The Dad Next Door

“Of course. I’m bringing lasagna.” Even after all these years alone, her father had not learned how to cook for himself.

“Good. I bought a nice cake from the bakery. It’s chocolate—your favorite. We’ll have a real celebration.”

“Thanks, Dad. I’m looking forward to it.” She heard the beep that told her another call was waiting. This time it was her mother, in New York City.

“I’ve bought you a plane ticket to come and visit us for Thanksgiving. We’ll do some shopping. Take in a few shows.”

“That sounds wonderful.” She got along well with her stepfather and he was always tactful enough to make sure she had plenty of one-on-one time with her mom.

“In the meantime, are you sure you’re okay? I could take some time off from my job if you needed me.”

It was a generous offer, Allison knew. Her mother hadn’t returned to Squam Lake since the divorce. She hadn’t said anything, but Allison guessed the memories were too painful.

“Mom, I’m fine.”

“Okay. If you say you’re fine, then I believe you. Have a wonderful day, sweetheart. You deserve it.”

“I will. Love you, Mom. Talk to you next week.”

As she returned to her cooking, Allison thought about her parents. It had always bothered her that they’d given her no reason for ending their marriage. She supposed they were trying to shelter her. But she’d been an adult when they’d separated. Old enough to handle the truth.

Unlike the little girl next door. She’d made such a job out of riding that tricycle. Was a divorce the reason for the sadness in her eyes?

And her father’s, too?

CHAPTER TWO

MONDAY MORNING, Gavin woke up with a sick feeling in his stomach. It was hard not to think about the little girl who wouldn’t be starting grade one today. His little Samantha…

He took a moment to remember her, gazing at the photo of the twins that he kept by his bed.

Then he pulled himself to his feet, went to the washroom and forced himself to smile at his image in the mirror.

Just the act of smiling, according to research, made you feel happier. He wasn’t so sure about that, but he kept trying, nonetheless.

When he’d finished washing and dressing, he went to Tory’s room to help her select an outfit for her first day. She was already awake, sitting on her bed and staring woefully at her dresser.

“Would you rather wear shorts or a dress?”

No answer.

“Pink or blue?”

Tory just stared at him.

So, as usual, he set out some clothes, then made her breakfast. They walked to school together, met the principal and were shown to the first-grade classroom. He wasn’t surprised when Tory cried as he tried to leave her with her new teacher, and he ended up staying in the classroom for the first hour and a half. At recess, the teacher encouraged him to leave.

“I’ll call if Tory doesn’t settle in after you’re gone.”

Gavin returned to the house on Robin Crescent. Stepping around open boxes, he made his way to the kitchen. The movers had placed the table and chairs in the alcove overlooking the lake and now he sat and pivoted so he could look out over the water.

There was much to do, yet he felt paralyzed.

Over the weekend he’d assembled Tory’s bed, unpacked her clothing and set up her dollhouse. Even so, her room looked bleak. It could do with a coat of paint, at the very least.

The rest of the house needed work, too. At some point he’d have to fix the cracks in the walls and replace the grimy light fixtures and worn carpets. Maybe he should have bought a place in better repair.

He still couldn’t believe that he and Tory were living in the house in which Marianne had grown up. Many times she must have sat in this exact spot. He tried to imagine what a teenaged Marianne would have thought about as she looked out onto the lake. But he couldn’t. He’d never been able to understand what went on in her head.

He certainly couldn’t understand the way she’d left their kids, never looking back, never phoning or writing or making any contact at all. They’d been one-year-olds. To him so sweet and adorable. He couldn’t imagine leaving them. At least not by choice.

Which had led him to wonder if Marianne was dead. But his calls to hospitals and police stations in the area had turned up nothing.

For a while he’d considered hiring an investigator, but his brothers had talked him out of it.

“She knows where you are,” Nick, ever the hard-nosed cop, had pointed out. “If she doesn’t care enough to keep in touch, you and the girls are better off without her.”

Gavin had tried to accept his brother’s advice. But Samantha’s death had set him thinking about Marianne again. He wondered what she’d been doing with her life for the past six years. How was she earning a living? Had she found a man who made her happy?

And what would she say when she found out about Sam’s death? Would she finally be sorry? Would she regret leaving all those years ago?

Most importantly, would she realize how much Tory needed her now? Sam’s death had hit the poor kid so hard. Gavin hated knowing how much his daughter hurt. The pain was hard enough for him to handle. How could a child be expected to cope?

He rubbed a hand over his face.

An hour went by. There was no call from the school. He hoped that meant that Tory was settling in.

Light danced on the lake. A pair of ducks landed on the water, then drifted out of view. The pain in his chest seemed to ease a little. He took a deep breath, grateful for the respite.

Another hour went by.

In the first months after Sam’s accident, many days had passed this way, with Gavin simply sitting, staring into space, accomplishing nothing aside from the immediate chores required to care for Tory.

Reminding himself that he wasn’t going to live that way anymore, Gavin finally dislodged himself from his chair. He sorted through boxes until he found the ones from his old office. Since he had a new house to pay for and a daughter to support, this seemed like a good place to start.

In the upstairs room he’d chosen for his workspace, he assembled the legs on his drafting table, then set up lamps and unpacked his office chair. Next, he ripped open one of the moving cartons and found his files.

By the time he had them organized in his filing cabinet, it was shortly after two. He set the alarm on his watch so he wouldn’t forget to pick Tory up from school at three-thirty.

As he stacked books on the windowsill, a movement outside caught his attention. The cute neighbor who lived next door and made such good lasagna was coming home.

The lush green leaves of a big oak tree partially obscured his view. Still, he managed a glimpse of her light-blue dress as she unlatched her gate and crossed to her porch. By the time she reached the door, he couldn’t see her.

She’d been friendly the other day, but not too friendly. He was glad about that. He wanted to get along with his new neighbors, but that was all. He wasn’t ready for anything more. Certainly nothing romantic. Since Marianne had left, he hadn’t had time to think about women. And since Sam…He hadn’t had the heart.

Sure, Allison Bennett was pretty. And she seemed kind and thoughtful. Maybe at some other point in his life he’d have considered asking her out. But this just wasn’t the time.

There was that casserole dish to return, however.