For Love Or Money. Tara Quinn Taylor

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СКАЧАТЬ hour of every day, if it worked out that way. You know that. Is it just the ear infection?”

      Because of Dawson’s narrow ear canals, he not only had tubes in his ears, but was prone to infection. Had had his share of them.

      And then some.

      “Yes,” Janie said, feeling her stomach relax for the first time that morning.

      Joe appeared behind his wife. “I had to come out and wish you luck.”

      Corrine picked up Dawson’s bag. “His medicine’s in there, right?” she said to Jane, who nodded.

      Of course it was. This wasn’t the first time her friend, an attorney, had covered for her. It wasn’t even the tenth or twentieth.

      And not just with Dawson. Though Corrine was a prosecutor, not a divorce attorney, she’d still done a lot of advising and behind-the-scenes work in Janie’s dealings with Dillon.

      Joe glanced into the backseat, a grin on his face. And then, seeing the sleeping boy, exchanged places with Corrine. With expertise born from a lot of practice, he had Dawson’s restraints unfastened and had the boy on his shoulder without Dawson even so much as emitting a heavy breath.

      These days, Corrine’s stockbroker husband was the only one who could get the boy out of his car seat without waking him. Of the three of them, he was the only one strong enough to lift Dawson’s bulky weight easily enough not to disturb him.

      He wished her luck again and headed up to the house, where, Janie knew, he’d put the boy to bed in the room they kept for him.

      His room, they all called it.

      For a split second Janie longed to grab him back and hold on. Because life always felt better with Dawson by her side. Because she was nervous as heck and didn’t want to fail him.

      Corrine ran around to Janie’s side of the car, pulling the door open. Janie tried not to hold on too tight when Corrine gave her the hug she’d been needing so badly.

      “You’re going to do fine,” she assured her.

      “I’m up against master chefs, Cor. With certifications and professional experience.”

      “Your recipes are the best.”

      “Dawson’s going to need a tutor over the summer if he has any hope at all of being integrated into a mainstream kindergarten class next year.”

      She didn’t have any illusions where her son’s abilities were concerned—contrary to what his father thought. Dawson had challenges. But he’d been tested. Many times. He was high-functioning. Which meant that, with the right help, he could possibly grow up to be anything he wanted. Except maybe a professional athlete. Or a father.

      “And Joe and I will help with that if it comes down to it...”

      Janie shook her head. “I can’t keep taking from you guys. I’m—”

      “Shh.” Cor’s finger was soft as it touched Janie’s lips. Reminding her, oddly, of her mother. A woman who’d turned to methamphetamine when her husband left her for another woman and her own job pressure and single motherhood had grown to be too much.

      Janie hadn’t heard from her in years. Wasn’t even sure she was still alive.

      “We’ll cross the summer’s bridge when we come to it,” Corrine said. “For now, let’s just think about today’s bridge. Today you go from a woman breaking her back to make ends meet to a TV star!”

      “I’m not going to be a TV star.”

      “That camera’s going to love you!” Corrine said.

      “I’m too bony.” She had to go. And needed these few minutes. More than Corrine, her best friend since forever, probably knew.

      “Good—you curled your hair,” Corrine was saying as she gave the long blond curls a fluff. “And that color looks good on your eyes. We chose well.”

      They’d had a mani-pedi makeover session the day before.

      “My clothes have no shape anymore.”

      “You’re leggy and thin and there’s no hiding your shape up top. You’re star material.”

      Janie laughed. Right. A girl who’d married, at nineteen, a guy she’d known for only six months, because she’d been so certain she’d found what would sustain her happiness for the rest of her life.

      She had no formal training. No post–high school education.

      And she couldn’t quite swallow the lump in her throat as she looked up at Corrine, who’d never forgotten her, or made her feel less, as she’d gone on to grad school and then passed the bar exam. “I need this so badly,” she said, blinking back tears. “If I win this, the money and prestige combined...added to a commercial packaging of my winning recipe... I could open my own catering business. It’s the answer to all of my prayers.”

      “I know.” Corrine’s smile was...calm. Comforting. “Just be yourself, Janie. Life has a plan for you—you know that. Trust it to take care of you.”

      Corrine was right. And speaking from experience. Even when it looked like Corrine and Joe—truly a couple meant to be together forever—had been on the verge of divorce, Corrine had trusted that all would be as it was meant to be. And now that they had found their way to a deeper, healthier marriage, with communication and utter honesty between them instead of walls, Corrine was even more of a pro in the trust department.

      Janie, not so much.

      “Be you,” Corrine said, giving her hand a squeeze as she stepped back from the car.

      Be you. That was what Cor had said to her just before she’d walked down the aisle to marry Dillon. Be you. She’d said it to Corrine just a few short weeks later when her friend had moved from the apartment they’d shared into a dorm room because she’d no longer been able to afford the apartment on scholarship money.

      “Be you,” Corrine had said when Janie had decided to have Dawson at the expense of her marriage. “Be you,” she’d whispered to her friend on Thanksgiving night when Corrine had called to tell her that she and Joe were getting back together.

      Be you, she told herself as she pulled into the back lot of the small Palm Desert studio and parked her old station wagon next to all of the newer, fancier cars.

      Be you. It was the only thing she knew how to do.

      But wasn’t at all sure it would be even close to good enough.

      * * *

      “OKAY, YOU’VE GOT THIS. Just don’t forget to smile at the camera. Women get all gaga when you smile and Family Secrets has a lot of women judges.”

      Backstage, in a private alcove she’d found for them, Kelsey was straightening the tie she’d insisted Burke wear for this pre-competition taping session.

      As a sports medicine specialist, he favored collared polo shirts. But this was Kelsey’s deal and, so far, СКАЧАТЬ