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Authors: Rosemarie Naramore

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BOOK: Loving Miss Libby
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She smiled.  “I’ll … bring dessert.”

“Cupcakes!” Kate enthused.

 

***

 

“The lawn looks great, if I do say so myself,” Dan
said, as he stood on Libby’s back porch and surveyed the expansive backyard. 
“You really have a nice yard,” he observed.

“It’s a double lot,” Libby informed.  “Someday, when
I have more time, I hope to expand my garden and grow enough fruits and
vegetables to put up preserves.”

“Sounds like a good idea,” he said.

“I’d like to plant a couple more peach trees…”

“Since I eat them all,” Marky giggled from several
feet away.

Dan gave him a bewildered glance.  “What do you
mean, son?”

Marky’s eyes widened, as if he realized he’d just
said too much.  “When’s dinner, Dad?” he asked, an innocent expression on his
sweet little face.  “I’m really hungry.”

“Hey, back up there, son,” he said.  “What do you
mean you eat all of Miss Libby’s peaches?”

“It’s all right,” Libby was quick to intercede. 
Yes, the little boy helped himself to the fruit on her trees, but there was
plenty to go around.  Besides, she was glad he enjoyed the fruit so much.  It
was better for him than candy or sugared sodas.  “Marky knows I don’t mind
sharing,” she assured his father. 

Dan seemed placated, but Libby suspected he intended
to have a conversation with his son later on.  She hoped he wouldn’t be too
hard on him.

“Dad, are we going to start cooking the steaks
soon?” Kate asked.  “Because I’ll need to start the potatoes in the microwave
right away.”

Libby smiled at the little girl.  She seemed so
grown up, talking about food preparation. 

“In just a bit,” Dan told her, and turned to Libby. 
“Do you mind if I head home and take a quick shower?  I’ll start dinner in
about half an hour.”

“Can we stay with Miss Libby until you’re done?”
Marky asked, hurrying to her side and wrapping his arms around her waist.

Dan winced.  “Kids, why don’t you come on home with
me…?”

“It’s all right for them to stay with me,” she
assured him. 

“Are you sure?  I feel as if I’ve imposed enough.”

“It’s fine.”

“Daddy, I’m going to kick the ball around in Miss
Libby’s backyard.  Yell at us when you’re ready to start cooking, okay?”

Dan chuckled.  “Oh, okay, son,” he said, shaking his
head ruefully.  He started off, but paused and turned back around.  He raised a
warning finger.  “Do not hit Miss Libby with that ball.  Understand?”

Marky nodded.  “Okay, Dad.  I’ll be careful.”

While the kids played ball, Libby hurried inside her
house to freshen up.  As she entered her master bathroom and spied herself in
the mirror, she came to a stop.  Wow.  She looked frazzled.  Had spending the
day with two rambunctious children tired her more than she’d realized?  She
didn’t feel tired, but her face showed otherwise. 

After running a brush through her auburn hair, and
applying a bit of mascara to her already thick lashes, she finished by rolling
a shiny gloss onto her lips.  She dashed into her closet and pulled out a pair
of white walking shorts and a bright, print top.  The comfortable, breezy top
was one of her favorites.  Finally, she slipped into her nicest flat sandals
and rejoined the children outside.

Marky was first to see her.  “Miss Libby, you look
pretty!”

Kate nodded.  “You look beautiful, Miss Libby.”

“Well, thank you both,” she said, smiling at them.

Libby noticed Kate watching her intently.  “Did you
need something, Kate?”  The little girl seemed hesitant to answer her.  “Kate?”
she pressed. 

“Miss Libby, could I, well, maybe…?”

“Yes, honey?”

“Can I try some of your lip gloss?” she asked.

Libby smiled.  “Of course, you can.”  She turned to
Marky.  “Honey, will you let us know when your dad calls?  Kate and I are going
to make ourselves pretty.”

“But you’re already pretty,” he said, his brows
furrowed.  “And Kate is only eight.  She won’t be pretty for a long time.”

Libby gasped.  “Kate is already very
pretty—beautiful!” she assured them both.  “But sometimes we girls like to wear
a little lip gloss, to enhance our natural beauty,” she explained.

“Well, okay.  If you have to,” he said with a shrug,
and kicked the ball across the lawn.  He hurried after it.

Libby took Kate’s hand and together they walked into
the house.  Libby led her to her master bathroom.  She remembered she had an
unopened lip gloss in her makeup drawer.  She pulled it out, noting it was a
soft pink.  “Perfect,” she declared, as she opened the packaging.  “Okay,
honey, purse your lips,” she instructed.

Kate looked perplexed, and Libby demonstrated for
her.

“Oh!” she said, and did as Libby had shown her.

Libby applied the gloss to her lips, and then
directed her to look into the mirror.  The little girl’s eyes widened with
pleasure.  “I look…”

“Beautiful!” Libby said, and then capped the gloss. 
She passed it to the little girl.  “You can keep it, hon.  I have several.”

The little girl smiled as if she’d just received the
most wonderful gift in the world.  Libby’s heart swelled, as Kate threw her
arms around her neck and squeezed her tight.  “Thank you!”

“You are very welcome.”

Kate ventured a shy glance her way.  “Miss Libby…?”

“Yes?”

“Do you think you could help me with my hair? 
Grandma helps me to fix it in different styles sometimes, but Daddy, well, he’s
a boy, so…”

“Enough said,” Libby said conspiratorially, as she
reached for a comb and began running it through the little girl’s hair.  She
stepped back, assessing the strawberry blonde tresses.  “Did you have anything
particular in mind?” she asked.

Kate nodded.  “I’ve been trying to pull it back on
top, to keep my hair out of my face, but I can’t seem to get it right.”

“Oh, we can do that!  I’ll show you how.”  Libby
demonstrated how to grasp the right amount of hair, comb it smooth, pull it
back and tie it in a band.  She turned Kate around, so she could see herself in
the mirror.

“That’s it!  I don’t know why I have such a hard
time with my hair.  Daddy does try hard, but…”  She gave a sad sigh.  “He just
isn’t very good at it.”

“Well, I’m always here if you need me,” Libby told
her.

Kate met her gaze and broke into a smile.  “Thanks,
Miss Libby.  It’s nice knowing another girl lives so close to me.  Sometimes
it’s hard being the only girl—even if there are only three of us in my house.”

Suddenly, they heard Marky clamoring up the stairs. 
“Daddy’s calling!” he shouted.

“I guess they’re ready for us,” Libby said, leading
Kate out of the master bedroom.  Marky was standing at the landing of the
stairway.

“Daddy’s started cooking,” he announced.  “Let’s
go.”

“Sounds good,” Libby told him, ruffling his hair.

He ran down the stairs, while she and Kate followed
at a more sedate pace.  “I need to lock my back door and then we’ll go out the
front,” she told the children.

After locking up the back of the house, and retrieving
the cupcakes from the kitchen island, Libby accompanied the kids out her front
door and to their house.  Rather than enter through the front door, they led
her around the house and through a gate to the backyard.  They found Dan at the
grill, with a pile of steaks at the ready beside him.

“Dad, what about the potatoes?” Kate asked.

“Already cooking in the microwave,” he told her. 

“Oh, okay.  Are we going to have anything else with
the steak and potatoes?” she asked.

“I’ve got a salad already made in the fridge, and we
have cupcakes for dessert,” he said, arching his brows.  “Everything’s taken
care of,” he assured her.

She looked dubious, but finally nodded. 

He gave a chagrined smile.  “Be a kid,” he quipped. 
“Let me worry about dinner.”

She met his gaze and gave him an equally chagrined
smile.  “Last time, you forgot about the potatoes, and you overcooked the
steaks, Dad,” she reminded him.

“You’re eight!” he cried, as he tossed the fork he’d
been holding onto a plate and charged after her.  He scooped her into his
arms.  “Let me worry about dinner!  Go play!  Be a kid!” he repeated, but
paused and gave her an assessing glance.  “Hey, your hair looks pretty.  And
what’s that on your lips?”  He lowered her to the ground.

“Miss Libby gave me some lip gloss,” she said,
smiling.  “Do you like it?”

“Very much,” he said.  “And your hair…”

“Do you like it?”  She appeared to brace for his
answer.

“Like it?  I love it!”  He smiled self-consciously
in Libby’s direction.  “Maybe Miss Libby can teach me how to do hair.  I’m
afraid I’m kind of a buffoon when it comes to girl hair.”

“You don’t have to worry about my hair anymore,
Daddy,” Kate said eagerly.  “Miss Libby can do my hair every day!”

The humor fled from Dan’s face, and he ran a hand
through his own hair.  He slowly met Libby’s eyes and winced.  He finally
opened his mouth to speak, when Libby spoke first.

“Since I work from home, that should be fine,” she
said, and noted the sunny smile that creased Kate’s little face.

“Now, when I go to school, the other kids won’t make
fu—”  She abruptly stopped talking, as if realizing she’d nearly said too much.

Libby didn’t miss the pained expression that flitted
across her father’s face, but he rallied with a smile.  “Hey, maybe Miss Libby
can teach me to help you, so you won’t have to stop by her place every
morning… 
Around seven
…”  He caught Libby’s gaze.  “Maybe Miss Libby
doesn’t want to be up with the sun every morning if she doesn’t have to be.”

Libby laughed.  “I’m always up early,” she assured
him. 

He gave a slight smile, and turned back to the
grill.  “It’s time to get these steaks on,” he said.

Libby noted his face was set in a frown, and his
brows furrowed, as if he was deep in thought.  Her heart broke for him.  She
knew that when Kate mentioned being made fun of because of her hair, it had cut
him to the quick.

“Daddy, I’m thirsty,” Marky declared, as he came
running toward them with his ball.  He dropped it and gave it a swift kick.  It
launched across the lawn and struck Libby in the forehead.  She took a startled
step back, but managed to stay upright.

Dan was beside her in a heartbeat.  “Libby!  Are you
all right?”  He turned to Marky.  “Son!”

The little boy stood frozen on the lawn, several
feet away from them.  He began shaking his head slowly, as if even he was
surprised he’d hit Libby yet again.  “I’m sorry, Miss Libby,” he said, his eyes
still widened in fear.  “I didn’t mean to do it.”

“I know you didn’t,” she assured him, smiling.  The
poor little fellow looked stricken.  And she noticed, so did his father.  She
gave him a reassuring smile.  “I’m fine.”

Dan searched her face, as if to discern if she was
just being brave, or was really okay.  He gently swept the hair from her brow
and made a woeful face.  “You’re going to have another bruise,” he said, and to
her surprise, took her hand and tugged her toward the house.  She heard him
muttering, “She’s not even safe on this side of the fence.”

Libby found herself in Dan’s kitchen.  She glanced
around, checking out the space, as he filled a baggie with ice from the
dispenser on the fridge.  His was a large kitchen, more updated than hers, with
stainless steel appliances.  The countertops were made of lovely, neutral-toned
granite, and the floors travertine.  Although she preferred her own kitchen,
she had to concede this one was nice—a chef’s kitchen.

He must have noticed her glancing around, since he
asked, “What do you think?  I had it remodeled last year.”

“It’s very nice,” she said, and then gasped when she
felt the ice pack against her forehead.

“Sorry,” he uttered, “I should have warned you it
was coming.”

“I appreciate the ice,” she said, reaching up to
hold it in place, “but I’m sure the damage is … minimal…”  She chuckled.  “How
many blows
can
a person take to the frontal lobe before they start
walking into walls?”

He made a horrified face.  “You are okay, right?”

She gave a dismissive wave.  “I’m fine.  I mean, if
I played professional ball of some type, I’d probably get hit about as often as
I do now.”  She cocked her head in thought.  “Well, maybe not…” 

Libby was teasing, but immediately realized, he
hadn’t gotten the joke.  She noted he was pacing and watching her worriedly. 
“Do you need to see a doctor?  Is your vision okay?  Feeling any pain?”  He
gave a withering sigh.  “What am I going to do with Marky?”

“Nothing,” she said.  “He’s a little boy…”

BOOK: Loving Miss Libby
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