Family in Progress. Brenda Harlen

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СКАЧАТЬ style="font-size:15px;">      Calls from his daughter’s principal had been all too frequent in the last year—and were a major factor in Steven’s decision to take the job in Chicago and move what was left of his family to Illinois. He’d thought—hoped—that the change would be good for them. But the kids had been in school less than a month and apparently Caitlin was up to her old tricks already.

      The pounding in his head that had begun to lessen roared to life again.

      He braced himself and connected the call. “Steven Warren.”

      “Mr. Warren. It’s Louise Crawford from Parkhurst Elementary. I’m calling about Tyler.”

      “Tyler?” He was stunned.

      His nine-year-old son had never given him a moment’s trouble. When he’d announced that they were moving halfway across the country, Caitlin had kicked and screamed from that moment until they’d arrived in Chicago. Tyler, on the other hand, hadn’t been happy but had accepted the move with a mature stoicism that belied his years. Or maybe he’d only thought his son accepted the move.

      “What did he do?” Steven asked wearily, even as he wondered, What have I done?

      Samara stood at the corner of East 60th and Dorchester with the Chicago Transit Authority schedule in her hand. People complained about Tokyo being a difficult city to navigate, but she’d grown up there and had no trouble finding her way around. Chicago, on the other hand, was a maze of the unknown crisscrossed with various bus, train and subway routes that were seemingly indecipherable.

      She glanced at her watch, then at the convoluted public transportation schedule again, and decided she would indulge—just this once—and take a taxi. She had less than twenty minutes before she was due to meet Jenny on the other side of town and she wasn’t sure the bus or train or any combination of the two would get her there on time.

      The cab driver whizzed through the streets, depositing her at the restaurant fifteen minutes later—and twenty-seven dollars poorer. She refused to think about her rapidly dwindling savings account as she paid the fare and added a small tip for the driver, but she couldn’t help but wonder why she’d thought it would be a good idea to start her life over halfway across the world.

      She’d had a good job in Tokyo, friends and family there. She missed them sometimes. A lot of the time, actually. Her four sisters and their families, even her father. And she missed Izumi, her great-grandmother, most of all.

      It had been Izumi who encouraged her to follow her heart, wounded though it had been at the time, and find her own path rather than continue to walk along the one that had been laid out for her. Since she’d embarked on her journey to do so, she’d returned to Tokyo only once—for Izumi’s funeral seven months earlier.

      Jenny and Richard had flown over for it, too, which had meant the world to Samara. And it was then she’d started thinking about returning to the States, though several more months passed before she actually did.

      Initially, she’d only planned to come for a visit. But a few days had somehow turned into one week and then two, and Samara found she wasn’t anxious to leave.

      Jenny and Richard both insisted she could stay with them as long as she wanted to, but they both had busy lives—even busier now that they were preparing for the arrival of their baby in only a few more weeks. So when Samara heard about a furnished apartment for rent near the Lincoln Park area, she’d jumped at it.

      She’d traveled and lived economically over the past couple of years and had managed to save a fair amount of money, which meant she didn’t have any trouble paying the required first and last months’ rent, but she did need to find a job soon if she was going to continue to put food on her rented table. She’d tried waitressing, responding to a sign in the window of a little café just down the street from her apartment, but that experience had been brief and unfortunate.

      When Jenny told her about the opening at Classic, Samara had been thrilled and relieved to think that she might actually have the opportunity to stay in Chicago and do something that she was good at. If she convinced Steven Warren she was good at it—and she wasn’t certain she’d managed to do that.

      But she pushed the worries and concerns aside as she entered the restaurant.

      Jenny was already seated and waiting for Samara, but she stood up and hugged her friend as best she could considering the baby bump in her belly.

      “How did it go?” Jenny asked, lowering herself into her chair again.

      Samara tucked her backpack under the table. “I think it went well enough.”

      Jenny’s eyebrows rose. “You think?”

      Samara shrugged, not wanting to give voice to her doubts or her friend any reason to pressure her brother-in-law. “He’s not an easy man to read.”

      Easy on the eyes, a little voice in the back of her mind taunted, but not at all the type to give away what he was thinking.

      “Well, what did he say at the end of the interview?” Jenny asked.

      “He said he’d let me know.”

      Her friend frowned at that as the waitress came to take their orders.

      “Cheeseburger and fries,” Samara said. Not having looked at the menu, she fell back on what she knew was a staple in most American restaurants.

      “What kind of cheese?” the waitress asked. “Cheddar, Swiss, Monterey Jack?”

      “Cheddar.”

      “Gravy on your fries?”

      “Sure.”

      Jenny looked at her with undisguised envy. “Chef’s salad with light dressing.”

      Then, after the waitress had gone to place their orders, she confessed to Samara, “I have to pick and choose my calories carefully these days, and I want a huge slice of banana cream pie for dessert.”

      “I didn’t think you liked bananas,” Samara said.

      “I don’t,” her friend admitted. “This baby, on the other hand, seems to love them. Bananas and ice cream. I have six different flavors in my freezer at home right now. Actually, it was seven before I finished the butter pecan last night.”

      “Then I would think a banana split would be more satisfying than pie.”

      The expectant mother laughed and laid a hand on her belly. “Junior certainly thinks so.”

      Samara watched her friend’s hand move over the curve of her expanded tummy as if to soothe the baby. Her eyes were lit with joy and soft with emotion, and Samara felt a tug of something that might have been envy deep within her own heart.

      “We were talking about your interview,” Jenny reminded her.

      “I don’t know what else to tell you.”

      “Maybe I should talk to Steven, to get his perspective on it.”

      “No,” Samara responded quickly. “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but if I get СКАЧАТЬ