The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield (44 page)

“Anyone can make a difference,” I agreed, remembering something Martin once said. “We live in a world where opportunity is available for those who take chances—and not just those who are highborn or highly educated or highly prospering.”

Melissa nodded. “To be honest, this generation respects the self-made man more than the trust-fund baby. It’s a complete reverse from the older mentality of the blue bloods who thumbed their noses at the tradesmen who had livelihoods.”

If Melissa was working the angle of my belief that the ordinary man was no lesser than a man of extraordinary means, she was succeeding.

“I think that having someone who believes in this new vision will help make it happen and that’s why I think you’d be a great fit for the transitioning Championettes,” she continued. “You can make a real difference, Char. The opportunity is there. You just have to seize it.”

I pursed my lips in indecision. “I know—but I can’t do it at the price of both our integrity.”

Melissa arched a brow. “Are the sensitive feelings of a few women who could use some good dousing worth the potential evolution of the Society who in turn can do more good to those who need it?”

I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Wow. You just completely destroyed my defense there. You would make a great political leader, Mel. Really.”

She flashed a self-satisfied smirk. “I’m not sure that’s a compliment. Last I heard, true political leaders are artificially charming, outright manipulative and practiced prevaricators.”

I smiled, my cheeks burning up. “You know I was just referring to the bad apples.”

Melissa grinned. “I know. It’s just that I’ve never seen a more superbly eloquent bitch-slapping than that.”

My eyes widened at Melissa’s bad word and we both laughed out loud. “I don’t know about that being so eloquent. I’m sure I mentioned something about fish intestines.”

Melissa dabbed some of the tears that leaked from the corners of her eyes. “Oh, you did. I thought Patricia was going to have a coronary right then. I’ve never felt so alive and awake in a Championette meeting than I did that last tea party.”

I narrowed my eyes at Melissa in mock-suspicion. “I have a feeling you’re recruiting me simply for my amusement value.”

“I’m recruiting you because you’re fun, Charlotte, and good-hearted,” she said, subsiding into a smile. “You don’t have to give me an answer right away. The induction ceremony will be a brunch this coming Wednesday. Let me know what you’ve decided on when you come back from your weekend trip.”

“Alright.” I glanced down at the invitation in my hand and the business card Melissa slipped on top of it, and exhaled sharply. “I’ll think about it. I’ll call you when I get back.”

Melissa touched my shoulder. “Thank you, Charlotte. I would love to have you on board with us. For once, I’m actually interested in actively taking part this time. I feel like we’re finally on to something here, you know?”

I gave her a weak smile. “Thank you for having faith and trusting me with this opportunity. It already feels difficult thinking of disappointing you.”

She beamed as we both rose from our seats. “I’m counting on that to motivate you to say yes to my offer. But don’t spoil your trip with it, Charlotte. You’re young and in love and you should enjoy every moment.”

As if her words were prophetic, Brandon stepped back out into the living room, smiling at us. “Anyone wants something to nibble on? We’ve got some chips and trail mix and pepperoni.”

When Melissa glanced at me slightly in confusion, I smiled. “We’re going camping and Brandon just cleared out the grocery for snacks. My money is still on a zombie apocalypse but he insists I’m wrong.”

Brandon winked as he came over and put an arm around my shoulders. “She’s just not willing to admit that I want to lure her out of town simply because I want her all to myself. My wife doesn’t exactly think she’s a big deal but she is, you know?”

I flushed at his playful but tenderly uttered words and I gave him a light jab on his side. “Brandon!”

Melissa laughed, her green eyes twinkling. “She is but I think the fact that she doesn’t believe it makes her all the more special.”

“That she is,” Brandon agreed, pressing a kiss on my cheek. 

“Alright, I’ll leave you two so you can finish preparing for your trip,” Melissa announced as she started for the door. “Thank you for sparing me a few minutes of your time.”

“Thank you for coming to see me, Mel,” I told her as Brandon and I walked with her to the door. “And for the conversation we had.”

She surprised me by leaning in and giving me a light hug. “I have a good feeling about this, Char, and do you know when was the last time I had a good feeling about anything we did at the Championetttes?”

“No. When?”

“Never.” She grinned and waved goodbye. “Have a good trip. Call me when you’ve decided, Charlotte. Enjoy your evening!”

“You too, Melissa,” Brandon called after her as we both stood by the door, watching her walk to the elevator at the end of the private foyer. 

“Don’t let the zombies get you!” she said with a wink before stepping into the elevator.

When she was gone, I turned to Brandon. “She's actually quite fun. And very nice.”

Brandon smiled. “I’m glad you got along. I’ve never really spent a lot of time talking to her before but she always seemed very pleasant and down-to-earth. Her husband and I occasionally go golfing together. Tom talks a lot about his wife and his young son. I think his name’s Sander. I’ve seen him with them once or twice. The boy looks like his mother—red hair and green eyes.”

“I bet he’d be a heartbreaker like his Mom,” I said with a crooked grin as I leaned in closer to Brandon, slipping my arms around his neck. “I think I’d be pretty with red hair and green eyes. Anyone who looks that unique is just stunning. I’m a pretty generic blonde.”

Brandon put his arms around me and kissed the tip of my nose, chuckling softly. “I think generic is the last thing I will ever call you, babe. You’re perfectly beautiful to me.”

And I’m perfectly in love with you. There’s something to be said about falling in love—it’s the only kind of falling where it sort of hurts and feels good at the same time.

I beamed at him and pushed myself up on my toes to give him a slow kiss on the lips. 

“Now, let’s get back to work,” I said as I pulled away and gave him a playful shove on the chest. “I want to get this show on the road.”

“Don’t honk at the old lady!”

Brandon paused from glaring at the old Volvo in front of us and turned my way. “How do you know it’s an old lady?”

It was late next morning and Brandon was driving his shiny new SUV down Route 3 South. I’d asked him why he just didn’t decide to go with an RV since he was already blowing money on a new vehicle anyway, and he told me that he wanted us to go tent camping so that I got the full experience, sleeping bags and all.

When he’d shown me the car, he went to showcase every award-winning safety feature in it—including the straps and hooks for child car seats that he insisted were top-notch in reliability. I didn’t say anything as he went on to say that this was more practical if we needed a bigger car running about town because it had room in the back for a cooler chest, expandable seating, as well as compartments for kids’ sports gears and such. I almost blurted out why he didn’t just get a minivan along with half a dozen children since he seemed to be investing in this car as if we were going to have a mini soccer team for a brood. After our tiff at the parking lot yesterday afternoon though, I learned to be more sensitive about Brandon’s feelings. Despite our constant banter, I didn’t want to truly hurt him. If the idea of being a soccer Dad made him smile, I wasn’t going to say anything about it.

I lowered the digital camera I’d been fiddling with and gestured toward the Volvo that was slowly crawling along the road in front of us. “Just look at the bumper sticker. It says ‘Drive safe. Don’t make me call your mother.’ No frat boy would say that to you.”

“Well, she’s not driving safely herself if she’s driving ten miles below the speed limit,” Brandon grumbled as he shoulder-checked before pulling out to the left lane and passing the car quickly. 

I peered through the window just as the old woman with gleaming silver hair looked up while our car sped up past hers. Even loaded practically to the ceiling with a large cooler chest and camping gear, Brandon’s monster SUV had a lot of power. 

I smiled and waved at the woman before turning back to Brandon. “She’s not that bad. At least she’s driving on the right lane. Besides, I love old ladies.”

“Why?” Brandon snorted as he steered the car back into the right lane once we passed the Volvo.

I picked up the camera again and grinned at Brandon. “Because they’re old and outrageous most of the time. They can get away with anything. They could be snarky and sweet.”

Suddenly, a honk blared from behind us and we both looked up at the rearview mirror to find the old lady shaking her hand at us, flipping us the bird.

Brandon choked in disbelief. “You’ve got snarky right. And nasty too.”

We burst out laughing as we cruised away, the Volvo disappearing from our rearview mirror.

It was truly a perfect day. 

The sun was hot and high up in the clear blue skies, the leaves glistening green against its light. The mostly scenic drive toward Cape Cod, where Brandon had booked us in the campgrounds of a state reservation, was only a little over an hour and we were about halfway through.

We’d left late in the morning after having some trouble packing everything in the car but Brandon didn’t worry because we weren’t going that far out of Boston. It was in the middle of summer and daylight lasted all the way to late evening. He was confident that we could get there with enough time to check in, set up camp and roast a few smokies and marshmallows in the fire before going for a walk around the beach. Since I’ve never put a tent together, I didn’t really know the difficulty of the task so I left it to him to figure out how to get us there on time. 

Just like his honeymoon plans, Brandon had a lot of ideas and the determination to pull all of them off. As curious as I was, I resisted the temptation to pester him with questions or argue with him about some of his ideas that didn’t seem all that promising to me.

He’s doing this for you. Let him. Let him please you, surprise you, make you happy. 

A light, airy love song came through the satellite radio as I stared out through the window and watched the passing scenery of trees. I was mildly surprised when I felt Brandon’s hand reach for mine, our fingers lacing through each other’s. 

I glanced at him and saw him smiling at me before he lifted our entwined hands and set it down the right side of his lap. 

We had just gone around a soft curve on the highway when an old, mint-green car pulled over on the shoulder ahead came into our view. There was some white smoke coming out from under its hood.

“Looks like someone has some car trouble,” I said as I leaned forward to peer at the figure pacing around the space between the car and the metal railing that bordered the side of the road. 

“It’s a woman, Brand, and she’s holding a baby,” I told him as I got a good look. “Looks like she’s trying to hush the baby. I can see it flailing its little arms.”

“Charlotte...” Brandon’s voice trailed off cautiously.

“Pull over, Brand,” I told him. “We have to help her. She’s stuck in the middle of the highway with a wailing baby and a smoking car!”

“Alright. Fine,” Brandon said with a low groan although I already felt him slow the car down way before he agreed. “Give me a sec.”

He swerved the car to the shoulder and stopped a couple of feet away from the car. I turned on the hazard lights and unstrapped my seatbelt.

Brandon and I scrambled out of the car and approached the woman. She looked like she was in her early thirties, dressed simply in jeans and a loose floral blouse. The baby in her arms, probably no more than six months old, was shrieking his head off. 

“Hi! Are you and the baby okay?” I asked.

“Y-Yes, I think so,” she answered, glancing back at her car. “The car just started smoking and making this kind of gurgling noise. I managed to just pull over to the side before it started coughing up and stopped. I don’t know anything about cars. I have no idea what’s wrong with it.”

“I’ll go have a look,” Brandon said as he hurried to the car, which looked like one of those really old and cheap K-cars, and propped up the hood carefully.

I turned my attention back to the woman. “What’s your name?’

“Susan,” she answered, sniffling as she fought her tears. “Susan Campbell and this is my baby boy, Stuart.”

I tried to reassure her with a smile. “My name’s Charlotte and that’s my husband, Brandon. We’re just on our way to go camping but can we help with anything? Do you need to call a tow truck or something?”

Susan’s already pale, distressed expression worsened as the baby started crying harder. “I tried calling my husband but my phone just died. Even if I get to him, it’ll be a while before he can get out here, or anyone for that matter, to come get me because the whole town’s busy with the parade. I was just driving back with the crowns and trophies for the Miss Plympton pageant later today.”

I blinked. “Um...”

“The car’s overheated,” Brandon said as he walked back to us, his face shiny with sweat from the heat the car was probably still emitting. “It could be a number of things though. I don’t see coolant leaking out of it but that’s usually one common reason. I didn’t see any radiator hose or anything obvious under the hood but I couldn’t see or tinker around it very much.”

“We should probably get you a tow truck,” I said as I whipped my cellphone out from the back pocket of my denim shorts. “Do you know where the nearest mechanic around here is?”

“Kingston or Marshfield, probably,” Susan answered. “But most people around this area are probably heading down to Plympton. It’s the town’s summer festival today. It’ll be a good hour, hour and a half, before we can find someone to come out here and I can’t stay here that long. The pageant is in an hour. I need to get these crowns and trophies up on the stage  for display before the program starts. We were supposed to have gotten these two days ago if my husband’s secretary hadn’t screwed up the order. My God, he’s going to be so embarrassed!”

“Okay, okay!” I kneaded my throbbing temples. “Let me think!”

“Think about what?” Brandon asked, his voice barely audible over the baby’s shrieks. “I’ll call Freddy and get him to have one of the tow-truck companies we use to come out here and help this lady out. I’m sure he can get them out here in half an hour.”

I turned to Susan. “How far away is Plympton from here?”

Brandon’s eyes widened in alarm. “Charlotte, we’re—”

“It’s about fifteen minutes away,” Susan answered, her expression hopeful. “It’s pretty much a straight road west after you turn on the first right down the highway.”

“If it’s only fifteen minutes, why can’t your husband just quickly drive out and get you?” Brandon asked, his forehead scrunched up. “If my wife were stuck out on a highway somewhere, I’d—”

“He’s the town mayor—he can’t just leave. At least not in the middle of the biggest town event of the year! I wouldn’t have gone on this errand myself but there was no one else who didn’t have their hands full with today’s preparations!” Susan exclaimed desperately, her raised voice agitating baby Stuart further. “I can walk but I won’t be able to do it very well with a screaming baby and a box of trophies and crowns to drag about.”

I studied Susan. She really looked desperate. She kept glancing worriedly at her son and back at the smoking car. She was trying to do something for her husband and she was failing. I knew the feeling and sympathized with her.

“Go get Stu’s car seat and the crowns and trophies,” I told her. “Brandon and I will come help you in a minute. We just have to clear some room in the backseat. We’ll give you a ride to Plympton.”

The woman’s eyes rounded happily, tears shining in them. “Really? Oh, my God! Thank you, thank you! Bless both of you! Thank you!”

When Susan ran back to her car, Brandon urged me toward our SUV with little subtlety.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded under his breath as we hid behind the open door of the backseat where I started to clear out some space. “There’s a very good reason why people shouldn’t pick up hitchhikers!”

I rolled my eyes at him. “She wasn’t trying to hitchhike, Brand. Her car died in the middle of the road. You saw it smoking. Plus, she has a baby with her.”

His eyes narrowed even as he was helping me with moving some of our gear around. “What if it’s some kind of ploy to lure us somewhere and mug us? Did that occur to you?”

I wrinkled my nose. “Sure, but the baby just makes it too elaborate a ploy, don’t you think? If we’re going to suspect every person in unfortunate circumstances as a potential criminal, no one will be doing good deeds anymore.”

Brandon groaned, running a hand down his face. “Charlotte, you know what I mean.”

I faced him and cupped each side of his face in appeal. “I do, babe. But think, what if it were me stuck out here while you’re indisposed? Wouldn’t you want some good samaritan to help me?”

He arched a brow. “Are there really still good samaritans around these days?”

I smiled. “Of course. You’re one yourself. So is your Dad. Lots of people! The thing about being one is that you can’t quit. You’ve got to help wherever and whenever you can.”

He stared at me for a moment before sighing in resignation. “Alright. I hope this will be a quick trip because I don’t want us to run far too behind schedule. And if this turns out to be some kind of scheme, just remember that I already warned you.”

I grinned. “I will. And seriously, if it is, there’s two of us. And you have a utility knife of some kind in each pocket of your cargo pants. We can put them to good use.”

“Here we are!” Susan announced behind us as she came over with Stu’s car seat. “Let’s get this little guy in first. The trophies are in a padded box in the backseat.”

“I’ll go get it,” Brandon said before heading back to Susan’s car. 

I helped Susan get the car seat strapped in—thank God for that little demo Brandon did for me earlier this morning—and set Stu in it. She found a little rubber lemon toy from one of the pockets and gave it to him which the baby promptly stuffed into his mouth. That shut him up good.

“Charlotte, thank you again for helping us,” Susan said. “I know how big an imposition this is but this is my husband’s first year and the first ever summer festival in his term. He needs everything to go well and I have to help him. You have no idea how much this means to our family.”

I smiled at her. “You’re welcome, Susan.” Then I smiled down at Stuart who had the pinkest baby cheeks in the world, and big, blue eyes that were staring at me. “I understand what it’s like to do the best you can for your family.”

About twenty minutes later, after driving through a narrow stretch of road off the highway, we reached Plympton. We needed to get to the town hall but the main street was already jam-packed with floats and spectators. 

Susan had to grab someone diverting traffic on the street to clear a path for us to the town hall.

A short, balding man with too tight a shirt around the belly hurried out as we got off the car, his expression concerned as he came toward Susan.

This was most likely Mayor Al Campbell. Susan had called him on my cellphone and left him a message on our way there.

“Honey, are you alright?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around his wife. “Is little Stuwee, okay?”