Since Maddie’s father’s death two years ago, her mother had become even more unpredictable and outrageous. What kind of proper Southern mother recommended that her daughter have an affair with the high-school baseball coach? The entire town would be scandalized.
Giving her mother a strained look, she said, “I honestly don’t know what made me think you’d be a help.”
Her mother chuckled, clearly not offended by the comment. “Oh, sweetie, I have been. You just don’t see it yet.”
A
fter her conversation with her mother, Maddie was reluctant to call Cal to thank him for his help with finding Ty on Friday night, even though she knew she owed him a huge debt of gratitude. Surely by now he, too, was taking heat for the time they’d spent together, or maybe men didn’t have friends and relatives who felt a need to meddle in their lives. Anyway, she was probably the last person he wanted to hear from.
Still, despite her parents’ other eccentricities, she’d been schooled in proper manners since birth, so Sunday evening she forced herself to pick up the phone and deal with her jittery nerves as she waited for him to answer.
“Maddie,” he said at once.
“Since I haven’t even said hello, you must have caller ID.” Her nerves immediately settled at the warmth she heard in his voice.
“Yes, and I’ve been forced to screen calls all weekend.”
“Let me guess. They’ve been from the well-meaning and the curious,” she said.
“Something like that.” His tone was wry. “You, too?”
“You have no idea,” she responded. “I guess that pizza Friday night turned us into hot news for the weekend. I proba
bly should have warned you about that. It was evidently a headline-worthy event on the gossip circuit.”
He laughed. “Believe me, I’ve lived in Serenity long enough to know that a bachelor’s life is not private. I’ve had five calls today alone from mothers and grandmothers offering candidates better suited for me than a mother of three going through a divorce. Although, other than the existence of your children and the impending divorce, you’ll be happy to know they all had nice things to say about you.”
Maddie groaned. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not your fault. The pizza was my idea. And believe me, I enjoyed it.”
“Me, too,” she admitted. “But what did you get in return? A frantic phone call waking you out of a sound sleep and a late-night hunt for my son, to say nothing of a dose of Serenity’s finest meddling.”
“Not a problem,” he said. “It’s all part of the service a coach provides for his team and their families.”
Being lumped in with the other team parents dulled any fantasies Maddie might have been harboring. She told herself it was just as well.
“Maybe so,” she said, “but that’s why I called. I wanted to thank you again for finding Ty. You were a godsend. I have no idea how you knew exactly where to look for him.”
“Instinct. I was a lot like him when I was that age and the ball field was my safe haven. I got a lot of thinking done late at night on bleachers just like those. I still go there when there’s something on my mind.”
“Is that where you decided that playing pro ball was what you wanted to do?”
“Yes, and it was where I finally realized that I needed to go
to college first, just in case my career didn’t play out the way I envisioned it. Given how things turned out, that was the smartest decision I ever made.” He hesitated. “Or maybe the second smartest.”
“What replaced it as the smartest?”
“Moving to Serenity,” he said at once. “Even with my life around town an open book, I like it here. I enjoy working with the kids. I get a lot of satisfaction out of seeing a young man like Ty really begin to shape up into a fine ballplayer with Major League potential. I owe a real debt of thanks to the man who convinced me my life wasn’t over after baseball.”
“Sounds as if you’ll stick around, then,” she said, more relieved that he was content living here than she cared to admit. “I wondered if living in a small town might not be enough for a guy who’s had his share of celebrity and traveled to some of the most fascinating cities in the country.”
Even as she spoke, she realized how much this conversation meant to her. There was a tiny spark of something between her and this man, and she wanted to see where it led—even as she told herself what a lousy idea it was.
“Celebrity’s not all it’s cracked up to be,” he said. “I learned that the hard way. You can get hooked up with people who never see the real you.”
“Your ex-wife, for instance?” Maddie asked.
“Yeah, she’d definitely be on that list. As for big cities, they have their charms, but a visit from time to time is enough for me. Serenity is the kind of place to raise a family. What you describe as meddling, I view as neighbors caring about each other.”
She allowed herself a secret smile. “I’ve always felt that way, too, about the town, though, not about the meddling. I
thoroughly enjoy Charleston. I love going to New York for a few days of shopping, seeing some great theater and visiting the galleries. San Francisco is charming and Seattle is gorgeous. But in the end, Serenity is home. I love the way we go all out for the holidays, the summer concerts at the park, the community picnic and fireworks on the Fourth of July. I like going to Wharton’s for a sundae just the way I did when I was a kid and knowing that my kids will have that same memory. It’s a great place to grow up.”
“But it sounds like you’ve traveled a lot, too,” he said.
“My mother’s an artist. She’s had shows all over the country. Even when I was little I always went with her and my dad.”
“Really? Don’t tell me your mother is Paula Vreeland!”
“She is,” Maddie said, surprised.
“Wow! She’s amazingly talented.”
“You know her?” she asked.
“I ran into her at a gallery over in Charleston one day. I was buying one of her works and she complimented me on my taste right before the gallery owner introduced us. Her fame is the pride of Serenity, but I hadn’t made the connection between the two of you.”
“Well, you definitely impressed her,” Maddie said, thinking of her mother’s description of Cal as a hottie. She’d wondered how her mother happened to know anything at all about the baseball coach. Now, it all made sense.
“I doubt she’d even remember me,” he said. “We only chatted for a few minutes.”
Maddie wasn’t about to tell him her mother hadn’t been fascinated by his conversational skills. Nor did she want to mention that Serenity hadn’t always been so boastful about her mother.
“I’ve kept you long enough,” she said hurriedly. “It’s Sunday night and you must have a million things to do for school tomorrow. I just wanted you to know how much I appreciated your help on Friday night.”
“Is Ty doing okay?” he asked, not sounding all that eager to end the call.
“He seems to be. At least he hasn’t kicked up a fuss about being grounded. He knew that was coming after the stunt he pulled. School, baseball practice, games and home. That’s it for the next two weeks.”
“I’ll see to it he goes straight home,” Cal offered. “I can drop him off after practice if you like.”
“Probably not a great idea,” she said.
“Are you sure? It’s no big deal. Really.”
“It would be to some people. Thanks for offering, though. Good night, Cal.”
“See you soon.”
Even after he’d hung up, she clung to the phone a moment longer, not wanting to break the connection. He was just being nice, she told herself firmly. That was all.
But it had felt a whole lot as if Cal Maddox was turning into a man she could count on. Was that a good thing? she wondered. Or should she be totally focused on learning to stand on her own two feet?
Cal felt as if he were fourteen again and in trouble with the principal. The minute the school secretary called his office Monday morning and told him that Betty Donovan wanted to see him immediately, he guessed it wasn’t to praise him for the baseball team’s victory on Friday night.
Come on. Just because you have a guilty conscience doesn’t
mean everyone is bent out of shape because you spent some time with Maddie Townsend,
he tried to reassure himself as he headed for the principal’s office.
Serenity High School had been built years ago with wide hallways, linoleum floors that were polished weekly and classrooms with high windows that looked out on a grassy slope in front of the building and on ball fields in the back. He imagined that nothing much had changed beyond a fresh coat of paint since the years when Maddie had attended this same school. The upgrades to the baseball field and the addition of a new cafeteria and gymnasium had come only after long and contentious debate among the local residents who’d had to provide the funding for them.
The principal’s office was a cramped space that seemed designed to add to the tension of anyone obliged to enter. Betty Donovan’s own preference for stark, unrelieved walls and uncomfortable wooden chairs added to the prisonlike atmosphere.
Cal told himself that was why his nerves worsened when he walked into Betty’s office, but the truth was that her troubled expression made him wary. Though she was probably around the same age as Maddie, Betty tended to do everything she could to minimize her attractiveness. She wore severely cut clothes in dark colors, little makeup and kept her hair pulled back in a tight knot. She’d been a principal for a number of years now and he had a hunch she’d chosen her attire and demeanor to impress the older, more experienced teachers with her solemn dedication to duty. And, as a side benefit, she scared the kids to death.
Usually he liked to do whatever he could to coax a smile out of her, but today he was too anxious. Besides, she was clearly in no mood for jokes.
“What’s up?” he asked, sitting on the edge of the chair across from her. “You look worried.”
“I’ve been fielding a lot of phone calls this morning.”
“About?”
“You and Maddie Townsend.”
Even though he’d prepared himself for exactly this, Cal felt his hackles rise. His personal life was none of the school’s business. Not that there was anything to tell about him and Maddie. Yet, he amended.
Meeting the principal’s gaze evenly and struggling to keep his tone neutral, he merely said, “Oh?”
“Were you two at Rosalina’s together on Friday night?” Her tone made it an accusation.
“Yes, along with the entire team and Maddie’s other children. Is that some sort of crime?” he asked, anger seeping into his voice. He tried to tell himself Betty was just doing her job as she thought it needed to be done, but her criticism of something that had been totally innocent grated.
She had the good grace to flinch, but then she gathered her composure and pressed on. “Of course not, but this is a small town, Cal. Our teachers are expected to be above reproach.”
“What the hell are you suggesting?” he demanded, losing his cool. “Is there something the least bit inappropriate about me having pizza with the parent of one of the team’s players, especially when that player has been going through a lot lately and his mother needed some advice?”
Betty regarded him sympathetically. “I’m sure that’s all you meant it to be, but people tend to read things into situations.”
“They speculate and gossip, you mean.”
“I’ll say it again—Serenity is a small town.”
“Then shouldn’t people know Maddie well enough, and me, too, for that matter, not to let their imaginations run wild?”
“I’d hope so, but it’s not always the case,” she told him. “A word to the wise, Cal. Make sure you keep things on the straight and narrow with Mrs. Townsend. I don’t want to spend my days defending you, when there are far more important things I need to accomplish at this school.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said tightly, already determined to do just the opposite, assuming Maddie hadn’t had her fill of well-meaning advice and determined that seeing him was more trouble than it was worth.
Betty must have picked up on his belligerence, because she said, “Cal, you’re a terrific physical education teacher and a great coach. Please don’t do anything you—or I—will come to regret.”
He walked out of the office ready to pound something. It was a good thing he had baseball practice in a couple of hours. He’d swing the bat and give the kids some fielding experience. And every time the bat made contact, he’d picture Betty Donovan’s self-righteous face on the ball.
Then, once he’d worked off his frustration, perhaps he’d be able to accept that there was a tiny nugget of wisdom in what she’d been telling him.
Helen was waiting with three contractors and Dana Sue when Maddie arrived at the Hartley place on Monday morning at eight. She regarded them with confusion.
“I thought we were just going to make some final notes on what we want done,” she told Helen, knowing she was the one behind this unexpected gathering.
“We don’t have time to waste,” Helen responded briskly. “You said that yourself. You know all these guys, right?”
Of course she did. Mitch Franklin was the best general contractor in the region. He was usually tied up for months. Skeeter Johnson had been doing most of the plumbing in town since Maddie was a kid. He charged an arm and a leg for emergency service and had a waiting list for building jobs. The same was true of Roy Covington, the electrician.
“What kind of bribe did you offer these guys to get them over here on such short notice?” she asked, not entirely in jest.
Mitch grinned. “Hey, I always come when a pretty woman calls.”
“Eventually,” Maddie said. “And the rest of you?”
Skeeter regarded her with a chagrined expression. “Helen helped me out with a little problem recently. I owe her.”
“And I’m a sucker for good coffee,” Roy said. “Helen promised me some of Dana Sue’s.” He held up the take-out cup. “Best in town, for sure.”
“Thank you, sugar,” Dana Sue said, linking her arm through his. “Now, let’s go inside and do some business.”
Thankfully Maddie had come with a room-by-room checklist of everything they’d discussed to date. She gave a recitation in each room, Helen and Dana Sue elaborated, and the men’s eyes widened as they took notes.
At the end of the tour, Mitch looked a little dazed. “And you want this done when?”
“I’d like to open in June,” Helen said.
All three men were shaking their heads before the words were out of her mouth.
“Not enough time,” Mitch said firmly.
“That’s barely two months,” Skeeter said. “No way can we do all that in that amount of time.”
“What will it take?” Helen asked, not backing down.
“A miracle,” Mitch said.