In an effort to open more rooms up to guests, Violet’s grandfather had converted the basement of the house into a suite of bedrooms for the family with a centralized family room. Her grandparents had a bedroom suite with a bathroom, Violet’s parents had a suite when they were alive, and Violet and Scarlett shared a bathroom that sat in between their bedrooms. Uncle Drew lived in an apartment he had built above the garage.
Her grandfather had set the rule to never allow guests into the family living quarters. As teenagers, each girl had broken that rule after making friends with the children of guests, and their grandfather had come down hard on them both times. He stressed the family space provided a sanctuary from guests, a place where the family members could recharge their energy drained from serving the public.
During the daytime, after breakfast and before supper, whenever she could, Violet escaped to the family room. In her mind, she actually considered it escaping. The older she got, the more interacting with the public drained her, emotionally and mentally, and she wished she could tell her grandfather how much she appreciated his foresight with his no guests rule.
Usually, she took that time to either sleep off an all-night writing sprint, or to pick up her computer and write. This afternoon, though, she sat on the couch with Drew and went over the guest list for the coming week. “The coach for Jacob’s pee wee camp arrives today,” she said, making a notation on the computer printout. “His name is Chase Anderson.”
Drew’s bushy black eyebrow shot up. “Chase Anderson? Really? You mean like ‘quarterback for Texas A&M,’ Chase Anderson?”
Despite growing up in College Station, Texas in a family of Aggie fans, Violet had no interest in sports. Ever. At all. Except for the Olympics. She loved the Olympics. “Whatever greases your wagon wheels.”
“Well, I reckon you’re a fan of his sister. You watched her in the Olympics.”
“His sister?”
“Yeah. Jade something. Played volleyball.”
“Jade Elliott is his sister?” She looked at the name Chase Anderson again, picturing the tall dark-haired woman who won the silver medal two Olympics in a row. “Well, put the little pot in the big pot.”
Drew laughed and slapped the couch cushion. “Girl, you crack me up. That boy there took us to three national titles, and you’re all goo-goo over a girl who plays volleyball in a swimsuit.”
Violet grinned. “Well, we all have our own priorities.” She stood and tossed the guest list onto the couch. “I’m going to go Weedeat the parking lot and the front of the house. I have Wilma cleaning room 6 right now for Jacob’s Mr. Anderson. When she’s done, can you pay her?”
“Sure. Do you have her check?”
She walked over to the little desk against the wall and pulled up the spreadsheet on her laptop. “We owe her for cleaning six rooms and turning over three.” She wrote out a check and signed it. “Tell her Gran wants some more pre-mixed bags, too. Another week’s worth. She can come any time this week to do it. I wrote up the recipes for each bag.”
“Got it.”
Chase walked out of the airport and saw the silver pickup he knew to look for. As he approached it, Jacob Riley got out and met him at the tailgate.
“Chase Anderson. We’ve howdied but we haven’t shook. Good to meet you.,” Jacob said, extending his hand. He wore a golf shirt with a local concrete company’s logo on it, dark blue jeans, and worn work boots splattered with what looked like cement. He had silver hair and a silver goatee reminiscent of the famous Colonel Sanders.
“Likewise.” The men shook hands, and Chase tossed his suitcase into the back. In no time, they exited the airport property and headed in the direction of the college.
As soon as Chase buckled his seatbelt, he closed his eyes and rolled his head on his neck, loosening muscles tight from an entire day of flying.
“Long flight, ain’t it?” Jacob inquired.
Chase grinned. “Non-stop. No layover. Pretty sure the seats are four inches apart in coach, now. Maybe three. Not exactly comfortable for my frame.”
“Can’t imagine so,” Jacob affirmed.
“I did some research into your faith-based program,” Chase said. “I like how you’ve integrated faith lessons into competition, training, and physical fitness.”
“Thanks. It was something the Lord put on my heart. I coached football at a private Christian school here for pert near twelve years. It was a small part of our program. I took what I did there and expanded it in a way that I pray will affect the kids as they grow up and enter the world.”
Chase nodded. “I read your testimony and your articles on the website. Thank you for bringing me in. I’m just thankful I had the leave time accrued.”
“Me, too. I knew it was a risk asking you with your career, but the worst you coulda said was no. The answer’s always no when you don’t ask.” He took the exit off of the parkway and gradually merged onto the road. “The place I have you booked, the Texas Pearl Inn, has been in my family for generations. My aunt owns it and my cousins run it.”
“I remember seeing it a few times when I went to school here.” He looked out the window at the passing scenery, noticing changes here and there. He’d left College Station the day he graduated college and had not returned. “That’s been a couple of years, though.”
“That street looks the same as it did fifty years ago and I got pictures to prove it. Like the residents made a pact to never change a thing. The only thing that changes are the styles of cars.” Jacob turned the wheel and began to decelerate.
“I know some places in Boston like that,” Chase said.
Jacob stopped at an intersection and looked over at Chase. “You can’t imagine how much interest we got in our camp when we announced you’d be coaching. Thanks for doing this.”
He thought about the coaches that affected his childhood, that taught him and mentored him and loved him. Three distinct faces stood out, including his pee wee coach the year he turned eight. To have the ability to take those lessons he learned, and interweave them with faith, filled him in a way he couldn’t express in words. He could not wait to get started tomorrow. “I know how important good mentoring is at that age. I’m actually looking forward to it.”
“You’re going to have a few parents to deal with. I know you didn’t go to high school in Texas, but I have a feeling you were here long enough to understand the importance folks here place on football. Despite the faith-centered aspect of it, I’m afraid you’re going to have some very involved parents.”
The thought amused him, and he chuckled. “I’ve probably faced worse overseas. I think I can handle involved parents.”
Jacob grinned. “We’ll talk about it again at the end of the week.”
Chase noticed that his favorite Chinese restaurant now had a Tai sign. He felt a little sense of disappointment. “I ordered a bike to get around. They said it would be delivered today.”
“Yup. My aunt Vi at the inn said they got it.” He glanced over at him. “I can get you a loaner car if you’d like.”
“No, I prefer biking. I started doing it in the D.C. area because the traffic is so bad. It works for me because I sit in a cubicle all day.”
“Understood.” He turned onto a residential street. “You need anything before the camp opens in the morning?”
Chase thought about the details in the packet of information emailed to him last week. “I’ll know more once we get through the first day. Want to get together tomorrow night to debrief?”
“How about you come to my casa for supper? We’ll toss your bike into the back of this truck, and we’ll ride together after the camp.”
He nodded. “That’ll work.”
Jacob slowed the truck and turned into a driveway. Chase looked up at the big white house set back from the road. The second and third floors had wrought-iron balconies in front of each window, with red, white, and blue buntings hanging from each, clearly left over from the Fourth of July last week. Large trees shaded the yard, and a stone path led from the front porch to the sidewalk. They slowly went along the driveway until they reached a gravel parking lot. He could see how the porch wrapped around the house, and the rocking chairs grouped in twos all along it. When the truck came to a stop, he held out his hand to Jacob. “Thanks for picking me up and thanks for the ride, Jacob. See you in the morning.”
“Right. Eight a.m. Enjoy your afternoon.”
They shook hands and Chase opened the door. He immediately smelled fresh herbs and scanned the property, seeing the edge of an herb garden that disappeared behind the house. He heard the buzz of a motor and looked over to see a woman in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt walking along the edge of the parking lot, attacking the weeds with a Weedeater. She had her hair pulled up into a baseball cap and wore safety glasses that covered her eyes.
After grabbing his suitcase from the back of the truck, Chase patted the roof to let Jacob know he could leave. He stepped aside while Jacob drove away.
Something startled Mandalynn awake. A noise? A smell?
Every nerve in her body went into high alert. Moving as quietly as possible, she reached for her nightstand drawer. Slipping the drawer open, she felt for her pistol. As her hand touched the smooth leather of the holster, she turned her head toward her window.
She’d removed the blackout curtain after turning off her light, never able to stand the total darkness in her room. Now through the light of the moon, she could see the shadow of a man’s Fedora and the glow of a cigarette in his mouth. He paused right by the window.
Heart pounding, she slid her late husband’s .38 caliber Webley revolver from the holster. It felt heavy in her hands. She hadn’t handled it outside of the holster in months. Pointing it in the direction of the glowing cigarette, she carefully cocked the hammer back.
As her eyes adjusted to the faint light, she watched as the figure tossed down his cigarette and bent down momentarily. When he straightened again, he pulled his arm back and, with sudden force, smashed her window with the rock in his hand.
Mandalynn screamed and closed her eyes, just as she squeezed the trigger.
Before she could shoot, something hard and sharp struck her on her chin. Something had hit her. Hard! Reflexively, she brought her hand to her chin, surprised to feel hot blood there. She looked at her hand, and the cool dark New York bedroom transformed into the bright heat of a Texas summer day.
Violet had changed out of her shorts and into a pair of jeans. With a high of ninety-four expected, she hated to put on jeans, but the Weedeater had been acting up lately, and a piece of mulch had nicked her ankle last week. So, she put on jeans and boots for safety despite the heat.
With her hair tucked into a baseball cap and large clear safety glasses covering her eyes, she attacked the front flower bed. She actually enjoyed this type of work. The engine of the Weedeater drowned out any outside noises, and she could go into her own head and escape to New York, 1944. While she edged the sidewalk leading up to the large white framed house, she knew she needed to bring some heart-stopping danger to Mandalynn’s story. How about someone breaking into her home? Yes! At night. Very aggressively. He’d break through her window while she slept.
While Violet mulled that over, building the scene in her mind, she finished the sidewalk and walked over to the guest parking area.
Starting against the property line fence, she slowly walked along the edge of the lawn and the gravel, and around the wooden posts that made up the parking area. In hindsight, she didn’t know exactly how it happened. Somehow, the Weedeater line tangled around a chunk of metal under some of the gravel and shot it outward, clipping her on her chin like shrapnel.
Involuntarily, she cried out.
At first, she just felt the pressure of the rusty metal object hitting her face, but when she rubbed the back of her hand against her chin and felt the warm wetness of blood, she dropped the Weedeater and covered her chin with her hands. The world kind of faded and looked a little gray as her feet started to tip out from under her.
A strong arm came across Violet’s shoulder, and she looked up into the sun, only able to see the outlined shadow of a man’s face.
Chase kept his voice even, calm, but also firm. “Hey! Hey! It’s okay. I have you.”
“I…”
“Let me see.” Keeping an arm around her, he gently lifted her bloody hand from her chin. His face came into focus, and something about him felt familiar. “Well, I’ve seen worse. Let’s get you inside, okay?”
Never letting her go, he guided her across the property and up the front steps. She saw one of the half-dozen rocking chairs on the porch. “I’ll just sit here,” she said, her voice weak. Her stomach rolled, and her mouth felt really dry. “Could you get my sister or Gran?”
“Sister or gran. Got it.” He knelt next to her, slipping a backpack off his shoulder, and lifted her chin with a finger. “Pretty sure you’re going to need stitches. Maybe a tetanus booster unless you know when you had one last.”
Now that she could see his face completely, she knew who he was. Chase Anderson. Quarterback of the Aggies. Star. Handsome. Like, really handsome, with tan skin, black hair, light blue eyes, and a strong chin. Why were all quarterbacks so good looking, anyway? More importantly, where in the world had these thoughts come from? She clapped her bloody fingers back over her chin.
“Sister or Gran,” she reminded him.
Unzipping a compartment of his backpack, he pulled out a travel sized packet of tissues, stripped off the plastic, and handed her the entire pack. “Keep direct pressure on it. I’ll go get help. Someone has to drive you.”
As soon as he opened the door to the house, she leaned against the back of the chair and pushed the wad of tissues against her chin. She shouldn’t feel so embarrassed, but she did, an uncomfortable embarrassment that had her rethinking every word she’d said to him and rewording the conversations so that it sounded like she had an ounce of intelligence. At least she didn’t throw up on him. With a shaking hand, she pulled off the safety glasses and let them fall to her feet.
A second later, the door burst open and Scarlett rushed out. “What happened?”
“Weedeater.” She let her sister pull her hand and the tissues away.
“Ain’t that just a yellowjacket in the outhouse. You need to buy a new one. I told you that yesterday.”
Closing her eyes against the spinning world, Violet mumbled, “So unlike you to say you told me so while I’m bleeding from the head. Really out of character.”
The door opened again, and she heard Uncle Drew’s voice. “I’ll go fetch my truck. Get her to the parking lot.”
“Come on, Shoog, let’s get down the steps.” Scarlett helped her stand then walked her slowly down the steps.
“I don’t know why I’m so puny. It’s just my chin.”
“Shock.” The deep voice of Chase Anderson behind her startled her. “Your body is going into shock. It’s a deep cut.”
“What got you all stove up?” Scarlett asked.
Chase spoke again. “This.” They reached the bottom of the steps, and Violet turned enough to see Chase hand Scarlett a rusty chunk of jagged metal. “It’s like a broken piece of a lawn mower blade or something. You might want to take it with you.”
“Thanks.” Scarlett took it from him as Drew pulled up to the curb. He got out of the truck and opened the passenger door. Scarlett handed him the metal piece. “This here’s what skinned her hide. Call me when you know something,” she said.
Her chin had started to hurt now. Violet felt tears come to her eyes that she couldn’t control. She most certainly didn’t want to cry, but she had no choice. Drew helped her into the cab of the truck and fastened her seatbelt for her. As he drove away, she looked in the side mirror and saw petite little Scarlett standing next to the giant Chase, easily eighteen inches taller than her sister. Scarlett looked like a little girl beside him.
Turning her head to talk to Drew she said, “I am sorry about this.”
“Pshaw.” He waved a hand in her direction. “Ain’t no reason. It happens. You okay?”
“It’s weird that it’s affecting me like this. I’m about as pitiful as a three-legged dog.”
“Shock, like Mr. Anderson said. You took a pretty good lick.”
Her mind started to click back into gear. Finally. “Do you still have Wilma’s check?”
“Nah. Gave it to mama. She’ll take care of her.”
She closed her eyes, feeling sicker, and didn’t talk the rest of the way to the hospital. The wad of tissues got soggy and wet with her blood, and it began to drip down the front of her shirt. Drew pulled up to the door of the emergency room. He hopped out of the cab and opened her door. “I have my phone. You don’t have to stay.”
He smiled a closed lip smile. “That must have been a harder lick than I thought. Addled your brains.” He reached over her and unfastened her seatbelt. “Out you go little one. I’ll go park. You go get signed in. We’ll meet up inside.”
With shaking legs, she walked forward, and the emergency room doors automatically parted for her.
Chase watched the truck drive away, feeling concern for the woman but knowing it wasn’t his place to follow. Strangely, though, he wanted to.
When he couldn’t see the truck anymore, he slowly turned and stared at the Texas Pearl Inn. The large white house built in 1921 style had black trim and a red door. Hanging flowering plants hung along the porch.
The whole thing made him feel very comfortable, like he’d come home.
He walked up the walk, onto the porch, and paused at the door. Etiquette would have him ring the bell, but he’d already barged in once before, so he went ahead and opened the door, stepping into a large room with a reception desk to his immediate right and a sitting area consisting of several leather couches and chairs to his left. Oriental rugs covered the gleaming wood floor, and bookshelves bulging with books lined the far wall.
Beyond the reception desk, he saw closed double doors and a sign that announced breakfast hours from 7:00-10:00 in the mornings and soup available from 4:30-7:00 in the evenings.
At the desk, the red-haired sister typed on a keyboard. She looked up at him and smiled. “Here’s your official, now that we’ve handled the minor detail of my bleeding from the head sister, welcome to the Texas Pearl Inn, Mr. Anderson. We’re terrible happy you’re here.”
“Thank you.” He couldn’t help smiling at her humor and her ease at inserting it. He stepped forward and pulled out his wallet. She held her hand up.
“Cousin Jacob has already taken care of everything for your stay. I see you’re going to be with us for about six weeks?”
“Yes. Until August 21.”
“Dandy. We have you in room 6. Go to the top of the stairs and make a right, then last door on the left. We do light housekeeping every day and change the sheets every third day. If you need them more often, just holler. I’m Scarlett. My sister’s Violet. Our parents had what you might call a penchant for colors. My Gran is just Vi. She doesn’t like Viola. You can reach us any time by pressing ‘0’ on your room phone. Breakfast is from 7:00 to 10:00, and we have a soup and homemade bread set out from 4:30 to 7:00 every night.”
He took the key from her and looked at the stairs then back at her. “Do you have Wi-Fi?”
Scarlett shook her head. “Afraid not but we do keep a few carrier pigeons. They fly at sunup and sundown.”
Chase stood perfectly still and his expression didn’t change in the slightest. He tried to translate her words but he could not sort them out to make sense.
“Just yanking your chain. Sorry. Gran says I could talk the legs off a chair and you look plumb tuckered. Once you’re rested you’ll figure out just how funny that was.”
Scarlett nodded. “Yes, we have Wi-Fi. The password is on the desk in your room. We also have a hard line you can use to connect to the Internet. It’s faster and there’s no login. If you have any questions or problems, I’m afraid you’ll have to wait for my sister the bleeder to get back. She does all that stuff.”
Chase smiled. “I think I’ll manage. Thank you.” He glanced at his watch and calculated the time change. “Did you get a delivery for me from Bike World? They said they’d have it here by lunchtime.”
Scarlett pursed her lips. “I don’t know. Give me a second and I’ll find out.” She pulled her phone out of the back pocket of her jeans and swiped the screen a few times before putting it to her ear. “Gran, did we get a delivery for Mr. Anderson?” Her brows furrowed and she lifted the desk pad. “Okay. Got it. Thanks, Gran.” As she slipped the phone back into her pocket, she picked up the yellow paper she’d found under the pad. “Here’s the receipt. Gran said your bike is locked up next to our garage. The combination is written on the back, there.”
He took the receipt from her. “Great. Thanks.”
“She said the helmet’s in your room.”
He nodded and slipped his backpack over his shoulder. “Perfect. I appreciate it.”
“You really wear a bike helmet?”
Chase grins a little private grin remembering the feel of Kevlar in the desert. “Sure. I wear all kinds of helmets.”
Scarlett makes a show of slapping her own forehead. “Oh, right. Football star.”
“Yeah. Those too.”
He turned as she said, “You enjoy your stay!”
“I think I will. And I’ll keep a look out for those pigeons.”