Mad About You

shouted, his face red. "I'll get you back!"
    The insistent ringing of the doorbell gave way to loud knocking. "Ginny?" Bailey yelled. "Are you all right? Chad?"
    Chad yanked up the pieces of the broken device and fled through the hall. The patio door slid open, then vibrated with his slam. The only sound remaining was Bailey's pounding.
    "Ginny! Ginny, open up!"
    She descended the stairs, then walked around tiny broken pieces that remained of the game and opened the door. Bailey nearly fell inside.
    "What's going on?" he asked, scowling. "I heard shouting—where's Chad?"
    "In the backyard, I think," she said wearily.
    He closed the door and reached up to touch her cheek. "You've been crying. What's he done now?"
    She shook her head, mostly to dislodge the disturbing touch of his hand. "Nothing. In fact, he's been great all day." She smiled. "We shot a few hoops at the park and he helped me wash the car. Then his stuff came from Florida and—" She couldn't stop the tears from coming again. "Oh, Bailey, I've made a mess of things."
    He looked alarmed at her fresh tears, and reached to draw her into his arms. Virginia went, crying against the soft denim of his shirt, pressing herself into the familiar hardness of his chest. With each sob she filled her lungs with his scent, snuggling deeper into his cocoon of comfort.
    "Shh," he murmured, kissing her hair. "Tell me what happened."
    In a muffled voice she told him about the pictures and what Chad had overheard her say. She kept her eyes down because she didn't want to face his recrimination. He hadn't approved of the way she'd handled the shoplifting incident, and from his silence she surmised he didn't approve of her behavior this time either.
    She could admit when she'd made a mistake, and standing in Bailey's arms looking for sympathy wasn't going to help matters. Responding physically to his embrace, she reasoned, was just her body's way of delaying a resolution with Chad.
    Forcing herself to pull away, she turned her back to him. "Chad and I were finally making progress, and I blew it." She pressed her lips together. "To top it off, I knocked his Nintendo down the stairs and broke it, and he thinks I did it on purpose."
    He was silent behind her for a few seconds, then asked, "Did you?"
    She turned back to him. "How could you ask that?"
    He put his hands on his hips and averted his gaze. "All I'm saying is I wouldn't blame you if you did throw it down the stairs. You've been under a lot of pressure—"
    "And it's obvious I can't handle it, is that what you're saying?"
    "I didn't mean it like that," he said, his voice taking on a soothing tone.
    "What kind of mother do you think I am?" she snapped. Then, holding up one hand, she added, "No, don't answer that." She turned and headed toward the bathroom.
    He followed her, grunting in frustration. "Ginny, I think under the circumstances you're doing a great job."
    She reached for a tissue. "You didn't want the police involved the other night."
    He shrugged. "He's a confused kid in new surroundings—I was going to cut him some slack."
    "So I was the bad guy."
    Sighing, he shook his head. "No one saw it that way."
    "Chad did."
    "I'll talk to him." He swung his arm wide, encompassing the broken pieces of the game in the foyer floor. "I'll talk to him about all of this."
    Bailey to the rescue. After blowing her nose, she took a deep breath and said, "No, I need to handle this."
    "It sounds as if he's too upset right now to listen to you. He might say things he doesn't mean."
    She wavered. Bailey was right on one count. She didn't want to keep building on Chad’s hurt and anger. "Maybe I should let him cool off."
    "I came over early to invite myself to dinner." His smile was tentative. "Let's all try to relax for a few hours. I thought we could grill out—I still make a mean garbage burger." He wagged his dark eyebrows.
    Virginia couldn't help laughing. Back when money was tight and their meals had consisted mostly of hamburger, they'd resorted to adding leftovers to ground meat patties for variety. On any given night they might have eaten mashed potato burgers or pork and bean burgers. Bailey had dubbed them "garbage burgers," and had eaten them with relish.
    "I think I have a container of broccoli in the fridge," she teased, wiping the last of her tears.
    He made a face. "I was afraid of that, so I stopped on the way and picked up steaks."
    Her stomach growled. The idea of a backyard barbecue suddenly seemed