The Wrong Man

“She sure is.”

“We’re getting acquainted. You guys can go back to the kitchen.”

Trent grinned down at Libby. “Sounds like we’ve been dismissed.”

“Suits me. I need to preheat the oven anyway.”

In the kitchen, Trent pulled one of the chairs out from the table and straddled it, leaning his arms across the back. Just as he used to do. Libby bit her lip at that last thought. She didn’t welcome these reminders. Instead, she needed to focus on getting through the evening. “What brought you back to Whitefish?”

Fortunately his explanation about going into business with Chad Larraby permitted her to warm the pizza and toss the salad she’d made earlier, keeping her so busy she almost succeeded in ignoring the way his voice brightened with enthusiasm and his eyes following her every move. When he finished with an explanation of their upcoming season’s advertising campaign, he asked her about herself.

She gave him the short version. She’d gotten her first job in Polson, where they’d lived at the time of the divorce, and completed her master’s degree in the summers. She’d moved to Whitefish three years ago.

There was nothing easy about the conversation. She walked around the kitchen, making busywork. Fixing glasses of ice water, grating the Parmesan cheese, digging out a platter for the pizza, anything to delay sitting down across the table from her ex-husband. But there was one question that had to be faced. “Have you told Kylie we were married?”

He ran a hand through his hair. “No. It’s too early.”

“What do you mean?”

His eyes displayed anguish. “She’s had so much to deal with. Ashley’s death—and the move. She likes you. I don’t want to do anything right now to rock her boat.”

“She’ll have to know sometime.”

“Please, Lib, just not yet. Let her settle in first.”

Libby wasn’t sure withholding the information was a good idea, but Trent was the girl’s father and presumably knew her better than anyone.

“You’re the parent. I’ll abide by your wishes.”

He nodded. “Thanks. I appreciate that.”

In the awkward silence that followed, she busied herself at the counter.

Just before the oven buzzer went off, Kylie appeared, the large cat draped over her shoulder. “Miss Cameron, I think Mona likes me.”

Libby smiled. “No doubt about it. She doesn’t let very many people pick her up.”

“Can she eat with us?”

Trent laughed. “Do you think cats like pepperoni?”

“Oh, Daddy, you’re funny. I mean, can she sit on my lap while I eat?”

Trent caught Libby’s eye and she nodded. “Just don’t use her as a napkin,” he said.

To Libby’s amazement, Mona remained in Kylie’s lap while they ate, only occasionally pawing the tablecloth as if to say, “How about me?”

“Good salad,” Trent said appreciatively.

“Thank you.”

Kylie ate with gusto. “This is the best pizza.”

Trent picked up his napkin and wiped the corner of his daughter’s mouth. “Whitefish’s finest.”

“Whitefish. I hate that name.” A shadow fell across Kylie’s face. “Do I have to go to school tomorrow?”

“Of course. You know that.” Trent shared a look of concern with Libby.

Kylie said nothing, but pushed her plate away.

“I’d be disappointed if you weren’t in my class,” Libby told her.

Kylie’s eyes filled with tears.

“What is it, honey?” she asked, leaning forward.

Sensing the tension in the girl, Mona wagged her tail slowly from side to side. “They’ll laugh,” Kylie confided.

“Who?”

“The kids.”

Libby stole a quick glance at Trent, whose expression was anguished. “Why?”

“Be-be-cause.” Silently, tears oozed down the little girl’s cheeks. “I…I’ll have to read.”

Libby’s stomach plummeted. Bless her heart, the poor thing was terrified. “I’ll be sure they don’t laugh. Don’t you like to read?”

“I used to.”

“When was that?”

“Before Mommy went to the cementery.”

Trent turned his head away and Libby picked up the girl’s hands. “Honey, did you read to your mommy?”

“Yes.”

“And was she proud of you?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Do you think she’d want you to give up?”

Kylie swiped an arm across her nose. “No,” she said in a little voice.

“I have an idea. Can you come to school early tomorrow?”