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Wait…why was he buying something he didn’t want?
“You look confused,” the salesgirl said.
He scowled. What was he doing trying to pick out women’s panties? He should leave it up to the salesgirl. She obviously regarded herself as quite the expert.
“Fine,” he said. “Give me the bras, and several pairs of whatever underwear you think she’d like best, in a size small. And find me a robe.”
“What kind of robe?”
He waved her question away. “I don’t even want to know.”
Her eyes brightened at this newfound trust. “Anything else?”
“Something for her to sleep in, also in a size small. Preferably something that covers her from head to toe.”
“What did you say?” she asked when the last of his words faded away.
“I said to get her a nightgown. Nothing too revealing because we’ve got a kid with us. And throw in one of those bottles of perfume I passed by the entrance.”
“Okay,” she said, and whipped off to do his bidding. Preston didn’t see her again until she took his credit card at the register.
Happily shoving the receipt into the bag, she handed him his purchases. “Thank you and come again.”
For nearly six hundred dollars, he’d expected a heavier bag—but he knew better than to look inside. Already, he couldn’t get rid of the visions he’d created since walking into this store.
He started to leave, then turned back. “Do you know anything about lip gloss?”
She closed the register and put the pen he’d used to sign the charge slip in a cup. “I go on break in fifteen minutes. If you can wait that long, I’ll walk over to Nordstrom with you and we’ll get whatever you want.” She winked at him. “Maybe even some expensive jewelry.”
Because Emma had lost everything, he could justify buying her a small bottle of perfume. Expensive jewelry was another matter.
“No jewelry,” he said.
The salesgirl arched her eyebrows. “I’ll bet I can get you to buy her a little something.”
He slung the bag over his shoulder. “What makes you think so?”
Her smile widened. “Because you already want to.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
WHERE WAS PRESTON?
Emma reorganized Max’s tester kit for probably the tenth time. They’d been ready and waiting for more than an hour. If Preston didn’t hurry, she’d have to order room service for lunch. Max needed to eat again soon.
She checked the parking lot through the window. No sign of the van. But she knew Preston was coming back. He’d left his computer, his cell phone and his duffel bag. Thank goodness. She didn’t feel like facing the same problem she had yesterday, trying to buy a car on trade. Especially with Max getting antsy and complaining.
He was already bored, and they had space to themselves and a television here.
She should buy him some more toys, she decided. She hadn’t thought of that when Preston left this morning. She’d been too busy feeling embarrassed about pirating his toothbrush and too worried about the trouble they were causing him to ask for anything extra. He’d agreed to take them to Iowa, and they were finally on amiable terms. She didn’t want to jeopardize that.
“Mommy, when are we leaving?”
She abandoned the window to sit on the couch again. “Soon.”
“How soon?”
“I don’t know, Max—”
“You’re supposed to call me Beast, remember?”
Briefly, Emma thought how much Manuel would hate his son’s having such a nickname. It was too informal, too…playful for Manuel, who’d insisted Dominick was the perfect name for their son because it couldn’t be shortened into something ending in a “y” sound. Manuel’s world was a very serious place. Everything seemed to hold hidden meaning and have far-reaching consequences.
It was those far-reaching consequences that worried her.
Shuddering at the oppressiveness of the house she’d left when she fled San Diego and Manuel’s control, she reached over and pulled Juanita’s list of names and numbers out of her purse. Since she hadn’t been able to reach Rosa, she’d spent the morning wondering if she should call Manuel on his cell. She felt responsible for whatever had happened to Juanita. She needed to do something to help her.
“Mommy?”
“What?” She kept her eyes on the list. Justin Shepard…Jesus Barraza…Raymond Midon. What do these names mean?
“Look!”
Emma glanced up to see her son flexing his biceps.
“Do you think I have big muscles?” he asked.
Hiding a smile, she waved him closer. “I don’t know. Let me feel.”
He retained his pose as he moved toward her.
“Oh, yes,” she said, gently squeezing his arm. “You definitely have big muscles, especially for a five-year-old.”
“Do you think they’ll be as big as Preston’s someday?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Do you think Preston’s are bigger than Daddy’s?”
Preston was a little taller, had broader shoulders and a slightly more rugged build. Emma had certainly noticed the physical differences, as well as other things, like Preston’s casual acceptance of his looks compared to Manuel’s preoccupation with grooming, lifting weights and buying designer suits. But she refused to be drawn into a discussion of Preston’s attributes when she was trying so hard to ignore them. “Maybe.”
Max dropped his arms. “When are we going to leave?” he asked again.
“Soon,” she repeated.
Fortunately, a show came on television that caught his interest. He pretended to be a bunny and hopped away as Emma continued to worry about her mysterious list. She had to stop putting it off and call Manuel. But first she wanted to try Rosa one more time. Maybe Juanita had returned. Maybe she was fine….
She dialed, but the phone rang and rang, like last night. Then the answering machine picked up.
“Hola. This is Rosa. Leave your name and number and—”
Emma disconnected. “That’s it,” she said. “I have to do it.”
Max glanced back at her. “Do what, Mommy?”
“Come on.”
“We’re leaving without Preston?”
“Just for a few minutes.”
“Where are we going?”
“Down the street.”
“Why?”
“To use the pay phone.”
