Chapter 2

Three months. Sidney would crawl back to her in three months, begging her to take him back like he did last time. In the meantime, Regina wasn’t going to hang around a half-empty house. The day Sidney left her, Regina decided to stay at their vacation home for a while. The next day, she packed up her spring and summer clothes and her personal items and loaded them in her BMW. When Sidney came back, she wasn’t going to make it easy for him. He was going to have to look to find her.

After being on the road for three days, she finally crossed into Orlando city limits. She drove for four hours today, and she was beat. Regina almost sang “Hallelujah” when she pulled into the driveway of her three-bedroom vacation home and in the garage. It had been three years since she and Sidney had been there. She had called the caretaker, Mika, three days ago to tell her she was coming. The place was usually cleaned once a month.

Regina entered the kitchen from the garage. There wasn’t an inch of dust anywhere. Mika must have had the housekeeper come in to tidy up. Noticing a note on the kitchen island, Regina picked it up and read:

Regina,

First, welcome home. No matter what, Florida is your home, girl. I had your maid come in yesterday to make sure everything was smelling good for you. She also went grocery shopping, so you should have plenty of food in the cabinets and fridge. I made sure that the bar was fully stocked (wink). See you soon.

Mika, your girl from back in the day and your favorite realtor.

Regina smiled. She had gone to school with Mika. They parted ways for a while when Mika had gone to college and Regina had gone to cosmetology school. They had reconnected when Regina first met Sidney.

She was grateful she didn’t have to go to the store because she was whipped. Regina carried her bags upstairs. She would get the rest of her things out of the car later. Right now, she wanted to take a bath and have a nap.

****

            Scott Jenkins was in his workshop with his nine-year-old son, Clay. Scott loved his son. He was the only good thing that had come out of his disastrous marriage to Marlena. School was about to start in a week, so Scott was trying to spend as much time with Clay as he could. Granted, he would see Clay in the evenings, but they only had time to share dinner together before they parted ways for Clay to do his homework upstairs and for Scott to do paperwork in his office downstairs.

            Scott was showing Clay how to build a bookshelf. “All right, Clay. Hand me the hammer.”

            “Here ya go, Dad,” Clay said as he handed the hammer to Scott.

            “Thanks, son.” Scott hammered in the last nail for the side of the bookshelf. Then he said, “You see? Nothing to it. Then we’ll stain it and put it in your room.”

            “Cool,” Clay said with starry eyes. “Can we stain it the same color as my desk that we built earlier this summer?”

            Scott smiled. “That’s the plan.”

            “Hi,” a voice said.

            They turned to see Hank Evans, a boy who lived across the street. He was the same age as Clay, but they went to different schools.

            “Hey, Hank,” Clay said.

            “What are you guys doing?” Hank asked as he walked into the workshop.

            “We just finished building a bookshelf for Clay’s room, and now we’re going to stain it.”

            “Can I help?” Hank asked.

            “Sure,” Scott said. He picked up the can of varnish and placed it on the newspapers he had laid out. He got two brushes. He showed Hank how to paint the bookcase. Clay already knew how since he had helped Scott stain the desk that was now in Clay’s room.

            Scott watched the boys for a moment. “Looks like you two got this in hand. I’m going inside for a minute.”

            “Okay, Dad,” Clay said without looking up.

            Scott headed out of the workshop. He went inside to use the bathroom, then he checked his messages on his cell; nothing but telemarketing calls. He was about to head back to the workshop when someone rang his doorbell.

            Scott walked to the front of the house and opened his door. It was Kat Evans, Hank’s mother. She had long, blonde hair and a cute, crooked smile.

            “Hi, Scott,” she said with one of those smiles. “Is my son over here?”

            “He is,” he answered. “He and Clay are in the workshop staining a bookshelf together. Do you want me to get him for you?”

            “Oh no,” she said quickly. “I just wanted to make sure he was here. Twenty minutes ago, he was playing out in the backyard, and the next, he’s gone. I’ve told him a dozen times if he was going to go across the street to let me know.”

            “I can talk to him,” Scott offered. “I can explain to him how important it is to let his mother know where he is.”

            “I would appreciate it. He’s a good boy; it’s just that he’s got wanderlust. Always wandering around,” Kat said. “You know, all this time you and Clay have lived across the street, I have never invited you two over for dinner.”

            Scott cleared his throat. He knew Kat was lonely. She and her husband had gotten divorced three years ago. However, Scott wasn’t sure if he was the man for her or that she was the woman for him. “I don’t want to impose.”

            “You won’t be,” she said sweetly. “Hank loves playing with Clay. If anything, you bringing Clay over would be good for Hank — and you, too. He doesn’t get to see his daddy at all. I think Hank feels more comfortable with another man around.”

            Well, it’s just dinner, not a lifetime commitment. “Since you put it that way, we would love to come over for dinner.”