Page 20 of Clean Sweep
Celeste still chattered happily with Leslie, and I couldn’t help but wonder ifshewas why Leslie invited us in. If Celeste had any superpower, words were it. She could talk her way out of almost any situation. I had the scars to prove it. If nothing else, Celeste filled the awkward void that threatened to descend. It seemed to hover above the house, like a lead weight about to plummet.
Maybe Leslie was more strategic than I’d thought.
“Come on in,” Leslie called, waving a hand without looking back as I crossed the threshold inside. “Lunch is ready to go.”
Landon turned away from Blake, arm still firmly around Starla, and put his free hand on his stomach with a dramatic groan.
“Smells so good, Mom!”
Indeed, he had that right. If I had to be put in this terrible situation, a little bit of delicious-smelling food would have a redemptive factor.
When I ventured into the dining room, which was an open space attached to the kitchen area separated only by a bar that jutted out from the wall, Celeste stood in the kitchen. She stirred something on the stovetop with steam billowing out, her voice moving almost as fast.
Leslie moved in between the fridge, the sink, and the counter, but her movements didn’t have a lot of purpose.
Mostly misdirection.
Landon’s wordswe’ll tell her the news about medical schoolrang through my head again. I had a dark feeling Leslie was about to get sucker punched twice. No parent deserved that. Particularly not one surviving a divorce, four boys, and the resulting hailstorm of change that ensued.
Despite myself, I couldn’t help but feel a touch protective toward her.
Not to mention attracted.
Her blonde hair was lighter toward the tips, but darker at the roots. It rested on her shoulders in lazy curls that looked too good to be accidental. She had a quick—if not currently twitchy—smile and intelligent gaze.
Were those blue eyes, or gray? She cut a cozy figure in a simple pair of jeans and a black shirt that flowed around her pockets and halfway down her arms.
Despite what had to be an inner core of steel after raising Landon and three others, I sensed a softness about her that had been missing in my life for a while. Leslie Miller—no, Hill—was a tangled mess indeed.
Maybe I didn’t hate all messes.
Landon stopped at the counter, fingers still tangled in his fiancée’s. “Ready to eat?”
“Dig in,” Leslie said with a tip of her head. “Let your guests eat first.”
I waved Leslie off when she glanced my way, so she ushered Celeste into line first. Starla followed, then Blake. Landon reluctantly let go of Starla, but he kept a keen eye on his Mom the whole time.
I leaned against the wall to wait for the teenage surge to pass through. Leslie appeared busy enough that any expected, initial small talk with Starla could be explained away. But not entirely.
So when would Lesliereallyacknowledge Starla?
The question lay in the air. Celeste, not entirely oblivious to the tension in the room, settled at the table. While Blake picked a spot next to her, she snuck a glance at Landon, then Starla.
Leslie handed me a plate, a not-so-subtle hint to move already, and I accepted. Only a few minutes passed with Landon and Celeste maintaining an easy chatter before all of us congregated around the table.
When Leslie finally set her plate down, Landon opened his mouth, then closed it again. If possible, Starla seemed to shrink back further. Rampaging Mother in-Law situation, perhaps? Leslie didn’t remind me of the type.
Leslie drew in a deep breath, then looked up. Her eyes immediately caught Starla’s. A beat later, she smiled with real warmth.
“Starla?” she asked. “Is that right?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Leslie’s nose wrinkled as she set aside her napkin.. “Ugh, please. Not that. Never that. Just call me Leslie.”
Leslie walked around the table and collected Starla in a long hug. Landon sent Blake a look of visible relief. Fascinated, I watched Leslie tuck away whatever angst had been in her mind and pull back, hands on Starla’s shoulders. Starla beamed.
“Thank you. Leslie, then.”
