Bankers' Hours(62)

I wasn't completely sure if what he said was true, but it sounded  reasonable to me. He had strong evidence against her. He glanced up and  locked eyes with me but made no move to reveal my presence. From her  angle on the floor in front of him, she wouldn't see me unless she  turned her head.

"Why don't you?" she beseeched.

"Because I love my daughter. No matter how angry you make me, I've never  once shown Claire the kind of evil person you are. She suspects, but  that's on you. I understand how you feel from your father leaving the  way he did, but it was years ago. Your resentment has festered into  something unspeakably awful. His actions may have been wrong, but so are  yours. I'm not telling Claire her mother's a lunatic. You get help, you  change, and then we'll figure out a visitation schedule."

"But what about the lawyer and the papers you drew up? What about all  the legal stuff you did?" I felt sorry for her, because her voice was so  tiny-like Oliver Twist asking for more gruel.

"I can ask him to shred them. We never needed a legal agreement before,  Teresa. I think we can work this out between us again. Don't you?"

Teresa nodded.

Tristan helped her off the floor and squeezed her shoulders. "No more  snakes, right, Teresa? No bees, no spiders, no creepy-crawlies to scare  the bejeebers out of Grant and me?"

She nodded slowly.

Tristan nodded again and then opened the door for her.

After she'd gone, I stepped into the living room and joined Tristan by the window. We watched her car go down the road.

"You believe her?" I asked, because I didn't. "You trust that she's  going to comply without any other freaky attack or infestation? It can't  be that easy."

"I do believe her. This is the first time I've brought up her father and  she didn't flip out on me. I think she knows she has issues that need  sorting, and that I'm not trying to take Claire forever."

"Aren't you?" I looped my arms around his waist.

"Yes …  and no. I want her full-time, but I also know she's going to leave  for college in a few years, so living with us is only temporary. I'm  pretty sure Teresa understood that too."

"I don't know. She looked broken to me. I think she's desperate to keep Claire all to herself."

"We'll see. If Claire is here Friday night as usual, I'll ask her if  Teresa talked about any of this. If she's really willing to allow Claire  to live here without a court order, then she has to talk to Claire  about it." He was always so logical. I loved that about him.

"She wouldn't hurt Claire, would she?"

"No." Tristan turned, taking me with him into the kitchen. "In the  meantime," he said, "I think it's time to have some chili. What do you  say?"

I smiled and grabbed some bowls from our nice shiny cabinets.





CLAIRE ARRIVED on Friday night without Teresa making excuses about  forgetting the time. She dropped her bag on the chair and hugged her dad  before walking over to me. She held her arms open. "Can I get a hug  from you, Papa Number Two?"

I snickered and hugged her tightly to me. Her floral perfume filled my  nostrils and her squishy feminine parts pressed against my chest. I had  hugged women before, but this was very different. She was a kid, but  not. I had a teenage daughter now! The notion made me emotional and  sentimental, so I tightened my grip around her tiny body.

When she pulled back, I was not the only one weeping. "I guess I like  having two dads." She sniffled and grinned through her tears. "And I'm  glad I'm not the only one emotional about it."

I laughed. I wiped my tears and grabbed for a tissue from the box on the  counter. I pointed an accusing finger at Tristan. "Don't you say a  word."                       
       
           



       

He smirked and held his hands in the air but remained silent.

Claire walked over to her bag and pulled out a jar full of ants.

I gasped and stepped back. "What are you doing?" I asked, fearful she'd  drop it on the floor and I'd have ants all over my kitchen in seconds.

"I brought this for Dad. I found it in the shed." She handed the jar to  Tristan, who turned it over to inspect it. "Why do you think Mom had a  jar full of ants? I can see if the jar had been open, then they might  have crawled inside on their own, but that jar was shut. It even has air  holes smaller than the ants. Don't you think that's weird?" She glanced  at me, and I shrugged.

Tristan said, "I don't know. I can only hope it was some strange  experiment and not a project meant to hurt the ants or anyone else."

Hurt the ants? I would hurt the ants myself if the jar somehow opened …   in my house, near my food. "Can we take them outside, then? Because I  have a new bottle of Raid Ant Killer under the sink just for occasions  like this."

Tristan chuckled but took them outside. Claire and I looked at each  other, and when he didn't come back right away, I offered her a cupcake.  She said, "Ooh, these are really good. Did you make them?"

"Yes."

"Wow. I'm impressed. How'd you learn to bake so good?" She licked the  icing off her lips and then took another bite. "What is this on the  inside?"

"Boston cream pie filling."

"It's really good," she complimented, with her cheeks filled with cake like a happy little hamster.

I told her, "I watched some videos online. I like to eat, but I don't  like paying to eat out every time I want something special. I learned to  bake because I love cupcakes. They're my guilty pleasure, and I eat way  too many of them."

"What's your guilty pleasure?" Tristan asked as he walked back in without the jar.

"Cupcakes," I said, rolling my eyes at him because I knew he was trying  to get me to say something else. "What happened to the ants?" I asked,  securing the lid on the cupcakes.

"I returned them to the woods. I had to walk all the way to the tree  line so the ants would make their way in there. It's dark, so I had a  hard time weaving my way around the car parts. I think I need to clean  up my yard." He sat next to Claire. "Do I get a cupcake?"

"You think?" I reopened the container so he could pick one.

"Dad, do you think something's wrong with Mom?"

We exchanged glances. "Why do you ask?"

"Because she's been acting weird for weeks. Ever since I told her about  you being gay, Mom's been …  off. She used to only drink on the weekends,  but after I told her about you she started drinking during the week  too."

"She did?" I asked, beating Tristan to the question. He glanced at me and then Claire.

"How do you know that, honey?" he asked, and I knew he felt bad for her.

Claire took another cupcake out and removed the paper as she explained,  "I used to measure the level in the bottles. I knew if she drank a  certain amount, she'd need me to wake her up in the morning. I knew Jack  affected her one way, and vodka another. It seemed like a game when I  was little, but as I got older it was just sad."

He reached over and rubbed her back. "I'm sorry," he said. I loved how  affectionate he was with me as well as his daughter. Tristan was such a  wonderful man. "Why didn't you ever tell me?"

She lifted one shoulder. "We covered this already, Dad. I never knew you  cared so much. It's not like I thought you didn't want me or love me,  but I felt the distance between us like an invisible wall. But that  weekend when you told me you were gay, it was as if someone put a  blowtorch to the wall and melted it away. It felt like the very first  time you told me something personal. I guess I felt closer to you, and  at the same time, Mom felt further away. I already knew she wasn't the  best mother, but my mom was better than my friend Deana's. Not everyone  has great parents, so I was happy that she cooked for me and did my  laundry. But lately … ." Claire looked down, and Tristan kissed the side  of her head.

"Lately things have changed." He voiced her thoughts.

She nodded. "Yeah. I also talked to Grandma."

"Oh?" Tristan's voice went up.

"She called looking for Mom, but we ended up talking about Grandpa. She  told me Mom blamed him for everything, and that's why she's so mean to  you."

"Your mom and I have always had issues."                       
       
           



       

"I know, but I used to think it was my fault somehow."

Tristan looked as though she'd stabbed him in the heart. "No! Sweetheart. It was never your fault."

"Oh, I know," she stated matter-of-factly. "Grandma was very open about  it this time. I'm not sure why, but I think when I mentioned the  possibility of living with you, she changed her mind about avoiding  things. She told me you'd asked Mom to marry you, but she turned you  down."