A Mother's Gift
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Lee Tobin McClain
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18,2K
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35
Chapter One
Blake Evans rushed into the Point diner, ignoring the rain dripping down his neck.
“Hi, Daddy.” His five-year-old daughter, Wren, waved casually from a booth where she was sitting with a family he knew. She stuck a french fry in her mouth and went back to coloring beside her friend Zinnia.
Whew. Wren was fine.
He hung his coat on a hook, hugged his daughter and thanked his friends who were finishing their dinner and watching Wren. Then he approached Zoey Grey, who was wiping off the counter. And who’d been babysitting Wren, supposedly for the afternoon, only he’d been way late coming home. “I’m awful,” he said to her. “I can’t believe you had to bring her to work.”
Zoey glared at him. “What else could I expect from an absent-minded professor?” Then her face broke into its usual smile.
Relieved, he smiled back. “You’re the best, but... I’m still sorry. One of my first-year students was really struggling, and it turns out he has some problems at home, too, and so—”
She held up a hand. “Blake. It’s fine. She’s been playing with Zinnia for the past hour.” She put her hands on the small of her back and stretched. “Let me guess. You’re starving.”
Blake’s stomach chose that moment to let out a loud growl. “Yeah, but I’ll fix something at home.”
“I held back a blue plate special. Go talk to Wren, and I’ll wrap it up.”
His stomach growled again. “You shouldn’t have, but thank you.” Zoey was the best. She was so accepting, so kind. In the two years since his wife, Carol Ann, had died, Zoey had been an incredible support to him and Wren.
She was two years younger than him and had joined a large foster family near his parents’ house when she was twelve. She’d struggled academically, and Carol Ann had tutored her throughout high school.
Blake had felt sorry for Zoey when he’d seen her being teased for her limited wardrobe soon after she’d arrived in town. He’d put the bullies in their place, and Carol Ann had given her some stylish clothes she didn’t need anymore.
After Blake and Carol Ann had married, finished graduate school and returned to Holiday Point, they’d ended up living next door to Zoey’s rented cottage. Their friendship had picked right back up where it had left off. Zoey had done a lot of babysitting for them as they’d started their busy careers as new professors. And once the aneurysm had taken Carol Ann, Zoey had stepped in to pick up the pieces and help Blake navigate single fatherhood. He didn’t know what he and Wren would have done without her.
He went over and knelt beside Wren, hugging her to his side. She was his world, and he needed to do better. Yes, she was totally safe and secure staying with Zoey, but he’d been wrong to be late.
“Look at my picture,” she said and held up the coloring page. He admired it and then admired Zinnia’s, too. “Thank you again for looking after her,” he said to Alec and Kelly, Zinnia’s parents. “I owe you. Next time you want a date night, Zinnia can come over and hang with us.”
“You’re on, man,” Alec said with a fist bump. “But it’s no problem. We’re glad Zinnia and Wren have become friends. She’s a great kid.”
“She is.” Blake smoothed back the hair that had escaped Wren’s ponytail.
Zoey came out of the kitchen with a take-out container in her hands. A guy Blake didn’t know, wearing a cook’s apron, followed her out.
She was nodding. “Friday would work,” she said.
Blake leaned over to see better. Who was this guy?
“Then it’s a date,” the cook said, smiling at Zoey.
Blake stood. Everything in him said no.
The guy leaned a hip against the counter and continued talking to Zoey.
Alec eased out of the booth and stood, blocking Blake’s view of the annoying interaction. “Relax! The guy just fixed your dinner.”
“What?” Blake refocused his attention onto his friend.
Alec nodded toward Zoey and the cook. “You looked like you were about to attack him with your butter knife.”
“He’s hitting on her.” Blake craned around Alec to keep an eye on the man. If he tried anything...
“He’s having a conversation with her.”
Blake checked on Wren. She was talking a mile a minute to Alec’s wife, Kelly, a teacher at the school where Wren attended kindergarten.
He stepped away from the table and looked down toward the kitchen. Zoey and the cook were still talking. The cook said something that made Zoey laugh. Then he touched her arm.
Blake’s jaw clenched.
Alec stepped to the side, blocking his view again. “She’s single, pretty and nice. Why wouldn’t he want to talk to her?”
“Yeah, but...” Blake didn’t know what he wanted to say.
“But what?” Alec studied him, eyebrows raised.
“Can’t I look out for my friend? He’s not good enough for her.”
Alec beckoned him toward the counter, out of earshot of the girls. “Why don’t you ask her out?”
Blake stared. “Me? I couldn’t. I’m still... It hasn’t been that long.” And there was no way Zoey would go out with someone like him, older and nerdy and already a father.
“Two years since Carol Ann passed, right? And you’re not getting any younger.”
“No way.” The thought of asking Zoey out made him extremely uncomfortable. Because what if she said no and it affected their friendship? He couldn’t get by without Zoey. Not just because of how wonderful she was with Wren, but because...well. Knowing Zoey was nearby just made things right with the world. Everyone needed a friend like Zoey. He was blessed to have her, and he couldn’t put that into jeopardy.
Besides, he’d been inferior as a husband. He knew that without a doubt. So there was no way he’d inflict himself on a wonderful woman like Zoey. He’d learned from his mistakes.
Alec shrugged. “Your loss,” he said. His wife, Kelly, slid out of the booth. Zinnia and Wren hugged each other goodbye. Alec helped Kelly and Zinnia into their jackets, and the little family left, Alec with his arm protectively around Kelly.
The sight gave Blake a little pang near his heart. Was he ever going to put his arm around someone again?
Wren reached up, and Blake sat on the edge of the booth they’d just vacated and pulled her into his lap.
She stuck her thumb in her mouth and leaned against his chest. He started to tell her not to suck her thumb, but then stopped and just held her close, stroking her hair.
Wren was fine so much of the time, but a few little habits like the thumb sucking revealed she was still having trouble with the loss of her mom. People had warned him about future orthodontia bills, and he was trying to help her kick the habit. But sometimes, he gave in to the urge to simply comfort her.
Wren was his focus, had to be.
He couldn’t think about the longings that sometimes came to him, the loneliness.
Everyone had problems. His biggest one had been losing his wife.
So he hadn’t had the best marriage, hadn’t been the best husband. There was no need to pity himself about that.
That cook was still chatting up Zoey.
He stood, lifting Wren with him and perching her on his hip. He walked over. “I’ll take you home whenever you’re ready, Zoey,” he said.
Both the cook and Zoey looked startled. So maybe he’d spoken a little too aggressively.
“I’m on the clock for another half hour,” Zoey said. “You don’t have to wait. I can walk home.”
“Or I can drive you,” the cook said hopefully. “It’s raining out.”
“It’s no problem,” Blake barked. “I’ll get her home.”
“If you’re sure. Thanks, Blake. I’d better check on my customers.” She eased her way out from in between the two of them and grabbed a coffeepot from behind the counter.
“We’re on for Friday, right?” the cook called after Zoey.
“Yes! Sure. See you then.”
Blake’s gut twisted. He’d always had a protective, big-brother feeling toward Zoey. That was what this was all about. Wasn’t it?
He had no right to do it, but he drew himself up and glared at the guy, who was several inches shorter and several years younger than he was. He didn’t stop until the man went back into the kitchen.
He wanted to make sure the guy knew that Zoey wasn’t on her own, that she had a friend in her corner if someone she dated did even one thing she didn’t like.
Surely Zoey had imagined the awkwardness of that encounter. Blake had glared after Larry the cook and then stood close by her, as if he were her big brother. Or...as if he felt possessive of her. Which was ridiculous.
She’d spent plenty of time imagining him looking at her in some kind of a way. Really, ever since he and Carol Ann had saved her from a group of kids jeering at her in middle school.
But the way he’d stepped in just now and insisted on driving her home meant nothing. Or at most, it was gratitude toward her for going the extra mile caring for Wren.
More likely, he was thinking about some important equation. Blake was known in town—indeed nationally—for his smarts. The polar opposite of Zoey, who’d struggled in school.
Blake had sat down in one of the chairs by the door, holding a sleepy Wren.
“I have to get checks to a couple of my customers, and then I’ll be ready to go,” she told him.
“Before you go, can you help me fix this cash register?” At the other end of the counter, Rena Owen, who owned the diner, was punching buttons to no avail. “I’m getting us a new register ASAP.”
“Sure.” Zoey walked across the diner, studied the ancient machine then grabbed a knife and pried open the side panel.
“I didn’t know Blake was a relative of yours,” Rena said.
Zoey gently slid the knife in and eased out a wrinkled piece of register tape. “He’s not. We’re just friends.”
“How’d you get into caring for his kid?” Rena asked, her voice low enough that Blake, across the diner, couldn’t hear. She was relatively new in town and didn’t know the history.
Zoey explained about Carol Ann. “She got me through school, and when they had a child, I was a natural to babysit.” She rewound the remaining tape and closed the machine.
“Any romantic interest between you now?”
“No!” Zoey punched the buttons for the final readout. “No way. He’s out of my league.”
“Wait, there are leagues?” Rena deadpanned. She patted the cash register and smiled at Zoey. “Thank you! You’re a genius.”
“Right. I’m the girl who had to take basic algebra twice.” Zoey leaned a hip against the counter. “Are you planning to date in Holiday Point?”
Rena waved a hand. “Nope. Been there, done that. I’m here to run my business.” She pointed a menu at Zoey. “But you, you should date. If not him, someone else.”
“I have a date Friday night,” Zoey said.
The words felt funny coming out of her mouth. She hadn’t dated much in the past few years. Too busy working, picking up all the extra shifts she could, trying to get her credit cards paid off. She’d like to get a better car, too.
Plus, the guys in this town weren’t what she was looking for. Try as she might, she couldn’t see a bowling date as romantic.
She glanced at Blake, then away.
“Who’s your date?” Rena asked.
“Larry. Our cook.”
Rena tilted her head. “Funny, I wouldn’t have thought he was your type.”
“I don’t have a type. But I’m trying to find one.” She sighed. “I’m not getting any younger. I’d like to start a family.”
But at the age of twenty-nine, she needed to get cracking. She needed to build a relationship with a nice guy, and to do that, you had to date. Had to give all different types of guys a chance.
When Zoey headed over to where Wren and Blake sat, Wren jumped up and grabbed her hand, then turned back to Blake. “Daddy, can I ask her now?”
“Wren, we just discussed—”
“Can you come to Muffins with Mom this week?” Wren took her other hand and danced back and forth. “I need a mommy to come.”
“Wren, honey,” Blake said with an apologetic look at Zoey. “You’ll have two grandmas there.”
“But I want a mommy.”
“When is it?” Zoey asked. Wren was so cute.
“It’s this Thursday morning at the elementary school,” Blake said. “A Mother’s Day event. Some of the dads get together and cook breakfast for the moms. Or mother figures. Which Wren has in her grandmothers.”
Zoey felt a pang. Mother’s Day wasn’t a favorite with her.
She’d never had a mom to bring to school events like that. When she was small, her biological family had moved from place to place too rapidly to figure out and participate in school events, not that her parents would have wanted to. After they’d lost custody and she’d been placed in foster care, it had mostly been in bigger families where mothers were spread thin. By the time she’d moved to Holiday Point, she’d stopped asking her foster parents to come to anything.
Now, as an adult, she felt sad not to have a child to love on Mother’s Day. Having kids was all she’d ever wanted to do, but prospects were not good for her here in Holiday Point. She might never have a child of her own to invite her to Muffins with Mom.
Then again, she’d just been invited by a child she adored. She looked at Blake.
His forehead wrinkled. “You don’t have to do it.”
“Please, please, please come,” Wren begged.
“She’s probably busy, honey,” Blake said. Quietly, he added, “It’s fine. Don’t worry about it,” to Zoey.
Wren looked crushed. Her slumped shoulders reminded Zoey of how she’d felt so many Mother’s Days in her life. “I can come, honey,” Zoey said, hugging her. “I’m already looking forward to our special time together.”
