No Strings Attached (39 page)

His expression was torn. She knew he had to leave town, but sensed that a big part of him wanted to stay. Volleyball would win out in the end. The sand was where he made his living. He owed it to Dune.

She wondered if he’d heard from his partner. She bit down on her bottom lip, unable to hide her feelings.

Mac read her expression and said, “Not a word from him, Sophie. I’m certain he’ll contact you once he knows the status of the procedure.”

“I’m hoping for good news.”

“Healed or not, I know Dune. He’ll play this weekend,” Mac said. “He won’t forfeit.”

“Jen and I plan to watch the match at my house,” Sophie said. She turned to Frank. “You’re welcome to join us, too. I have a large plasma television.”

“By large, she means one hundred and fifty-two inches.” Mac encouraged him to watch the match with the girls. “You’d feel like you were sitting in the stands.”

Frank scratched his jaw. “I’ll have my driver’s license by Saturday. I just may join you.”

“You’ll have the best seat in the house,” Sophie promised him.

Mac left then, to meet up with Jenna.

With his departure, Sophie found herself alone with Frank. What she’d read in Evan’s journal weighed heavily on her mind. It was as if she had the key to unlock the door to a new future for Barefoot William.

She motioned him toward the lone chair in the shop. “Take a seat, Frank. I have something to show you.”

Frank cast her a wary glance, but did her bidding. He narrowed his eyes. “Are you delivering bad news?” he asked.

“Bad or good, I’m not certain how you’ll feel,” she said with a sigh.

Sophie reached inside her purse and produced the leather journals. She’d wrapped them in a soft cloth for safekeeping. She removed them now and handed them to Frank. “Here are Evan Saunders’s daybooks.”

Frank was taken aback. “Where’d you get these?”

“My mother gave them to me yesterday. They chronicle his last years with William. Read his entries carefully and without prejudice. I assure you, they will alter the history of Barefoot William as you know it.”

Frank held the journals on his lap for several minutes, as if he was hesitant to read them. He was stalling, Sophie thought, but she gave him the space he needed.

“I’m going to Brews Brothers for coffee,” she decided. A walk down the boardwalk and back would give him plenty of time to process the entries. “Would you like a cup?”

Frank nodded, but didn’t look up. “Make mine white.”

Sophie understood. He wanted cream added.

“A cinnamon bun would be nice, too,” he said.

Frank had a sweet tooth, Sophie noted. There was an easy recipe for scones in her new cookbook. She could make them for him sometime. How difficult could that be?

Stepping outside the shop, she walked slowly along the sidewalk toward the boardwalk, a half-block away. She glanced in the window at Molly Malone’s and saw Jen and Mac seated together in a booth. Mac held Jenna’s hand and she allowed it. They had publicly become a couple.

Sophie couldn’t help but smile. Should they continue as they were, she would collect on her final bet with Dune. There was an engagement in their future. She could feel it in her bones. The wild man of volleyball was about to settle down. His female fans would weep.

After a quick stop at the coffee shop, Sophie headed back to the museum. A seagull circled overhead, sweeping low, then diving for bread crumbs left on the boardwalk from someone’s breakfast sandwich. Sophie managed to juggle the coffee and cinnamon buns without mishap. Her coordination had improved and so had her confidence.

On her return, she found Frank standing before the front window. His shoulders slumped. His eyes were red-rimmed. He caught her staring at him and stuffed a crumpled handkerchief into his pants pocket. He looked sad.

She crossed the room and set down their coffee cups and cinnamon buns on the chair, then stood beside him.

Frank clutched the journals to his chest. “So much hate over so many years. A man gets old fast with that much hatred inside him,” he said, his voice hoarse. “Grudges and bad blood lasted a century. Maya sure took her time in delivering the truth.”

“My mother saw no reason to smooth the waters,” said Sophie. “Not until I was appointed curator of the museum. She thought I’d portray Evan Saunders in a bad light and tell his story only as the Cateses saw him. She felt the journals would give me a new perspective on their relationship.”

“Have they helped you?” he asked.

Sophie nodded. She felt strong and secure in her heritage. “Had William lived, their joint projects might have unified the two towns.”

“We’ll never know,” said Frank.

He grew quiet, looking out the window toward the Gulf. The sun glinted off the water. Vendors pushed their carts along the boardwalk, selling cotton candy and churros to tourists.

What was he thinking? Sophie wondered. That it was too late to undue years of feuding? Or that the two families could come together after all these years?

Frank took a deep breath, pulled his hand down his chin, and turned back to her. “William and Evan were both stubborn, opinionated men. They needed two lifetimes, maybe even three, to settle all their differences.”

He passed the journals back to her. “What do you plan to do with them?” he asked.

“I’m going to photocopy the final entries that Evan wrote about his friendship with William,” she told him. “With your permission, I’d like to read the entries at the dedication ceremony. Once the museum opens, I want to put them on permanent display.”

Frank sat down and thought about the journals for a good long time. His head was bowed as he took the lid off the coffee cup marked with a “C” for cream. He took a sip, then ate two bites of his cinnamon bun before saying, “What happened between our families couldn’t be changed then, but it can be now. Shaye is important to me. It’s time I accept Trace.”

He looked up at Sophie over the rim of his cup. “Whatever their reasons, my family has already accepted you. You snuck in when I wasn’t looking.”

“I love your grandson,” she said before she could stop herself. She blushed.

“He has feelings for you, too, girl,” said Frank, “but first things first with Dune. He faces a big weekend ahead. His career is on the line.”

Sophie swallowed hard, hoping for the best.

“Man, Sophie, your TV is bigger than the one at the Blue Coconut,” Kai Cates said when he and Nicole stopped by on Saturday afternoon. “Hope you don’t mind if we watch the tournament with you.”

“You two are always welcome.” She was glad to see them both. And everyone else who just happened to be in the neighborhood.

Twenty members of the Cates family now gathered in Sophie’s den, a few stretched out on the marble floor. Dune and Mac had climbed the leader board and would soon face cousins Scott and Sean Taylor in the final match.

The doorbell rang again. This time it was Shaye and Trace arriving with blue and red tortilla chips and spicy avocado dip. Jenna was behind them. She’d packed a cooler with icy cold sodas and beer. Everyone wore either a Beach Heat or Ace-hole T-shirt.

Sophie went into the kitchen and made popcorn in the microwave. She burned the first bag. Frank pronounced the second one edible, although he picked out the black kernels.

She settled on the sofa between Frank and Jen. She leaned forward as the sports announcer relayed both professional and personal facts on the world-class players. This was a match between the first and third seeds. The Taylors were out to dethrone Cates and James.

The camera panned the beach, showcasing the crisp Huntington Beach shoreline from the pier to the sand court. Aqua Gold sponsored the sanctioned tournament. Long billowing banners caught the brisk wind blowing south of the pier. The hostesses’ tents were set up around the perimeters of the bleachers. Bikini-clad beauties passed out samples of the suntan oil.

The sun was high, and the sky was clear. Beachcombers walked the compact sand at low tide. Bicyclists checked out the action as they cruised along nearby asphalt paths. Onlookers peered down at the beach through coin-operated telescopes mounted on the pier. Volleyball fans had turned out in droves. Swimsuits were the attire. It was standing room only.

The camera swung over to Dune and Mac as they appeared on the court. They wore white tanks, black board shorts, and sunglasses. The fans went crazy. Men admired their athletic ability. Women wanted their bodies.

Sophie studied Dune as he prepared for what she knew was the most important match of his life. Wanting so bad for him to do well, she squeezed her fists together so tight, her nails dug into her palms. She couldn’t take her eyes off him. He swung his arms, rolled his shoulders, warming up. He rotated his wrists. He looked in good shape, she thought, but he’d yet to serve, had yet to spike the ball.

Most matches lasted forty minutes, give or take. It would be nail-biting for her. Jenna looked just as nervous as Sophie felt.

Sophie did have one thing to keep her grounded. She’d spoken to Dune the previous evening. It had been good to hear his voice. They’d talked about the museum, the hamsters, and her newfound friendship with Frank. But when she’d asked about his medical procedure, he’d skirted the issue, saying only that he was okay. She had no idea if the injections were successful or how he would play today.

She heard the referee blow the starting whistle and the first set began. Sophie’s heart was in her throat when Dune got into position. He stood behind the backline, ready to serve. His expression was fierce, his body taut. He rose up and—

“Ace! He spiked the shit out of the ball,” Kai shouted, pumping his arm in the air. “Sorry, ladies, but that was one hell of an ace.”

“Damn fine,” Frank agreed. “Dune’s making a statement.”

He definitely was, Sophie thought, cheering him on in her heart. He set the mood for the match, going with a fast offense. Sean Tyler was next to serve.

“Sean’s sporadic at best,” Shaye told Sophie in a calm voice. She knew the players’ weaknesses. “On a good day, he’s solid. On a bad one, he’ll serve out of bounds.”

Sean started out strong. He hammered his serve.

Dune met the ball at the net. Scott came back, setting the ball while Sean hooked it down. Mac couldn’t reach it in time. The score was tied one-one. Mac would now serve.

Sophie bit down on her bottom lip, leaving her bowl of popcorn untouched. She watched as the score climbed. At seven-seven they changed sides. A short time later, the score was Cates and James 20, the Taylors 19. Mac was at the serving line. He and Dune needed the point to win by two and claim the set.

“Mac feeds off the pressure,” Jenna said with confidence. She squeezed her soda can so tight she dented the aluminum.

“Dune and Mac are bringing the energy,” said Kai. “They’re both jacked.”

Seconds later and Mac rose up for his serve. He pounded the ball to the far left corner. Scott Taylor was fast. He made the save, tipping the ball for Sean’s return.

Dune was a big blocker at the net.

Mac dropped back and played deep.

Sean tapped the ball. Dune was ready when it clipped the net. He jumped up and stuffed one down. The point went to Cates and James.

Sophie fell back into the soft leather, relieved. They’d won the first set.

“Dune’s an intuitive blocker,” said Shaye. “He sees a play even before it happens.”

Both teams took a short break between sets. The camera followed Dune and Mac to the sidelines, going in for a close-up.

Sophie wasn’t particularly happy when she saw the bikini-clad Aqua Gold hostesses offer the players towels and bottles of water. Dune accepted a towel, wiping off his neck and shoulders. His expression was serious and unreadable. Mac drank deeply from his bottled water. The women lingered way too long for Sophie’s liking. Jen’s, too. The bikini babes were nearly draped over their men.

Both women breathed a sigh of relief when the next set was ready to start.

Kai was seated on the marble floor beside Nicole. He looked up at Sophie. “Notice how Dune and Mac pick up the pace when it’s necessary,” he said. “They make big plays when it counts.”

“The Taylors have tunnel vision. They don’t recognize the big picture,” said Shaye. “Dune is a visionary. He’s always one play ahead of his opponents.”

The set progressed and the score remained close. Cates and James were ahead by two points, then the game shifted. They missed opportunities. Dune slammed the ball cross-court and it went out of bounds. Then Mac dove face-first into the sand, but he couldn’t make the save. Their next rally ended in the net. Three bad plays and they suddenly fell behind by one and had to earn back their lead.

Sophie became worried when Dune shook out his wrist. She wondered if it was hurting him, but he gave no sign that he was experiencing pain. His expression was pure focus.

Cates and James battled back. Their plays were impressive. Dune swung high and hard and put the ball away, time and again. Mac served aces.

Shaye pointed to Sean Taylor. “He’s got an eye twitch,” she noted. “Players only get nervous when they struggle. The Taylors are out of sync. No nerves for our boys, they’re in the zone.”

“It’s hard to believe Dune was ever injured,” said Jenna.

The score reached 21-21.

“Come on, guys,” Shaye shouted at the TV. “Break the tie!”

Jen could no longer sit still. She pushed off the couch and circled behind it. She wrapped her arms across her chest and breathed deeply.

Sophie’s heart was beating so hard, she was certain everyone in the room could hear it. She swore it thundered even louder when Scott Tyler served and Cates and James went up by one when Mac smacked the ball into no-man’s-land between the players.

Sophie bounced on the sofa and clapped so hard she spilled her bowl of popcorn all over Frank. “Don’t move,” she said, apologetic. “I’ll scoop it up.”

“Don’t worry about me,” he said. “It’s just as easy to eat popcorn off my shirt as it is from the bowl.”

“One more point.” Jen was breathless.

Everyone in the room held their collective breaths, only to release it in a whoosh when Dune next served and the Taylors powered back.