“WHAT’S HE DOING HERE?” Nick demanded. Running at them, he clenched and unclenched his fists. “I heard you. I was in the kitchen, getting a glass of milk.”
He stood too close, towered over her. Rage and humiliation swirled in his eyes. “Were you talking to Coach about my father?”
“Nick, take it easy.” Tucker stepped forward, put a hand on Nick’s arm.
Nick shook his hand off. “It’s none of your business! She had no right to talk to you about it. No right! It’s my private business.” He turned to Claire. “You never asked me about my father.”
“Do you know anything about your father?” Claire asked, trying to keep her voice steady, refusing to back away from the anger in her nephew’s eyes. That anger frightened her. For just a moment, it brought back ugly memories of another angry man who had lived in this house.
“My father is none of your business,” he shouted.
Tucker stepped forward, grasped Nick’s shoulders, and moved him away from Claire. “Settle down, son. This isn’t the way you solve problems.”
Nick shook him off. “Don’t call me son.”
Tucker nodded slowly. “You’re right, and I apologize. My Southern roots showing again.” He shoved his hands into his pockets, but Claire noticed that he’d angled himself between Nick and her. Although Tucker’s instinctive protectiveness warmed her, she refused to hide behind him.
Claire stepped around Tucker and reached for Nick. He recoiled. “Nick, I’m sorry. I was just asking Tucker’s advice.”
“On what?” Nick sneered. “How you can get rid of me and go back to Chicago?”
She sucked in a shocked breath. “Of course not. That’s the last thing I want. I wouldn’t think of leaving you.” She touched his arm. “I want us to be a family.”
“Yeah, right. You want to dump me on my old man. A guy who never wanted me or my mother.”
“Nick, I haven’t been looking for your father. I promise.”
“That’s bullsh—”
“Enough,” Tucker said. “Watch yourself, Nick.”
Anger raged in Nick’s eyes, a shocking contrast to the gentle buzz of bees in the garden.
How could she make him understand? “I’ll be honest with you, Nick. You know I don’t have any children. I haven’t spent much time around teenagers. Sometimes I need help figuring stuff out.”
“You could try asking me,” he said, lifting his chin again.
Tucker laid his hand on Nick’s shoulder again, and again Nick shrugged it off. “Listen, Kendall,” Tucker said, ignoring Nick’s gesture. “Fifteen-year-olds don’t always know what’s best for them.”
“She should have asked me,” Nick said, hunching his shoulders. “Not you.”
Claire saw tears glittering in Nick’s eyes, and suddenly understood. Nick was struggling to become a man. He didn’t want Tucker to see him as a child.
“I asked Tucker because he’s my friend,” she said softly. “Because he knows you. He spends time with you every day.” She glanced at Tucker, was warmed by the encouragement she saw in his eyes. “Because he was a fifteen-year-old boy once, too.”
“Hard as it may be to believe, Kendall,” Tucker said, “I was a snotty punk with an attitude once myself.”
Claire whipped her head around to look at Tucker. But Tucker winked at Nick, and some of the anger faded from Nick’s eyes.
Nick liked being called a snotty punk?
Clearly she didn’t understand men at all.
“Can we sit down on the porch and talk?” Claire asked, watching her nephew.
He shrugged. “I guess.”
She turned to Tucker, who gave her a small shake of his head. “I’ll see you at school tomorrow,” he said to Nick. “Punk,” he added with a grin.
“Yeah, whatever,” Nick mumbled.
They stood and watched as Tucker drove away. Claire turned and dropped self-consciously onto one of the wooden porch steps. Still warm from the sun’s rays, it eased the chill inside her. After a moment, Nick sat down below her.
“Do you know anything about your father, Nick?” she asked.
“Not much.” He used the toe of his running shoe to move a pebble around on the step. “Mom just told me she cared about him. And that he cared about her.”
His eyes were tear-blurred. “That was a lie. If he cared about her, how come he didn’t marry her? Or at least give her money to take care of me. Fathers have to do that. I know about child support.” He kicked the pebble off the porch, watched it tumble down the sidewalk. “Mom just said that so I wouldn’t feel bad. He never wanted me.”
“Maybe he didn’t know about you. Your mom ran away after she got pregnant, you know. She probably didn’t tell your father.”
Nick’s weary, cynical glance cut at her heart. “Yeah, right,” he said.
She had to tell him. She had to ease some of the pain in his eyes. There was nothing worse than knowing your parents didn’t want you.
She knew how that felt.
“I want to tell you why I needed to talk to Tucker, why I wanted his advice.” She reached for his hand, held it in hers. When he tried to pull away, she tightened her grip. “A man has come forward and said he’s your father.”
He whipped his head around to stare at her, scowling with disbelief. But beneath the doubt she saw wild hope. “That’s crap. Why would someone say that now?”
“I don’t know, Nick. I haven’t talked to him. I don’t even know who he is. He contacted a lawyer.”
“How do you know he’s telling the truth?”
“I don’t.” She leaned closer, searched Nick’s eyes. “That’s why I wanted to talk to Tucker. I didn’t want to get your hopes up.”
“So it may all be a lie?”
How did she tell him about Roger? “The lawyer is Roger Vernon, that lawyer we saw in town. I used to be married to him and our divorce was ugly.”
“You were married to that guy?”
“For two years.”
She could see Nick thinking. “So this Vernon guy might be lying because he’s still mad at you.”
“Yes.” She smiled at Nick through the tears clogging her throat. “You’re a smart kid, Nick.”
He looked away, but not before she saw the sheen of tears in his eyes. “That’s a crappy thing to do.”
“Yes, it is. That’s why I didn’t want to tell you right away.”
Nick used his shoe to draw circles in the dust on the stair. “What if he is my father? Do you want to get rid of me?”
“No! That’s the last thing I want.” She took a deep breath, laid her hand on his shoulder. “I love you, Nick. I’ll fight like hell if he tries to take you away from me.”
He gave her a sidelong look. “Yeah?”
“Yeah.” She gave him a mock-fierce look. “And I can kick some major butt.”
A smile curved one side of his mouth for a half second, then disappeared. He moved his toe back and forth in the dust, back and forth. “Do I have to decide now?”
“Of course not. This is a lot to think about. And it’s your decision.”
“What do you think I should do?”
“Right now? Let’s wait until we have more information. But if this man is your father, the decision is yours.” She wrapped her arm around his shoulders and squeezed. He hunched his shoulders, but he didn’t shake off her hand. “I can’t tell you to meet your father or not. You’re fifteen years old. You’re closer to an adult than a child. You have the right to make this decision.”
“I don’t know what to do,” he muttered.
“It’s not an easy thing to decide,” she said. She stood up and brushed off the seat of her shorts. “It’s going to take a lot of thought. I’m here if you want to talk about it. But no one expects you to figure it out this minute.”
She put a tentative hand on his arm. “Hey, how about some ice cream? Want to walk into town?”
She expected him to refuse. She was surprised when he shrugged. “Yeah, okay, whatever.”
As they walked toward downtown Monroe, the bewildered look on his face made her wind her arm through his, hug him to her side.
Instead of pulling away, Nick leaned a little closer.
FOUR DAYS LATER, Claire stood at the door to the Dog House, the refreshment stand at the high school football field. Judy Johnson had called earlier that day and asked if she could work during the game.
Taking a deep breath, Claire knocked on the door. Judy welcomed her with a smile. “Hey, Claire, come on in.”
The scent of hot dogs turning on a grill wafted out the door, mixed with the buttery, salty smell of fresh popcorn. A growling bulldog decorated Judy’s apron. Ketchup covered the dog’s legs.
Judy followed her gaze and laughed. “A minor kitchen disaster,” she said. “Thanks so much for helping out.”
“I’m glad you called,” Claire replied. And she was. She liked Judy Johnson and looked forward to getting to know her better.
“Do you remember Lucy Groves? She was at the pasta dinner.” Judy nodded at the woman in front of the popcorn machine.
“Hi, Claire,” Lucy said with a smile. “Welcome to Friday night madness, also known as working the concession stand at a football game.”
“Are you trying to scare me off?” Guilt slid through Claire. She should have volunteered to work the games.
“Just try to walk out that door and see what happens,” Judy said with a grin. “It won’t be pretty.”
“What do you want me to do?” Claire asked.
Judy tilted her head. “I think we’ll put you at the counter until after the game starts.” She led Claire over to the front of the stand. “Here are the prices and here’s the cash box. You take the orders and make the change, and Lucy and I will fill them. After the game starts, it’ll slow down and we’ll show you where everything is.”
“I think I can handle that.”
A girl whose head barely reached the top of the counter laid a crumpled dollar bill on the counter. “Could I have a licorice rope, please?”
“Sure,” Claire said, looking over at the candy display. Red licorice ropes dangled down the side of a box, and she carefully extracted one. Glancing at the price list, she handed the child her change. “Enjoy it.”
“Thank you,” the girl said, smiling shyly at Claire. She was missing her front teeth, and Claire imagined her sliding the licorice through the gap.
The next person wanted a bottle of Gatorade, and the person after that asked for nachos and a hot dog. A group of high school girls giggled as they bought popcorn and candy. Claire called out the orders, made change and quickly got into the rhythm of the work.
A referee blew a whistle, the game started, and their customers melted away. Judy and Lucy came to the front of the stand and leaned on the counter.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Claire said. “The way you talked, I pictured a mob scene.”
“Wait until halftime,” Judy advised darkly. “That’s when it gets ugly.”
“So we just stand around here until then?”
Lucy rolled her eyes. “We have to get enough hot dogs ready to feed the Russian Army, and enough popcorn to go along with it. And we have to make sure the coolers are stocked with soda and Gatorade.”
“But that’s not our most important job,” Judy said, her eyes twinkling.
“What’s that?” Claire asked.
“We have to catch up on all the Monroe gossip. That’s number one in our job description.”
“Then you shouldn’t have asked me to work,” Claire said with a laugh. “I don’t know any of the gossip.”
Lucy grinned. “You will by the time you’re finished working tonight.”
Before Claire could answer, Judy tugged on her sleeve. “Nick is punting,” she said. “Look.”
Nick caught the ball and kicked it into the air. Claire watched it sail through the air, a spot of bright brown against the midnight blue of the sky.
“Nice job,” Judy said. She turned to Claire. “He got some good distance on that.”
Claire watched Nick run off the field to receive a high five from Tucker. Her throat swelled. Even from the other side of the field, she could see Nick’s joy.
“Hello, ladies,” a voice said in front of them, and Claire jerked her attention away from Nick and Tucker. Mayor Denton stood in front of the stand.
“Hi, Fred,” Judy said. “What can we get for you?”
“A cup of coffee and some popcorn.” His smile was too friendly. “I’ve heard you make the best popcorn in town, Lucy.”
“We try,” Lucy murmured, as she headed toward the grill.
“That will be a dollar seventy-five, Mayor,” Claire said, her voice expressionless.
The mayor laid a twenty-dollar bill on the counter, and Claire picked it up to make change. Judy stopped her.
“Fred, don’t be an ass,” she said. “Give me two singles or a bunch of change. I can’t break a twenty this early in the evening.”
The mayor’s eyes flashed, but he picked up the twenty and rooted around in his wallet. “Here,” he said, throwing a five on the counter. “This is the smallest I have.”
Claire handed him his change, along with the popcorn and coffee. Judy snorted as he walked away.
“Blowhard,” she said, shaking her head. “The idiot thinks we’ll be impressed by seeing him flashing a wad of money. ‘This is the smallest I have,’” she mocked, her voice wickedly skewering the mayor.
Claire turned to Lucy. “It sounded as if Mayor Denton was hitting on you,” she said, sickened by the thought.
Lucy grimaced. “The old coot thinks he’s God’s gift. Prepare yourself. If you’re a single female in Monroe, sooner or later he’ll hit on you.”
“He’s married!” Claire said.
Judy rolled her eyes. “That’s a great big ‘duh.’ And you don’t have to be single to get Fred’s attention. He’ll hit on anything female that moves.”
“If he’s such a hound dog, how did he get elected mayor?”
Judy sighed. “The Monroe movers and shakers are pragmatists. The mayor has to do a lot of schmoozing with the state legislature, and Fred is good at extracting money from them.”
Claire leaned against the counter as Lucy and Judy talked about people she knew. She was enjoying herself, she realized. Cool night air brushed against her skin and the cheers from the crowded bleachers swelled and faded with the plays on the field. Judy giggled at something Lucy said, and suddenly all three of them were laughing.
“I’m glad you’re here tonight,” Judy said after a moment.
“I’m glad you called,” Claire answered. “I’m having a great time.”
Lucy smiled. “Who knew that working the refreshment stand at a football game was so much fun?” she said. “Welcome to small-town life.”
“You both enjoy living here, don’t you?”
“I sure do,” said Judy. “I didn’t expect to like it. I loved living in the city. Jim had to drag me here, kicking and screaming. But Monroe suits me now. And it’s been good for Booger.” She gave Claire a rueful smile. “If you had told me before we moved to Monroe that I’d be calling Tim ‘Booger,’ I would have said you were completely nuts. But I can’t imagine living anywhere else.”
“My perspective on Monroe comes from my childhood,” Claire admitted.
“A lot of things look different from an adult point of view,” Judy pointed out. She flashed a sympathetic smile. “I’m not sure I’d want to go back and live in the town where I grew up.”
“Sometimes you don’t have a choice,” Claire said.
“Even when you don’t, sometimes it ends up better than you ever could have expected,” Lucy added.
She walked to the back of the booth. “Time to gear up for the halftime rush. Claire, you can start with the hot dogs.”
Before Claire could follow her, a blond man who looked familiar stopped at the counter. “Hello, Claire,” he said.
Embarrassed that she didn’t remember his name, she gave him an impersonal smile. “Hi. Can I help you?”
Annoyance flashed in his eyes. Because she didn’t remember his name? It vanished as quickly as it appeared, making her wonder if she’d imagined it.
“I’m Derek Joiner. We spoke at the first football game. Your sister worked with me at city hall.”
“Of course. I’m sorry I didn’t remember your name.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he said with a smooth smile. “You have a lot to concentrate on.” He leaned over the counter. “I still have Janice’s things at the office. Would you like me to bring them to your house?”
“No, thanks,” Claire said quickly. How did Joiner know where she lived? “I’ll stop by city hall next week and pick them up.”
“No hurry,” he said. “I figured you’d been busy, wrapping things up here.” He winked. “Not that I’m in a hurry to see you leave Monroe. We can always use more beautiful women in town.”
“Thanks, Derek,” Claire said. “I’ll see you when I stop by city hall.”
“I’m looking forward to it,” he said with a pleasant smile. He nodded to all three women as he walked away.
“Pretty smooth, isn’t he?” Judy said.
“If you like his type,” Lucy added.
Claire glanced over at them. “Another one who thinks he’s a lady-killer?”
Lucy grimaced. “Way too slick for me,” she said.
Claire grinned. “Maybe I’ll work here at the concession stand with you two every Friday night. I’ll know everything there is to know about Monroe by the end of the football season.”
“Stick with us, baby,” Judy said with a laugh. “We’ll let you in on all Monroe’s deep, dark secrets.”
“But not at the concession stand.” Lucy shuddered. “Once a season is enough for me.”
“Speaking of which, brace yourselves,” Judy said. “The halftime buzzer just went off.”
AN HOUR AND A HALF LATER, after a disappointing loss, most of the fans had filed out of the stadium and the three women were cleaning the booth and putting away the food. Claire was washing the coffeepot when Lucy shrieked. Popcorn cascaded onto the floor in a yellow-white stream as she stared helplessly at the mess. Lucy had been having trouble with the popcorn machine all night.
The three women slipped on popcorn as they struggled to turn off the machine, their giggles escalating to helpless laughter as it regurgitated kernels. Popcorn crunching beneath her feet, Claire staggered back against the counter, waving a dustpan and brush.
“Smack it with the broom,” she called between hoots of laughter. “Don’t let it bully you, Lucy. You have to show it who’s boss.”
“And here I thought you ladies were so brave, volunteering to work the concessions at the games. You’re having way too much fun to be working.”
Claire spun around to find Tucker grinning at her from the other side of the counter. The khaki pants, blue dress shirt and tie he wore to Friday night games were slightly rumpled-looking, but they only emphasized his wide shoulders and long legs. The faint tang of clean sweat clung to him.
“Hi, Tucker,” she said.
“Hi, yourself.” He nodded at the mess on the floor, his lips twitching. “I guess it wouldn’t be smart to ask for popcorn.”
“Not if you value your life. We just beat that machine into submission.”
“Then I guess I’ll settle for a Gatorade.”
“I’ll go grab one.”
She headed for the small storage area and crouched down to retrieve a cold bottle. When she turned around to stand up, Tucker was right behind her.
“The door was open,” he said. “I thought I’d save you some steps.”
He was so close that she couldn’t help brushing the front of his body as she stood up. Her legs bumped against his and her breasts were less than an inch from his chest. The breeze through the open door was chilly, but heat rolled off Tucker’s body and seeped into hers.
“Here you go,” she said brightly, handing him the bottle. When she tried to back up, she bumped into the stacked cases of Gatorade.
“Thanks, Claire,” he said. Without taking his eyes off her, he unscrewed the cap and gulped it down. She couldn’t tear her gaze away from his throat muscles, contracting rhythmically inches away from her.
He finished the drink and tossed the bottle into the trash can. “I’ve been thinking about the Dog House all night,” he said in a low voice. “I had such a craving…” He gave her a slow, intimate smile. “For a Gatorade.”
“We have plenty of that,” she managed to say.
“So I see.”
“I should finish cleaning up here,” she said, her hands scrabbling for a hold on the boxes behind her as she eased away from him. “Nick will be waiting for me.”
“He asked me to tell you he’s going to Sparky’s with a couple of the guys,” Tucker said. “Take your time.”
His eyes gleamed as they settled on her lips. For a breathless moment, she was sure he intended to kiss her. Then he moved away.
“Thanks for the drink,” he said. “I’ll wait and make sure you ladies get to your cars safely.”
“You don’t have to do that,” she protested.
“Oh, it’s my pleasure, Claire,” he said.
With a smile that held a promise, he disappeared out the door.
When Claire turned around, she saw Judy and Lucy watching with frank interest. “Looks like you have something to contribute to Monroe gossip after all, Claire,” Judy said with a wicked grin.
Claire felt her face flush bright red. “Tucker wanted some Gatorade,” she said. “I guess he was thirsty after the game.”
“Oh, he wanted something, all right,” Judy said. “But it wasn’t a sports drink.”
“You have a dirty mind, Judy Johnson,” Lucy said, laughing.
“It doesn’t take a dirty mind to understand that look on a man’s face,” Judy shot back. “Tucker might have said he wanted a Gatorade, but he wants Claire for dessert.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Claire said, grabbing desperately for dignity.
Judy snorted. “You didn’t expect to keep this a secret, did you?” Her eyes crinkled with laughter. “And I thought you grew up in Monroe.”
“There are no secrets in a small town,” Lucy said.
But that wasn’t true, Claire thought. Everyone had them. Life wasn’t black-and-white anymore, the way it had been when she was younger. Now everyone’s life was shades of gray, an amalgam of choices made and roads taken.
Claire looked at the other two women, women who were her friends. No one emerged from their childhood unscathed.
Maybe the people in Monroe weren’t so different from people everywhere else.
Maybe they were more like her than she thought.
Maybe she was the one who needed to change her thinking about Monroe.