The Parent Trap(61)

“What if Kate agrees to keep up with her schoolwork in exchange for helping out at my store a couple of afternoons a week after school? You would both have to compromise, but you would both be getting what you want, too.”

Compromise. He thought that’s what he’d been doing all along. In one of those all-too-rare lightbulb moments, it dawned on him that he had not been giving Kate the benefit of the doubt. Instead of asking what she needed and wanted, he had let her know, as much through his actions as his words, that he knew what was best for her. All she had to do was listen and do what she was told.

“This is it,” Sarah said. “Here on the right.”

He swung the car into the driveway and pulled up behind the police cruiser parked there. The two-story white clapboard building with immaculately groomed grounds could pass as a house if not for the sign and flagpole in the front yard and radio tower behind.

Sarah’s door flew open the instant he stopped and switched off the ignition. She had one purpose now and it wasn’t him...and he couldn’t fault her for that. She released her seat belt and jumped out of the car in one fluid move. He was moving a little slower and she already had Petey’s crate out of the backseat by the time he stepped out and closed the door.

Their gazes met over the roof of the SUV. And then, as though she could see the enormity of his self-doubt, she gave him a wide smile. Then she walked around the front of the car and slipped her free arm around his waist as they walked to door.

“You can do this,” she said. “You know how they say it takes a village to raise a child? Well, just remember that we live in the same village.”

He looped an arm around shoulders and for the first time in what felt like forever, he believed her. He could do this.



LIFE COULDN’T POSSIBLY get any suckier, Kate thought. On the drive back to Serenity Bay, she wedged herself into the corner of the backseat and stared out the window, refusing to speak to or even look at any of these people.

Her dad hadn’t yelled, even though she’d expected him to go totally ballistic. Sarah hadn’t reprimanded her for dragging her precious daughter into this. Casey hadn’t gone all nya-nya-nya-nya-nya on her but, still, some friend she’d turned out to be.

What were they doing instead? Her dad had put the radio on her favorite station, Sarah calmly pointed out several points of interest along the highway, and Casey had taken Petey out of his carrier and had him sitting on her lap. All of this was really bugging her because she was spoiling for a fight.

She leaned her head against the window and squeezed her eyes shut. They flew open again when something cold touched her hand. Petey’s nose. He was looking at her with such sad eyes, she couldn’t resist petting him. He crawled onto her lap and rested his chin on her arm, and for some crazy stupid reason, that made her cry.

In the front seat, Sarah dug a little plastic packet of tissues out of her purse and passed them back to her without saying anything.

She wanted to scream. Stop being nice to me! But she just dried her eyes and blew her nose and tried to make herself small enough to disappear into the corner.



JON HAD SOME very mixed feelings as he unlocked the front door. He glanced next door in time to see Sarah, arm in arm with her daughter, disappear inside. You’re on your own, he thought, stepping aside for his daughter. A sullen and still-silent Kate made a beeline for the stairs.

You can do this, Sarah had said to him. But he already wanted to play the village card because this would be so much easier if she was here.

“Hold on,” he said.

She stopped but didn’t turn around to face him.

“Come on into the kitchen and I’ll fix you something to eat. We need to talk.”

“What’s to talk about? You’re grounding me till I’m eighteen?”

He refrained from pointing out that, under the circumstances, her belligerence was out of line. This was about finding that middle ground, not creating an even wider and deeper rift between them.

He eyed the bulging black-and-white bag with suspicion. It was the catalyst that had precipitated this whole mess and although he normally didn’t have an opinion about purses, he intensely disliked this one. Judging by its shape, she had packed for an extended time away from home.

“No punishment,” he said.

She faced him then, warily, as though she either didn’t believe him or didn’t trust him to keep his promise.

He hiked his head in the direction of the kitchen. “Come on. I’ll make some sandwiches.”

She followed several paces behind him and stood at the island. He handed her a cutting board, a knife, a tomato and an avocado.

“If you’ll slice these, I’ll slice the bread and cheese,” he said, hoping her favorite sandwich would open the lines of communication.