Pink Slips and Glass Slippers (31 page)

“That’s good to hear champ. We’ll have to say a special prayer for Miss Stanton. That reminds me. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Time for bed.”

***

“Can we do that ride again?” Parker’s enthusiasm made everyone smile. He loved every moment of his birthday party; he rode every ride he could, usually with either his dad or Oksana—so he wouldn’t upset his friends, who all wanted to ride with the birthday boy.

While Parker dragged Oksana into the famous Fun House for the second time, Mary strolled up to Chase, and said, “What do you think of the changes at Angel’s Academy?”

“Parker seems to like his new teacher. I’m glad, but it’ll be hard to fill Betsy’s shoes.”

Mary contemplated her response, then said, “I don’t know anything about this new owner. She looks so fresh and pink—and she has no experience.”

“I had a suspicion Betsy was sick. I don’t get over there enough, but the last time, she didn’t look good. I’m going to call and wish her well and try to get the lowdown. If Betsy picked the new owner, I’m sure she’ll do just fine.”

***

After finishing the thirteen mile Race for the Cure, Brooke began week two with relaxed confidence. She had already read the books she bought on owning a preschool. In addition, Brooke interviewed every mother she could—including complete strangers. She soaked in all the information like a child.

Brooke’s favorite part of the job was reading the stories at the end of the day. Her new life blossomed. In two short weeks, Brooke felt like a seasoned professional. Even though the contract was signed and the check had cleared, Betsy still visited each day. Betsy released the reigns, staying in the background like a safety net.

At the end of the week, with two hours to go, Betsy strode up to Brooke during the end of the kids’ reflection time, wrapped her warm arm around her, and said, “You are doing great. I feel like I’m just getting in the way. I’d wish you good luck, but I can tell you won’t need it. I’ll be here if I can help you in any way.”

Just like Brooke’s track days, Betsy passed the baton, and Brooke seized it, happy for the chance to prove herself. This race had meaning.

***

“Hold still.” Duke’s ears flinched and then he froze.

Hearing the beep, Chase left a message, “Max, it’s Chase. Listen, I don’t want to be a pest, but, she tried calling again…I hope you’ve had some luck…Call me if you locate her.”

Chase released Duke’s chain, then raced him toward Parker, playing on the monkey bars. Chase led out of the gate, but Duke loped by his owner with ease. Pulling up to a giggling Parker, Chase’s lungs felt like they were filled with napalm while Duke looked ready for more.

“Duke beat you.”

“He’s……so……fast.”

“I’ll race you,” Parker swung off the metal ladder and landed beside his father; he balled his fists in the ready stance.

Chase chuckled, “Not right now, buddy. Duke tired me out. How’s school?”

“Miss Ingram’s nice.”

“Nicer than Miss Stanton?”

Parker nodded in an exaggerated motion with wide eyes.

“That’s good. How is she different?”

“She tells stories about sharks and dragons and she’s pretty like mommy.”

Chase winced; Parker’s innocent statement struck Chase, now bracing for the follow up question. I bet Parker heard Oksana talking the other day. Funny, he never mentioned Heather during his entire birthday, including bedtime—when kids thought such things. I wish she’d quit bugging poor Oksana. Why did I ever get married?

Chase glanced at Parker and smiled, “C’mon, you ready to race?”

Parker pointed, “First one to the sidewalk.”

“You’re on.”

Parker said, “ReadySetGo,” then took off. Chase laughed, affecting his strength like kryptonite. He finally caught up to Parker, which prompted a determined look that made Chase laugh again. Parker won.

Chase’s grin made his ears pop. His son’s gleeful celebration was better than Olympic gold. He thought, I wish I could spend more time with him—he’s growing up so fast. Maybe, I’ll surprise him next week.

***

“You look great, what are you talking about?”

“I’m fat and you know it, miss ant-sized jeans.” Melissa poked her fork at her salad.

“You’re supposed to gain weight. It’s healthy.” Brooke figured Melissa wouldn’t budge, but she couldn’t agree and make her feel worse.

“Eddie thinks I’m fat.”

“What!” Brooke’s eyes swirled in a blaze, “Does he call you fat?”

“Not exactly…But, he doesn’t touch me the same way as before.”

“He’s probably afraid of hurting the baby. I read that in one of my books. Eddie actually told me he loved your glow.”

“When?” Melissa furrowed her brows.

“The other day, remember when he answered your cell?”

“He said that?”

“You look good. Relax, your hormones are raging.”

Melissa clasped her stomach, sighed, then said, “I heard Betsy Stanton was impressed with you. Tell me about your new career?”

“Oh my God, Betsy has a glow too—like Mother Teresa. She’s taught me so much. It’s hard to motivate kids to look forward to school, but she’s amazing. I feel reborn. Those kids are so cute. You’re a lifesaver, once again. Please tell your mother how grateful I am.”

“Can you make any money in the preschool business?”

“You sound like my daddy…” They both shared a hearty laugh that made the neighboring tables stop and stare. Brooke ignored them, and edged closer, “Betsy had a great manager who has agreed to stay for all that nasty record keeping. I’m going to finally apply my minor degree in Child Psychology. And this is going to sound strange, but I’m not doing it for the money. I’d do this job for free. It’s hard to explain, but I feel such love and warmth for those kids, as if they’re my own.”

“Wow. Most people in daycare say the opposite.”

“We don’t call it ‘daycare.’ Betsy created the concept of a ‘learning center.’ And that’s exactly what it is.”

“That’s a stretch. Aren’t they just three year olds?”

“Three and four, but I really feel like I’m making a difference in those kids. They soak in everything like sponges. There’s one little boy who’s adorable—I could take him home with me.”

***

With the kids in the beginning of their reflection time, Brooke had pulled Marsha aside, and said, “I have to run to the insurance office and sign some documents. It shouldn’t take more than a half hour. Can you cover for me until I return?”

Marsha smiled and said, “Take your time. I love reading stories and have a good one in mind. We’ll be fine.”

“Thanks, I’m so thrilled to have you.” Marsha’s eyes said ditto.

“The secret of success is to make your vocation your vacation.” Brooke had heard the Twain quote before, but now, she understood what it meant. She felt alive. Her nightmares had dissipated and, even though Tanner still visited her in her sleep, the dreams were now peaceful.

At the end of her third week—Friday the thirteenth—she hit her groove. Usually a bit superstitious, today, Brooke felt better than a vacation. Surfing on a wave of gratitude, she picked up her cell.

“So, how’s it going?” Shane’s zeal was better than coffee—even a quad espresso.

“I can’t believe how much I love it. I have amazing kids who ask some off the wall questions. I have to be more alert around three year olds than I ever had to be in the business world.”

“Sounds like you really made a fresh start. What do the kids call you?”

“Miss Ingram.”

“Awesome.”

“It took a short while to get used to, but I have to say you were right, as always. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“That’s what I love about you. You award me credit, even though you did it all yourself.”

Hanging up with Shane, Brooke smiled as she climbed into her car.

Brooke punched the address into GPS, and waited as it searched for a signal. Aren’t satellites like cell phones? These things take more time than a laptop. After three minutes that seemed like thirty, Brooke sped off just as a black squirrel darted in front of her car. She slammed her brakes and felt a thump under her tire. “Oh man, poor little guy.” As she opened her car door, the spooked critter scurried away.

Brooke drove on like she was in a scary movie with one of those leave-you-hanging endings. So far, no roadside black cats running in front of the car or giant ladders to drive under. Not concentrating on the road, she missed the speed bump sign as her car heaved like a bucking bronco, then landed with a crack and a thud. She pulled to the curb and stopped.

That was a friggin’ huge speed bump
.

Brooke opened her door and surveyed the front—bumper intact, nothing leaking. She climbed back into her car. Pulling away, her car pulled.
Now what
?

With images of a black cat, she jumped out. And noticed something worse—a black flat. Her rear passenger tire was deflated down to the rim. “Oh shit.”

Brooke surveyed the deserted block, and stormed to the passenger side door just as her heel caught and she smacked face first into the grass. She froze, and did a quick mental body scan. Realizing her pain was only emotional, she slowly stood while gripping the door handle. Her ankles felt fine, but her leg was smeared—

Brooke’s eyes bulged as it registered: “Gross. Dog shit! Why can’t people pick up after their damn dogs!”

Brooke dialed Shane, who laughed so hard he couldn’t speak. Brooke chuckled—quite a bit less than Shane—and said, “Only you can cheer me up even though I’m covered with dog shit.”

“I’m afraid comic relief is all I can do for you right now. I can’t change a flat telepathically.”

Brooke popped the hood, put on her hazard lights, and listened to Shane’s instructions. She didn’t even know she had a spare tire, and, frowning at her dress, wondered if he could talk her through changing it. On her knees, trying to force the lug wrench onto the first bolt, she heard a snap as pain shot up her hand.

“Shit.”

“What’s wrong?”

“I just bent my nail all the way back.”

Brooke growled as Shane attempted to calm her. She surveyed the ground, knelt back down and struggled to remove the remaining bolts.

“I can scratch mechanic off my list,” Brooke wiped her brow with the back of her hand, not realizing she decorated her forehead with war paint.

Shane chuckled, “You didn’t tell me that was on your Bliss List.”

“Ha Ha.”

Forty minutes later, Brooke successfully changed her first flat tire. “Thank you Shane. You’re a life…” She glanced at her cell and noticed it was dead. “Oh great. Shit!”
I guess I can’t meet the insurance agent like this.

Brooke pulled into a grocery store lot and carefully positioned her baby tire two feet from the curb under a
No Parking
sign. She flipped on her hazards and darted inside. A guy in a smock stocking bananas did a double take at her, then said, “The bathroom’s in the back, by the meat counter.”

Brooke lurched like an NFL running back around gawking onlookers. Once inside the bathroom, she flipped on the light and shrieked, “Oh nice, I look scary.”

I’m lucky they didn’t call a battered women’s shelter.

The liquid soap only spread the grease. After using the entire roll of paper towels and most of the toilet paper, she finally recognized herself. Even though she triple washed her knee, she still felt a weird sensation—like an amputee with a recently removed limb.

Dang, I’ll miss the kids’ send off again
.
Thank God Marsha’s there.

On the return walk, Mister Smock smirked, then nodded. Brooke coasted to Angel’s Academy with the hazards still flashing.

Chapter 19

“Thank God you’re here!”

Brooke ignored Marsha’s teary eyes, and with her eyes popping, she gasped, “YOU! What the…?”

His head craned as if trying to crack it. With furrowed brows, Chase said, “Me? Why are
you
here?”

Brooke glanced at Marsha, whose tears streamed across her quivering lips, then back at Chase.

Chase said, “Unless you’re here to help me find my son, quit stalking me.”

Brooke’s eyes narrowed, “What are you talking about? And, what are you doing to my employee in front of my business?”

“Your business?” Chase shook his head, then glanced at Marsha, who nodded, but still couldn’t speak. He glared at Brooke, then said, “Yes, Parker is gone…Since when do you own this place?”

“I just bought it—that’s not important. Where’s Parker? What happened?”

“My son has been kidnapped,” Chase glared back at Marsha, and barked, “Where is Miss Ingram?”

Brooke stood stock straight, “I’m Miss Ingram.”

“What?”

“I’m Brooke Ingram, and unless you tell me what the hell’s going on,, I’m calling 911.”

Chase gulped, then closed his eyes, hands running up and down his head. His eyes met Brooke’s, and through tight lips, “My son Parker has been kidnapped—”

“Your son is Parker?” Brooke’s knees wobbled.

“Yes, and I was supposed to pick him up. Usually Oksana—his nanny—picks him up, but I was going to surprise him. His mother, who…” Chase paused, glimpsed to the right, then continued, “Let’s just say his mother is dangerous and is not allowed to see him without my permission.”

Brooke opened her cell and said, “I’m calling 911.”

Chase lunged and snapped the phone shut, “No!”

Marsha raised one eyebrow and tilted her head. Chase pleaded, “No, seriously, it’s complicated.”

“It’s not complicated to me. Parker’s missing, you say he’s kidnapped by a dangerous…whoever she is…I have to call the police.”

“I, I don’t think Parker’s in grave danger,” Chase touched his nose, “This is a domestic dispute. I, um, I need to talk to my lawyer before we call the cops. Please don’t call the police.” Chase imagined the headlines staring Henry in the face—right before next week’s board meeting; Brooke pictured different headlines, ending her new life before the one month mark. She thought,
Shit, am I even insured?

“I need to document this incident,” Brooke avoided the word
liability
—especially to a lawyer, “Marsha, what happened?”

“I was reading the kids a story when Rache’s grandmother entered with a much younger, well-dressed lady. Rache peered at me and I nodded. Parker said, ‘Mommy’ and ran to the pretty woman’s outstretched arms. I went back to
Snow White
since we had a half hour left until pick up. I just assumed…” She sobbed.

Chase frowned, and said, “Marsha, you knew only Oksana and I were authorized to pick up Parker.”

Marsha fidgeted, then said, “I forgot, Mr. Allman. I was on my own for a little while.”

“You’re not blaming Marsha?” Brooke grimaced.

Chase said, “I know I told Betsy that only Oksana and I—”

“Who’s Oksana?” Brooke cut in.

“Oksana is Parker’s nanny. Haven’t you met her? What kind of place—”

“Hold on mister,” Brooke wrapped her arms across her chest, “I just bought the place. If parents haven’t introduced themselves to me, I wouldn’t know who’s who yet. I supervise each child’s arrival and departure with Marsha.”

“Not today…” Chase flashed a condescending scowl.

“No, I, I’m sorry, I wasn’t here, I had uh, an appointment…”

“All I want to do is find Parker as quickly and quietly as possible.” Chase marched toward his BMW.

Brooke said, “I’m coming along.”

He stopped, and twisted his head over his shoulder in a pained expression, “You’re what?”

“I said, ‘I’m coming.’ Parker’s in danger, I’m not stopping until he’s safe.”

Without the police, he needed assistance. He said, “You want to help? Fine, I accept. For starters, I could use a description of the vehicle she was driving.”

Brooke glanced at Marsha, who shrugged her shoulders, saying, “I was inside reading a story when she left.”

“I’ll call Rache’s grandma. She was right there.”

Chase frowned, “What are you going to say?”

“I’ll start by asking how Rache is doing with the transition and thank her for her continued support. Then I’ll ask her if she saw what kind of car Parker’s mom left in.”

Chase agreed, “Yeah, good, good discretion.”

Discretion?
Brooke smirked, “I’ll call them right now from here. Give me your cell number.”

Chase held the phone above his head and said, “Only if you lift the call block.”

“Yes, don’t worry…”

Marsha creased her eyebrows, but remained silent.

Chase headed toward his car, saying, “Call me when you’re done.”

Driving away, Chase called Oksana and broke the news to her. He could barely understand her—the more upset she became, the worse her English sounded. He finally calmed her enough to reason with her. Chase said, “Grab the binoculars—in the kitchen drawer—and sit where you can see the entrances. If they show up, write down the license number, color and type of car. Don’t confront them—just hide.”

“Should I call the police?”

“No! Do not call the police. Call me right away.”

Chase dialed Max’s number—voicemail again.
Sheesh, I wonder where he’s been?
Chase’s head spun. He pulled over and retrieved a legal pad from his briefcase. With eyes closed, he visualized who, what, where, and why—why did she take him? What was she doing? Where? Then, it came…

Chase sped over to Chuck E. Cheese—the same place he took Parker. He skirted a red light and nearly crashed into a U-Haul. His heart pounded and his hands slipped on the steering wheel. Not taking any chances, he screeched to a halt at the entrance and jumped out. Ripping open the glass door, he scanned the restaurant like a Secret Service agent—no Parker.

“Sir, you can’t park there—”

“Huh?” Chase glared at the pimply-faced teenager with the name tag “Gus, Assistant Mgr.” Chase continued, “I know, listen, this is an emergency. I’m looking for my son.”

“Missing child? Do you want me to call the cops?”

“No, I already did,” Chase rubbed his nose, then asked, “Has a little boy with dark hair and a blue shirt come in here with his mommy?”

The kid smirked, “All the time. Look around, that’s our market.”

Chase sighed, then flashed a picture of Parker to Gus, “Here’s my card, please call if they come in here.”

Back in the car, he closed his eyes and another spot came to mind. He drove to the playground near the house—no Parker. Then, another playground—no Parker. He dialed Max again—voicemail.

Chase typed “hotels” in his smart phone’s GPS and frowned. There’s no way I can hit 130 hotels. He narrowed the list by locale. I wonder if she brought what’s-his-name along? Rusty, was it? What was his last name? I bet they put the room in his name since I cancelled all her credit cards.

“C’mon Max, answer.” Voicemail—dammit. Chase scanned the hotel list again and one name stood out—Embassy Suites: two bedrooms, in case Heather brought her druggie boyfriend. He still couldn’t remember Rusty’s last name. He dialed Max again—voicemail. “Where the hell are you?”

While showing the Embassy Suites manager Parker’s picture, Chase’s stomach roiled—Rusty would probably check in while Heather stayed in the car with Parker. Other than height and that he was a loser, Chase couldn’t provide much of a description. He didn’t even know Rusty’s real first name. He went back to the car.

“Duke, Duke, Duke of Earl” rang out. He wiped his eyes and squinted at the caller ID—I know that number.

Chase answered, “I hope you had better luck than me.”

“How about Rache’s grandma?”

“I don’t have her cell and neither parent is answering. I’ve left three messages.”

Chase drew a deep breath, then recapped his efforts in one lengthy sentence—suppressing his frustration.

“What should we do?” Brooke’s voice cracked.

“I don’t know what else to do other than go to each hotel…”

Brooke dabbed her eyes, then said, “Maybe we should call the police—”

“No! The police are out of the question.”

Brooke said, “Then let’s hit every hotel we can. One of us can search the parking lot while the other talks to the front desk.”

Chase sighed, “Good idea. That would really help. I’m not thinking straight.”

They decided to meet at the next Courtyard on the list. Plugging in the address, Chase drove off before the GPS lady spoke her wisdom. A flash on his dashboard caught his eye—shit, that’s all I need.

He pulled to the curb and typed in “Fuel,” hoping he had enough fuel to make it. His range button deflated his hope. Chase pictured himself pushing his BMW to the Mobil. Chase pictured himself pushing his BMW to Mobil and steadied his foot to twenty five. The station was just over a mile away. He focused like a jaguar stalking its prey—and prayed.

With the Mobil sign in sight, Chase surveyed the starless sky, and said, “Thank you.” Coasting into an open spot, he guessed he made it on fumes.

A car pulled up to the opposite pump. “Chase? Is that you?”

“Huh?” Chase turned toward the familiar voice and squinted.

“Remember me?”

“Yeah…” Chase stalled for time—good with faces, lousy with names—she looked familiar. He said, “From the club…”

She said, “I go at least a year without seeing you guys, and, here, in the same day, I see you
and
Heather.” She snuck a look at Brooke at the passenger seat and sneered.

Chase chortled nervously, then asked, “How’ve you been?”

“Busy carting kids around. You know the drill. Parker’s grown so much,” she smiled, and scanning up and down, said, “He looks just like you.”

Chase’s head buzzed, “Where did you run into Heather?”

“I think I saw her at Target.”

Chase paused. She finally said, “I’m jealous—my husband doesn’t take us anywhere fun—have a nice trip.”

“Come again?”

“Vacation. I mean have a nice vacation.” Chase’s eyes widened; she said, “Parker told Joshua you guys were going to Disney. He’s so excited…hey, weren’t you supposed to leave—”

“Oh, thanks for reminding me. I’m late. Good to see you.”

***

“Why isn’t daddy flying us to see Mickey, Mommy?”

Heather glared at Rusty, whose smirk distanced her from the answer. She inhaled, then said, “Oh honey, I hope he’s going to be able to meet us there. He has a lot of work. He told me he’d try.” Parker sighed. Heather continued, “We’ll have so much fun. I hope you’re tall enough for all the big boy rides.”

Parker’s eyes widened, “Like Frankie’s Fun House?”

“Where’s that?”

“My birthday party. Daddy went on all the rides with me.”

“Oh. The place I’m taking you to is called the ‘magic kingdom.’”

Parker looked confused, “Is it bigger than Frankie’s?”

Heather said, “It’s much bigger than Frankie’s. And they have Mickey Mouse. You’re going to love Disney.” Rusty lit a joint and by the time Heather shot him a glare, he had already taken a hit. He handed it to Heather, who inhaled a quick hit, then passed it back.

“You shouldn’t smoke. Smoking is bad,” Parker proclaimed, eyes widened.

Rusty laughed, then sucked a long drag and coughed as he handed it back to Heather. She waved him off but he held it in front of her for a few seconds. She grabbed it and took a fast hit, then said, “No more, unless you wanna drive.” Rusty tucked his chin into his chest and shook his head in short sideways bursts.

Heather squinted in the rearview at the wide-eyed Parker, then said, “Mommy’s trying to quit smoking. Don’t you ever start, you hear me?”

Parker shook his head in an exaggerated motion, then said, “Will you go on all the rides with me if daddy’s not there?”

“Absolutely.” Heather glanced at Rusty, who ducked out on his cue to speak.

“Are we almost there?”

Rusty snickered, Heather frowned, “No, honey, it’s kind of a long drive.”

Parker sighed, “I wish we could fly with Daddy…can you play
Baby Beluga?
”

“I don’t think we have that one.”

“How about
Shake My Sillies Out?
Daddy always sings it with me.”

“Nope, let’s just talk—I haven’t seen you for so long…”

“I’m hungry. Can we go to Chuck E. Cheese?”

Heather fidgeted, then inspected the bag on the floor between Rusty’s baggy jeans, and said, “We’ll be stopping soon.”

***

“Before I start this plane, we gotta clear the air first.”

Brooke glanced away, saying, “Whatever.”

“What is your problem?”

“My problem? My problem? That’s a good one.” Brooke’s face filled with rage.

“Seriously, what is your problem?” Chase stared at Brooke.

Chase unbuckled his shoulder straps and noticed his neck tighten, and heart thump. “Why wouldn’t you talk to me?”

Brooke glared into his furrowed eyes, then said, “I did.”

“No, you didn’t. You called me names and hung up on me twice. I was just trying to—”

“Wait, you expect me to listen to you harass me.”

“
Harass
you? We had an amazing night together, then you—”

“Let me offer you a concise executive recap. You fuck me, fire me, then joke about giving me my
pink slip,
then tell me you have a
big package
for me. Then, you won’t stop calling. How do you define harassment?”

Chase’s eyes widened, “You can’t possibly think I had anything to do with you losing your job?”

“You can’t be serious?”

“I’m serious as a heart attack.”

“So, if I’m getting this straight, you’re saying that you, the CEO, had nothing to do with me getting fired right after we made love?”

“Oh, my God, I can’t believe you’d actually think…” Chase’s eyes darted, “Is that why you blocked my calls?”

“I blocked your calls because you were harassing me. You’re no different than Dix—”

“Stop using that word! I did NOT
harass
you. I still can’t believe you called my boss.”