neatly pressed shirt in his open suitcase. “Nicole, I won’t hear of it.”

  “But, Dad, Kristen is my very best friend.”

  “Believe me, sweetheart, I’m pleased you’ve found a soulmate, but when I’m gone on these business trips I need to know you’re being well taken care of.” And supervised, he added mentally. What he knew about Kristen’s mother wasn’t encouraging. The woman was a scatterbrain who left her young daughter unattended while she raided the supermarket for nighttime goodies—and then had the nerve to chastise him because Nicole was up a little late. In addition to being a busybody, Joanna Parsons dressed like a fruitcake.

  “Dad, you don’t understand what it’s like for me at Mrs. Wagner’s.”

  Undaunted, Tanner continued packing his suitcase. He wasn’t any happier about leaving Nicole than she was, but he didn’t have any choice. As a relatively new half owner of Spokane Aluminum, he was required to do a certain amount of traveling. More these first few months than would be necessary later. His business trips were essential, since they familiarised him with the clients and their needs. He would have to absorb this information as quickly as possible in order to determine if the plant was going to achieve his and John Becky’s five-year goal. In a few weeks, he expected to hire an assistant who would assume some of this responsibility, but for now the task fell into his hands.

  Nicole slumped onto the edge of the bed. “The last time I spent the night at Mrs. Wagner’s she served baked beef heart for dinner.”

  Involuntarily Tanner cringed.

  “And, Dad, she made me watch a special on television that was all about fungus.”

  Tanner gritted his teeth. So the old lady was a bit eccentric, but she looked after Nicole competently, and that was all that mattered.

  “Do you know what Kristen’s having for dinner?”

  Tanner didn’t care to guess. It was probably something like strawberry ice cream and caramel-flavored popcorn. “No, and I don’t want to know.”

  “It isn’t sweet-and-sour calf liver, I can tell you that.”

  Tanner’s stomach turned at the thought of liver in any kind of sauce. “Nicole, the subject is closed. You’re spending the night with Mrs. Wagner.”

  “It’s spaghetti and meatballs and three-bean salad and milk and French bread, that’s what. And Mrs. Parsons said I could help Kristen roll the meatballs—but that’s all right, I’ll call and tell her that you don’t want me to spend the night at a home where I won’t be properly looked after.”

  “Nicole—”

  “Dad, don’t worry about it, I understand.”

  Tanner sincerely doubted that. He placed the last of his clothes inside the suitcase and closed the lid.

  “At least I’m trying to understand why you’d send me to someplace like Mrs. Wagner’s when my very best friend invited me to spend the night with her.”

  Tanner could feel himself weakening. It was only one night and Kristen’s weird mother wasn’t likely to be a dangerous influence on Nicole in that short a time.

  “Spaghetti and meatballs,” Nicole muttered under her breath. “My all-time favourite food.”

  Now that was news to Tanner. He’d thought pizza held that honour. He’d never known his daughter to turn down pizza at any time of the day or night.

  “And they have a twenty-inch colour television set.”

  Tanner hesitated.

  “With remote control.”

  Would wonders never cease? “Will Kristen’s mother be there the entire night?” he asked.

  “Of course.”

  His daughter was looking at him as though he’d asked if Mrs. Parsons were related to ET. “Where will you
sleep?”

  “Kristen has a double bed.” Nicole’s eyes brightened. “And we’ve already promised Mrs. Parsons that we’ll go straight to bed at nine o’clock and hardly talk.”

  It was during times such as this that Tanner felt the full weight of parenting descend upon his shoulders. Common sense told him Nicole would be better off with Mrs. Wagner, but he understood her complaints about the older woman as well. “All right, Nicole, you can stay at Kristen’s.”

  His daughter let out a whoop of sheer delight.

  “But just this once.”

  “Oh, Dad, you’re the greatest.” Her arms locked around his waist, and she squeezed with all her might, her nose pressed against his flat stomach.

  “Okay, okay, I get the idea you’re pleased with my decision,” Tanner said with a short laugh.

  “Can we leave now?”

  “Now?” Usually Nicole wanted to linger at the apartment until the last possible minute.

  “Yes. Mrs. Parsons really did say I could help roll the meatballs, and you know what else?”

  “What?”

  “She’s sewing me and Kristen identical costumes for the talent show.”

  Tanner paused—he hadn’t known anything about his daughter needing a costume. “What talent show?”

  “Oops.” Nicole slapped her hand over her mouth. “I wasn’t going to tell you because it’s on Valentine’s day and I know you won’t be able to come. I didn’t want you to feel bad.”

  “Nicole, it’s more important that you don’t hide things from me.”

  “But you have to be in Seattle.”

  She was right. He’d hate missing the show, but he was scheduled to meet with the Foreign Trade Commission on the fourteenth regarding a large shipment of aluminum to Japan. “What talent do you and Kristen have?” he asked, diverting his disappointment for the moment.

  “We’re lip-synching a song from Heart. You know, the rock group?”

  “That sounds cute. A fitting choice, too, for a Valentine’s Day show. Perhaps you two can be persuaded to give me a preview before the grand performance.”

  Her blue eyes became even brighter in her excitement. “That’s a great idea! Kristen and I can practise while you’re away, and we’ll show you when you come back.”

  It was an acceptable compromise.

  Nicole dashed out of his bedroom and returned a couple of minutes later with her backpack. “I’m ready anytime you are,” she announced.

  Tanner couldn’t help but notice that his daughter looked downright cheerful. More cheerful than any of the other times he’d been forced to leave her. Normally she put on a long face and moped around, making him feel guilty about abandoning her to the dreaded Mrs. Wagner.

  By the time he picked up his briefcase and luggage, Nicole was waiting at the front door.

  “Are you going to come in and say hello to Mrs. Parsons?” Nicole asked when Tanner eased his Mercedes into Kristen’s driveway fifteen minutes later. Even in the fading late-afternoon light, he could see that the house was newly painted, white with green shutters at the windows. The lawn and flower beds seemed well maintained. He could almost picture rose bushes in full bloom. It certainly wasn’t the type of place he’d associated with Kristen’s loony mother.

  “Are you coming in or not?” Nicole asked a second time, her voice impatient.

  Tanner had to mull over the decision. He wasn’t eager to meet that unfriendly woman who wore unzipped boots and flannel pajamas again.

  “Dad!”

  Before Tanner could answer, the door opened and Kristen came bowling out of the house at top speed. A gorgeous redhead followed sedately behind her. Tanner felt his jaw sag and his mouth drop open. No, it couldn’t be! Tall, cool, sophisticated, this woman looked as though she’d walked out of the pages of a fashion magazine. It couldn’t be Joanna Parsons—no way. A relative perhaps, but certainly not the woman he’d met in the grocery store that night.

  Nicole had already climbed out of the car. She paused as though she’d forgotten something, then ran around to his side of the car. When Tanner rolled down his window, she leaned over and gave him one of her famous bear hugs, hurling her arms around his neck and squeezing enthusiastically. “Bye, Dad.”

  “Bye, sweetheart. You’ve got the phone number of my hotel to give Mrs. Parsons?”

  Nicole patted her jeans pocket. “It’s right here.”

  “Be good.”

  “I will.”

  When Tanner looked up, he noted that Joanna was standing behind her daughter, her hands resting on Kristen’s shoulders. Cool, disapproving eyes surveyed him. Yup, it was the same woman all right. Joanna Parsons’s gaze could freeze watermelon at a Fourth of July picnic.

  Three

  “Would you like more spaghetti, Nicole?” Joanna asked for the second time.

  “No, thanks, Mrs. Parsons.”

  “You asked her that already,” Kristen commented, giving her mother a puzzled look. “After we’ve done the dishes, Nicole and I are going to practise our song.”

  Joanna nodded. “Good idea, but do your homework first.”

  Kristen exchanged a knowing look with her friend, and the two grinned at each other.

  “I’m really glad you’re letting me stay the night, Mrs. Parsons,” Nicole said, as she carried her empty plate to the kitchen sink. “Dinner was great. Dad tries, but he isn’t much of a cook. We get take-out food a lot.” She wandered back to the table and fingered the blue-quilted place mat. “Kristen told me you sewed these, too. They’re pretty.”

  “Thank you. The pattern is really very simple.”

  “They have to be,” Kristen added, stuffing the last slice of toasted French bread into her mouth. “Cause Mom let me do a couple of them.”

  “You made two of these?”

  “Yeah,” Kristen said, after she’d finished chewing. Pride beamed from her dark brown eyes. “We’ve made lots of things together since we bought the house. Do you have any idea how expensive curtains can be? Mom made the entire set in my room—that’s why everything matches.”

  “The bedspread, too?”

  “Naturally.” Kristen made it sound like they’d whipped up the entire set over a weekend, when the project had actually taken the better part of two weeks.

  “Wow.”

  From the way Nicole was staring at her, Joanna half expected the girl to fall to her knees in homage. She felt a stab of pity for Nicole, who seemed to crave a mother’s presence. But she had to admit she was thrilled by her own daughter’s pride in their joint accomplishments.

  “Mom sews a lot of my clothes,” Kristen added, licking the butter from her fingertips. “I thought you knew that.”

  “I…No, I didn’t.”

  “She’s teaching me, too. That’s the best part. So I’ll be able to make costumes for our next talent show.” Kristen’s gaze flew from Nicole to her mother then back to Nicole. “I bet my mom would teach you how to sew. Wouldn’t you, Mom?”

  “Ah…”

  “Would you really, Mrs. Parsons?”

  Not knowing what else to say, Joanna agreed with a quick nod of her head. “Why not? We’ll have fun learning together.” She gave an encouraging smile, but she wondered a bit anxiously if she was ready for a project like this.

  “That would be great.” Nicole slipped her arm around Kristen’s shoulders. Her gaze dropped as she hesitated. “Dinner was really good, too,” she said again.

  “I told you what a great cook my mom is,” Kristen boasted.

  Nicole nodded, but kept her eyes trained to the floor. “Could I ask you something, Mrs. Parsons?”

  “Of course.”

  “Like I said, Dad tries real hard, but he just isn’t a very good cook. Would it be rude to ask you for the recipe for your spaghetti sauce?”

  “Not at all. I’ll write it out for you tonight.”

  “Gee, thanks. It’s so nice over here. I wish Dad would let me stay here all the time. You and Kristen do such neat things, and you eat re
al good, too.”

  Joanna could well imagine the kind of meals Tanner Lund served his daughter. She already knew that he frequently ordered out, and the rest probably came from the frozen-food section of the local grocery. That was if he didn’t have an array of willing females who did his cooking for him. Someone like this Becky person, the woman he was with now.

  “Dad makes great tacos though,” Nicole was saying. “They’re his specialty. He said I might be able to have a slumber party for my birthday in March, and I want him to serve tacos then. But I might ask him to make spaghetti instead—if he gets the recipe right.”

  “You get to have a slumber party?” Kristen cried, her eyes widening. “That’s great! My mom said I could have two friends over for the night on my birthday, but only two, because that’s all she can mentally handle.”

  Joanna pretended an interest in her leftover salad, stirring her fork through the dressing that sat in the bottom of the bowl. It was true; there were limits to her mothering abilities. A house full of screaming eleven- and twelve-year-olds was more than she dared contemplate on a full stomach.

  While Nicole finished clearing off the table, Kristen loaded the dishwasher. Working together, the two completed their tasks in only a few minutes.

  “We’re going to my room now. Okay, Mom?”

  “Sure, honey, that’s fine,” Joanna said, placing the leftovers in the refrigerator. She paused, then decided to remind the pair a second time. “Homework before anything else.”

  “Of course,” answered Kristen.

  “Naturally,” added Nicole.

  Both vanished down the hallway that led to Kristen’s bedroom. Watching them, Joanna grinned. The friendship with Nicole had been good for Kristen, and Joanna intended to shower love and attention on Nicole in the hope of compensating her for her unsettled home life.

  Once Joanna had finished wiping down the kitchen counters, she made her way to Kristen’s bedroom. Dutifully knocking—since her daughter made emphatic comments about privacy these days—she let herself in. Both girls were sitting cross-legged on the bed, spelling books open on their laps.

  “Need any help?”

  “No, thanks, Mom.”