The Dad Next Door

“Discuss it with anyone you want to,” Kate said. “You certainly have that right.” She’d have to remember to tell Ian tomorrow, so that he could talk to Colonel Greer about it before Marsha got to him.

After Marsha had wandered back into Kate’s bedroom and gone to bed again, Kate sat down in the big fireplace chair. She really should make down the couch and go to bed. She looked at her watch. Was it only ten forty-five? Jill would still be up. She and her husband, Greg, always had an unwinding interval after their three kids were down for the night. Kate, you’re going off the deep end here, she thought. Deep end or not, she got up and went to the little phone table with its spindly little side chair. When Jill answered, she got right to the point. They knew each other so well that sometimes words were not necessary.

Kate, two years older than Jill, had abdicated her bigsister role early in their relationship. Jill was brighter, more assertive and seemed to have been born “in charge.” It had taken Mom a while to stop saying, “Look after Jill, Kate” when they went out to play. Eventually Mom had “got it” that her baby was the leader and her older child seemed content to follow. Dad had always known, of course.

It was the same now and, Kate thought, a rather comfortable arrangement. She could always depend on Jill, and it had long ago ceased to bother her that Jill was the beautiful sister, with Mother’s dark hair and eyes. Jill, who had a large share of the family guts, had made the hard decision to put her career as a successful restaurant owner on hold until their three children were raised.

“Jill,” Kate said, “I’ve been thinking today how awful I look. I don’t even want a mirror in the house anymore. I didn’t used to look this awful. Claude thought I was pretty. I was kind of pretty, at least in my wedding picture I was. But, you know, I don’t really keep myself up the way you do. It just doesn’t seem to be in my nature. You would die before you wore your hair in a skinned-back ponytail fastened with a rubber band, wouldn’t you?”

“Ah…yes, I would. Kate, what are you building up to? It’s almost eleven o’clock and you are fretting about your ponytail? There’s got to be a reason.”

“Yes, there is. I want to look better. I mean all the time. And, uh, a couple of times you’ve mentioned that you wished I’d let you give me a makeover.”

“A makeover,” Jill said thoughtfully. “Kate, does this have something to do with Ian McAllister?”

Trust Jill to read between the lines.

“Yes. But I don’t feel like talking about it right now.”

“Right. Well, let me think a minute. We can’t do much until the snow goes. And the weatherman just said we’re stuck for at least three more days. But I think this is wonderful news. You don’t have to look like a little peeled onion. I agree, your hair isn’t the greatest color, but we can fix that…”

Kate started to object, but Jill cut her short. “No, not dyeing it. Just a few little highlights here and there. And Mom and I would love to see you in a short cut. But you know, a makeover isn’t just from the neck up.”

“Well, I’m not overweight anymore. I know I was getting a little chubby, which I can’t afford to at my height, and I got that exercise video. Tommy and I do that every morning, and it’s trimmed me down several pounds.”

“I don’t mean your body. Your body is okay for someone only five feet tall. I mean your wardrobe. Kate, if you are thinking about what I think you are thinking about, you’re going to have to get rid of those faded denim skirts and tacky cotton blouses.”

“I…I don’t want to spend too much money,” Kate said cautiously. Pinching pennies had become a life work since Claude’s death, when her income had become so limited. On the other hand, she had more money now. Ian was paying her too generously for Raymond’s care and Mom always insisted on paying top dollar for the homemade baked goods for the B and B.

“Kate? Are you there? Or did you go into shock about the wardrobe makeover? Thrift shops are out, Kate. Out. Are you hearing me?”

“Loud and clear,” Kate said, suddenly laughing. Imagine that. Not shopping in thrift shops anymore. She really was going off the deep end, but somehow it didn’t seem to matter. She looked down and saw the faded denim skirt and faded tacky cotton blouse, and remembered that Jill always changed her clothes in the middle of the afternoon, after her housekeeping was finished, so that she always looked lovely when Greg came home. Suddenly anything was possible.

As soon as the rains come back,” Jill was saying, “we’ll get together.” Then, miraculously, Kate didn’t feel tired any more and she and Jill settled down to a good gossip. She gave Jill an update on Raymond’s condition. She told Jill about Marsha’s arrival and the homeschooling decision. She told Jill about Mom’s three-meals-a-day guests, until somehow it was almost midnight before they rang off.

The next morning about ten o’clock Kate saw Ian’s sport van drive into the McAllister driveway and Ian, in jeans, boots and heavy windbreaker, walk through knee-high snow to her back door. She was at the back door to open it for him. He took off the knit cap he was wearing.

“I saw everybody out in front,” he said, smiling. “They all seem to be having a great time.”

“Yes, they are,” Kate said, taking the cap. “Come on in. I was about to have a coffee break. Would you like some?”

All three children and Marsha, dressed in one of Claude’s old ski outfits, were out in front rebuilding the snowman, who had suffered some damage during the night’s storm. Marsha had said nothing more about the homeschooling or about Raymond’s custody. She had been up early, had eaten breakfast with them, and seized the opportunity to join in the snow fun out front. Kate had observed her from the front window and knew that she was actually having as much fun as the children were. And they, like children everywhere, accepted a new playmate without question.

Kate did tell Ian that Marsha knew about the homeschooling idea. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I should have cleared the stuff off the dining-room table.”

“No problem,” Ian said easily, sitting down at the kitchen table. “It’s a done deal, anyhow. I called your Pastor Ledbetter early this morning. He’s a great old guy, isn’t he? He volunteered to go with me over to Raymond’s school to see the principal And we did. I think the principal didn’t want to refuse a sudden request from a man of the cloth, and I think Ledbetter knew it, because he offered to make the call and ask for an appointment. Anyhow, we went over.”

“And what happened?” Kate asked, pouring them each a cup of coffee. “Would you like some muffins with that?”

“Yes. Thanks. Orange and nut if you have any of those left. What happened was the principal already knew about the gang activity. The school bus driver had already not only reported it to him, she identified the kids involved. So that part’s taken care of. Raymond doesn’t even have to go down and appear or anything. He’s a nice guy, the principal. Name of Donald Chan. Ledbetter and Chan got along great. Both are educators at heart. Did you know that Ledbetter started out as a teacher? Ledbetter’s dream is that some day he can add a school to his church.”

“But what did he say about Raymond?” Kate asked as she put some muffins in the microwave.

“He disagrees with homeschooling on principle, but he did agree that until this gang threat is resolved Raymond is better off out of that school. He talked with three of Raymond’s teachers on the phone and they all told him that Ray is smart enough to probably get by with homeschooling until June and pass on into eighth grade on the basis of exams. Then he wants to talk to me about it again. Ray’s English teacher says Ray owes an English paper, but beyond that he’s up-to-date with everything.”

“Well, I can take care of that,” Kate said decisively. “He didn’t tell me he owed an English paper.”

“Chan says he’d like a note from Dr. Madison about the extent of Ray’s injuries, just for the record. So I’ll get that for him. There was only one little hang-up.”

“What was that?’ Kate asked, taking the muffins out of the microwave and putting a small plate of them with a pat of butter in front of Ian.

“First thing he asked was am I a single parent? And I had to say I was. But Ledbetter helped out there. He explained that Raymond had a full-time caretaker in you and he gave you high marks in parenting skills. Marsha is right. The single-parent thing is a handicap.” Ian bit into his muffin.

Kate remembered suddenly, and very vividly, the opening lines of one of the Jane Austen novels she and Jill had loved. If ever a man was in want of a wife, Ian was. Oh, Jill, think makeover.

“So, anyhow, Chan is not going to make a fuss about the homeschooling in Raymond’s case. Until he can quash that gang nonsense, he thinks it might be a good solution. Besides, it’s perfectly legal in this state, so there is really nothing he can do about it.”

Kate sat down and took a sip of coffee. The die was cast, then. And she must make it work, for all their sakes.

Marsha stayed three days, until Seattle’s dependable rains came pouring down and washed away the drifts of snow and the city came alive again. Kate observed Marsha’s conduct with Raymond with mingled irritation and sympathetic understanding. Marsha was doing her best to behave in a motherly and attentive manner to Raymond. She gave him enormous amounts of affection. He had only to express a desire for something and Marsha ordered it sent to him. Deliveries of these goodies would begin after the snow melted. Thus Raymond became the owner of a new CD player and numerous records, and he almost got a moped, but Ian objected that he was too young for any motor-driven vehicle. So Raymond settled for two new skateboards, and Kate suspected that as soon as Marsha left, he would give one to Tommy.