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He would never lay a hand on her. That would make it all too easy to prove. Me on the other hand, I was far from untouchable.
“Home” is a funny word. Just like “marriage.”
“You boys gambling again?” Marianne asks, stepping into the office with two cups of coffee in hand. The small twists she wears her hair in bounce with every step she takes. She sets the cups down in front of us and plants one hand on her hip. She cranes her neck to the side to look at the papers spread all across the table. “So what have we come up with?”
“Zach thinks it’s a lost cause.” Derek blurts out before I can plead my case.
What the hell?His wife bats her eyelashes, and the man folds like a lawn chair.
Marianne shifts on her hip, the full brunt of her glare falling on me. The look she gives is enough to convince me that Derek’s betrayal is justified. I don’t want to cross her either, but there are too many holes in their project outline.
“Well, he better find it,” she says. “‘Cause I don’t know about you, but this is happening.”
“Marianne,” I say calmly. I’m trying to reason with the fiercest member in the family. “You’re going to need plumbers and electricians. And even once you do get these facilities up and running, there’s no telling whether these people will be able to keep up with any payments.”
Marianne’s features soften. She reaches out to tap my hand, her dark brown eyes a meld of compassion and pleading. “These are not your welfare cases who want to stay below the poverty line so they can collect a paycheck for doing nothing each month. These are real people, Zach. These are working, single parents who fell on hard times, or terrified moms trying to escape an abusive husband. Many of these men and women already have jobs, they just can’t afford to save up for a deposit on an apartment. Forget a down payment on a house.”
She turns as if to leave the room, then stops. “And do you know how much it costs to rent an apartment nowadays?”
“I can’t even begin to imagine.”
She raises a finger in warning, noting my sarcasm. “Ok, Zach. You give me your little attitude, but you make this work.”
I chuckle. The smile I’ve been holding back twists at the corner of my lips. “Have I ever said ‘no’ to you?”
“That’s right.” She nods triumphantly and leans forward to kiss my forehead.
“Hey watch it, buddy. That’s my wife,” Derek teases beside me. His gaze is locked on my supply list, adding his own notes and adjustments.
“She came onto me.”
“That’s enough out of you two,” Marianne says, flicking a hand forward. “Someone needs to go pick up that order and get the rest of the supplies.”
“Zach’s going. He’s got a girlfriend there.”
“Dude.” My hand flies upward, tossing the pen in my hand onto the table. Is he serious? He knows how Marianne is. And I am not in the mood to have this discussion again.
The light in Marianne’s gaze sparks to life. She is smiling too broadly. Already a bad sign. “Oh really?”
“No.” I shake my head, pretending to be as unaffected by their stares as possible. Marianne will have me fill out some feelings book, and Derek will hold me down just to make sure I do it.
“She’s just a person who works there.”
“She told him he doesn’t do enough to help out the community.”
There’s no mistaking the irritation in my glare. I don’t even have to see it, to know that it’s doing the trick. Derek shifts nervously in his seat. His eyes dart off the page, casting me a sideways glance but never fully making eye contact. The subtle twitch of his lip suggests he is enjoying this much more than he’s letting on, but for what reason I can’t imagine.
“Are we good?” I ask. “‘Cause it feels like you’re coming at me a little hard.”
“Well, you don’t do enough.” Marianne reaches for the papers on the desk, rolling them and shoving them back into their canisters. “You used to volunteer with us every week. And what about the mentoring program? The kids still ask about you, you know.”
There it was. The other voice I had heard in my head all these years. The one telling me I wasn’t doing enough, that I abandoned those kids without so much as a backward glance. It wasn’t true. I missed them like hell. I still do. There just never seemed a free weekend to spare.
“I don’t have the time. They’ve got me doing some advising for the two students competing for the apprenticeship this year.” I suppress a groan.
Because that’s how I want to spend my free time, ripping apart the cookie-cutter proposals of some girl I’ve never heard of and that tool of a teacher’s aide, Jackson Riley. I think the last year I did this, the girl bolted from my office and had to be physically removed from her car hours later. I don’t expect perfection, but these kids always want to take the easy way out.
At least in the mentoring program, I felt appreciated, not feared. I felt like I was making a difference.
