Matthew's Choice (4 page)

Allie disconnected. She hadn’t been able to forget the call Peter had received last night. In a town the size of Cedar Grove, she had to know the nine-year-old—more than likely he was one of her students. And after a restless night, she was pretty sure which one.

She arrived at the top floor of the Winthrop where the dining room overflowed into the mezzanine. She spotted Peter over by a window and hesitated. This was not a good idea. What would they talk about? Last night, conversation revolved around dancing and lots of other people. Talking with children one-on-one—piece of cake. Not so much with a man as good-looking as Peter—being the introvert she was, she never felt she was interesting enough to hold an attractive man’s attention. With her heart pounding, she took a step back, looking for an escape, but Peter spied her and waved her over. Allie smoothed the winter-white slacks she’d chosen and fastened a smile on her lips.

She accepted the chair Peter pulled out for her. From the window, she glimpsed a view of the Mississippi River as it rolled south. “I’ve never eaten here before.”

A pleased smile spread across his face. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

“Good.” He lifted his eyebrows. “Maybe there will be more ‘firsts’ in the future. And I’ve ordered for us.”

“You’ve ordered for me?” She struggled to keep from giving him her detention glare.

“They were so busy, and I knew you wanted to leave for Cedar Grove as soon as you could.”

He made sense, but still...

“Your first course, sir.” The waiter placed identical bowls of tropical fruit before them.

As soon as they finished the fruit, the waiter produced their main course. How much money had Peter given him to hover? She stared at her plate.

“It’s a spanakopita omelet,” Peter said. “I had the chef make it especially for you.”

A Greek omelet. She took a hesitant bite, and as the contrasting flavors of spinach and feta cheese hit her taste buds, she smiled. “Very delicious.”

“I didn’t think you’d order one yourself, so I took the liberty.”

She frowned. How well did he think he knew her? He might have a surprise or two. She eyed Peter’s Belgian waffle and sausage. How in the world did he stay so trim? “Either you don’t eat like this every day or you are a workout nut.”

He laughed, his rich baritone warm to her ears. “Yes and no.”

She glanced up, seeking clarification, and he chuckled again.

“Yes, I don’t eat like this every day, and no, I don’t exercise. At least not too strenuously or every day.”

Some people got all the luck. Today Peter wore a black mock turtleneck that hugged his abs and he didn’t show an ounce of fat.

He leaned toward Allie. “It’s evident you work out.”

“Thank you.” At least Peter had noticed her weight loss since college. The approval in his eyes was the payoff for her hours in the gym, and she took a moment to enjoy the compliment.

“I understand you’re not seeing anyone right now.”

Allie almost choked on her omelet. She patted her lips with the napkin. “I don’t have time.”

“I’ve heard that, too. I don’t even know how you have time for the gym.” Peter used his fingers to count. “Teacher, counselor and Sarah told me you mentor some of the children who come into the shelter. And now you’ve added foster parenting to the mix?”

Peter had been doing his homework on her. “I like working with kids—it’s probably in my genes. Just like with Clint. Watching Mom and Dad take in foster kids influenced both of us. He works with kids at the Boys and Girls Club, and I do what I do. But, because I am busy, I’ve asked to be considered only for school-age children.”

She paused as the waiter appeared at their table and whisked the empty plates away. “But that’s enough talk about me,” Allie said after he left. “How did you get into social work?”

Peter shrugged. “Dad wanted me to become a psychiatrist, and I wanted to be a musician.” A wry grin spread across his lips. “We compromised.”

She laughed. “And neither of you won.”

“I don’t know. It brought me back to Cedar Grove and you.”

His pale blue eyes darkened, and she looked away.

“Actually, I never considered being a musician. I think that was just to irritate Dad. I did get a bachelor’s in psychology then knocked around for a while.”

“So, how did you get to be director of social services in Cedar Grove?”

He leaned back and folded his arms. “
That
is all your fault.”

“My fault?”

“Yeah, all that time I was trying to figure out what I wanted to do with the rest of my life, something you said at graduation kept bouncing around in my head.”

She cocked her head. “And that was?”

“You paraphrased John Kennedy, who paraphrased an old school master. ‘Don’t ask what our country can do for us—’”

“Ask what we can do for her.” Allie grinned as she finished the sentence. “I was young and idealistic.”

“You’re still idealistic. I’ve wanted to tell you for some time that the impact of your words prompted me to apply for a job with the Department of Human Services in Washington, and it didn’t take long to figure out I needed a master’s in social work.”

“Why did you come back to Cedar Grove?”

He took her hand and caressed her fingers. “Because of you.”

Her face burning, she withdrew her hand. “Why are you suddenly interested in me?”

“It’s not sudden. I’ve always been interested, but in high school and during college, you only had eyes for Matt. When I returned to Cedar Grove last year, friends told me not to waste my time. You were married to your job and your volunteer projects. I invented excuses to be at the shelter when I knew you would be there, but every time we met, you pulled into your shell and hung out the Do Not Disturb sign. That’s why I resorted to practically begging your brother to invite me last night.”

“Why didn’t you just flat-out ask?”

Peter flashed a wicked grin. “Let’s see if that will work.” He cleared his throat and leaned toward her. “Miss Carson, I enjoyed dancing with you last night. There’s a nice supper club in Cedar Grove. So what do you say? Dinner and dancing Friday night?”

Why not? Dancing with Peter had been fun, and today had been...different. Just because they went out, didn’t mean she had to give him her heart. It was in too many pieces anyway. She tilted her head toward him. “I would love to.”

“Good.” He motioned to the waiter for another refill on their coffee. “Can I ask you a personal question?”

“You can ask. Don’t know if you’ll get an answer.”

“What did you ever see in Matt Jefferies?”

“I can’t believe you asked me that.”

He shrugged. “I just never understood why you dated him. He wasn’t good enough for you.”

Suddenly Peter’s interest in her became clearer. Allie blotted her mouth with her napkin.
A memory from high school. Peter losing a math competition to Matt. Peter telling Matt he’d never be anything but the kid from the wrong side of town. Surely that wasn’t what Peter referred to. But she had to know for sure.

Allie fingered the handle of the porcelain cup, and on cue, the waiter appeared and refilled it with coffee. After he left, she stirred cream into her cup. “You’re not still competing with Matt, are you?”

“Compete with Matt? Of course not. I’m glad to see him doing well. I just always thought you belonged with someone more like me.” He smiled, exposing perfectly even white teeth.

“And not the kid from Beaker Street?”

A red flush started at his neck and ended at his ears. “That was a stupid remark I made a long time ago. I never should’ve said it. I didn’t like that he always beat me in everything. Math, quarterback position, you.”

She eyed him over the cup’s rim.

“Honestly,” he said, “I’ve always regretted saying that.”

What was it she’d always heard about people using the word
honestly?

Peter’s cell phone rang, and he slid it from his belt. He frowned. “I can’t believe I’m getting another call from the office. Excuse me.”

He stepped away from the table. When he returned, his face was pinched and the muscle in his jaw twitched.

“That case from last night?” She’d been trying to figure out how to bring up the subject without being too obvious. Now the problem was solved.

“Yeah,” he muttered. “The kid’s run away.”

“Last night you said the child was a nine-year-old boy. He may be in my reading class. Maybe I can help. It’s possible I know the family, or where he might’ve gone.”

“Oh, I know where he’s gone. The hospital to check on his OD’d mother. Sarah at the shelter said that’s all he talked about.”

Protective son, overdosed mother.
Don’t let it be—
“Is the mother’s name Mariah Connors?”

He stared at her. “How do you know Mariah Connors?”

She swallowed the bile that rose up her throat. Poor Noah. “I’ve counseled the boy, had parent-teacher meetings with Mariah, so I know the situation. She’s Matt Jefferies’s sister.”

* * *

M
ATT
TOOK
ONE
last look at the diamond engagement ring and closed the box. He’d locked the wedding band away in his wall safe until the wedding.
Wedding.
He liked the sound of the word.

A tiny flicker of regret pierced his memory. He’d asked Allie to marry him once, and she’d turned him down. Looking back, it was probably for the best. Allie never approved of his bold plans to get ahead, and she wouldn’t fit into his present lifestyle. Besides, she was his past. Jessica was his future. A future that was within his grasp, one he had worked hard to get. Jessica wanted the same things he did. But it was more than wanting the same things. She was kind and caring.

His heart tendered at a memory of Jessica in the park last summer. She’d set up her easel at the Memphis Zoo to sketch the snow leopards, and a small girl had wanted to “help.” Without hesitation, Jessica flipped to a new sheet in her sketch pad and spent the next fifteen minutes letting the child try her hand at drawing.

The kitten mewed, and he glanced at the cardboard box. The kitten had surprised him when he returned home with it, lapping milk from a bowl. It mewed again. “Shh,” he said as he knelt by the box. “You need to be quiet. Jessica will be here soon and if she hears you, she’ll want to hold you and that will make her sneeze. Are you hungry?”

Matt had cleaned the closed eye, and now the kitten stared at him with two good eyes. It mewed again, and he frowned. He’d barely gotten a little more milk poured when the doorbell rang. He settled it gently on an old T-shirt in a corner of the box. “Be quiet,” he said and closed the door to his bedroom.

“Happy New Year, love.” Jessica swept into the room and wrapped her arms around his neck.

He tilted her face toward him and gently kissed her as the strains of “Clair de Lune” played softly in the background. Matt kissed her again, and she leaned into him, returning his kiss. “Happy New Year to you, too,” he said when they broke apart. “Are you hungry?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. This is nice.” Her stomach growled, and she giggled. “I guess that ruined the mood.”

“Right this way, m’lady.”

“What’s this?” She shifted her gaze from the table set with his best china and back to Matt.

“Just setting the mood,” he replied. “You look great, as usual.”

And she did, in boots and black leggings and a short, hunter-green dress that brought out the green in her hazel eyes.

“You’re not so bad yourself.” She stroked the red cashmere sweater he wore, a Christmas gift from her. “So, what have you made me?”

He pulled out her chair. “Eggs Benedict—I just have to cook the eggs, but we’ll start off with fruit, and caramel coffee.”

An hour later, Matt refreshed their cups. Everything had gone off without a hitch, even the eggs. Jessica smiled.

“Thank you, Matthew. I don’t know when I’ve ever had a better New Year’s celebration. Last night and now this morning.”

His heart thumped faster as he looked into her eyes. The velvet box was in his pocket, waiting for him to bring out at the right moment. He took her hand. “Jessica, we’ve talked about marriage before, and you know how much I—”

A yowl from his bedroom made him flinch.

“What was that?” She looked over his shoulder toward the bedroom.

The kitten. Not mewing, but sounding exactly like it had in the parking lot. Loud. Pitiful. It was a noise that could not be ignored. “Uh...”

“Matthew, do I hear a cat?” She cocked her head. “It is. But...but you know I’m allergic.”

“I know. It’s a kitten, and I thought I ran over it. You stay here while I go check—”

The doorbell rang, and rang again. And again.

“I’ll get the door.” Jessica pointed toward the bedroom. “You see about that poor kitty.”

The kitten howled again, and Matt huffed a sigh. It probably needed milk again, and he grabbed the carton. “Be right back. Entertain whoever it is.”

The kitten stared plaintively at him when he opened the door and immediately hushed its crying. He picked up the bowl and refilled it. Voices came from the other room. Women’s voices. Matt placed the bowl beside the kitten and guided it to the milk. “You’re on your own, kiddo,” he said and went to wash his hands.

Then he stepped into the living room and stopped. “Allie?”

Jessica’s gaze went from Allie to him. “You didn’t tell me Clint’s sister was stopping by.”

Something was wrong. Bad wrong. It was stamped in the way Allie stood, in the slump of her shoulders, in her face. “What’s going on?”

“Matt, I don’t know how to tell you... Mariah is in the hospital. Your sister may not make it. And her son has run away from the shelter.”

He didn’t know why he felt so surprised.

“Sister?” Jessica turned to him. “You never said anything about a sister.”

“Everybody, just sit down.” He sank into the hard leather chair closest to him and looked at Allie. “What happened?”

“I’m not sure. All I know is she overdosed on heroin and her little boy has run away from the person who was looking after him temporarily,” Allie said. “You’ll have to ask Peter Elliott exactly what happened.”