Susan Mallery - The Sassy One

“Then you’d better make time.” She faced him. “Sam, you’re wrong about this. I don’t approve of what Kelly did. There’s no excuse for her taking your credit card.”

“Good. We’re in agreement.” He picked up his briefcase and stepped around her.

“No.” She grabbed his arm. “She bought you a birthday present. She found out it was your birthday and wanted to get you something really nice. Doesn’t that matter to you?”

He shook his head. “She could have made me a card or something.”

“She’s twelve, not five. She asked for an allowance first, so she was willing to use legitimate means to get you something.”

“A leather jacket?” he asked, sounding incredulous. “We’re talking a lot of money. I don’t know the going rate for an allowance for someone her age, but it better not be enough for her to buy a leather jacket in a week.”

“I agree. But can’t you see she’s trying to show you she cares? That you matter? That she wants you to be a family together?”

“I see that, but you’re missing the fact that she lied and stole.” He drew his eyebrows together. “I can forgive a lot of things, Francesca, but not deception.”

Francesca swallowed. “I’m not defending her actions.”

“How strange. Because that’s exactly what it sounds like to me.”

He turned and left.

Francesca walked to the top of the stairs and sat down. She felt queasy, but didn’t think this was the onset of morning sickness. Instead it was a combination of fear and guilt. If Sam got this angry when Kelly acted out, what would happen when he found out the truth about her little secret?

She told herself she had two days left before the big confession. If things could just stay calm between now and then, maybe he would relax enough to understand. Of course, it could start raining silver coins in the morning, too.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there, trying to find the right combination of words to explain it all to Sam. At some point she heard a door open, then quiet footsteps on the carpeted landing. Kelly settled next to her on the top stair.

The twelve-year-old pulled her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs. “I really blew it,” she whispered.

Francesca nodded slowly. “That’s as good a definition as any.”

“I guess I didn’t think it through. I found out it was his birthday, and when he wouldn’t give me an allowance, I panicked.”

“You could have come to me for a loan.”

Kelly looked at her. Tears filled her green eyes. “You don’t have any money. I was afraid you’d say yes when you couldn’t afford it, and then you’d have to go without food or something.”

Francesca didn’t know if she should laugh or cry. Instead she put her arm around the girl and hugged her. “I might be a struggling grad student, but I have enough for the basic necessities. Besides, the Grands always send me home with enough food to take care of the entire population of Baltimore.” She leaned her head against Kelly’s. “But it was sweet of you to worry.”

Kelly turned toward her and held on tight. “He said he canceled the order. That means I don’t have a present for him.”

“Honestly, kid, I think that’s the least of your problems.”

“But I wanted to get him something nice. It’s the first time I’m going to be here for his birthday.”

Francesca heard the intensity in her voice and remembered feeling every emotion, every nuance when she’d been the same age. Life was so much more raw.

“I understand, but do you know why your dad got so mad?”

Kelly ducked her head and nodded. “I took his credit card and that was wrong. And maybe stupid.”

“Maybe?”

Kelly gave a strangled laugh-sob and looked up. “Okay. It was stupid.”

“Good. We’re making progress. Now do you want to tell me what you could have done instead of just going for the plastic?”

Kelly sniffed. “I don’t know.”

“Sure you do. You’re a smart girl. What other alternatives did you have?”

She thought for a second, then straightened and rubbed her fingers across her damp cheeks. “I could have talked to you. Or Gabriel. I sort of forgot about him. He might have loaned me the money and maybe even taken me shopping.”

“What else?”

Kelly looked at her. “You want me to say I could have told my dad why I wanted the money, but that would have spoiled the surprise.”

“Yes, but it would have been honest.”

“Being honest is more important?”

Francesca felt as if there were a scarlet H on her chest. Talk about being a hypocrite. “I think so, and I suspect your dad thinks so. He has this thing about people lying to him.”

Kelly flinched. “He was so mad.”

“You’re going to have to apologize to him when he gets home.”

“No way. He was wrong, too.”

Francesca sighed. “I can’t make you, but I’m going to tell you a secret. Things will never be right with your dad until you say you’re sorry, and the longer you wait, the harder it’s going to be.”

Kelly looked doubtful. “I’ll think about it.”

“I think you should.”

She sighed. “I guess we’re not going to dance class this morning, huh?”

“Nope.”

“At this rate I’ll never be a professional dancer.”

“Let’s concentrate on getting you all the way to age thirteen first. Then we’ll sweat your career of choice.”

Kelly smiled, then threw herself at Francesca. “Thank you for understanding. You’re the best.”

Francesca hugged her close. Kelly and Sam both had a lot of tough times ahead of them, but she knew they would be okay in the end. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to be a part of this family? To watch the evolution of the relationship between father and daughter? She found herself wanting that chance more and more.

Sam walked into the house shortly after six. He found Francesca putting cooked chicken and a sauce onto dinner plates.

“Chicken Marsala,” she said. “My mom stopped by to see me last night and brought along enough to feed ten or twelve. I thought I’d share the bounty.”

He set his briefcase on the counter. “How was your day?”

“Fine.”

She wasn’t looking at him as she spoke. He had a feeling she was still annoyed.

“If I tell you that I think I should have listened to you, will it make things better?” he asked.

“Do you mean it?”

“Yeah. I need to take a deep breath before I react. Maybe listen more.”

She stopped working and glanced at him. “Want to share the details of that thought process that got you there?”

“I was mad this morning. Too mad to think clearly. What Kelly did is inexcusable, but you’re right. Her motives put a different light on the situation.” He held up a hand. “Not that I’m saying she shouldn’t be punished.”

“That sounds more reasonable than what you were saying this morning.”

Francesca set down the pan of chicken. He took that as a sign of forgiveness and moved toward her. She melted into his embrace.

“You have no idea how much I need you,” he said as he stared into her eyes.

“So we’re talking gratitude?” she asked lightly.

“Some, but it’s more than that.” He kissed her. “You’re very important to me.”

More than important, Sam thought. Vital.

He was about to tell her just how vital when she stepped free of his embrace. “You should probably head upstairs and put your daughter out of her misery. She’s convinced her punishment is going to include being banished to a small cot outside and surviving on little more than leaves and tree bark.”

“I was thinking along the lines of no TV for a week.”

“I’m sure that will be a relief.” She gave him a little push toward the door. “Go on. I’ll get dinner ready, then I need to head home.”

He’d been about to ask her to spend the night, but if she didn’t want to…

Sam headed out of the kitchen. He wanted to clear things up with Kelly, but as he climbed the stairs, he couldn’t help thinking there was something going on with Francesca. It was almost as if she’d known he wanted to talk about their relationship, and she hadn’t wanted to have the conversation. Which made him wonder why. Was all this too much for her?

He didn’t want to think about that. Losing her would be a disaster. Not just because of Kelly, but because of how much he’d grown to care about her. He needed her. He trusted her.

He came to a stop at the top of the landing. Need. Trust. Desire. Longing. Well, hell. Somehow, when he hadn’t been paying attention, he’d gone and fallen in love.

Still stunned by the revelation, he crossed to Kelly’s room. When he opened the door, she looked at him. He could see the fear and regret in her eyes.

Neither of them spoke. He wasn’t sure what her reasons were. His were about not wanting to get it wrong. Finally he held out his arms. She raced toward him and flung herself into his embrace.

He held her close. “One of these days we’ll get it right,” he murmured.

She nodded. “Think it will happen soon?”

He chuckled. “I sure hope so.” He exhaled. “You know you’re still in trouble.”

She snuggled close. “I know. It’s okay.”

Funny how suddenly it was.

Kelly watched herself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror. She raised her left leg a little higher, trying for the perfect line.

“That’s right,” Miss Angelina said approvingly. “Stretch. Like Kelly, girls. See how hard she tries.”

Kelly felt a sharp pain in her leg and her hips, but she ignored it. Perfection came at a price. How many times had she been told that? Dance class was the only place she never screwed up, so she was determined to be the best here.

Against her will, her gaze slid from her own reflection to the window high in the opposite wall. She could just catch a glimpse of blue sky and part of a palm tree. If she closed her eyes, she could imagine the sound of the surf. She knew if she asked, Francesca would take her to the beach later. That they would talk and have fun. That Francesca would never say anything more about Kelly apologizing to her father, even though Kelly knew she wanted her to.

Kelly knew it was the right thing to do, too, but it was hard to say the words. Hard and scary. Because what if he was still mad? What if saying she was sorry wasn’t enough? What if she didn’t matter?

“And turn,” Miss Angelina called.

The instruction caught Kelly off-guard. She began to rotate, then something happened and she was falling. Her ankle twisted painfully as she slammed into the ground.

“Kelly!”

She glanced up and saw Francesca rushing forward. Her notes for her paper lay scattered on the floor. Miss Angelina crouched by Kelly.

“Where does it hurt?” the instructor asked, reaching for her ankle. “Not broken, I think. Just a slight strain.”

Pain shot through her, but that wasn’t why Kelly started to cry. Instead the tears formed because she was tired and because she desperately needed her dad to be proud of her and to maybe even love her, but what if he didn’t?

It was too much. All of it. What she wanted was to go home. So when Miss Angelina made her stand and put her weight on her sore ankle, it was so much easier to simply fall into the pain, let her eyes roll back, and faint.

Sam hurried into the house. “Is she all right?” he asked when he saw Francesca coming down the stairs.

“She’s fine. The doctor says it’s a strain, not even a sprain, and she’ll be dancing her heart out by Monday.”

“I don’t think I can take any more,” he muttered as he set his briefcase on the floor and loosened his tie. “This has been the week from hell.”

“Tell me about it,” Francesca murmured.

“At least tomorrow’s Friday.”

“Oh, goodie.”

He glanced at her. “You don’t sound happy the week is almost over.”

She shrugged. “Like you say, it’s been one thing after another.”

He pulled off his tie, then shrugged out of his jacket. “We’ll make sure we have a quiet weekend together. Just the three of us. How does that sound?”

“Good.”

Francesca smiled, but he could see there was something bothering her. Before he could ask what, she stepped back and pointed upstairs. “Why don’t you go check on our patient.”

“Sure.” He gave her a light kiss, then started up the stairs.

Kelly lay on top of her bed, her right foot propped on two pillows. Sam crossed the room and sat on the edge of the mattress.

“A sports injury, huh? Are you scarred for life?”

Kelly rolled her eyes. “I’m fine. It was just a silly twist. I don’t know why I wasn’t paying attention more.”

“Francesca said you fainted, too. It must have hurt pretty bad.”

She shrugged.

“Tough, huh?”

“Maybe.”

He brushed her curls off her forehead. “Are you supposed to ice your ankle?”