“Didn’t you tell Vergie I knew how to cook?” Maria asked, indicating the alphabetically stacked TV dinners.
“Vergie believes in being well-prepared for any emergency.” He gave each lid a push closed. “I know it looks like a lot but we’re pretty isolated here in the winter. The main road is a mess when it snows so we try not to go into town more than once every couple of weeks or so.”
They went back to the kitchen. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble getting the hang of things,” Ben told her. “But you be sure to ask if you need anything.” He looked down at her standing beside him and frowned as he realized again just how small she was in spite of the way she’d wielded the hoe in the garden. “It’s hard work, you know.”
“Vergie managed.”
“She’s strong as an ox.”
“When’s the last time you spent a summer in Phoenix?”
“You couldn’t pay me enough,” Ben said flatly.
“Exactly. This is going to be like a summer vacation for me.”
Just then the kitchen began to reverberate with the pulsing thrum of music coming from above their heads; the bass notes throbbed so violently Ben could feel them through the soles of his feet.
“Ah, yes, summer vacation.” Ben sighed, deep and heavy.
Maria smiled. “I guess I better help the kids finish the garden,” she said. “I’ll get them some supper, then I’ll be back to fix something for you and Connor. What time do you usually eat?”
“I try to finish up outside by six-thirty or so, so I have time to do my paperwork in the evenings.” A particularly intense beat caused the dishes to rattle in the cupboards. “Uh, I was just thinking,” Ben added casually, “why don’t you plan on eating supper with us from now on?”
Maria shook her head. “Thanks, but I like to be with my girls for meals.”
“Bring them, too.”
Maria still shook her head. “David’s missing his mom a little. That’s Linda, my older sister—she stayed in Phoenix to run our restaurant. I wouldn’t want him to feel excluded.”
“I guess he could come, too.”
Maria hesitated. “No, thank you, really, but I wouldn’t like to leave—”
“Veronica and the baby? Your mother?” he guessed impatiently. “Hell, let them all eat over here. It’s silly for you to have to fix two suppers every night.”
“But you were only supposed to provide room and board for me. Feeding my whole family wasn’t part of the deal. We planned on buying our own groceries.”
“So I’ll take something out of your pay,” Ben said with growing exasperation. Could the woman never do as she was asked? “Will that make you feel better.”
A plastic cup, jiggling in time to the bass beat, walked itself off the edge of the counter and fell to the floor. They watched it roll to a stop next to the refrigerator. He saw a look close to pity on her face. “All right. It will be more convenient to just cook one meal. If you’re sure the extra noise won’t bother you?”
The sound of the TV in the living room added itself to the music. “You’re kidding, right?” Ben said with a wry smile.
“You ready to go, boss?” Harvey stood at the door, peering through the open screen. He grimaced at the sound that assaulted his ears. “You having a party or something?”
“Connor” was Ben’s succinct reply as he picked up his dusty hat from the table and jammed it low on his forehead.
Harvey nodded, understanding. “Howdy there, Maria. I see you’re still here. The boss told me—”
“Shut up, Harvey,” Ben said, pushing him aside to go through the door.
“Hi, Harvey. I was expecting you for lunch.”
“I have my own place about ten miles down the road. You probably passed it on your way here. I take my meals there.”
“I see.”
“I like my independence,” Harvey told her.
“And Vergie won’t let him step foot inside her kitchen,” Ben added as he started down the steps.
“That’s true. She’s a mean-spirited woman. Of course, she’s always had a crush on me, you know.” Harvey gave Maria a wink before following Ben.
“She can’t stand the sight of you,” Ben corrected.
“It’s those squinty little pig eyes of hers, distorting her view, that’s what it is.”
“Shut up, Harvey.”
Maria stood at the door and watched the two men walk away, smiling as she listened to their nonstop bickering. She saw Ben pause at the garden and strained to hear what he was saying.
“I’ve never seen this old garden look so good, have you, Harvey? I think you ladies—and gentleman—deserve a break, don’t you, Harvey?”
Maria saw all heads look up expectantly.
“I bet a swim would sure feel good right about now. Why don’t you kids call it a day here and go for a swim down in the pond?” The children began to clamor with excitement. Ben turned and respectfully addressed their grandmother who rocked under a tree. “The water’s only three-foot deep in the middle so it’s safe for them, if it would be all right with you?”
The woman regally inclined her head, giving her seal of approval.
“Get going, then.” Ben made shooing motions with his hands. Maria saw he had a satisfied smile on his face as he watched them scamper out of the garden, unmindful of where their feet landed or what they squashed, followed more carefully, but just as eagerly, by the two women.
For several minutes, Maria stared into the now-empty garden. What possible problems could Ben have with his son that would force him to put up with a table full of strangers every night to avoid being alone with him? She thought about the man who’d just offered her and her family not only a summer away from the city but also food at his table and recreation on his property.
It was strange to consider a man…as a man. Maria hadn’t thought about a man, period, in the five years since her husband, Marcus, had died. But Ben Calder had made her aware of his masculinity within minutes, and had made her aware of herself, too. She’d forgotten what it felt like to have her stomach muscles tighten when she met a man’s eyes; she’d forgotten the way her skin could tingle when she stood close to a man. It felt strange to notice the hair on a man’s arms, the strength of his fingers as he’d twisted that jar lid, to notice the beginning of whiskers on a strong chin. Strange, not exactly unpleasant, but it had just been so long. So long.
Maria gave herself a mental shake. Enough! Ben Calder was a man, all right, and men were to be given a wide berth. Maria had learned her lesson about men as a child, learned it the hard way, when her father had walked out the door on her ninth birthday. Maria still remembered the look on her father’s face when her mother had told him she was pregnant again, pregnant with Veronica. His face had gone as white as the frosting on her cake, and even the glow of the candles couldn’t add warmth to the hunted look that came into his eyes. He’d sang “Happy Birthday” to her, he’d watched her open her presents, he’d kissed her and tucked her into bed, and then, sometime during the night, while she’d slept with her new birthday doll tucked under her arm, he’d left.
That’s what men did. They left. When the going got tough, they left. They left the women—and the children.
Her late husband