Just Beginning: A Prequel to Just Destiny Read online

  “Okay.” Alex beamed.

  “Look like a bunch of fools boppin’ around out there. Back in the day that’s what we did to get in shape for skiing.”

  Gabe sat back down and smiled. “They’re having fun.”

  Gabe was grateful to Mike for dancing with Alex. Until this week and seeing Alex and Ted with Mary and Mike, it’d never occurred to him that his kids had been missing out on the grandparent experience. His parents were dead, and Judith’s lived in North Dakota and didn’t visit often. Dave had an elderly mother living with her sister in Florida, so the kids didn’t see her much.

  It was good to see the generations together enjoying each other. The Campbells were proving a good find, the whole bunch of them. They were fun and loving, and they seemed to have some connection to his kids.

  Uncle George heaved to his feet. I’m gonna go back to my room and get some aspirin.”

  “Okay. You’re coming back, right?”

  “Maybe. I’ll see how I'm feelin’”

  “Come back. It’s only nine o’clock. It’s my wedding.”

  “I might turn in. I’ve got an early flight in the morning, and I still gotta pack.”

  “All right.” He stood and walked Uncle George out.

  Uncle George stopped at the door. “See ya at seven-thirty for breakfast?”

  Obviously his uncle didn’t think that the morning after Gabe’s wedding, he might want to sleep in late, or perhaps share a leisurely breakfast alone with his bride before enjoying a little morning loving. Hmm, breakfast with Uncle George or making love to his sweet, sexy wife?

  Uncle George looked at him with raised eyebrows, patiently waiting.

  “How about nine?”

  “Shuttle picks me up at nine.”

  Forgive me, Jenny. “We’ll meet you in the dining room at eight-thirty.”

  Uncle George grunted and with a nod, turned, and left.

  Good God he was a difficult man. Was it aging or having to share him with Jenny that was making his uncle grumpier? Hopefully once they got home, time would settle him down. Now that they’d won Jenny’s parents over, he fervently hoped Uncle George wouldn’t become a problem.

  Chapter 10

  Steve Grant parked his silver Mustang convertible in the middle of the garage. Getting out of the car, he twisted right then left, stretching muscles made tight by sitting at his desk for most of the last ten hours. He strolled out of the garage and looked out over the placid, barren lake.

  Bright yellow daffodils and pastel tulips Mom planted around the house were in full bloom as decades-old maple and oak trees leafed out. A pair of quacking ducks flew low overhead, gliding into Lake St. Claire. Wouldn’t be long before sailboats and water-skiers were out in force.

  Steve drew in a deep breath and put his hands on his waist. Maybe he’d go for a run before having a bowl of tomato soup and a grilled cheese sandwich for dinner while watching a little TV. He turned and walked down the driveway toward the mailbox, humming an Elton John classic, “Goodbye Yellow Brick Road,” and looking over his yard. Grass needed cutting and edging. Better get on it tomorrow before it got too long. Steve riffled through the junk mail, separating the bills from the letters, relegating the Sports Illustrated and The American Lawyer, to the back of the pile. He slapped the mailbox closed, then lifted his hand in greeting as his neighbor sailed up their driveway.

  Through the budding privet hedge that divided their driveways, he watched the lady remove flat after flat of colorful impatiens, pansies, and snapdragons from her Jeep. Never having actually spoken to them, Steve only knew his neighbors by sight.

  They’d bought the cottage house late last summer and immediately began ripping it apart. From the size of the dumpsters and the number of workmen constantly crawling all over the house, they must have gutted the place. Luckily for them, it’d been a late winter, and they’d been able to complete a large addition before the snow arrived.

  He’d like to check out the inside, just to satisfy his curiosity about the renovation, he told himself. It had nothing to do with his curiosity about the couple living in it. At first he’d thought they were father and daughter. The guy wore suits and from a distance looked to be in his forties—but could have been older. She was usually dressed in jeans, with her long hair tied back in a perky ponytail or left loose trailing down her back, and could have been his college-aged daughter.

  From afar, that’s what it looked like, but up close he could see he was wrong. If any daughter gave her father that passionate, lingering kiss, or smiled at him like he was her whole life and fantasy wrapped into one, then someone should’ve called Social Services on them long ago. Nope, had to be husband and wife.

  Steve stopped in front of a couple of dead bushes between their driveways. Grabbing one, he gave it a quick tug and fell back a step when the whole bush, roots and all, dangled in his grasp. Dirt fell in a fine shower, covering his loafers.

  “I’d say that one’s a goner.” Chuckling, she approached, still holding a flat of flowers.

  He smiled wryly. “Afraid so.”

  Putting down the flowers and brushing her hands on her faded jeans, she stretched a hand through the hole where the dead bush had been. “Jenny Harrison.”

  He threw the bush aside and shook her hand. “Steve Grant.”

  “Deader than you thought, eh?” she smiled, nodding at the bare bush. Dirt barely clung to the scraggly roots. She giggled. “You looked surprised when it came out so easily.”

  “I was. I thought I’d have to dig it up.”

  “Do you live there?” She looked beyond him at his house.

  He nodded. “The past few years.”

  “You’re certainly a quiet neighbor. I was beginning to wonder if it was abandoned.”

  “I haven’t been home much. My dad had Alzheimer’s. Mom refused to put him in assisted living—so I moved in to help her until he passed.”

  She frowned. “Sorry for your loss.”

  “Thanks.” He nodded toward her house. “Looks like you’re done. How do you like it?”

  “We love it.” She pointed at the flowers. “Just the finishing touches left.”

  Over her head, he admired the house. “Did a lot of work. It looks great.”

  She turned and looked at it. “We had to update most of it and nearly doubled it in size with the additions, but we’re happy with the way it turned out.” She looked down the driveway to the street where a car pulled in their drive. “Oh, good. Gabe’s home.”

  Her husband approached in a red station wagon. A hot red station wagon; what an oxymoron. Her husband came over, and after a quick kiss, Jenny introduced them.

  Hands in trouser pockets, Gabe looked toward Steve’s house. “Have you lived here long?”

  “Couple of years, right after I got out of school.”

  Gabe pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. “Starting pay for new grads has gone up quite a bit since I was in college.”

  “Law school.”

  Gabe frowned. “Your name sounds familiar...” He looked to Jenny for help.

  She shrugged.

  He got that a lot. “I used to play ball for the Tigers.”

  Gabe’s face lightened the way everyone’s did when they recognized him. “Pitcher, right?”

  “’Til my arm gave out.”

  “Rotator cuff?”

  “Yeah. What do you do for a living?”

  “Doctor. General surgeon.” Gabe turned and wrapped an arm around his wife’s shoulder. “And Jenny’s a journalist.”

  “Is that so?” Steve inclined his head politely. A writer? Great. Just his luck to get a professional spy for a neighbor. The bane of his existence.

  “Books?” he asked hopefully.

  “No, I freelance. Human interest stuff mostly.”

  “Great.” His stomach growled loudly. “Well, welcome to the neighborhood, and if you need anything, feel free to...” he waved a hand at the hole. “Come on over.”

  “Thanks.” She
picked up the flowers, which Gabe took from her as they walked toward the house. Her ponytail whipped her face as she turned around, calling, “You too,” as an afterthought.

  He forced a smile and flapped his hand in a semblance of a wave.

  * * *

  Watering can in hand, Jenny generously doused the thriving impatiens and geraniums with blue fertilizer water, then snipped off the dead flowers so new ones would bloom. Surprisingly, Jenny found she enjoyed fussing over her potted flowers, and it turned out she had her mom’s green thumb. Who knew?

  Before moving in here, Jenny never had the urge to grow anything, but over the six months they’d been married, their new home seemed to bring out her latent nurturing instincts. Jenny’d planted colorful pots of flowers all around the front yard and back patio—even the dock had a welcoming pot of petunias.

  She turned at the sound of a car rolling up Steve’s long brick driveway. The familiar slim blonde popped out of the car as Steve came out of the house. Barefoot, wearing a worn Princeton T-shirt and frayed blue jean shorts, he looked ready for a relaxing day. He took the toddler and pastel diaper bag from the woman and ruffled the older boy’s hair before waving the mother away.

  Jenny mixed more of the solution while centering her attention on her neighbor and the kids. The woman dropped the children off almost every weekend, for varying amounts of time. Was Steve divorced? The solution gushed over the top of the watering can, splashing her feet. She turned off the water and crossed to the large planters flanking the porch.

  Divorced. Maybe she dumped him when Steve couldn’t play ball anymore. That would account for the flash of sadness she glimpsed in his eye when he admitted to Gabe that he used to play. Quitting in the middle of a successful career must have been tough, especially when he’d been forced out by an injury.

  It would have been a huge lifestyle change to go from celebrity athlete always in the limelight to lowly first-year law student. There was no shame in being a lawyer—usually—but maybe she’d left him when he chose a less visible career. Interesting. There could be an article in it.

  Her attention returned to the empty watering can she held over the overflowing planter. Oops, she’d given it all to the one. Hopefully the extra fertilizer wouldn’t kill them.

  While mixing up some more food for the other flowers, her gaze frequently returned to the roughhousing, screaming, and giggling coming from next door. Annoyed that they so easily distracted her, Jenny finished her yard work and moved inside. Firmly shutting the window to lock out the childish shouts and squeals of laughter, she entered the kitchen and fixed a glass of iced tea.

  Jenny tried to work, but from her study over the garage, she could clearly see into his backyard and found herself watching Steve and the children frolic in the wading pool. Steve sprayed the children with the hose as they slid down the plastic slide, screaming at the top of their lungs, floundered in the pool, and then climbed out and raced around to do it all again.

  It certainly was quieter when he was living with his parents. Exasperated with her lack of concentration, Jenny resurrected her earplugs and took her laptop to the opposite side of the house to work.

  Hours later, she clasped her hands high over her head and then twisted from side to side, stretching stiff muscles. The garage door droned open. Yay, Gabe was home early. Smiling, she shut down the computer and padded into the kitchen. Her welcoming smile faded, and she came to a complete stop near the doorway, when she saw a big dog standing patiently at Gabe’s side.

  He dropped the leash and came forward to kiss her. “Surprise.”

  She moved around him to look at the golden retriever. “Who’s your friend?”

  “Ritz.”

  “I see.” She nodded. “And what’s he doing in my kitchen?”

  “She is a present for you.”

  “For me?” Eyebrows raised, Jenny looked at him.

  “Yup. You said you didn’t want kids, but you didn’t say anything about dogs. I thought you’d like some company. She might not be as smart as a kid, but she’s easier to care for, less expensive, won’t talk back, and is far more obedient. She probably eats less, too. Definitely eats less than Alex.”

  Jenny squatted to pet her silky coat. The dog wagged her tail furiously and licked her face, knocking her backward. Laughing Jenny pushed her away and looked up from her spot on the floor. “You got her for me?”

  “I didn’t think you’d want to bother with a puppy, so when one of the OR nurses mentioned that the Leader Dogs for the Blind in Rochester placed their drop-out dogs with other people, I put us on the waiting list.”

  “Without asking me?”

  “Wouldn’t have been much of a surprise if I had.”

  “What if I didn’t like dogs?”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. You love animals.”

  Okay, so she’d give him that; she did like animals. “A dog’s a big responsibility. Don’t you think we should’ve discussed it first?”

  He frowned. “Really? I thought for sure you’d love her.” He stroked her head, cooing, “What’s not to love about this sweet little girl?”

  They both looked at her with soft, pleading eyes. Geesh. How’s a girl to stay annoyed? Jenny’d never really thought about owning her own pet since keeping goldfish alive had proved an impossible feat, but a dog was a little hardier than a fish.

  “How sweet. You got me a reject.”

  He grinned. “Only the best for my girl. They kicked her out ’cause she’s scared of moving traffic.”

  “Smart girl.” Jenny turned her attention to the dog and ruffled that spot behind her ear all dogs love rubbed.

  “She’s house broken, passed advanced obedience classes, and even had her teeth cleaned. So what do you think?”

  She smiled up at Gabe. “Ya done good, Harrison.”

  * * *

  Ritz merged into their lives with hardly a ripple, her only fault being that she wanted to be with Jenny constantly. After getting stepped on several times, Ritz learned to be unobtrusive, lying under tables and in corners out of the way. To give her greater freedom and still preserve the open beauty of their yard, they had an underground fence installed around the perimeter of their property.

  Not that they worried about her wandering into the street, but they discovered she loved swimming in the lake. The fence worked beautifully, and Ritz quickly learned that she couldn’t get within five feet of the lake while wearing her electronic collar. After a few weeks, she didn’t mind leaving Jenny’s side to chase the ducks and Canadian Geese perpetually parading through the backyard.

  One sunny Saturday afternoon, Jenny worked in her office, when Ritz’s frenzied barking broke her concentration. The frenetic bark, punctuated by yelping, differed from her usual bird chasing bark.

  Jenny went to the window and saw her neighbor’s boy racing down the hill in their back yard, chasing his soccer ball. “Chill, Ritz, he’s getting his ball.”

  Ritz continued whining and then started scratching at the door.

  “Ritz, no!” She was going to scratch the heck out of the glass if she kept that up. Jenny got up and went in the kitchen. “Knock it off.”

  Arms wrapped around his soccer ball, the boy wore an exasperated expression as he stood halfway up the hill and looked down behind him. He put a hand on his hip, like she imagined his mother did when she was annoyed, and called out to someone just out of view.

  Ritz whined and pawed at the door again.

  “Stop it.” Jenny frowned and stepped closer to the window.

  Oh, no. So that’s what had Ritz all in a tizzy. At the base of the hill, toward the far side of the yard, Steve’s toddler was chasing four little goslings. Uh oh. A baby goose was never far from her—yup, there was the mom on the dock. The goslings hurried after their mother, but the toddler was closing in fast.

  Steve was nowhere in sight.

  Jenny unhooked Ritz’s electronic collar and yanked the sliding door open. “Get ’em, Ritz!”

  H
opefully the charging dog wouldn’t give the baby a heart attack, but Jenny was pretty sure Ritz would go for the geese before she’d stop to lick the kids to death. And if the little girl got a scare, too, maybe that wouldn’t be such a bad thing either.

  “Hey! Leave those babies alone, sweetie,” Jenny called out as she trotted down the slope.

  The toddler got within a foot of the goslings before the mother goose whirled on her, sprinted back hissing and flapping her wings furiously. Oh, crap. A pissed off goose could hurt the child.

  The golden retriever streaked by the little girl and rushed the geese. The furious mother hissed, honked, and lunged at Ritz while her goslings scrambled over the break wall into the water.

  “Sophie, come back here,” the boy called, as he raced behind Jenny.

  The startled child stood frozen, mouth open, wide-eyed watching the frenzied animals. Ritz barked and dodged mama goose, trying to stay away from her sharp, pinching beak.

  Jenny scooped up the sweaty, scared little girl. Tears pooled in her eyes, but she seemed too enthralled with the animals to cry. “And what’re you doing out here alone?”

  The honking goose half-ran and half-flew after Ritz, chasing her across the yard, driving her away from her goslings.

  Jenny carried the toddler up the hill. Whistling, she called, “Ritz, come.”

  Ritz seemed happy to give up her game, and as soon as she turned away, luckily, the mama goose went in search of her babies. Good thing, too. The last thing Jenny wanted to do was to try to outrun a mad goose while carrying twenty-some pounds of kid uphill.

  The baby twisted in her arms, pointing over her shoulder. “Duck.”

  “Goose. No touch. The mama goose will bite you.”

  “Sophia? Josh?” Her neighbor called from his yard.

  “Over here.” Jenny carried the baby up the hill. Ritz pranced ahead beside the boy.

  Ping-pong paddle in hand, Steve strode through the hedge with Gabe on his heels. “What’re you guys doing over here?”

  “Getting my soccer ball and playing with the dog.” The boy stroked a panting Ritz.