Chapter 6
CHAPTER SIX
Steve
Perfect Brews is unusually crowded for a Tuesday morning. I blame the first real snow of the season – everyone seeking warmth and caffeine before facing the day. I keep my head down as I wait in line, checking my phone, but it doesn't help.
“...living in that big house with them...”
“...saw them at the park yesterday...”
“...his in-laws must be...”
The whispers follow me like shadows. Usually, I'm better at ignoring them. Usually, they're not quite so accurate.
“The usual?” Sarah asks when I reach the counter. Her smile is knowing in a way that sets my teeth on edge.
“Please.”
While she makes my Americano, I scan the bulletin board where Lainey first saw my job posting. It's covered with new notices now – piano lessons, lost cats, church bake sales. Normal small- town life. The life I wanted when I moved here with Claire and Maddie.
“Here you go.” Sarah slides my coffee across the counter. “How's Maddie doing with her fractions?”
The question is innocent enough, but there's something in her tone that isn't. She's Lainey's friend. She must know about last night, about our almost... whatever that was.
“Fine,” I say shortly, then immediately feel guilty for my tone. “Better, actually. Lainey's been helping.”
“I bet she has.”
I leave before she can say more, the bell above the door chiming my escape. Outside, the morning sun glints off fresh snow, nearly blinding. I'm halfway to my car when a familiar voice stops me.
“Steve? Got a minute?”
Claire's mother, Margaret, stands bundled in her winter coat, grocery bags in hand. My stomach tightens. After last night's interrupted moment with Lainey, seeing my late wife's mother feels like some sort of cosmic joke.
“Of course.” I take her bags without asking, falling into step beside her. “Early shopping?”
“Book club tonight. My turn to host.” She's quiet for a few steps, then: “We miss seeing you and Maddie at Sunday dinners.”
The guilt twists deeper. We haven't been to her house in three weeks. “With the new schedule around here, it’s been a challenge to get into a new routine.”
“The new nanny, you mean.”
I almost miss a step. “Lainey's been good for Maddie.”
“So I've heard.” Margaret stops walking, turning to face me. Her expression is gentle but determined. “The whole town's heard, Steve.”
“There's nothing to hear.” The words come out automatically, rehearsed.
“Isn't there?” She touches my arm, and suddenly I'm transported back five years, to the day of Claire's funeral when this woman held me while I broke down. “Steve, honey, Claire would want you to be happy.”
“Don't.” My voice cracks. “Please.”
Her face softens. “I just want you to know it's okay. To be happy again. To let someone in.”
“It's not that simple.”
“Because you won't let it be.” She reclaims her grocery bags. “Think about what I said. And bring Maddie by soon. John's building her a dollhouse. He thought she’d like it for Valentine’s Day.”
I watch her walk away, her words echoing in my head. By the time I make it back to the house, my coffee is cold and my thoughts are a damn mess.
Inside, I find Lainey and Maddie at the kitchen counter, heads bent over what looks like an art project. Paint and glitter cover every available surface.
“Daddy, look!” Maddie holds up a paper covered in swirls of blue and silver. “It's the storm from last night!”
“Beautiful.” I meet Lainey's eyes over Maddie's head. She looks away first, a flush creeping up her neck.
“I should clean this up,” she says, starting to gather supplies. “You probably need the countertop.”
“No rush.” I step closer, drawn by some magnetic force I can't resist. “I like seeing it used for something besides my laptop and coffee cups.”
Her hands still on a jar of glitter. “About last night, I shouldn’t have let things get out of hand.”
“Daddy, can Lainey come to Grandma's for Sunday dinner?” Maddie interrupts, oblivious to the tension. “Grandma makes the best cookies.”
“I don't think that's a good idea, sweetheart.” The words come out before I can stop them.
Lainey's face falls for just a moment before she masks it. “She's right, Maddie. Sunday dinner should be family time.”
“But you're family,” Maddie says and by the expression on her face she was about to say more, but Lainey cuts her off with forced cheerfulness.
“Hey, why don't you go wash up? You've got glitter on your face.”
Once Maddie's gone, the silence stretches between us like a living thing.
“We should talk,” Lainey finally says, echoing my words from last night.
“Yes.”
“Somewhere private?”
I glance at the clock. “Garden room?”
She nods and leads the way to the glass-enclosed room where Claire used to grow orchids. I haven't changed anything in here since she died. The plants are gone, but the wicker furniture remains, along with the view of the mountains.
Lainey sits in Claire's favorite chair. The sight does something strange to my chest.
“This isn't working,” she says quietly.
“I know.”
“The gossip’s started and I know you don’t want that.”
“I did hear a bit about a nanny trying to catch a single dad husband.”
She twists her hands in her lap. “Oh, damn that’s so embarrassing. I really should just go.”
“Don't.” I cross the room in two strides, stopping just short of touching her. “Don't say you should leave.”
“Then what should I say?” She looks up at me, eyes bright with challenge and something else. “What are we doing here, Steve?”
I don't have an answer. Or maybe I have too many answers, none of them simple. None of them safe.
The doorbell rings, startling us both. Through the garden room windows, I can see Margaret's car in the driveway.
Lainey stands quickly, smoothing her shirt though it doesn't need it. “I should check on Maddie.”
I watch her go, my heart pounding. When I open the front door, Margaret's expression makes my blood run cold.
“We need to talk about the photos Jenny's mother just showed me,” she says quietly.
“What photos?”