“An angel. She took a long nap and woke up in a quiet mood,” her mother said, and finally took a bite of her own food. Her mother was usually the last to eat. “You need to sit down and eat,” she told Stacey.
“I am,” Stacey said and took her seat. She forced herself to take a bite.
“Did you happen to see Colton when you stopped by the Fosters’?” her mother asked as she took a sip of coffee.
Stacey’s bite of meat loaf hung in her throat, and she coughed repeatedly.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you choking?” her brother Jude asked, then thumped her on her back.
“Water,” her mother said, standing up and leaning over the table to pick up Stacey’s glass of water and press it into Stacey’s hand.
Stacey took a few sips. Everyone looked at her expectantly. “Sorry,” she said sheepishly. “I think I tried to breathe the meat loaf instead of eat it.”
Liam chuckled. “Make sure you teach that little one over there a different technique.”
“I will, smarty-pants,” she said, and was determined to take the focus off herself. “The Winter Festival is right around the corner. I can’t decide whether to bake apple/blueberry pies, chocolate pies or red velvet cupcakes.”
“Apple/blueberry,” her father said.
“Chocolate,” Liam said.
“All three,” Jude said.
Her mother laughed. “Aren’t you glad you asked their opinions? Any of those sound good to me, but make sure you bake an extra one of whatever you end up making for us, or there’s going to be a lot of complaining,” Jeanne said, tilting her head toward her husband and sons.
Stacey smiled in relief. She would escape an inquisition this time.
* * *
The next few days, Stacey developed a plan for her tutoring service. She knew her strengths were math and science, so she decided to focus on those subjects as she contacted the local schools. She also sent an email to Rachel since she knew her friend was doing her student teaching this semester.
Her mother caught her reviewing a flyer at the kitchen table and gave a sound of surprise. “When did you decide to start tutoring?”
“I’ve been thinking about it for a while. Piper is older, but still manageable. I’m hoping to schedule the sessions during after-school hours. She takes a long afternoon nap, so I’d like to take advantage of that time and bring in a little bit of money.”
Her mother frowned. “If you needed money, you should have asked for it. Your father and I are happy to help you,” she said, squeezing Stacey’s shoulder.
Stacey’s heart swelled at her mother’s support. “You and Dad are already letting me stay here without paying rent. I don’t like feeling as if I’m not contributing.” She sighed. “I don’t like feeling like a deadbeat.”
Her mother sat down beside her. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re no deadbeat. You fix the meals and do the laundry and cleaning here. For goodness’ sakes, I barely have to lift a finger with all you do.”
“Thanks, but—”
“No buts,” Jeanne said. “We know that Joe hasn’t offered any financial support, and he should have. At some point, you may have to confront him about that.”
Stacey shook her head. “I hate the thought of it. He rejected both of us so thoroughly. I hate the thought of asking him for anything.”
“But he is your baby’s father,” her mother said. “He has some responsibilities.”
“I wish he wasn’t Piper’s father. I wish her father was someone more responsible, mature. Someone who adored her.” A lump of emotion caught in her throat. “I wish—” she said, her voice breaking. She took a deep breath. “It doesn’t matter what I wish. I’m probably never going to find anyone that loves me and Piper, and I need to stop whining about it. Piper and I are so blessed that my family loves us and supports us.”
“Well, of course we love you,” her mother said. “But you’re young, and you have a long life ahead of you. You’ll find someone—”
“I don’t think so,” Stacey interrupted. “I can’t count on that. I can’t hope for it. I’ve just got to focus on doing the right thing for Piper, and I think tutoring is the right thing.”
“If you’re sure,” her mother said. “And you know I’m happy to babysit for Piper anytime you need.”
“Thank you, but I’m hoping I can do this while she’s napping,” Stacey said.
Her mother studied her for a long moment. “I worry that you don’t get out with people your age very much. You and Rachel see each other now and then, but not that often. I wondered if you and Colton might be getting friendly.”
“Oh, no. He was just trying to be nice and brotherly,” she said, although her teeth ground together when she said it.
“If you say so,” her mother said. “There’s no reason you two can’t enjoy each other as friends.”
“Hmm. We’ll see,” Stacey said in a noncommittal voice. “At the moment, I need to make some copies of these posters and call in some favors from my teacher friends.”
“All right. You sound like a busy girl. Are you still going to make desserts for the Winter Festival?” her mother asked.
“That’s next week and I’ve already got it on my calendar,” Stacey said. “I’ve got it under control.”
Stacey did her best to stay busy during the next days. She didn’t want to think about Colton. She couldn’t help feeling dumped. Thank goodness, no one except she and Colton knew what had happened between them. The longer the time passed, the more she knew, for certain, that now that he’d indulged his passion for her, he was done with her. She would have felt a bit more used if she didn’t recall how much pleasure she’d experienced with him. Every once in a while, a stray image crossed her mind of the way he’d felt in her arms, the way he’d kissed and caressed her. Every time she had one of those thoughts she wanted to stomp it from her mind the same way she would stomp a spider. This was not the time for her to be thinking about her sexual needs.
Darn Colton Foster. Ever since Joe had abandoned her, Stacey had buried all her interest in sex. It hadn’t been that difficult. But being around Colton had brought those emotions back to life, and these feelings were not convenient.
Not at all.
* * *
“Colton, I need you to take my pies to Dessert Booth number three-B at the Winter Festival tomorrow,” Olive Foster said when he walked into the kitchen late Thursday evening.
Colton shook his head. “I’ve got a mile-long list of chores I have to do tomorrow. Maybe Rachel can do it.”
“Rachel is student teaching. She can’t do both,” his mother said. “You’ll only have to be there three hours.”
“Three hours,” he echoed, incredulous. “Why can’t I just drop them off?”
“Because they need people to help work the booth,” she said. “And I’m volunteering