Debbie Macomber - 1022 Evergreen Place

When she finally got home, Bruce was already there. She pulled her car into the garage beside his and grabbed her dry cleaning from the backseat. Bruce had the garage door open before she’d even reached the house.

“You’re late,” he said in aggrieved tones.

“I went to see Teri.”

“You didn’t let Jolene know where you were. She was worried.” The accusation in his voice stung, although Rachel didn’t believe for a minute that her stepdaughter was worried.

Jolene stood behind her father, looking far too pleased with herself. “You told me I have to let you know if I’m going to be home late,” she said smugly.

“Well, yes, but I’m the adult here. I don’t report to you.” Perhaps that was too blunt, but she couldn’t restrain herself. Rachel was barely inside the house and the attacks had already begun. “If it’ll make you happy, I’ll call the next time I’m going to be late.”

“I have to abide by the rules, but you don’t?” Jolene said as Rachel stepped past her and into the kitchen.

Rachel ignored the comment, hung her dry cleaning in the hall closet and then walked back to the kitchen, past both Jolene and Bruce. “I’ll start dinner now.”

“What are we having?” Jolene asked, following her.

Rachel had put ground chicken in the refrigerator to thaw. “What would you like?”

The girl shrugged. “Nothing you cook,” she said under her breath.

Rachel pretended not to hear. “Bruce, do you have any preference for dinner?”

“How about tacos?” he called out from the living room, where he sat at the computer desk he’d placed in one corner. He was, as usual, unconscious of the tension between Rachel and Jolene.

“Sounds good to me,” Rachel said, not looking at Jolene as she brought the thawed chicken out of the refrigerator.

“I hate tacos,” her stepdaughter said.

“Since when?”

“Since you started cooking them. My dad used to make them better. We made tacos together and had a lot of fun.”

In other words, Rachel’s advent into their lives had ruined everything.

“I’d love your help,” Rachel said, striving to speak pleasantly and disregard Jolene’s insults. “If you showed me how, then maybe I could make them the way you like them.”

“Not a chance,” Jolene said, and disappeared down the hallway to her bedroom.

Trying to salvage the evening, Rachel went to work; she seasoned the chicken with taco seasoning, grated the cheese, diced fresh tomatoes and shredded lettuce. Then she put the meal on the table, which, to her pleasure, Bruce had set without being reminded. He summoned Jolene and the three of them sat down.

“How was school?” Bruce asked his daughter.

“Great. I got an A on my history test.”

“Congratulations,” Rachel said.

Jolene glanced away as if to discount any praise from Rachel. “Misty asked me to spend the night on Friday. I can, can’t I, Dad?”

Bruce looked at Rachel. “I don’t have any objection if you don’t.”

“I thought Misty’s parents worked swing shift.”

“So?” he asked.

“So, who else will be there until her parents get home?”

“No one,” Jolene said irritably. “Her parents let her take care of herself. We’re not babies, you know.”

“Jolene’s spent the night at Misty’s before,” Bruce added, siding with his daughter.

“But that was a Saturday and her parents were home,” Rachel pointed out.

“Oh, right.”

“Why don’t you have Misty spend the night at our place?” Rachel suggested.

Jolene glared across the table at her. “Not with you here.”

“Jolene,” Bruce snapped, reprimanding her.

“I wish you’d never married Rachel,” she shouted at her father. “I hate having her in our house. I want it to be like it was before.”

“Jolene, please …” Rachel began but her stepdaughter wasn’t willing to listen. Instead, she jumped up from the table and ran down the hallway to her room. Rachel flinched as the door slammed shut.

After a moment of silence, she met her husband’s eyes across the table. Bruce released a pent-up sigh. “I’m sorry. That was … unfortunate.”

“I shouldn’t have said anything.” Hard as Rachel tried, it never seemed to do any good.

“No, you brought up a valid point. If Jolene spends the night with one of her girlfriends, I want there to be adult supervision. I know Misty’s grandmother stays with her some of the nights her parents are gone, but apparently she’s alone the rest of the time. Those two girls together, without any supervision, could get into trouble.”

Rachel stood and started to clear the table. She considered bringing up the possibility of counseling, then decided to wait until she didn’t feel quite so tired.

“Do you want me to get Jolene to help with the dishes?” he asked.

If he did, Jolene would sulk and argue, and that would only increase Rachel’s stress. “No, thanks. I’ll do them.”

Bruce frowned. “She should be doing chores.”

“Yes, but … not tonight. She’s upset with us both. She can do the dishes tomorrow.”

“You’re sure?” he asked.

Rachel nodded wearily. A few minutes later, as she stood at the sink, rinsing off the plates and setting them in the bottom rack of the dishwasher, Bruce moved in behind her. He’d finished clearing the table and had put the leftovers in the refrigerator. Now he slipped his arms around her waist and nuzzled her neck, dropping warm, moist kisses beside her ear. Shivers of awareness raced down her spine.

“Bruce …” she whispered, but then she let him continue. She closed her eyes and leaned back, her weight resting against his strength. She was vaguely aware of a noise behind her, but it didn’t register at first. When she realized Jolene had come into the room, she instantly stiffened.

“You two are disgusting! ” the girl screamed. “I can’t have friends over because you embarrass me. It would help if you could keep your hands off each other for five minutes, you know.” With that, she stormed down the hallway and banged her bedroom door shut for the second time that night.

Bruce released Rachel and sighed. “I guess that means Misty won’t be spending Friday night with us.”

Rachel didn’t know if he was joking or simply unobservant. Either way, the only response she could manage was to roll her eyes.

Mary Jo Wyse woke, startled out of a deep sleep. She wasn’t sure if that was because of a dream she’d been having or because Noelle had made some small noise as she slept. At almost five months, the baby was sleeping through the night—well, practically every night. Mary Jo was grateful for that. Noelle slept in a crib in her room; Mary Jo wasn’t ready to move her to the nursery yet.

As she lay in bed, staring up at the dark ceiling, Mary Jo mulled over what she’d discovered the previous weekend. Mack owned the duplex. He’d wanted her living close by and, in order to make that happen, he’d misled her into thinking a distant friend of his was the owner.

His lie disappointed her deeply. She liked Mack; in fact, she liked him a great deal. Nevertheless, she was wary of embarking on another relationship. David Rhodes had taught her several painful lessons and she’d be a fool if she didn’t take those lessons to heart.

The problem was that she wanted to trust Mack. But she’d yearned to believe in David, too. She’d clung for much too long to the fiction that her baby’s father loved her and welcomed their child, refusing to accept what was obvious to everyone else … and should’ve been to her.

Even her brothers knew what kind of man David was without ever meeting him. When she’d finally recognized the truth, Mary Jo had been devastated. Yet, despite everything, she’d never regret having Noelle. The baby gave her life purpose. And hope.