Starstruck by Anne McAllister

couldn’t imagine explaining his presence to the kids, and later getting wind of what Tom would say when one of them let it drop that Joe Harrington had spent the night. Her mouth turned up in a smile at that. Imagine his having the time for a Tom James reject! Because, even if he hadn’t slept with her, which she didn’t really want anyway, he had seemed to like her all right. And that was a bit of an ego boost right there, unless one harped on the fact that he quite frankly seemed to like every woman.
    She sighed and got up, padding upstairs to the bathroom which was, fortunately, still unoccupied. One bathroom and six people made for hectic mornings. She glanced around the tiny room critically for the first time since she had resigned herself to it when she had bought the house two years ago. It wasn’t much to look at, that was for sure—cracked tile around the shower and toy boats on the floor, towels that looked as though they’d sailed the Mayflower if not the Ark. Not exactly the sunken tubs and silver fixtures that she was sure Joe must be used to.
    Still, he had showered here. Maybe she could charge admission, create a local landmark— Joe Harrington Showered Here —and put the money aside to buy new towels or, better yet, a lock for the bathroom door.
    Ah, another sign that she hadn’t imagined it all. The crumpled gray sweat shirt and the jeans were still in a heap on the floor. Probably he was used to maids, too, she thought. Or a mother. She picked up his things automatically, just as she picked up Stephen’s socks or Noel’s shorts, and began to fold them, carrying them back to her room, absently rubbing the soft fabric of the sweat shirt against her cheek. The faint aroma of Joe’s woodsy after-shave assailed her, and she dropped the shirt hastily onto the bed.
    Shape up, she told herself sternly, you have f ive kids to bundle off to school and a story to write. This morning is no different than any other.
    It wasn’t, either. Noel couldn’t find his math homework without a full-scale search of the entire house; Ben’s left sneaker had miraculously disappeared; the oatmeal was lumpy and the tooth fairy had completely forgotten about Theo’s latest missing tooth.
    “Probably Joe scared him away,” Jennifer pronounced solemnly be tween bites of oatmeal, when Th eo appeared disgruntled, holding his tooth accusingly in his hand.
    “He left too early, dopey,” Theo argued. “You weren’t even in bed yet.”
    “Huh-uh,” Jennifer denied, swinging her blond mop in an emphatic negative motion. “He came back. I seed him. He was sleepin’ on the couch.”
    “He was?” All eyes looked up from the oatmeal and focused on Jennifer.
    Liv groaned inwardly and said, “Hurry up and eat.” But no one paid any attention.
    Jennifer was basking in all her glory. “Yup, he was,” she went on. The head bobbed positively this time. “I got up to go to the bathroom, and I looked downstairs, and there he was!” Her eyes were wide and starry. “Snorin’,” she added.
    “Gosh, Steve Scott on our couch,” Noel breathed after a moment’s silence. He looked at his mother with new respect.
    “Wait’ll the kids at school hear about that,” Stephen marveled. “Why did I have to go to dumb cello yesterday, anyway?”
    “The kids aren’t going to hear,” Liv said firmly. “And cello is not dumb.”
    “Compared to Steve Scott it is,” Stephen said glumly as he dissected another of the oatmeal lumps.
    “Nevertheless, what happens in this house is not for public consumption,” Liv warned them, glaring.
    “What’s that mean?” Theo asked.
    “It means shut up,” Noel explained. “Or else.”
    Theo looked up at Liv, all innocence. “Does it, Mommy?”
    “Yes.” The last thing she wanted was a story going around abo ut Joe Harrington spending the ni ght at her house. The sooner it was forgotten the better By everyone. Especially by herself.
     
     
    T yping a matter-of-fact story about Joe was