Sugar Daddy (18 page)

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Authors: Nicole Andrews Moore

Tags: #Romance, #Contemporary, #Fiction

BOOK: Sugar Daddy
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Several more trips and she was ready to get down to business. At one time, before the twins, she had been popular on the arts and crafts circuit. Her candles were much admired for their scent, their hand painted containers, and their longevity. Smiling to herself, she imagined what she could accomplish in this amazing room. Snapping out of her reverie, she smirked. Nothing would get accomplished if all she did was stand around dreaming about it.

Slowly she unwrapped the packing from some glass containers she had already prepared. Examining them, she heaved a sigh of relief that the designs were still intact. She could actually have candles ready to go in a few hours.

Before long, Hannah was humming to herself. So engrossed was she in the process that she didn’t see Madge peeking around the corner. She stepped in closer, unwilling to startle the woman as she poured the hot fragrant wax. Once she saw that Hannah was done, she cleared her throat. “Sorry to disturb you, but it’s about that time,” Madge warned, pointing to the clock hung over the back counter.

Nodding, Hannah pulled off the apron and hung it on a nail she found in the wall. She was more relaxed than she had been in ages. And she knew it wasn’t just the studio, it was everything. Her life finally felt settled, finally made sense. Just then, an unfamiliar chime interrupted her thoughts.

“Oh,” she giggled. “My first call.” The screen showed that it was Gavin calling from the office phone. “Are you calling to place your dinner order?” She asked with a laugh.

“Alas, no,” he said seriously. For hours he had procrastinated about contacting her. “I have a meeting tonight after work. I won’t be home until later. Please don’t wait dinner for me.” He was eager to hang up, eager to get this meeting over with. If he was being truly honest, he was torn about going home as well. Seeing Hannah had somehow become the best times of his day. Finding her smiling face and easy demeanor every morning in the keeping room while he drank coffee and she sipped tea before facing the rest of his dreary day was an experience that was only rivaled by his evenings spent with her in the study.

Leaning back in his chair, he sighed as he realized how important it was to him that she was there, waiting on him when he returned from the office. Her face would brighten when he entered the room, and soon they would be swapping stories about their day. He liked sneaking up the stairs and listening to her read to the girls. And then, he had come to count on her sitting across from his desk reading at night. It was so comfortable. In such a short period of time, Hannah had succeeded in turning his house into a home. He gulped. He actually liked having her and the girls around. So much for his revenge, but maybe he had a chance at something even better.

“Well, what do you think?” Hannah asked on the other end of the phone. There was an edge to her voice that told him she had asked a question and he had completely missed it while he was lost in thought.

“I’m sorry, Hannah,” he apologized sincerely. “I was distracted.”

Sighing loudly, she repeated the questions, “What if I feed the girls and continue their routine and I just wait to eat with you?” She asked as if this were the most natural question in the world.

“You would wait to eat with me?” His voice was incredulous. With India, he was lucky to have a plate in the oven. He’d hunt around and eventually find her every time in her studio.

“I offered, didn’t I?” She responded, seriously.

“I was just going to hit a drive-thru on the way home, but if you’re willing to wait, I’ll grab us something different so it’s fresh and hot.” His mind was already spinning with the possibilities.

“Nothing too extravagant,” she warned. “I hate when you spend money on me.”

“Fine,” he scowled. And the Ruth’s Chris takeout dream fizzled. Instead…Long Horn? Now he had something to look forward to, as long as his meeting went well.

 

Half an hour after leaving the office, Gavin found himself sitting across from none other than Amy Pendergast. She looked particularly uptight this evening in her navy blue dress suit. This was a woman to be taken seriously.

“I was surprised to hear from you,” Ms. Pendergast began. “The divorce is final. I expected our dealings would be done.” She folded her hands on the desk and waited for him to reveal the nature of their scheduled encounter.

Choosing his words carefully, Gavin finally spoke. “Well, it has come to my attention that we have someone in common.” He waited for her reaction.

An eyebrow rose sharply. “Someone?” She asked. “Not something?”

“Oh, most definitely someone.” He leaned forward and watched as she slowly leaned back in her chair.

“Don’t keep me in suspense,” she said. “Do tell.”

Swallowing, he said, “Hannah and the girls are living with me.” And then he waited.

Amy stood abruptly and leaned over the desk. She could keep her cool in court, around a mediation table, and in meetings, but Hannah was her weakness. They were more like sisters than friends. She was fiercely protective of her. “How is it that Hannah is living with you?” She asked angrily. She racked her brain for a reason that Gavin might be punishing her. The settlement didn’t go precisely the way he had hoped, but still it was more than fair. She had always taken his calls. They were in constant contact during the process. Why must Hannah suffer for whatever imagined injustice he had endured?

This reaction was exactly what Gavin was trying to avoid. “Please sit,” he said warily. He could sense her hesitancy. “I said ‘please,’” he reminded her. Suddenly that word had taken residence in his vocabulary. It was becoming so commonplace that he had very nearly used it when speaking to an employee at the office.

Amy sat with a thud. “How have I wronged you?” She asked weakly.

“Wronged me?” Gavin asked. And suddenly his face lit up. She thought that he was using Hannah to punish her. It was almost laughable. Then a small voice in his head piped in. Nope it’s not about her; Hannah was supposed to be punished for being a greedy self-serving bitch. His face darkened just as quickly. “You never wronged me, Ms. Pendergast.” He shook his head. “This isn’t about you.” He struggled with the explanation he had contrived to spout out during their discourse.

He began slowly, with great concentration, “My mother was nagging me about finding a woman. She wanted grandchildren. And there was Hannah, already with children, needing a place to stay.” He looked her in the eyes. “Everyone wins.” He shrugged. If that was the truth, why did he feel so lousy? But he knew. It was because that wasn’t his intent when he moved Hannah in. Well, according to the law, it wasn’t intent; it was actions that people were held accountable for. He straightened some. And he’d never hurt Hannah.

“You’re not here just to tell me that,” she said as she leaned forward to assess him with those angry eyes.

Gavin cleared his throat, feeling the weight of her stare. “No. I just want everything to continue as it has been. As you know, I don’t do well with change.”

Amy eyed him suspiciously for a moment as she gave his explanation some thought. She was a shrewd woman, and if anyone could see through him, it would be her. Hannah was too trusting. “So, you’re not going to hurt Hannah.”

He sighed. “No, that clumsy woman does enough damage to herself; she certainly doesn’t need my help.”

Amy laughed at the truth of his statement. “She does have a way of getting herself into trouble,” she mused. “I’m surprised you feel comfortable leaving her unattended in your house.”

“Well, I leased her a new car and bought her a cell phone,” he began. “And short of baby proofing the place, there’s not much more I can do.” He smiled slightly.

Glancing at her watch, Amy stood and motioned that she was walking him to the door. “I have another appointment,” she explained sheepishly. Then she looked at him and heaved a visible sigh of relief. “At least I know where she is and that she’s being well taken care of.” She shook Gavin’s hand and then paused. “For a moment I was afraid you had taken my advice.”

“How’s that?” Gavin asked, momentarily confused.

“Oh, it’s silly, but for a moment I thought you had somehow managed to figure out how to turn Hannah into your hobby.” She shrugged and moved away.

“Yeah, silly,” he said, feeling incredibly low.

Chapter Nine

The court date snuck up on her, partially because she had been doing everything in her power to forget about it, avoid the worry, but mostly because once she had scanned and emailed Amy all of the paperwork she requested, Hannah had focused on other aspects of her life.
She had spent countless hours in the studio, hours that had definitely paid off. For one thing, she had been able to take pictures and create a website to sell her crafts. Her walk-in closet had become the storage for her completed projects, easily accessible for when she was working online and preparing shipments.

After some contemplation, she had decided to combine some of her mediums. In addition to the hand painted glass container candles she had produced, she was now making a series of candles in coil pots. Smiling, Hannah admired one of her latest creations. For her, spending hours rolling the clay and shaping it into a coil pot was therapy. She sighed blissfully. Truth be told, living here was therapy.

The routine that they had developed worked to provide her the security she craved. She knew that every morning Gavin would join her in the keeping room for a few minutes to chat before going off to the office. Sometimes he rattled off what he needed of her that day, other times he simply seemed to want to visit. She had grown accustomed to dropping the girls off, running the necessary errands, and then working on a dinner plan before heading out to the studio. The kitchen was nearly complete, so she could look forward to resuming her cooking duties in the very near future. That, too, brought a smile to her face.

Some of her favorite times, however, were the times that she was able to work uninterrupted in the studio. Occasionally Madge would stop by to see what she was working on, but she never hovered for long. So, with the radio on or some of her mix cds playing, she was left to her own devices. And the result was astonishing even to her. Already she had sold several of the new clay pot candles.

That was it. Her guard was down. So when her iPhone reminded her that she had to be in court during what should have been her studio time, she was shaken to her core. Sinking down on the bed, she struggled to pull herself together. It was just a court hearing, nothing to worry about. Not only would Amy be there to support her, she would be fighting for her. Hannah tried valiantly to smile at that thought, but it was a weak one at best that couldn’t mask the fear in her eyes.

 

Downstairs, Gavin was pacing.
He was used to sharing this time each morning with Hannah. He counted on it to get through the day. Hearing the chattering in the dining room, he hoped he might find her there. As he peeked in, however, he was disappointed to see the girls eating alone.

They seemed to be deep in a discussion and he didn’t want to interrupt. He had more important issues on his mind, like finding their mother. Yet part of their conversation caught his attention.

“Don’t worry, Zoe,” Rory said quietly. “Mommy must just be late. That’s all.”

Playing with her cereal, Zoe looked down sadly. “I hope so. I hope it’s not like before, in the apartment.” She sighed.

Laying an arm around her shoulder, Rory tried to comfort her sister. “No. Mommy’s better. You know it.”

She seemed to think a moment before answering. Her face brightened and she said, “Yup.” Then she began munching her Honey Nut Cheerios happily.

Gavin couldn’t help it. He had to ask. “Was your mom sick?” He felt his stomach clench as he awaited the answer. He would feel even lower if he had been giving her all these tasks to accomplish and she had been ill.

Shaking her head emphatically, Zoe was the first to answer. “No, just sad,” she explained. She received a poke from Rory for her answer and immediately looked down, ashamed that she had said too much.

He studied them for a moment. He had to dig deeper. “How do you mean?”

Zoe opened her mouth to respond, but Rory silenced her with a glare. Taking a deep breath, she answered anyway. “We could hear mommy crying at night, really soft, like she didn’t want anyone to hear. And she was really quiet and never had time to sing to us or play with us or read to us.”

This didn’t sound anything like the Hannah he knew. “When was this?” He asked to reconcile the image they painted with the woman he cared for.

“After daddy left,” Zoe said quietly. She looked as though she wanted to say more, but Rory interrupted her.

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