CHAPTER 11
Valentina
G ravel crunches under my tires as I navigate the bumpy country road. A rugged blue Chevy trundles ahead of me, setting a slow pace, but I’m not in a hurry—it’s only twelve-twenty, and I should arrive in fifteen minutes according to my phone navigation. I take in the expansive lands and aged trees, their branches tipped with the first signs of budding leaves. The cattle mooing and horses enjoying the fields is refreshing.
Soon, I turn onto Renewed Lane and transition to a smooth pavement. To my right is a clean-cut, modern yet rugged two-story stone house with play swings in the yard. A man with sun-kissed hair scoops up a tricycle in one hand. He pauses, smiles, and waves. Every car I’ve passed in town, every home I’ve seen with people outside, I’ve been greeted with friendly waves and smiles—so different from the city.
Further down the road is another two-story home. The road then meanders through swatches of land boasting budding trees and patches of last year’s leaves. I follow its curves past a charming two-story white farmhouse radiating a timeless nostalgia.
Near the end of the lane, my phone announces my destination across from the farmhouse. A sprawling single-story stone house with a three-car garage. I can already picture playing with the kids on the grass and planning summer picnics under the trees.
Excitement bubbles up. This setting is the change I need for a time. I park and take in the spacious yard and abandoned scooters.
As if he’s aware of my arrival, the front door swings open, and Jason emerges. He’s dressed in gray sweats, and a navy T-shirt clings to his broad shoulders. He seems at ease in his house shoes. His scowl and hooded look aren’t welcoming. Yet when his gaze finds mine, my heart still stammers to a halt before racing.
He waves.
I manage a nod, then step out of the car.
“I see you found the way just fine.”
“Following a truck going ten miles under the speed limit helped. Hard to get lost in a town this size, though one wrong turn and you’re back where you started.”
He chuckles, and my stomach somersaults. “That would be Chuck. You’ll run into him from time to time.”
I can leave my handbag in the car. This isn’t Brooklyn where someone might break in if they spot any sign of valuables. I reach into the Civic’s hatchback and pull out a duffel bag of my extra supplies. Bringing a few things on day one could make a solid impression.
Jason sprints over and grabs the bag. “You’re just scoping out the place today, right?”
“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared.” I catch the end of the bag. “Got something in here for you.” Best to hand it over now, away from curious little eyes that might wonder why I’m giving their dad presents.
I unzip the bag and pull out a clear box. His fragrance of eucalyptus and some fancy conditioner warms my senses. His hair, slightly damp, is subtly threaded with gray at the temples.
“I wasn’t sure about your shirt size, but this should fit.” I extend the shirt enclosed in a clear box toward him.
He takes it, his lips curling upward to soften his chiseled features. “My shirt didn’t have smiling tacos and peppers.” His words dissolve into laughter, and my heart feels lighter.
“You’re a family TV company, right? It might come in handy for family events.”
He shakes his head. Warmth flickers in his eyes. “I didn’t expect you to replace my clothes. It was just coffee.” His thick eyebrows lift in a playful arch. “Or was it intentional, Ms. Diaz?”
I suppress a smile. At least, he’s taking it lightly. I shopped for today’s attire from one of my cousins who sells specialized merch and couldn’t resist the button-down.
I wave to the yard again. I love the mature, yet still bare trees. “This is beautiful. I like your town too.”
“I’m glad you like it.” He leads me along the path lined with budding and evergreen shrubs. “You’ll be spending quite a bit of time here.” His voice carries over his shoulder without him looking back. “Nice T-shirt, by the way.”
“Thanks.” I smooth a hand over my shirt to ensure it’s on straight so the airplanes hover above the cars with the gaming console in between. “When I saw this, I just had to get it.”
My Converse shoes pad the hardwood as I follow him inside and down the hallway. Frameless contemporary artwork tries to outdo the kids’ drawings taped haphazardly around it. We emerge from the hallway into an expansive kitchen. I sidestep a basket filled with toy cars and airplanes next to a play carpet sprawled across the floor. Nerf darts and random toys scatter the area.
I had Grumps pegged as someone who maintained strict order, but if he allows such playful chaos, he might not be as uptight as I thought. Since the house isn’t clean and he hasn’t said anything about me taking off my shoes, I feel at ease keeping my Converse on.
He drops the bag in the kitchen, sets the shirt on the island next to a plate with a half-eaten slice of toast. Then his gaze wanders toward the living area. The house smells like cinnamon—a rare aroma in Brooklyn, but one that reminds me of apple cider.
Beyond the kitchen comes soft sounds from the TV, and as I crane toward the inviting plush sofas bathed in the generous light from large windows, two brown-haired heads peek out from behind a sofa.
“Guys, Valentina is here. Come on.”
The way my name rolls off Grumps’ tongue stirs my tummy into a flutter. It’s the first time I’ve heard him say it so naturally, and it feels intimate.
One of the boys bursts from behind the sofa, grinning wide. I take a moment to identify which twin it is as I stride toward him and meet him halfway. “Atticus.”
“Val!” he chirps.
“What have you been up to?” I lower myself to his level, expecting a high five, but he wraps me in a heartwarming hug.
He then steps back, eyeing my shirt. “You got airplanes in a video game?”
“I heard you and your brother talking about inventing a video game with airplanes.”
“Don’t encourage it.” Jason’s voice rasps from the kitchen. His features are soft, a stark contrast to his grumpy CEO persona. He lets out a chuckle. “The aviation part and car racing, yes—the video gaming, no.”
“Let me show you my airport.” Atticus’s enthusiasm warms me as he shares stories about his setup, a birthday gift from his grandma. In the background, Jason nudges his other son to turn off his video game.
“But, Daddy, the remote died, and I didn’t even play yet.”
I cackle as I kneel on the hardwood floor, then wince when a figurine jabs me through my leggings. It’s an ice cream figure. I place it on the make-believe airport’s ice-cream shop. I drove past cute shops just like that. “It reminds me of your town.”
“We’ll take you to our favorite soda shop when we go into town.” Atticus beams, adding another piece to his scene. “Can you play soccer with us today? And can we...” His words tumble out as he suggests all the things I can do with them today. My cheeks are already aching from smiling at his cuteness.
Trailing Jason, Felix joins us wearing a sullen expression. I rise to greet him with a high five. “Hi, bud.”
“Hi.” He slaps my hand weakly, apparently not happy about having to abandon his game.
“What’s with the long face?”
Jason ruffles the boy’s hair before Felix ducks. “Try pulling this one away from his video games.” Jason then nods toward the hallway. “I’ll fetch Eden.”
To shift Felix’s mood from digital discontent to real-world play, I stand and walk toward the kitchen. “I brought some equipment. Maybe we can hit the park later. It’s nice out.” Sunny and upper fifties.
“What did you bring?” Atticus hops up, darting to the bag.
“Is it kites?” Felix perks up, and they hover around me while I unzip the bag.
“Kites are a good idea.” I’ll have to bring some next time. Unsure of what Eden might enjoy, I tossed in an assortment of the sports equipment we keep around the house. Maybe something will stick.
“Check this out.” Atticus pulls out a tennis racket, and I wonder aloud if there’s a court nearby.
“We’ve never been to it.” Jason calls from the left, Eden in tow. “But we have one in town.”
“Daddy and his friends built one for the town,” Atticus boasts.
“You build?”
“If putting bunk beds together counts.” Jason rubs the back of his neck. “Otherwise, by ‘build,’ the boys mean my friends and I contributed to the community for a tennis court.”
“Hello, Eden.” I wave, still unsure how to connect with this girl who offers a nod and a timid smile. Is she always this reserved? Her hair is tied in a crumpled braid. “I brought you some books.”
Judy had said Eden was into all kinds of books. Perhaps this will give us a connection.
“They’re in my handbag in the car. Preloved—favorites I clung to from my childhood.”
Jason nudges Eden. “What do you say?”
“Thank you.” A flicker brightens her blue eyes.
The boys dive into the bag, hauling out a volleyball net along with a jumble of other gear.
Their sister joins the fray and eagerly picks up a ball. “Volleyball?”
Her keen interest has me grinning.
“You really came prepared.”
That sounds like Grumps’ approval. My gaze rises to meet his ocean-blue eyes. I place a hand on my hip for support after all the bending and sorting. “I didn’t mean to create such a commotion.”
“Welcome to my world. It’s all competition around here.”
He’s probably only this nice around his kids. Struggling to hold his gaze, I let mine drift to the colorful artwork magnetized on the fridge.
“Want a tour of the house?” His arm sweeps to gesture to the hallway, so I follow as he leads. A ball whizzes.
“No kicking balls in the house, guys,” Jason says.
We stride along, and their gleeful laughter fades behind us. His presence looms at my side. Our interaction, once strained, now flows into an uneasy normalcy. We pass open and closed doors, our footsteps resonating off the polished hardwood floors.
“How was traffic?” He must sense the awkwardness, hence slicing it with a question he could’ve asked earlier.
“Your town has more traffic than Manhattan.”
“Is that so?” He shoots me a sideways glance, and I chuckle when he seems to get my joke.
At the end of the corridor, we enter a spacious room bathed in daylight from a large window. He gestures toward the scattered toys. The shelves brimming with books overlook the disarray. “This is where the kids play if we’re home long enough. The boys spend a lot of their time here, as you can see.”
I’ll have to introduce some chore charts. I move to the window, the woods visible beyond the enclosed structure at the far end of the yard. I shade my eyes to assess the gate and leafless shrubs. “You guys have a pool?”
He nods. “I usually open it in mid-April. Heated and enclosed, it serves as a communal gathering spot for our friends and their families on Renewed Lane.” He hooks his hands in his slacks pockets. “You’ll find each house boasts a different recreational feature. One has a basketball court, and...” He lists the amenities at different homes. “Should you be here when the pool opens, the kids aren’t allowed in the deep end.”
I pick up a stray toy and toss it into a bin. There are way too many Legos strewn across a table and the floor. I’ll have the boys clean it during their break. Poor Eden couldn’t even read in this room if she wanted to cuddle up in the plush pink chair in the corner.
“How deep is the pool?”
“Three feet at the shallow side. Nine at the deep end.”
“Do they swim with you?” Perhaps I could foster their confidence in the water. “I was a part-time swim instructor in high school when I wasn’t nannying.”
He gives me a look—pure contemplation, maybe even a silent challenge against any contradiction.
I meet him head-on. Somehow, I keep my hands from gripping my hips and my stance from widening with my challenge. “Don’t you think it’s better to teach your kids to swim safely under your supervision rather than keeping them out?”
His lips part as if to counter. Then he closes them and leads me back to the hallway. “All the rooms are on this floor.”
Judy had mentioned he’d had his house custom-built. “Why didn’t you add an upstairs?”
“I wanted to be on the same level as the kids. When the boys were little, I didn’t want them falling down the stairs—too risky.”
Who’d have thought Grumps had such a protective nature? I bite at my lower lip to keep a grin from spreading. He shows me a smaller room with a desk and computer. Books clutter two shelves. “If you ever feel like reading away from your room, feel free to utilize this space.”
“It’s your office?”
“I try not to work from home. If I do, though, and don’t feel like working in my bedroom, this is an option.”
We walk past a couple of bedrooms, stopping at Eden’s room. Subtle pink walls form a backdrop to a bed laid neatly with fluffy hot-pink pillows and cover. At the next room, I reach for the knob of a partially open door, revealing two unkempt beds and a tangled mess of shoes and clothes. Aviation and spaceship posters overlook one bed while race cars appear ready to zoom off the posters above the other. “Wild guess. Boys’ room?”
He ducks his head, gripping the back of his neck again. “The house cleaner comes once a week to help tidy up. And to shop if you need any groceries.”
“I don’t mind shopping for myself.”
We pass more rooms, and I inspect any photos I see. They’re mostly of the kids. I don’t see any pictures of their mother or Jason. Judy’s photo is nestled among them, the only adult captured under glass.
“That used to be Felix’s room.” He points when we pass another room. “But he wanted to bunk with his brother.”
“That makes sense.” They probably find comfort in each other’s proximity.
He then gestures to a room near the start of the hallway, close to the kitchen. His room. He doesn’t open the door. Instead, he moves across the hall and swings open another door. “This will be your bedroom. It’s the only spare room with an en suite .”
It’s far too close to his room. He seems to catch my hesitation. “My mom usually stays in the annex, and she has her things there, but maybe you can switch?”
“This will be fine.” I’d rather not disrupt their arrangements. I’m only here temporarily. It’s not like this is where I belong.
“Or you could use one of the other rooms without a bathroom or even the living space in the basement.”
“This room will be fine.” I swallow whatever doubts I have. At least it has a bathroom, and we can avoid bumping into each other as we enter and exit our respective bedrooms.