The Manning Grooms

  Ah, the certainty of youth, Charlotte mused.

  “Will you think about it?” Carrie implored. “Please?”

  “All right,” Charlotte promised. She hated to be so hardheaded, but when it came to her daughter, she found little room for compromise. To her way of thinking, Carrie was too young for a real date, even if the boy in question wasn’t the one driving.

  The meat was simmering in the cast-iron skillet as Charlotte started to wash the lettuce. The faucet came off in her hand, squirting icy water toward the ceiling, and she gasped.

  “What’s wrong?” Carrie asked, leaping up from the kitchen table where she was doing her homework.

  “The faucet broke!” Already Charlotte was down on her knees, her head under the sink, searching for the valve to cut off the water supply.

  “There’s water everywhere,” Carrie shrieked.

  “I know.” Most of it had landed on Charlotte.

  “Are you going to be able to fix it?” Carrie asked anxiously.

  Charlotte sat on the floor, her back against the lower cupboards, her knees under her chin. This was all she needed to make her day complete. “I don’t know,” she muttered, pushing damp hair away from her face with both hands. “But it shouldn’t be that hard.”

  “You should call the apartment manager,” Carrie said. “You’ve had to work all day. If something breaks down, he should be the one to fix it, not you. We don’t know anything about faucets. We’re helpless.”

  “Helpless?” Charlotte raised her eyebrows at that. The two of them had dealt with far more difficult problems over the years. By comparison, a broken faucet was nothing. “I think we can handle it.”

  “Of course we can, but why should we?” Carrie demanded. “We pay our rent on time every month. The least the manager could do is see to minor repairs. He should fix them right away, too.” She marched over to the wall phone and yanked the receiver from the hook. “Here,” she said dramatically. “You call him.”

  “I…I don’t know the number.” They’d lived in the apartment for well over a year and until now there hadn’t been any reason to contact the manager.

  “It’s around here somewhere,” Carrie said, pulling open the top kitchen drawer and riffling through the phone book and some other papers. Within a very brief time, she’d located the phone number. “His name is Jason Manning. He’s a veterinarian.”

  “He’s a vet? I didn’t realize that.” But then, Charlotte had only met the man once, and their entire conversation had been about the apartment. He seemed pleasant enough. She’d seen him in the parking lot a few times and he struck her as an overgrown kid. Frankly, she was surprised to learn he was a veterinarian, since she’d never seen him in anything other than a baseball cap, jeans and a T-shirt. Dressing up for him was a pair of jeans that weren’t torn or stained and a sweatshirt.

  “Are you going to phone him?” Carrie asked, holding out the receiver.

  “I suppose I will.” Charlotte rose awkwardly to her feet in her straight skirt. By the time she was upright, her daughter had dialed the number and handed her the receiver.

  “Hello,” came Jason Manning’s voice after the first ring, catching her off guard.

  “Oh…hello…This is Charlotte Weston in apartment 1-A. We have a broken faucet. I managed to turn off the valve, but we’d appreciate having it repaired as quickly as possible.”

  “A broken faucet,” he repeated, and although she knew it made no sense, he sounded suspicious to Charlotte, as though he thought she’d purposely interrupted his evening. She resented his attitude.

  “Yes, a broken faucet,” she returned stiffly. “It came off in my hand when I went to wash some lettuce. There’s water everywhere.” A slight exaggeration, but a necessary one. “If you’d prefer, I can contact a plumber. Naturally there’ll be an additional charge for repairs this late in the day.”

  He muttered something Charlotte couldn’t decipher, then said, “I’ll be right over.” He didn’t seem too pleased, but that was his problem. He shouldn’t have agreed to manage the apartments if he wasn’t willing to deal with the hassles that went along with the job.

  “What did he say?” her daughter asked, eyes curious, when Charlotte hung up the phone. “Is he coming?”

  “He said he’d be right over.”

  “Good.” Carrie studied her critically. “You might want to change clothes.”

  “Change clothes? Whatever for?” Surprised at her daughter’s concern, Charlotte glanced down at her business suit. She didn’t see anything wrong with it other than a little water, and in any event, she couldn’t care less about impressing the apartment manager.

  “Whatever.” Carrie rolled her eyes, returning to her homework. No sooner had she sat down than the doorbell chimed. Her daughter leapt suddenly to her feet as if she expected to find a rock star at the door. “I’ll get it!”

  Jason considered the whole thing a nuisance call. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out what Carrie Weston was doing. The girl had arranged this broken faucet just so he’d have a chance to see Charlotte. The kid seemed to think that once Jason got a good look at her mother, he’d change his mind about wanting to date her. Well, there wasn’t much chance of that.

  Apparently the girl thought he was something of a player. Jason might’ve gotten a kick out of that a few years ago, but not now. Not when he was nearing middle age. These days he was more concerned about his cholesterol level and his weight than with seducing a reluctant woman.

  He probably would’ve ended up getting married if things had worked out between him and Julie, but they hadn’t. She’d been with Charlie nearly seven years now, and the last he’d heard, she had three kids. He wished her and her husband well, and suffered no regrets. Sure, it had hurt when they’d broken off their relationship, but in the end it just wasn’t meant to be. He was pragmatic enough to accept that and go on with his life.

  Jason enjoyed the company of women as much as any man did, but he didn’t like the fact that they all wanted to reform him. He was disorganized, slovenly and a sports nut. Women didn’t appreciate those qualities in a man. They would smile sweetly, claim they loved him just the way he was and then try to change him. The problem was, Jason didn’t want to be refined, reformed or domesticated.

  Charlotte Weston was a prime example of the type of woman he particularly avoided. Haughty. Dignified. Proper. She actually washed lettuce. Furthermore, she made a point of letting him know it.

  “Hi.” Carrie opened the door for him, grinning from ear to ear.

  “The faucet broke?” Jason didn’t bother to keep the sarcasm out of his voice.

  She nodded, her smile as sly as a wink. “Kind of accidentally on purpose,” she explained under her breath.

  Jason was surprised she’d admit as much. “I thought that might be the case.”

  She pulled a screw from the small front pocket of her jeans and handed it to him. “It was the only way I could think of to get you here to see my mother up close—only don’t be obvious about it, all right?”

  “Carrie, is it the apartment manager?” The subject of their discussion walked into the living room, drying her hands on a terry-cloth apron.

  Not bad was Jason’s first reaction. She’d changed her hair since the last time he’d seen her; it was a cloud of disarrayed brown curls instead of the chignon she’d worn a year earlier. The curls gave her a softer, more feminine appeal. She was good-looking, too, not trying-to-make-an-impression gorgeous, but attractive in a modest sort of way. Her eyes were a deep shade of blue, as blue as his own. They were also intense and…sad, as though she’d withstood more than her share of problems over the years. But then, who hadn’t?

  Her legs were attractive, too. Long and slender. She was tall—easily five-eight, maybe five-nine.

  “She’s not bad-looking, is she?” Carrie asked in a whisper.

  “Shh.” Jason slid back a warning.

  “Mom, this is Dr. Jason Manning, remember? Our apartment ma
nager,” Carrie said, her arm making a sweeping gesture toward her mother.

  “Hello.” She stayed where she was, her fingers still clutching the apron.

  “Hi. You called about the broken faucet?” He took a couple of steps into the room, carrying his tool kit. He’d have a talk with Carrie later. If this took more than a few minutes, he might be late for the Lakers play-off game. It was the fifth game in the series, and Jason had no intention of missing it.

  “The broken faucet’s in the kitchen,” Charlotte said, leading the way.

  “This shouldn’t take long.” Jason set his tools on the counter and reached for the disconnected faucet. “Looks like it might be missing a screw.” He turned pointedly to Carrie, then made a show of sorting through his tool kit. “My guess is that I have an identical one in here.” He pretended to find the screw Carrie had handed him, then held it up so they could all examine it. “Ah, here’s one now.”

  “Don’t be so obvious about it,” Carrie warned in a heated whisper. “I don’t want Mom to know.”

  Charlotte seemed oblivious to the undercurrents passing between him and Carrie, which was probably just as well. He’d let the kid get away with it this time, but he wasn’t coming back for any repeat performances of this handyman routine.

  “I should have this fixed in a couple of minutes,” he said.

  “Take your time,” Carrie told him. “No need to rush.” She walked up behind Jason and whispered, “Give her a chance, will you?”

  True to his word, it took Jason all of thirty seconds to make the necessary repair.

  “The bathroom faucet’s been leaking, hasn’t it, Mom? Don’t you think we should have him look at that, too, while he’s here?”

  Jason glanced at his watch and frowned. If the kid kept this up, he’d miss the start of the basketball game. But he decided he had little choice: pay now or pay later. He gave Carrie the lead she was hoping for. “Or it’ll need fixing tomorrow, right?”

  “Probably.” There was a clear glint of warning in the fifteen-year-old’s eyes.

  Charlotte turned around and glanced from one to the other. Crossing her arms, she studied her daughter, then looked at Jason as if seeing him for the first time. Really seeing him. Apparently she didn’t like what she saw.

  “Is something going on here I don’t know about?” she asked.

  “What makes you say that?” Carrie said with wide-eyed innocence.

  Jason had to hand it to the girl; she had the look down to an art form.

  “Just answer the question, Caroline Marie.”

  The mother wasn’t a slacker in “the look” department, either. She had eyes that would flash freeze a pot of boiling water.

  The girl held her own for an admirable length of time before caving in to the icy glare. She lifted her shoulders with an expressive sigh and said, “If you must know, I took the screw out of the faucet so we’d have to call Jason over here.”

  Once again Jason glanced at his watch, hoping to extract himself from their discussion. This was between mother and daughter—not mother, daughter and innocent bystander. He hadn’t meant to let Charlotte in on her daughter’s scheme, but neither was he willing to become a full-time pawn in Carrie’s little games. No telling how many other repair projects the girl might turn up for him.

  “Why would you want Dr. Manning here?” Charlotte asked with a frown.

  “Because he’s a good-looking man and he seems nice and I thought it would be great if you got to know each other.”

  It was time to make his move, Jason decided. “If you’ll excuse me, I’ll be leaving now.”

  “You purposely broke the faucet so we could call him down here?” Charlotte gestured toward Jason.

  Carrie sent him an irritated look as though to suggest this was all his fault. “I wanted him to see you. For being thirty-five, you aren’t half bad. Once he saw your potential, I was sure he’d ask you out on a date. I tried to talk him into it earlier, but—”

  “You what?” Charlotte exploded. Color flashed into her cheeks like bright neon lights. Her eyes narrowed. “Tell me you didn’t! Please tell me you didn’t!”

  Carrie snapped her mouth shut, about ten seconds too late to suit Jason.

  “This is all a big joke, isn’t it?” Charlotte turned to Jason for reassurance, which was a mistake, since he was glaring at Carrie, irritated with her for saying far more than necessary.

  “I had to do something,” Carrie cried, defending herself. “You need a man. I saw the look on your face when you were holding Kathy Crenshaw’s baby. You’ve never said anything, but you want more children. You never date…I don’t know what my father did to you, but you’ve shut yourself off and—and…I was just trying to help.”

  Charlotte stalked to the far side of the small kitchen. “I can’t believe this. You actually asked a man to take me out?”

  “I did more than ask. I offered him money!”

  Charlotte whirled on Jason. “Just what kind of man are you? Agreeing to my daughter’s plans…Why…you’re detestable!”

  Despite himself, Jason smiled, which was no doubt the worst thing he could have done. “So I’ve been told. Now if you’ll both excuse me, I’ll leave you to your discussion.”

  “What kind of man are you?” Charlotte demanded a second time, following him to the door, blocking his exit.

  “Mom…”

  “Go to your room, young lady. I’ll deal with you later.” She pointed the way, as if Carrie needed directions.

  Jason hadn’t imagined things would go like this, and he did feel badly about it, but that didn’t help. Charlotte Weston could think harshly of him if she wanted, but now Carrie was in trouble and Jason felt halfway responsible.

  “She was just trying to do you a good turn,” he said matter-of-factly. “Think of it as an early Mother’s Day gift.”

  Two

  With her daughter out of the room, Charlotte scowled at Jason Manning, angrier than she could ever remember being.

  “You’re…” She couldn’t think of anything bad enough to call him.

  “Detestable is a good word.” He was practically laughing at her!

  “Detestable,” she repeated, clenching her fists. “I’ll have you know I’m reporting you to…” The name of the government agency, any government agency, was beyond her.

  “Children Protective Services,” he supplied.

  “Them, too.” She jerked the apron from her waist and threw it on the floor. Surprised by her own action, Charlotte tried to steady herself. “According to the terms of our rental agreement, I’m giving you our two-weeks’ notice as of this minute. I refuse to live near a man as…”

  “Heinous,” he offered, looking bored.

  “Heinous as you,” she stated emphatically. Then with an indignant tilt of her chin, she said as undramatically as she could manage, “Now kindly leave my home.”

  “As you wish.” He opened the door and without a backward glance walked out of her apartment. He’d worn a cocky grin throughout, as if he found her tirade thoroughly amusing.

  His attitude infuriated Charlotte. She followed him to the door and loudly turned the lock, hoping the sound of it would echo in his ears for a good long time.

  When he’d gone, Charlotte discovered she was shaking so badly she needed to sit down. She sank onto a chair, her knees trembling.

  “Mom?” A small voice drifted down from the hallway. “You weren’t serious about us moving, were you?”

  “You’re darn right I’m serious. I’m so serious I’d prefer to live in our car than have anything to do with that…that…apartment manager!”

  “But why?” Carrie’s voice gained strength as she wandered from her bedroom to the living room, where Charlotte was seated. “Why are we moving?”

  Charlotte had clearly failed as a mother. One more layer of guilt to add to all the others. “You mean you honestly don’t know?”

  “To punish me?” Carrie asked, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “I’m r
eally sorry, Mom. I didn’t mean to embarrass you.”

  What Carrie had done was bad enough, but Jason Manning was an adult. He should’ve known better. True, her daughter had played a major role in all this, but Carrie was a child and didn’t fully understand what she was suggesting. Her daughter had Charlotte’s best interests at heart, misguided though she was.

  Jason Manning, on the other hand, had planned to take advantage of them both.

  “It isn’t you I’m furious with, it’s him.” Charlotte pointed after Jason. To think a professional man would actually agree to such an idiotic scheme.

  “Dr. Manning?”

  “The man’s a sleaze! Imagine, taking money from you—”

  “He didn’t.”

  Charlotte hesitated, the sick feeling in her stomach intensifying. “Of course he did,” she argued, “otherwise he wouldn’t have played out this ridiculous game with you.”

  “I was the one who took the screw out of the faucet, Mom. Jason Manning didn’t know anything about it. When I asked him if he’d agree to take you out on a date, he refused. He was really nice about it and everything, but he didn’t seem to think it was a good idea. That’s when I offered him the babysitting money I’ve been saving, but he wouldn’t take it.”

  A dizziness replaced Charlotte’s nausea. Several of Jason’s comments suddenly made sense, especially the hint of sarcasm she’d detected when he’d held up the missing screw. Yet he’d allowed her to rant at him, not even bothering to defend himself.

  “But…”

  “You really aren’t going to make us move, are you?”

  Charlotte closed her eyes and groaned. She’d had a rotten day at the office, but misplacing a file and getting yelled at in front of an important client didn’t compare with the humiliation that had been awaiting her at home.

  “I wonder how many fat grams there are in crow,” she muttered under her breath.

  “Fat grams in crow? Are you all right, Mom?”

  “I’m going to be eating a huge serving of it,” Charlotte grumbled, and she had the distinct feeling she wasn’t going to enjoy the experience.