The Cottage on Juniper Ridge. Sheila Roberts
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Название: The Cottage on Juniper Ridge
Автор: Sheila Roberts
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Современные любовные романы
isbn: 9781472074744
isbn:
Garrett liked being stuck in the mud just fine. Anything was better than the emotional roller coaster he’d ridden with Ashley for the past few years. And because they had a son, he still had to deal with her. Whenever Timmy spent the weekend at her place, he came home a handful, testing boundaries and wondering why, when Grammy babysat him, he couldn’t have pizza for breakfast.
And then there was the matter of money. Ashley seemed to think they were still married and she could hit him up anytime she needed a fresh infusion of cash.
He was already paying her a hefty support check every month as part of the divorce settlement so she could go to school and train for a career. As to what kind of career, she was still vague. Hardly surprising. Ashley seemed to be permanently stalled at the age of sixteen. He was willing to bet she cut more classes than she attended. And, of course, she wasn’t working. Why work when you could get money from your stupid ex-husband?
She always needed extra money for something. The requests ranged from books to new pans. All of Icicle Falls knew about the pans, since she’d announced in the middle of Hearth and Home that he’d left her so broke she couldn’t afford any. Right. He was the one who couldn’t afford pans. He was using some his mother had given him. The others he’d purchased at the Kindness Cupboard, the town’s thrift store.
Her latest ploy had been new clothes for Timmy. That one he wasn’t about to let her get away with. He was the custodial parent and his mom bought Timmy’s clothes. “I want to take him shopping,” Ashley had whined. “But if you can’t come up with a few bucks, I’m sure Timmy will understand. Daddy has other things to spend his money on than his son.”
“Don’t even try to pull that crap on me,” he’d growled.
But she had. As usual, in the end, he’d caved.
He was done caving now. He had to stop letting her use him as her own personal ATM. She was killing him.
It would help his bank account if he got this renter into the cottage his great-uncle had recently left him. It would also help if Ashley found some other sucker to marry. Surely there was someone in Icicle Falls stupid enough to do that. Maybe Billy Williams, whom she’d been seen with at the Red Barn. Except he wouldn’t wish Ash on his worst enemy, let alone poor old Bill Will.
“I wish you’d never met that woman,” his mother often complained.
Well, that made two of them. Between the money and the 2:00 a.m. calls when she was tipsy and “just wanted to talk,” he was paying big-time for his hormone-induced insanity.
He’d learned his lesson, though. At thirty-two he was older and wiser. He was never getting involved with a flake again. His kid needed stability, and the next woman he picked was going to be someone stable, someone who had her act together.
Like Tilda Morrison. They’d gone out a couple of times and he liked her. She was buff and tough and she wouldn’t take any shit from a kid who was misbehaving. She probably wouldn’t take any shit from a misbehaving ex-wife, either. He enjoyed playing racquetball at Bruisers with her and he appreciated her no-nonsense approach to life.
But it wasn’t Tilda he kept thinking about as he drove to his mom’s. What was the story with Jen Heath?
The to-dos on our list aren’t always what we need to do.
—Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity
Chita Arness only wanted one thing from Santa— some time to herself. She had no idea how she was going to simplify her life if she didn’t even have a couple of hours to finish reading a book on simplifying it. She’d said as much to Cass when they ran into each other in Johnson’s Drugs.
“I hear you,” Cass had said. “Being a single parent isn’t for sissies.”
Especially being a single parent this time of year, Chita thought as she’d left the drugstore. Christmas was right around the corner, waiting to pounce on her. Her shopping wasn’t done, the house was a mess and her washing machine was dying. Her work week at Sweet Dreams Chocolates was over, but the work at home was just beginning.
“When are we going to make pasteles?” Anna greeted her when she walked in the door.
“Oh, baby, give me time to get my coat off,” she pleaded. She thanked Cass’s daughter, Amber, who’d been her after-school babysitter for the past few months, and sent her on her way.
“We didn’t make them last year and you promised we would this year,” Anna persisted.
“Maybe Abuelita will make them with you.” She always hated to ask her mother for favors, though. Not that her mother wasn’t happy to come over from Yakima and spend a day helping out, but her assistance carried a price. Whenever Chita put out an SOS, Consuela Medina couldn’t seem to stop herself from observing how much easier Chita’s life would’ve been if only she’d married Danny Rodriguez instead of that gringo.
“Danny would never have broken your heart,” her mother liked to say.
“Yeah, well, Danny’s been on unemployment for the past eighteen months. I’d still be working just as hard,” Chita liked to retort.
That usually ended the conversation.
Anyway, work was part of life. What Chita had to do was figure out how to balance it with the demands of two children and a dachshund who had a penchant for eating things he shouldn’t, like bottle caps, crayons, Lego bricks and shoelaces (the reason for their last visit to the vet).
“I want you to make them with me,” Anna said, bringing Chita back into the moment. “You never do anything with me.”
Guilt and manipulation, a girl’s best friend. Anna must have learned that from her grandmother. Consuela was an expert. “You have to go to your sister’s cookie exchange. She’ll be hurt if you don’t. Family is important.”
Chita thought of the pile of laundry, the cleaning that needed to be done, the shopping she had to finish and the packages she had to wrap before the big Christmas Eve celebration at her parents’ house.
“You know, you’re right,” she said to her daughter. “We’ll make them tomorrow.”
The way Anna’s face lit up put their Christmas tree to shame. And put her to shame, too. Having a clean house shouldn’t be the most important thing in her life. At the age of ten, the days Anna would want to hang out with her were numbered.
Eight-year-old Enrico came racing into the front hall with Hidalgo chasing him, yapping at the top of his doggy lungs. “Can Bradley spend the night? His mom says it’s okay.”
What the heck? “Sure.”
“Can we have tostadas?”
She’d planned on heating up leftovers. “Sure.”
“And fried ice cream?”
Life was one big party when you were a kid. Sometimes Chita wished she was still a kid. “We’ll see,” СКАЧАТЬ