“They stopped laughing,” Paulette pointed out, “when Chris carried the campaign dresser in all by herself.”
Chris rocked from side to side with Ringo, shrugging away any glory for the feat. “The drawers were out. It was a cinch. But I think it’s rotten that you two stuck me with the one married man among the three.”
Paulette made a scornful sound. “You can wrestle them to the ground. You don’t have to charm them like we do. You deserve a handicap.”
“How long is Aaron staying?” Chris asked Susan.
Paulette handed up cereal.
Susan stepped off the stool to the counter to reach the highest shelf. “I’m not sure,” she said, holding on to the door as she put the cereal away. “Maybe tonight.”
“I thought he was staying to put the playground equipment together.”
“I can do that.”
“But the boys seem to really like him. He might want to hang around awhile just to…you know, be here.”
Susan sighed. “That’s true but that isn’t going to help me much when he leaves and does his usual three-year disappearing act.”
Susan held her hand down for the next box, and when nothing was forthcoming, she looked down wondering if she’d have to nudge Paulette again. But Paulette wasn’t there. And neither was Chris.
She turned carefully on her perch to see Aaron standing behind her, hands on his hips as he looked up at her, his stormy eyes telling her he’d heard everything she’d said. Behind him the boys played excitedly at the table with what looked like new Matchbox cars, Ringo in possession of a big plastic truck. Paulette and Chris stood together on the other side of the room, looking concerned.
Susan wasn’t sure what made her lose her balance—the embarrassment of having been overheard speaking her mind, guilt over having condemned a man who’d offered nothing but kindness since he’d arrived, or the simple physics of a body occupying too narrow a space.
Whatever the reason, she was suddenly flailing and trying to turn the fall into a leap, because Aaron seemed to be making no move to catch her.
His hands left his hips just as she’d braced herself to break both legs, and he caught her against him, one arm under her bottom, the other at her back.
She half expected him to fall backward but he caught her firmly. They stood for one protracted moment, his steely arm under her backside, his hand clutching her thigh, his breath warm against the soft skin exposed by the V neck of her sweater.
Then he let her slide down his body until her toes touched the floor. She felt every muscle he possessed from neck to knee.
She didn’t want to look into his eyes, but she didn’t want to be cowardly, either. She’d said what she felt and, right or wrong, she had to stand by it.
She raised her eyes to his and saw not the anger she’d expected but a sadness she couldn’t entirely understand. Somehow it made her feel even worse.
“Tomorrow,” he said in an even tone of voice, “we’ll get you a taller step stool.”
Paulette and Chris excused themselves, and as Susan walked them to the door, Ross, Micah and Aaron carried the jungle-gym boxes into the backyard.
Paulette hugged her. “You’re sure you’re going to be okay for Friday’s show?”
Susan nodded. “Sure. I don’t know what I’ll do with the boys yet. I’m not putting John and Paul in school until Monday.”
Paulette smiled. “Maybe we can work them into the show.”
Susan looked doubtful. “I don’t think so. Too many power tools. Too much potential for on-air disaster.”
“But we film. We can work it out.”
Chris gave Susan a hug. “Just tell him you didn’t mean it and you’re sorry.”
“I did mean it,” Susan said defensively. “I just didn’t mean for him to hear it.”
Chris studied her with a furrowed brow. “It isn’t like you to be so judgmental. Your father was a flake. That’s a different thing from someone who’s spending every waking moment trying to build a business.”
Cut to the quick because Chris was right, Susan followed her to her van and said tightly, “Family should always come first.”
“He’s here, isn’t he?”
With that, Chris and Paulette climbed into the green van and drove away. Susan went back into the kitchen to find George and Ringo playing happily with their trucks, but John and Paul were not at the table.
Susan went to the French doors and saw the boys helping the men pull the long wooden pieces of playground equipment out of the boxes. Off to the side on an even stretch of grass between the garage and the large shed she used as a shop, Aaron was spreading sand presumably to give the boys a soft spot to land in case of a fall.
Even as she defended herself in her mind, she admired the fact that he’d thought of everything.
She opened the doors. “Do you need tools?” she asked no one in particular.
Aaron didn’t even look up at her.
Micah pointed to a long metal box. “I keep a toolbox in my truck,” he said.
She nodded. “Hot coffee?”
Micah and Ross replied in the affirmative.
A short while later she carried out three mugs and placed them on the edge of a nearby planter. Aaron offered a perfunctory thank-you while concentrating on attaching the seat of a swing to the chains.
The set was up by dusk, and Susan put on the outside lights in the back so that Aaron could supervise a test of the equipment.
She made a chicken-noodle casserole from a recipe she’d found in Becky’s box, put together a salad and baked a tube of refrigerator biscuits.
Micah and Ross left when it appeared that the equipment was sound. So that Aaron didn’t have to leave the boys, Susan walked the men to Micah’s truck and thanked them for their help.
Ross left her a business card for Hardware and Muffins, and Micah told her that she was welcome as his guest at the Knight Club if she ever needed an evening away from the boys.
She waved as they drove away.
The boys had to be dragged in to eat half an hour later, their cheeks pink, their eyes bright. This was a very different group, she thought, from the boys who’d sat around the table at breakfast, despondent about having to leave their home.
She knew she had Aaron to thank for that.
“You don’t have to go tonight do you?” John asked as they ate ice cream for dessert.
Surely Aaron would look at her now. He hadn’t met her eyes since she’d turned around on the countertop to find him standing there.
Before he answered John, he would have to know if she would offer to let him stay.
“You said,” John reminded him, “you were gonna buy Aunt Susan another step stool tomorrow. So you’re not going home yet, right? That means you have to sleep someplace. And this is our house now, too, so we can invite you to stay here.” John looked to Susan for confirmation. “Right?”
Aaron did meet her eyes then, but the small yet friendly connection they’d made yesterday was gone. It was like looking into the eyes of a stranger—one who didn’t particularly like her on first impression.