The Single Dad's Patchwork Family
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But she’d told him she wouldn’t. What would he think of her if she changed her mind now?
A little voice told her he would think nothing bad.
Her hand crept out again and she pulled the card across the blotter towards her. She could ring to thank him for dinner. She’d thanked him briefly, but it would be polite to do it again. Properly.
And what about rescuing her when she nearly fainted? If it hadn’t been for him, she could have found herself sprawled across the floor of the function room and just the thought of that made her hot with embarrassment. She hadn’t thanked him for saving her from the mortification of it.
She picked up the card and dug one corner into her chin while her stomach flip-flopped with indecision.
She’d do it.
As soon as she’d made the decision, her stomach cramped into a tight ball. She’d never been so worked up about a simple phone call.
Picking up the handset, she glanced across at the boys again. She couldn’t talk to Chase in front of them, even if they’d have no idea who she was speaking to or what she was talking about.
‘Boys, I’m just going into the next room for a minute. Don’t touch anything, okay?’
She waited till they both nodded before slipping through the door into the empty dining room and dialling the mobile number on the card.
‘Chase Mattner.’
Her eyes closed. Until a few moments ago, she hadn’t seriously thought she’d hear his voice again and now it sent a shock right through her. It took her back to the moment he’d first spoken and her first sight of his sun-bronzed face with the kind, understanding eyes.
‘Hello?’ he said, his voice curious at the silence.
‘It’s Regan Jantz,’ she said in a rush before she could change her mind and hit the disconnect button.
‘Regan?’
He hadn’t expected her to call. She could hear the surprise in his voice. She shouldn’t have—
‘Wow. I’m so glad you called.’
A shudder turned into a wave of warmth. ‘You are?’
‘Yes, of course. But I didn’t think you would.’
‘No, me neither.’ Her voice sounded odd and she cleared her throat. ‘Actually, I was ringing to thank you.’
‘Oh?’
‘For dinner.’
‘You’re welcome, Regan. It was my pleasure.’
‘And for your help earlier that evening, for getting me out of that room without anyone noticing. I dread to think what would have happened if you hadn’t been there.’
‘Well, don’t think about it. It didn’t happen; your dignity is intact. None of your potential clients have any idea what went on.’
‘Thank you.’
‘No problem. I’m glad I could help.’
‘I’m grateful and…’ She hesitated long enough for her stomach to lurch. ‘If there’s anything I can do for you in return…’
There was a brief silence.
‘I mean, if I can help you—’
‘Well, as it happens…do you bake?’
‘Bake?’
‘As in cakes.’
‘I used to. It’s been, uh, ages. Why?’
‘It’s Phoebe’s birthday today and she asked me to make her a pink cake for tea. Don’t know why. She’s never had one before so I don’t know where she got the idea. But that’s what she wants and I thought it would be easy.’
‘You’ve tried to make one?’
‘Uh-huh. I’m hoping you can tell me where I’ve gone wrong. I’m running out of time.’
An image bloomed in her mind. Chase in a kitchen. In an apron. Surrounded by baking debris. Before she knew it, a burst of laughter bubbled in her throat and she couldn’t hold it back.
‘I’ll ignore the fact that you just laughed at me,’ he said and she could hear suppressed laughter in his own voice. ‘I’m desperate. This so-called cake is so bad it’s not funny.’
‘Right. Sorry.’ She banished the picture of Chase and cleared her throat. ‘What’s wrong with it?’
‘It’s thin and crispy. Like a pizza base.’
She hissed in a breath through her teeth. ‘Did you follow a recipe?’
‘Yep. I borrowed a book from my friend, Jan. She’s taken Phoebe for the afternoon to give me the time and space to make it. I should have asked Jan to make the cake instead.’
‘But Phoebe asked you to make it.’
She couldn’t remember the last time she’d actually made a birthday cake for either Will or Cory. No, that wasn’t true; she could remember. It had been Will’s first birthday. The only birthday Jack had been there for. Before her life had been turned upside-down. Since then, she’d resorted to shop-bought cakes. Biting her lip, she hoped the boys hadn’t been disappointed. Then she rolled her eyes. They wouldn’t even know the difference—but she’d make up for it. She’d make cakes for both birthdays this year. She’d surprise them with something special.
‘So you see my problem.’
‘Did you use all the ingredients exactly as listed?’
‘Yes. It’s a very old book, though. I had to convert ounces to grams.’
There was always a chance he’d made a mistake there. ‘Did you open the oven door while it was cooking?’
‘Ye-es. You’re not supposed to?’
‘It doesn’t help, but look, there are lots of things that can go wrong.’
He made an exasperated sound. ‘I don’t suppose…you’d come and help me?’
She felt a mixture of sympathy and fear. Calling him was one thing. Going to his house was quite another. But then she thought of Phoebe coming home, expecting her pink cake. And she remembered all the cakes she’d hoped for but hadn’t had during her childhood.
Her throat closed. She was close to agreeing. But could she trust herself to bake a cake after all this time? What if she messed it up?
‘I don’t know,’ she said at last.
‘It’s okay, Regan. I understand. It was too much to ask.’ He sighed. ‘So, what do you reckon I should do?’
She was silent for a long moment. Then she heard herself suggest a solution and could hardly believe it had come from her own mouth. ‘I could buy a plain cake and bring it over there and we could decorate it for Phoebe. It’s a compromise but I don’t think she’ll care.’