Kate Hoffmann - Paris or Bust!

The bare bulb hanging from the ceiling went on and for a moment, she had to cover her eyes, waiting for them to adjust. When she pulled her hands away, she found herself squinting at Kit Lawrence.

“In the closet? Are you waiting for my father or has he already left?”

She sent him a withering glare, even though the effort caused her nose to throb. “You have a very dirty mind.” Roxanne pushed past him and walked out the door.

“Rox, wait a second.”

“No! I don’t need to listen to you anymore.”

He grabbed her arm and spun her around to face him. Then he gently pulled her fingers away from her nose, examining it carefully. “Does it hurt?”

“Like hell,” she said, trying to keep her eyes from watering.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t expect you to be inside the closet. I needed a lightbulb. What were you doing in there?”

“I could tell you, but you wouldn’t believe me. You prefer to think the worst of me.”

“Give me a reason not to.”

“I needed a quiet place to think. A moment alone.”

“In the closet?”

She pushed his hands away. “I have to go.” She hurried down the hall, this time finding her way out without a problem. When she reached her minivan, she quickly climbed in. Roxanne rubbed her nose, trying to ease the ache along with the humiliation. Her professional life might be coming together and her family life was getting on track, but her romantic life was a complete shambles.

Carl pretended to lust after Roxanne. Roxanne secretly lusted after his son, Kit. Kit hated Roxanne, even though he’d kissed her once. “My life has turned into a soap opera,” she murmured. “And I can’t find the damn remote to turn it off.”

ROXANNE GRABBED the box of cereal and poured a bowl of Frosted Flakes for Danny. Car pool was due to arrive in fifteen minutes and her son still wasn’t dressed. “Danny,” she shouted. “Come down right now. You’ll be late for school.”

“I can’t find my basketball shoes,” he shouted from the top of the stairs.

“Wear your hiking boots.”

“No, I have to wear my basketball shoes.”

Roxanne put Jenna in her high chair, then spread some graham crackers onto the tray. “Good morning, my little sweetie.”

“Mama,” she said. She stuck her finger out and touched Roxanne’s nose. “Dirty.”

Roxanne giggled and captured her daughter’s finger in her mouth. “Mmm, tastes good.”

Danny came racing into the kitchen followed by Rachel and Michael, who were still dressed in their pajamas. “Tell them to quit following me,” he shouted.

“Quit following your brother,” Roxanne said.

“When can I go to school?” Rachel asked.

“Next year.”

Danny slid into his spot at the kitchen table, then glanced up at his mother. His spoon froze halfway to his mouth. “What happened to you?” he asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You have a black eye,” Danny said. “Cool.”

Roxanne turned to look at her reflection in the stainless steel refrigerator. When she didn’t like what she saw, she ran to the powder room tucked beneath the stairs and flipped on the light. “Oh, no!” she cried.

The thunder of running feet on the hardwood floors followed her to the bathroom and Michael crawled up on the toilet and peered at her reflection in the mirror. “Wow,” he said, clearly in awe of the swirl of color around her right eye.

“It’s purple,” Rachel said. “Purple is my favorite color.”

The doorbell rang, but the kids were so fascinated by her black eye that none of them ran to answer it. When it rang again, Roxanne cursed silently and told Danny to get his shoes and coat. Before she opened the door, she peeked through the curtains, expecting to find Janelle Verrick, one of the car pool mothers. Another moan slipped from her throat. Kit Lawrence stood on her front porch, holding a huge bouquet of flowers.

Danny ran up with his school bag and his jacket. “Why don’t you let Mrs. Verrick in?”

“It’s not Mrs. Verrick,” she said. “I want you to wait a few seconds while Mommy hides in the bathroom, then I want you to open the door.”

“But you said I should never open the door.”

“You know who is on the other side. Mr. Lawrence is out there.”

“Does he have some puppies and candy?”

“No. Just tell Mr. Lawrence that I’m in the bathroom and I can’t be disturbed. Then close the door and come back and tell me when he goes away. Got that?”

“Does he have balloons?”

“Not that Mr. Lawrence. The other Mr. Lawrence.”

“With the swimming pool?” Danny asked.

“Honey, just answer the door and tell him what I said.”

Roxanne rushed to the powder room then left the door open a crack. Rachel, Michael and Jenna were still inside, playing with the toilet paper. She shushed them, then she tried to hear what was going on at the front door. She heard the familiar squeak of the hinges, then held her breath.

“Hi, Danny.”

“Hi, Mr. Lawrence. My mom says she can’t see you because she’s disturbed. And she has to go to the bathroom. You’re supposed to go away.”

“Is she sick?” Kit asked.

“No. When can we come swimming again?”

“Whenever you want. Would you like to come tonight?”

“Sure. What time?”

Roxanne groaned. This was not going well. She raked her fingers through her tangled hair, then tightened the belt on her tattered chenille robe. The robe made her look like a pink sausage tied in the middle and there was a huge coffee stain on the lapel. Maybe if she stayed far enough away, he wouldn’t notice the black eye.

She stepped out of the bathroom and the kids scooted out around her, running to the door. Rachel leapt into Kit’s arms and gave him a hug, then stuck her face into the flowers he held. Michael clung to his leg.

“Are those flowers for me?” Rachel asked.

“They’re for your mom,” Kit replied. “But reach in my jacket pocket. There’s something in there for you.”

Rachel did as she was told and came back with big red lollipop. She found three more and passed them out to the other kids, then wriggled out of Kit’s arms. “Mommy, look what Mr. Lawrence brought!”

“Sugar,” Roxanne said. “And artificial coloring. And a sharp stick. Very nice.”

“My ride’s here, Mom,” Danny called.

“Leave the lollie. You can save it until after school.” He set the sucker down on the hall table and ran out. Then Michael grabbed it and raced out of the room, the girls hot on his heels. “Don’t you dare eat that,” she shouted. “That’s Danny’s.”

Kit took a step into the house. “Sorry. I probably should have brought them something a little more healthy, like alfalfa sprouts or yogurt.” He took another step closer, then frowned. “What happened to your eye?”

“A closet door,” she said. “And you looking for a lightbulb.”

Kit tossed the flowers aside, crossed the hall in a few long strides, then gently took her face in his hands. He carefully examined her eye, probing at it with his thumb. “Does that hurt?”

Roxanne shook her head. “I put ice on it last night. I don’t think anything is broken. Just a little bruised.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“That wouldn’t be a great idea. I don’t have health insurance. The kids are covered by a policy I bought, but since the divorce, I let my coverage lapse.”

“You were hurt in the workplace. The station’s insurance would probably cover it.”

“I’m fine,” she said, touched by his concern and warmed by his touch. “What are you doing here?”

He picked up the flowers from the floor and handed them to her. “I wanted to say I was sorry. About the argument we had. About the black eye. And I wanted to take you and the kids out to breakfast.”