The Parent Trap(21)
“What about Kate? I thought you were going with her.”
“I am. They’re giving me a ride, and I promised to show her around and introduce her to everyone.”
“You’re sure you don’t want me to take you?”
“Mo-om. It’s high school, not kindergarten.”
Casey’s horrified tone made her laugh. “You’re right. Tell you what. We’ll go out for burgers tonight and you can tell me all about your first day.”
“Deal. What’s for breakfast?”
“There’s juice in the fridge and waffles in the freezer. Or we could scramble some eggs. Those would probably be better for you.”
Casey scrunched her nose. “Waffles are good. Do you want some?”
“Sure. I’ll be right down.”
“Okay, I’ll put enough in the toaster for you, too.”
Sarah set the folder back on her desk and switched off the lamp, then peeked between the curtains again. There was no sign of Jonathan, so she flung the curtains wide, briefly admiring the early-morning sky, now deep blue and streaked with pink, before cinching the belt of her robe and returning to her bedroom to lay out clothes for work. Today’s to-do list was long, and getting lost in thought about her buff new neighbor would only get in the way.
“Besides, it’s your daughter who’s heading off to high school this morning, not you.” She was too old and certainly too jaded to let a man distract her from the things she needed to do to take care of herself and her daughter. Especially a man who wasn’t doing a very good job of taking care of his.
“Hold that thought,” she advised herself. Hold. That. Thought.
“WHAT’S FOR BREAKFAST?” Kate asked when she came downstairs and plunked an oversize leather satchel on the end of the kitchen counter.
“There’s cinnamon-raisin bread on the island,” he said. “It’s still warm, and I left out the butter and honey. Fresh fruit salad in the fridge.”
“The bread smells good,” she said.
He wasn’t used to compliments so early in the morning. Or at all, for that matter. Was she working up to asking for something? Or, he thought, eyeing her attire, maybe she hoped he’d be too flattered to notice what she was wearing. Her narrow-legged brown jeans ended well above her ankles and had front pockets that were closed with chunky metal zippers. Her silver-gray off-the-shoulder sweater revealed several straps that were attached to garments that were not intended for public viewing. On her feet, gray patent stilettos.
He resisted the urge to ask, “That’s what you’re wearing?”
This was why girls need mothers. Fathers knew nothing about fashion and they didn’t have a clue how to talk to their daughters about what was appropriate for the first day at a new school.
While Kate applied a scant layer of butter and honey to a slice of bread, he took out the fruit salad and scooped some into a bowl for her. She slid onto a stool at the island and he set the bowl in front of her, resisting the urge to hitch her sweater up over her shoulders. Instead, he poured her a glass of milk.
“Is there any coffee left?” she asked.
Heaven help him. “You’re a little young to be drinking coffee.”
Judging by the eye roll, she didn’t think so. “Me and my friends drink coffee when we go to the mall.”
Of course you do. You did, he corrected himself. No mall here, and he hoped she would find better things to do with her time. Maybe her new friend next door would be a stabilizing influence. Casey was studious, athletic and, according to her mother, had a plan for the future. All the things he hoped for Kate.
As if on cue, there was a tap on the sliding glass doors and there was Casey, her wave as vigorous as her smile was wide. Jon gave her the sign that the door was unlatched, so she slid it open and immediately filled the kitchen with her energy.
“Wow,” she said. “It smells awesome in here.”
“My dad made raisin bread this morning.”
“What?” Casey’s wide-eyed response was amusing. “You baked it yourself?”
“I did. Help yourself.”
Casey slathered a slice with butter and honey and took a huge bite. “Mmm. This is good,” she mumbled around the mouthful.
Kate picked up hers and took a dainty nibble. “What did you have for breakfast?”
“Waffles.” Casey’s single-word answer was muffled by her second mouthful.
“Cool. Your mom made them?”
Casey swallowed and laughed. “No, my mom doesn’t cook. We buy the frozen ones that go in the toaster.”
Jon met Kate’s gaze, and for one brief moment he detected what might have been gratitude. In addition to recently announcing she was a vegetarian, she had also declared the importance of going organic. Apparently she hadn’t realized she’d been eating healthy food all along. Rather than let her appreciation go to his head, he changed the subject.