Twice the Chance, page 16
“Thank you for your time.” Jazz stood up, irritated at herself for believing that she even had a chance at a restaurant of this caliber.
“You’re welcome,” Kathy said. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”
“I’m sorry to have bothered you.” Jazz managed to keep her poise until she was on the sidewalk outside the restaurant. She gasped for air and her hands trembled, which was ridiculous. The job interview had held no surprises.
She got into her car, intending to drive straight home but finding herself turning down the street where Matt’s town house was located. She had an almost overwhelming need to tell him what had happened, if only to get him to understand he shouldn’t make her want things that were out of reach.
By the time she remembered why they weren’t getting together until tonight—Matt had afternoon plans— Matt’s town house was in view. His silver coupe was in the driveway.
Unaccountably glad Matt was home, Jazz parked behind his car and hurried up the stairs to his town house. She jammed her finger against the doorbell, not sure if she were more eager for his support or his admission that she was right. The only certainty was that she longed to see him.
The door opened but it wasn’t Matt who greeted her. It was Brooke. The little girl twirled a long red strand of hair around her index finger, smiling shyly and humming.
“Hey, Brooke.” Jazz could barely speak; the twins being here hadn’t occurred to her at all. In the nearly three weeks since the party where she’d found out the truth, Jazz had tried not to think about the twins. Now the yearning was back, immediately, and even stronger than before. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“Uncle Matt’s watching us,” she said.
“You’re not supposed to answer the door to strangers, Brooke!” Robbie’s voice didn’t quite drown out the thuds of his running footsteps. He joined his sister, doubling Jazz’s longing for what might have been.
“Oh, hey, Jazz.” Robbie turned around and shouted, “Uncle Matt, Jazz is here!”
Brooke covered her ears.
“Ask her in,” Matt called back.
“Come on in.” Robbie stepped aside to allow her entrance, then dashed for the kitchen. With another silent glance at Jazz, Brooke followed her brother.
Jazz hesitated, her mind warring with her heart. The battle was lost almost before it began. She stepped inside the town house and closed the door.
Matt was sitting on a kitchen chair, bent over to tie the laces on one of his sneakers. He smiled at her, his eyes crinkling at the corners. His white Charleston Kicks soccer T-shirt brought out his tan, making him look vibrant and healthy.
“Hey, Jazz. I didn’t think I’d see you until tonight. Not that I’m complaining.” Matt winked at her. “What are you doing here?”
She shelved the urge to tell him about the failed job interview. This wasn’t the right time for I-told-you-sos. The twins flanked him, with Brooke humming a nonsensical tune and Robbie practically vibrating with energy.
“I was in the neighborhood,” Jazz answered.
“We’re going to the fair!” Robbie exclaimed. “We were just leaving.”
“I take them every year.” Matt moved on to the laces of his other shoe. “We’re getting a late start because all three of us had soccer games this morning.”
“We all won but Brooke!” Robbie glanced at his sister. She kept humming and didn’t rise to the bait. “And now we’re going to pick out which cows should win the blue ribbons!”
“There are 4-H competitions at the fair,” Matt explained. “Robbie likes to guess the winners.”
Brooke stopped humming. “I don’t like cows.”
“But you like the bumper cars, right, Brooke?” Matt asked. “You and Robbie always have fun on those.”
“Let’s go, Uncle Matt!” Robbie exclaimed. “We’ve got to get there quick!”
Matt finished tying his second shoe and got to his feet. “We usually go for the entire day but I told them we needed to leave by six today.”
Jazz appreciated Matt not saying that was because of their dinner date. She couldn’t bear it if the children blamed her for cutting short their good time.
“Do you want to come?”
The softly voiced question came from Brooke. She gazed up at Jazz with green eyes that were shaped the same as Jazz’s own eyes. The breath caught in Jazz’s throat and something loosened in her chest.
Jazz’s gaze flew to Matt. He shrugged and cocked his head, conveying that it was up to her. What else could he do after her insistence that she avoid his family?
“C’mon, Jazz,” Robbie cried. He dashed for the door, calling over his shoulder. “Let’s go!”
Brooke merely gazed at her, waiting for her answer.
In the weeks Jazz and Matt had been dating, Jazz had convinced herself she could keep her distance from the twins. Now she understood she’d been fooling herself.
“Yes,” Jazz said. “Let’s go.”
THE COASTAL CAROLINA FAIR pulsed with life. Crowds roamed the midway, music blared from the carnival rides and the scent of cotton candy drifted through the air.
Jazz drank in the atmosphere, taking a mental snapshot of Matt walking between the twins, Robbie skipping along next to him, Brooke’s hand in his. The four of them had arrived at the fair barely an hour ago and already she had a storehouse of memories, some involving 4-H cows. They’d have to be enough to last her through the years to come.
“Let’s ride the roller coaster next!” Robbie cried. “I think there’s one with two coasters that race each other!”
“Sounds good to me,” Matt said. Jazz was starting to see why the children loved being at the fair with him. So far, every one of their suggestions had sounded good to him. “We can do girls versus boys.”
Brooke said nothing. She was gazing at the small crowd that had gathered at one of the smaller of the pavilions scattered throughout the fairgrounds. By listening closely, Jazz could hear the strains of music over the noises of the midway.
“Why don’t we check out the pavilion first?” Jazz squinted to make out the printing on the sign in front of the structure. “A dance company’s performing.”
“Let’s go!” Brooke said.
“A dance company.” Robbie sounded like the words pained him. “Who wants to see people dance?”
“It’s better than going on some dumb old roller coaster,” Brooke said.
“Since when do you think roller coasters are dumb, Brooke?” Matt asked, frowning.
The little girl didn’t answer.
Robbie put his hands together in prayer. “Please, Uncle Matt. Don’t make me watch people dance!”
“Don’t make me go on a roller coaster!” Brooke countered.
Matt looked helplessly from one child to the other. It was the first time Jazz had ever seen him at a loss around the children. She stepped forward.
“How about if Brooke and I watch the dancers, and Matt and Robbie go on the roller coaster?” Jazz checked the time on her watch. “We can meet back here in front of the lemonade stand at two o’clock.”
“Thank you!” Robbie barreled toward her and hugged her waist, the contact over almost before it began. A sweet ache started near Jazz’s heart.
“You are a genius.” Matt leaned down and gave her a swift kiss on the lips. He winked at her before leading Robbie away.
Jazz watched the pair of them retreat, then felt a small hand tug at her sleeve. Brooke gazed up at her with complete trust on her pretty freckled face. The ache intensified, growing even sweeter.
“Are you and Uncle Matt going to get married?” Brooke asked.
“Married?” Jazz had never permitted herself to think of a future with Matt. She wouldn’t now, either. “Of course not. Where’d you get that idea?”
“I heard Mommy tell Daddy that Uncle Matt should marry you,” Brooke said. “Mommy said you’re nice.”
What could Jazz say to that?
“Your uncle and I are just friends.”
Brooke’s red head swung back and forth. “Nuh-uh. Friends don’t kiss.”
They were within sight of the pavilion stage. A mix of young men and women performed a choreographed, high-energy dance to a pop tune Jazz had heard before but couldn’t identify.
“Look, Brooke! It’s already started.” Jazz wasn’t above using distraction to get out of a sticky situation. “Let’s find a good seat.”
Brooke skipped ahead, finding space on an aluminum bleacher two rows from the stage. She sat down, her attention riveted on the dancers. With her foot tapping in time to the music, Brooke’s smile was brighter than those worn by the performers.
“This is so cool!” the little girl whispered to Jazz between numbers. She kept her eyes straight ahead, as though afraid of missing something.
The dance company’s production might indeed have been cool. The dancers were probably putting on a terrific show. Jazz couldn’t say for sure because she was watching Brooke.
The girl clapped in time to the music, her huge smile not fading even once. When the performance ended twenty minutes later, Brooke’s young face glowed with pleasure.
“I loved that!” Brooke stayed in her seat while others filed out of the pavilion. Jazz knew instinctively that Brooke was savoring what she’d seen. Jazz often did the same thing after watching something she enjoyed.
“Do you dance, Brooke?” Jazz asked.
Brooke shook her head, her smile finally fading. “I play soccer.”
“Can’t you do both?” Jazz asked.
“Mommy and Daddy only allow us to do one activity,” Brooke said. “They want us to make good grades.”
Jazz couldn’t fault Terry and Kevin for ensuring the children’s schedules weren’t overloaded, but surely there must be a way to get Brooke involved in dance.
“I’ll tell you a secret if you promise not to tell Uncle Matt,” Brooke said in a quiet voice.
Jazz wasn’t keen on keeping secrets. Something about Brooke’s serious expression convinced her to make an exception.
“I promise,” Jazz said.
Brooke cupped a hand to her mouth, leaned close to Jazz and whispered in her ear. “I don’t like sports.”
The child drew back and Jazz examined her small face, where unhappiness had replaced the joy.
“I don’t understand,” Jazz said. “Why can’t you tell Matt that?”
“Because he likes sports,” Brooke said.
JAZZ WAS STILL THINKING about Brooke’s secret a few hours later. She and Matt stood outside the bumper car arena, watching the small vehicles bash into each other. Robbie’s car was behind Brooke’s and gaining. A collision appeared inevitable.
Matt slung his arm around Jazz’s shoulders. “I’m glad you came with us. Are you having fun?”
“I am.” Jazz was grateful Matt hadn’t brought up her aversion to spending time with his family. It would be tough to explain why she’d made an exception, ever harder to justify why she couldn’t do so again. “Where else could I get a hug for not forcing someone to watch dancing?”
“That hug was more for the roller coaster.” Matt scrunched up his face. “I’ve got to admit something here. I wasn’t keen on the dancing, either.”
“So Brooke wouldn’t have seen the dancers if I hadn’t been along?” Jazz couldn’t quite believe that.
“Oh, I would have taken her to see them.” Matt gave her a lopsided grin. “I just wouldn’t have liked it.”
Jazz’s mind whirred, because here was her opportunity to talk to him about Brooke and soccer. But how could Jazz broach the subject without breaking her promise?
“I’ve never seen anyone enjoy dancing so much, but it’s not surprising,” Jazz said. “Have you noticed that Brooke is always humming? She’s quite musical.”
“She’s good at a lot of things,” Matt said. “You should see her on the soccer field.”
Robbie’s bumper car bashed into Brooke’s for what must have been the third or fourth time. Brooke giggled, the same way she had the other times he’d caught up to her. She didn’t seem interested in retaliating.
“I don’t think Brooke is very competitive,” Jazz said.
“I’ve noticed.” Matt didn’t sound pleased. “We’re working on that.”
“Why?” Jazz asked. “Why are you working on it?”
He seemed puzzled by the question. “Brooke is a good athlete. Once I can get her to have a hunger for winning, she can be a great athlete.”
“Maybe she’s fine the way she is,” Jazz said. “Maybe she doesn’t need to be pushed into things.”
Matt dropped his arm from her shoulders and turned to face her. “Are we still talking about Brooke?”
“Not entirely,” Jazz admitted.
“I don’t get it.”
That was because she hadn’t explained why she’d showed up unannounced at his town house. One look at Brooke and Robbie, and her brain had turned the consistency of oatmeal.
“I went to Charles Towne Flair this morning to apply for that assistant chef job,” Jazz stated.
“Terrific!”
“No. Not terrific. Kathy McDowell turned me down flat.”
“I’m sorry.” Matt rubbed her shoulder. He actually looked surprised. “Did she say why?”
“Why do you think?” Jazz’s voice was sharper than she’d intended. “She mentioned something about me needing more training but I’m sure it was because I’ve been in prison.”
“Maybe it was because of the training thing,” Matt said. “Maybe you should—”
“You shouldn’t have pushed me to apply, Matt,” Jazz interrupted. “You set me up to fail.”
“I disagree,” he said. “The only way to get ahead in the world is to take chances.”
“And what? Fall flat on my face?”
“If that’s what it takes,” he said. “As long as you get up, dust yourself off and try again.”
Jazz wasn’t convinced but couldn’t think of a comeback. She couldn’t stay angry at him, either, not when his intent was to help her out.
“Is that what you tell Brooke?” Jazz asked.
The little redhead was getting out of her bumper car, appearing not the least bit upset that her brother had repeatedly gotten the better of her.
“As a matter of fact, it is,” he said. “If Brooke is going to be a top soccer player, that’s a lesson she has to learn.”
Jazz bit her lower lip, thinking about how to phrase her words so she wouldn’t break her promise to Brooke. “Maybe you should ask Brooke sometimes how she feels about the game.”
“She loves soccer,” Matt proclaimed. “Both kids do.”
“Just ask her,” Jazz said.
Robbie burst through the exit and maneuvered around the people waiting in line for the next rotation, with Brooke following at a less breakneck clip.
“That was so much fun!” exclaimed Robbie.
“Yeah, that was fun!” Brooke said.
Matt grabbed Robbie under the arms and lifted him.
“Put me down, Uncle Matt. I’m too big to pick up!” Robbie shouted, but the boy was laughing through his protests.
Matt tossed his nephew a foot or so in the air and caught him. Brooke giggled along with her brother.
“So you think that’s funny?” Matt asked his niece. He set Robbie down and picked Brooke up, giving her the same treatment until all three of them were in hysterics.
A tide of emotion hit Jazz like a tsunami. She couldn’t fool herself any longer.
Since the moment she’d spotted the twins in the park—no, since they were born—she’d loved them with all her heart.
And now she loved their uncle, too.
CHAPTER TWELVE
SADIE BURST INTO the kitchen at Pancake Palace the following Wednesday, such a frequent occurrence that Jazz didn’t turn from the griddle.
“Oh, my gosh!” Sadie cried. “I am so excited I could faint!”
Carl was standing next to Jazz, cracking eggs into a fresh batch of pancake mix. He chuckled. “You not kind of girl who faints.”
“Okay, then,” Sadie said. “I’m so excited I could run screaming around the parking lot, waving my arms and throwing in a couple of leaps.”
Carl’s chuckle turned into a full-fledged laugh. Jazz joined in.
“What’s so exciting?” Jazz asked.
“Lady Gaga is coming to Charleston!” Sadie all but shouted.
“Lady who?” Carl asked.
“Lady Gaga!” Sadie repeated. “She’s a singer with terrific style. Her outfits are amazing! How can you not know who she is?”
“I don’t—how you say it?—get much around,” Carl said.
“Get around much,” Jazz corrected with a smile. “Don’t feel bad, Carl. I barely know who Lady Gaga is, either.”
“Well, you’re both missing out,” Sadie said. “One of my customers—two eggs over easy with hash browns—told me she just heard on the radio that Lady Gaga will be at Gaillard Auditorium in two weeks! She’s adding a spot to her tour.”
“You are going?” Carl asked.
Sadie’s sigh was audible above the eggs frying on the griddle. “Probably not. I’m sure the tickets will be too expensive.” She brightened. “But it’s still exciting that Lady Gaga will be in the same city as me!”
“How about I buy the tickets and take you?” Carl made the offer in an offhand manner, but Jazz noticed his hand tighten on the spoon he was using to stir the pancake mix.
“But you…I thought…” Sadie sputtered, a rarity for a woman who always had a lot to say. “Why would you want to go if you’ve never heard of her?”
Carl didn’t turn around from his work. “You like her,” he said, his voice rough.
“I know,” Sadie said, “but—”
Carl didn’t let her finish her sentence. “Think about it. If you want me to get tickets, I get them.”
He poured some of the pancake base onto the griddle and dropped in some fresh blueberries. Clearly he was through discussing Lady Gaga.
Jazz glanced over her shoulder. Sadie met her eyes, panic clearly visible on her face. “Help,” she mouthed silently.
