At Home in His Heart (10 page)

“When pigs fly.”

“You’d be miserable with a whatever-you-say-sir gal.”

“I’m actually thinking I might hunt me up one of those meet-me-at-the-door-with-a-kiss-and-my-house-slippers models.”

And why was it Sandi’s face, of all people, that came to mind when he envisioned such a greeting? Imagined a kiss that would send the memories of the day’s trials and tribulations scurrying for the hills.

But Sandi “Bossy Boots” Bradshaw?
She’d likely tell him to fetch his own slippers and, while he was at it, take out the garbage, mow the lawn and get the laundry started.

No thanks.

Grandma reached again for her crochet hook. “You’d be bored to tears with a follow-your-orders kind of wife.”

He banished the mental image of the too-appealing Sandi as the sting of her words about protecting her reputation—from him—stabbed afresh. “Don’t count on it, Gran.”

He glanced at his watch, then rose from the chair. He’d better get his Big Elf self downstairs and fix the creaking floorboard—before that little red notebook and its infamous checklist put in another appearance.

P
re-dawn light crept across the floor and illuminated the walls of Sandi’s bedroom, the sheer window curtains stirring lightly in the faintest of breezes. Where had the weekend gone? And why was she lying here on a Monday thinking about Bryce Harding?

Unstructured time, such as these early morning summer hours before she threw off the covers and her feet hit the floor, had invariably drawn memories of Keith.

But this morning Bryce filled her thoughts. Did he think she’d turned down his invitation to the cookout because of his reputation as a party animal who indulged in superficial relationships? She hadn’t given any thought to that at the time she’d opened her big fat mouth. She’d only been concerned with letting him off the hook after his grandma badgered him into asking her out. With letting him know that she understood he wouldn’t want to appear to his old buddies or eligible females that he’d “hooked up” with her.

But two days later here she was still miserable at the misunderstanding. Keith had long prayed for Bryce—and she’d failed her husband yet again when she’d all but slammed the door in his friend’s face. Unintentionally for certain, but what would be the point of trying to apologize again? Trying to
explain would only be awkward for her and embarrassing for Bryce.

But should she accept his invitation after all? It wouldn’t be a date exactly. Just hanging out. An opportunity to talk to him about rethinking the museum rent. An opportunity to make it up to him—and Keith—for her insensitive blunder of the other day.

“Mommy!” The whisper came accompanied by a timid knock at her closed door. “Are you awake?”

She sat up in bed and propped pillows behind her. “Good morning, Gina.”

The door opened a crack and her daughter’s smiling face peeped in. Then the door flung open and, with a flying leap, Gina landed on the bed and clambered into her arms.

“What are you doing up so early, sweetie?”

“You said we’d go to the park today.”

“You’re
sure
you still want to do that?” she teased, giving her daughter a hug.

“Yeah. Can Davy come, too?”

“I don’t know. We can ask.”

“I’ll call him.” Gina scrambled off the bed, but Sandi caught the tail of her pajama top.

“Hold on. It’s only six o’clock. Too early to call. He’s probably still asleep.”

Gina collapsed again on the bed. “We could wake him up.”

“I don’t think his mom and dad would appreciate that.”

“Maybe Uncle Bryce can come. I bet he’s awake.”

Uncle Bryce.
Gina had “slipped” again on Saturday night when relating to her grandma how a few weeks earlier he’d put her in his boat and let her pretend to row. That faux pas had earned Sandi a disapproving look from LeAnne.

“If he’s awake it’s because he has to go to work.” Wherever that happened to be.

“Or fishing.”

“Right. So why don’t you scoot off to get dressed. Play while I shower. Then we’ll have breakfast, drop some things off at the post office and hit the park.”

By seven-thirty they were there, joined by other early bird moms and kids determined to beat the heat. While this time of year it was still fairly cool overnight, afternoons during the weeks before the summer monsoons swept in sent temperatures rising into the upper eighties and even nineties. Not that the heat here, with its low humidity, was like anything she’d experienced growing up in Missouri.

Last night she’d emailed the historical society members a list of suggested fundraising projects, then today had snail-mailed those who didn’t have internet connections.
Please, Lord, let them all come to a consensus.
She had her own preferences—ones that would take the least ramp-up time and produce results most quickly. With Independence Day just around the corner, that would be a peak time to pick the pockets, so to speak, of summer visitors. Too many Canyon Springs fundraisers depended on the generosity of locals repeatedly dipping into shallow pocketbooks and wallets throughout the other nine months of the year.

“Sandi!”

She looked up from pushing Gina on the swing to see historical society member Sharlene Odel striding across the grass toward her, her little leashed Pekingese, Buffy, waddling breathlessly beside her. Sharlene, a former president of the organization, was now one of those rarely active members who stepped in only when something displeased her.

Bending to pick up her daughter’s favorite cap where it had been placed out of harm’s way, she allowed Gina to pump on her own and moved some distance from the swings to meet her sometimes adversary. Pasted on a smile. “Good morning, Shar.”

“If you say so.” The forty-something woman tossed back her
French-braided, bleached-blond hair with an impatient movement. An attractive woman—or she would be if she’d do away with the perpetual crease of disapproval in her brow. “I got your email last night. So what’s this fundraising business all about? When I turned the society presidency over to you two years ago, our finances were as healthy as can be. Robust. I can only assume that the current board is mishandling the monies.”

Leave it to Shar to get to the heart of things.

“Then you’d assume wrong.” Sandi put a teasing lilt into her tone, hoping to drown out the growl that threatened to rumble from her throat. “As has been indicated in our quarterly newsletters over the past two years, the drop in summer visitors has taken its toll on our bank account. And with a property-rent increase on the horizon and the city council cutting funds, it’s time to replenish our bank account.”

“There should have been enough set back to tide us over this rough spot.”

“I can assure you, there wasn’t.”

Sharlene jerked roughly on a wandering-off Buffy’s leash, sending the pudgy little canine into a rollover. “Before we launch into any of these major projects, I’m going to recommend to the membership that we have the books audited by an unbiased outside source. My cousin, Andy, is a bookkeeper at—”

“If you’ll recall,” Sandi interrupted before she had to endure a rundown of cousin Andy’s resumé, “we had an independent auditor in last winter. The books were spotless. We received accolades for funds management in a severe economic downturn.”

Shar waved her away. “Well, I don’t have time to stand here and argue with you. But you’ll be hearing from me again. Soon. No offense, you understand, but it wasn’t farsighted of the membership to vote an outsider into office.”

She snatched a squirming Buffy into her arms and strode away, not waiting for a response.

Sandi stared after her.
Outsider.
Even with seven years of throwing herself into endless community volunteer work, she remained an interloper to some. She’d done everything she could to endear herself to the historical society’s membership. To convince them she was as much a part of Canyon Springs as any of the old-timers. Hoping, praying, it would be a natural progression for the members to dedicate the new space in her husband’s memory.

But it was obvious she wouldn’t be getting Sharlene’s support.

With a sigh, she turned again toward Gina just as a bicyclist cruised to an abrupt halt but a few feet from her.

“What was that all about?” Gripping the handlebars, Bryce anchored his bike between his legs and nodded toward Sharlene’s retreating back. He hadn’t intended to stop, but when he’d seen that Pekingese-packing woman’s hands go to her hips and her head start wagging in that condescending way she had about her, he couldn’t sail on by.

Sandi’s stiff smile relaxed. “Another satisfied historical society customer. I think she’s going to push for impeachment of its president.”

“Grandma says Shar’s nothing but a hardheaded know-it-all.” He rapped knuckles on the side of his biking helmet to illustrate.

She laughed. “Have to say I agree, but if you repeat that to anyone I’ll deny it.”

Sandi sure looked pretty this morning in that lacy tank top and shorts, her dainty feet slipped into sparkly sandals.

“Your secret’s safe with me.” He pulled off his helmet, looped the chin strap over the handlebars and ruffed up his hair with a bike-gloved hand. Then he glanced toward the swings
where Gina was pumping herself ever higher, her squeals ringing out in the clear morning air. “Out early to dodge the heat, huh?”

“You bet.” She glanced toward Gina, then back at him, her gaze uncertain.

“Something wrong?”

She compressed her lips as if deciding how to respond, then took a quick breath. “I’ve been thinking about what your grandma said. About getting out more. About going to the cookout with your friends.”

His heart jerked at the unexpected direction the conversation was taking. Tamped down the outlandish hope that her words elicited. What was with him? She’d been right to turn him down to begin with. A “good girl” seen hanging out with him wasn’t the wisest move. He’d already had old acquaintances punching him playfully in the arm and commenting on his being seen at the equine center’s grand opening with “that hot widow.”

Sure, he’d turned over a new leaf, gotten his heart scrubbed squeaky clean, but it could be a long time before his reputation followed suit. If ever. The past tagged along behind him, a perpetual cloud of trailing dust like with Charlie Brown’s friend Pigpen.

“If the invitation is still open,” she ventured, fiddling with the army cap in her hands, “I’d like to go.”

He heard the words, but the uncertainty in her eyes gave away that she wasn’t confident in what she was saying. Why’d she change her mind about going with him anyway? But if he didn’t assure her the invitation still stood, she’d think he held a grudge about the earlier put-down.

He cleared his throat and tightened his fingers on the bicycle handlebars. “Sure, it’s still open.”

Was that disappointment clouding her eyes? Like maybe she’d hoped for an excuse not to go?

“Great. You said Saturday night? Where and what time? I can meet you there.”

Talk about making it clear she was a free, independent agent. Making sure he didn’t misconstrue the outing as a date. Well, that was fine with him. Dating Keith’s wife was the furthest thing from
his
mind.

“Six o’clock. Casey Lake. Bristlecone ramada.”

She nodded. “I know where that is. What’s on the menu? I can bring a side dish.”

He hadn’t asked about the food. Probably should check with Joe about what he should bring, too. “Burgers, most likely. About anything goes with that.”

“Maybe cheesy potatoes then—a baked hash browns dish with cheddar cheese and onion. Does that sound good?”

“Yeah, sure.” Fried grasshoppers sounded good to him at the moment. He hadn’t had breakfast yet.

“Uncle Bryce! Uncle Bryce!” Out of nowhere a flying weight plowed into him as Gina threw her arms around one of his legs. He braced himself to keep the bicycle from toppling them, then reached down and swept her into his arms.

“Hey, kid.”

She patted him on the shoulder. “Did you see me swinging?”

“Sure did. How’d you go so high?”

“Mommy taught me.”

He glanced at Sandi. “Is that a fact.”

But the child’s mother was scanning the other park-goers, most likely wondering who’d heard the Uncle Bryce thing. But then, apparently satisfied, she turned back to him with a laugh. With an unexpected jolt, he glimpsed the dimpled, beaming six-year-old she’d once been, flying to the sky in her swing. Blond hair streaming out behind her, glinting in the sun.

She folded her arms with sassy bravado. “Nobody outswings the Bradshaw women, right Gina?”

Gina nodded with enthusiasm, looping her arm around Bryce’s neck. “The Bradshaw women are the best, right, Uncle Bryce?”

He gave her a squeeze, but his eyes were drawn again to her pretty mother. He winked. “You bet.”

Color rose in Sandi’s cheeks. What had gotten into him this morning? Flirting with Keith’s wife. Just because she’d decided—for whatever reason—to go on the outing, that didn’t mean she was looking for anything else from him. And he sure didn’t want anything else from her, either.

She held out Keith’s cap to her daughter. “Say goodbye and hop on down, Gina. We have a lot to do this morning and I’m sure we’ve delayed Bryce from his morning cycling much too long.”

He returned Gina’s hug and set her back on the ground. She plopped the cap on her head with a cocky grin that mirrored her daddy’s, and he watched as the pair strolled away, hand in hand to their car. Gina chattered the whole while, skipping along with energy to burn.

Cute kid. Made him smile.

And then there was her mother…

An unexpected sense of anticipation rose up in him. Less than a week and she’d meet him at the lake. Even if it wasn’t technically a date—she’d made that clear—they’d probably hang out together, wouldn’t they? Joe and Meg were married. Jason and Reyna, too. Trey and Kara were as good as hitched.

He slipped his helmet on again, watching as Sandi’s car pulled away.

Keith would be proud of both his girls. Hard to understand, though, why his buddy had been taken to his heavenly home when he’d still had so much to live for. And why God left some no-good fella like himself on the planet instead.

What would Keith think about Sandi joining his best friend
at a barbecue? He certainly wouldn’t have approved of Old Bryce going anywhere near her, that was for sure.

But what about New Bryce?

And would inviting Sandi along get him off the matchmaking hook with Meg?

Or make things worse?

“Don’t worry about tomorrow,” he’d read in the Good Book that very morning. “Today has enough trouble of its own.”

And that was supposed to be reassuring?

He let out a huff of pent-up breath and launched off on his bike.