‘Here’s my card.’ The woman handed it over and Cleo took it with trembling hands.
Tears prickled at her eyes as she looked at the window display, a group of admirers outside, faces peeping out from the depths of scarves or hooded coats as they absorbed the magic.
‘If you need help finding movers or cleaners, I can point you in the right direction,’ said the woman.
Kaisha tutted and walked away but Cleo smiled politely. And it was only when the woman left the store and the Little Knitting Box fell quiet once again that Cleo looked down at the card in her hands and realised where she’d seen her once before.
It was Prue Bakersfield.
23
22 REDCLIFFE PLACE, STAMFORD, CONNECTICUT
It was almost dinnertime and Dylan had missed his kids. When they ran through the door shortly before six-thirty, he hugged them as they rattled off the details of their night away at their mom’s in finite detail. They’d made a camp last night, they’d had waffles for breakfast this morning and walked to the park finding the odd icy patch to skid on, and they’d spent the afternoon cooking gingerbread men with their Granny Delia.
Dylan settled Ruby and Jacob in front of the TV. They looked exhausted, and with all the excitement of Christmas fast approaching, they needed the downtime. It would also give him a chance to talk to Prue without interruptions. Ruby and Jacob were happily watching the first instalment ofHome Aloneand Dylan was out in the kitchen making coffees. Prue looked very comfortable and pleased with herself, something that instantly made Dylan the opposite.
‘They look shattered.’ He handed Prue the coffee. Black, no sugar. He leaned against the kitchen bench on the other side with his own cup, wanting the separation between them so they could talk.
‘They had a fun time, but it’s hard toing and froing from your place to mine. It’ll be easier if you decide to do the right thing.’ She winked cheekily but the humour was lost on Dylan.
‘I need to ask you something, Prue.’
‘Sounds serious.’ She sipped her coffee.
‘It’s just something you said to me the other day, about my finances.’
‘What?’
Either she was feigning innocence or had completely forgotten.
‘You said to me that even if I have enough money, wasn’t I concerned about a career.’
‘Aren’t you?’ She put her mug down.
‘I do want a career, yes. But in web design.’
She threw up her hands. ‘I don’t think you should ignore all that study you did once upon a time, the hard work you put into becoming a lawyer. It’s a respectable, lucrative career, especially if you end up part of a big corporation—’
‘Stop right there. The big corporation is my problem. Unless I own it and run it, I’m not interested. I want to be my own boss, set my own hours, collect the kids from school, be around when I’m needed.’
‘And you can do all that. We can juggle the childcare together, and there’s Mackenzie next door, I bet she wouldn’t mind earning a bit of extra pocket money.’
Dylan put his cup down so quickly it slopped over the top. ‘I don’t want to farm our children out to other people all the time.’
‘What a load of rubbish! They know they’re loved. It’s important to teach them about working parents, something I never learnt from my mother and wish I had. I wish I’d known back then that women can make it work and have a job as well as a family.’
‘I’m not questioning that, Prue. What I’m saying is that I don’twantthat life. It’s not for me.’ When she gave up arguing, he said, ‘But you still haven’t answered my question. What did you mean when you referred to my financial situation, the fact I had plenty of money.’
‘I don’t think those were my exact words.’
‘Thereabouts. So tell me, what did you mean?’
Surely she knew him well enough to know she wasn’t going to get away with the flippant remark, not without explaining it.
‘Prue, you know my mom was trying to clear Dad’s debts because I told you all about it. But you don’t know my financial situation now.’ Her eyes refused to meet his. ‘Out with it. What do you know, or think you know?’
Prue finished her coffee. ‘How about we talk later? I have to get to work.’
