by Cindy Kirk
“Slow down. He’s watching the twins because I’m helping him with the parade. He owes me.”
“If you say so.” Ami’s tone was irritatingly cheery.
“I can’t believe you.” Prim threw up her hands in frustration. “I just moved back and you already have me hooking up with my hunky neighbor. In what universe does that make any kind of sense?”
Ami waved the question aside. Or perhaps she was waving to Katie Ruth, who was striding down the sidewalk, ear buds obviously hooked to a phone in her pocket. Either that or the pretty blonde had taken up talking to herself.
“So you think Max is hunky, huh?”
“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Prim started toward the porch steps, but Ami grabbed her arm and dug in her heels.
“Not so fast. Really, tell me what’s up with you two.” Her sister’s tone was lighthearted, but the flare of hope she saw in Ami’s green eyes tore at Prim’s heartstrings.
It wasn’t in Prim’s nature to burst anyone’s bubble, but she didn’t understand why clarifying was even necessary. Ami knew where she stood on dating and romance. Prim had made that quite clear. And not all that long ago.
The wine and chocolate the four sisters had consumed two nights before the wedding hadn’t been enough to dull anyone’s senses. But it appeared she needed to say it again, and keep saying it, until Ami accepted it as fact.
“Nothing is between Max and me, other than neighborly friendliness.” Dismissing the kiss they’d shared as a simple momentary lapse, Prim kept her tone easy and conversational. “I meant what I said. I’m not going to date until the boys are out of high school.”
Ami was so busy checking her bag, pulling out one umbrella then another before dropping them back into the cavernous depths that Prim wondered if her sister was listening. Then Ami looked up. “I thought you were joking.”
“You knew I was serious, am serious,” Prim quickly corrected.
From their position on the massive porch, she and Ami waved to a couple of Cherries members hurrying past. One of them was Max’s mother, Vanessa Eden.
Rain had been forecast, but the clear, brilliantly blue sky mocked that prediction. There was, however, a slight mist in the air from the bay, and Prim felt her hair expanding by the second.
“Shouldn’t we get going?” Prim attempted to smooth the frizz with the palm of her hand. “I don’t want to be late.”
“Once we take a step into the inner sanctum”—Ami’s voice lowered to a spooky whisper—“we must remain silent. Or risk Eliza’s wrath.”
The cackling sound that burst from Ami’s throat was a mix between a squawking chicken and a deranged madman.
Prim shook her head, unable to keep from smiling. “You’re crazy. You know that, don’t you?”
“That’s the word.” Ami wagged a finger. “I believe crazy was what Fin dubbed your twelve-year no-dating plan.”
“I believe her actual words were, ‘Primrose, have you lost your mind?’” While Prim had laughed along with her other sisters, she’d wished they’d been more supportive of her decision.
“We want you to be happy.” Ami spoke softly, as if she’d read her mind. “That’s a long stretch of time to be alone.”
“I have the boys.”
“It’s not the same.”
Prim couldn’t argue that point. Having children in the house wasn’t the same as having a husband by your side when you needed a shoulder to cry on or wanted to celebrate a success. “You can be alone even when you’re married.”
“Was it that bad?” Sympathy filled Ami’s voice.
Prim hesitated, then realized she was tired of covering for Rory, tired of lying—especially to her own family—about her marriage. “I wouldn’t call it bad, but my marriage was different than I imagined it would be when I spoke my vows. Different than what I watched Mom and Dad share. Different from the way I see it is with you and Beck.”
She glanced away, not needing to see the pity in her sister’s eyes to know it was there. “I knew Rory had CF when I married him. I just didn’t realize how much his passion to live every moment, to experience every adventure, would impact our life together, and the lives of our sons.”
She stopped, realizing even now she was making excuses for his self-centered behavior.
“I’m angry at him, Am.” Prim’s voice shook with emotion. Because they were sisters—and close—she didn’t need to add that underneath the hot, molten anger flowed a river of sadness.
“I’m sorry, Prim.”
“I made my choice.” Taking a deep breath, Prim pulled out her phone and glanced at the time. “We really should get going. I don’t want to walk in late.”
Prim made it all the way down the steps before Ami caught up with her.
“Just remember, not all marriages are like what you had with Rory.” Ami kept her voice low. “With the right person, it can be amazing. Max is a wonderful guy.”
“I’m happy for you and Beck.” Prim willed her sister to see that truth in her eyes. “But I’m content with my life just the way it is.”
“We’ll talk more about this later.” The determined note in her sister’s voice made it a statement, not a question.
“Sure.” Prim knew whether she agreed or not, her decision would be questioned, debated, not just by Ami but by Fin and Marigold. Heck, her dad might even weigh in on the matter.
But Prim already knew what her response would be—what it had to be. The welfare of her boys came first.
“I dropped an extra umbrella in here for you.” Ami changed the subject, patting her large bag as they reached the sidewalk. “Remember how Mom always carried an umbrella in her purse? Even when there were blue skies and zero chance of rain?”
“I miss Mom and her umbrellas,” Prim said with a sigh.
Ami reached over and squeezed her hand. “It helps having you back. I mean, Dad is great, but lately he spends so much time with Anita.”
Anita Fishback, her dad’s girlfriend. Just the thought of the two together made Prim ill.
Prim paused for traffic at the corner of Market and Main. “I keep hoping Anita will show her true colors, do something that will be such a turnoff that he’ll never want to see her again.”
“Your mouth to God’s ear,” Ami muttered and made Prim grin.
Prim touched her sister’s arm as the two started up the walkway toward the doors of the majestic Hill House. “Tell me how this will play out.”
“We’ll follow the agenda we received. Basically we’re just going to be updating Eliza—and the others—on where we are in regard to our part in the upcoming Independence Day festivities.” Ami continued in a matter-of-fact tone, “As I’m coordinating the Cherries’ involvement in the pancake feed the morning of the Hometown Heroes parade, I’ll report on those efforts.”
“What will I do?”
“Just listen, get a feel for how everything works.” Ami offered a reassuring smile. “Since you recently came on board, no one expects you to know much of anything yet.”
The explanation sounded logical and made perfect sense. But Prim’s unease still grew with each step.
The house hadn’t changed. The massive staircase to the left was still impressive, and the ornate crown molding still drew the eye.
Hearing the click of heels on the hardwood floor, Prim looked up and caught the heavy scent of designer perfume just before Eliza stepped into the foyer.
“Everyone is in the parlor waiting.” Eliza’s gaze fixed on Ami. “We’re ready to get started.”
If the barb had struck its target, Ami gave no indication. Her sister merely glanced at the grandfather clock, which showed the time as 12:55. “The meeting is still set for one?”
“It’s always at one.”
“Just wanted to make certain nothing had changed,” Ami said equitably.
“If we’re late, it’s my fault,” Prim interjected. “It took me longer to—”
“We’re not late,” Ami snapped, then softened the words with
a smile. “We still have five minutes.”
When the executive director remained silent, Ami’s head tilted. “Isn’t that right, Eliza?”
“As long as you are seated and ready to proceed at one.”
Her sister may have appeared unfazed, but Prim knew Ami had tender feelings. Since Ami was apparently determined to act as if Eliza’s barbs didn’t matter, Prim let it go.
She wanted to say more but they’d reached the parlor. As her gaze took in the scene, Prim was surprised how many of the women she knew around the semicircle. Katie Ruth was there as well as Lynn Chapin and Max’s mother.
If Prim remembered correctly, the two women had been high school classmates and were still good friends.
Catching the warning glance sent by Eliza in her direction, Prim stifled the urge to greet everyone and slid into an empty chair next to Katie Ruth. Ami slipped in beside her.
The clock in the foyer chimed the start of the meeting. Eliza made a few announcements, including a brief welcome to Prim.
The executive director cut off the words of greeting with one slice of her hand. “Lynn, would you like to report on the state of the Fourth of July preparations?”
Lynn Chapin, dressed in white pants and a royal blue camp shirt, rose with an easy grace Prim envied. Unlike Prim’s unruly ’do, Lynn’s silvery-blond bob brushed the tops of her shoulders, silky smooth.
“In addition to what is already in the works for the Independence Day and Hometown Heroes parades, the pancake feed, and the Music in the Square events, we’ll be adding a children’s parade on July third. Prizes will be given for the best-decorated bicycle, wagon, et cetera. We—”
“There was no money earmarked in the budget for prizes,” Eliza interrupted, startling Lynn, who simply stared.
“I was about to explain that the prizes will be covered by the merchants.” Lynn’s tone turned as cool as her eyes. “Katie Ruth got the buy-in from the business owners because any child who is in town during the festivities can participate. The merchants see this as a win-win for the community.”
Some of the tightness bracketing Eliza’s mouth eased. “I hope they’re not offering their support for this but pulling back on other planned donations.”
A startled look crossed Lynn’s face, as if that thought had not occurred to her. “Absolutely not.”
“Are you certain?” Eliza pressed.
Lynn’s lips pressed together for half a second but her voice displayed no irritation. “As a matter of fact, while I was discussing this addition, I confirmed their donations to the main celebrations.”
“Good.” A look of relief crossed Eliza’s face. “That’s fine, then.”
“Are donations of time, money, or supplies down, Eliza?” Katie Ruth raised her hand but spoke before being acknowledged. “You seem concerned.”
“We haven’t done as much fundraising this year as in the past. As each year we attempt to up our game, it doesn’t take much to deplete our coffers.” As if dismissing any further questions from Katie Ruth, Eliza shifted her body toward Prim. “Primrose, I’d like you to report on the progress of the parade on Independence Day.”
Startled, Prim glanced at Ami, who looked equally perplexed.
“Primrose is co-chairing the Independence Day parade with Max,” Eliza explained to the others. “As this is one of our most attended events of the year, it is critical that the parade go off without a hitch.”
The glint in those hard gray eyes told Prim the executive director was well aware she’d put her on the hot seat. Not only that, Eliza hoped she’d get scorched.
If Prim explained she’d only taken over the duties in the past forty-eight hours or protested that the brief agenda e-mailed to her hadn’t indicated she’d be expected to give a report, Eliza could make her appear incompetent with a few carefully chosen words.
Judging by the cat-got-the-canary look on Eliza’s face, that’s exactly what the executive director had in mind.
“Thank you for the opportunity to report, Eliza.” Prim rose, plastering a serene smile on her lips. “Max and I have all of the participant entry forms. We will be reaching out to the contact person for each entry to verify their participation and make sure they understand the parade guidelines.”
Her assumption was, at this late date, they had all the entry forms. By the nods, she’d assumed correctly.
Now the slippery part.
Last night—another restless one—she’d opened her laptop and pulled up everything she could find on parade planning. The information on how to best organize a parade had proved to be a better sleep aid than warm milk or melatonin. Still, Ami wasn’t the only Bloom sister with an excellent memory.
Prim wasn’t certain exactly how the parade in Good Hope was organized, but as she continued her report, she focused on common tasks cited in the articles.
“Our focus for this week is to fine-tune the lineup.” The way Prim figured, a lineup could always be adjusted to make it better. “We want to—”
“The lineup is the same every year,” Eliza interrupted, obviously determined to squish her like a bug under those pretty black heels.
“The parade is one of the Cherries’ biggest events,” Prim continued without breaking stride. “For instance, just because fire trucks normally come later in the parade doesn’t mean we shouldn’t move them closer to the beginning.”
“What would be the advantage of moving them up?” Katie Ruth asked, genuine interest on her face.
“They’d be able to leave more quickly in an emergency.” Several of the articles Prim had read with smaller communities in mind had stressed that point.
“That makes sense,” Katie Ruth said.
The other women seated in the room nodded.
“Max and I will be viewing the videotape of last year’s parade to analyze problematic areas,” Prim added.
“That should have been done long before now,” Eliza said.
“Prim just took over this position.” Lynn Chapin spoke up, shooting Eliza a pointed look. “I don’t know about all of you, but I’m impressed by the strides our newest Cherrie has made in such a short time.”
A ripple of applause sounded.
“Yes. Thank you, Primrose. Good job.” Eliza’s sweet tone didn’t fool Prim. Still, she’d spoken the words.
Heels O. Bug 1.
Though she wanted to jump up and do a happy dance, Prim listened quietly while Katie Ruth, Vanessa, and Ami gave their reports. She couldn’t wait to go home and tell—
The thought brought her up short.
Tell who? Callum and Connor? They’d listen for maybe ten seconds, not understanding a word she said, then ask if they could watch television or go out and play.
Fin and Marigold were too far removed from Good Hope business to understand the significance.
There was only one person who would understand, who would truly celebrate her victory over Eliza’s machinations.
Her lips curved into a smile. Wasn’t it lucky she knew just where to find him?
Chapter Seven
Prim shielded her eyes from the sun with one hand and watched Max and her sons build a sand castle. Or what she assumed would eventually be a castle. Another little boy she didn’t recognize crouched beside Connor, helping pack sand.
They all looked like they didn’t have a care in the world. Which was exactly how Prim felt at this moment. She couldn’t stop smiling as she started down the steps leading from the parking lot to the sandy beach . . . just as Clint Gourley started up them.
Clint was older than Prim by a good seven years. She vaguely recalled him being cute in his younger days. But the blond good looks had faded, leaving him middle-aged and paunchy with a receding hairline he tried to hide with too much gel.
One thing hadn’t changed: he still had that leering smile that made her skin crawl.
“Hey, Primrose, lookin’ good.”
Prim gave him a perfunctory smile and brushed past him. He deliberately bumped her. She heard him l
augh but didn’t turn around. Instead she hurried across the sand, weaving in and out of the sunbathers with their beach towels and umbrellas and floaties.
In her one-piece navy swimsuit and shorts, she fit right in with the crowd. The intensity with which the boys were patting sand on their castle-in-progress made her glad she’d gone with impulse and swung by the house to change. She’d had a feeling the twins might be having too much fun to want to leave immediately.
Max glanced in the direction of the now-empty steps. “What did Clint say to you?”
Behind those sunglasses, he’d been watching her, she realized. The thought added another layer to her happy mood. She didn’t want to chance bringing it down by discussing creepy Clint. Prim waved a dismissive hand. “Nothing important.”
“Mommy, Mommy, look what we’re building.” Connor jumped up and grabbed her hand, tugging her to the mound of sand.
Callum lifted his head from where he sat on his knees, hands buried deep. “Can we stay longer?”
“Please can they stay?” the tow-headed boy, the unknown part of the construction crew, added his pleas.
Prim scooped up a handful of sand, intensely aware of Max’s scrutiny. “Absolutely. For a while, anyway.”
The boys cheered, then went back to working on their masterpiece.
Prim dusted the sand off her hands. “Two wasn’t enough?”
Max tilted his head. “Huh?”
Prim pointed toward the third boy. “You picked up another one.”
Max grinned. “That’s Chris. He’s Cory and Jackie White’s son. They live just down the street from us.”
“The names ring a bell.”
“Your sister was involved in several Giving Tree fundraisers for the family. Cory was diagnosed with leukemia, but he’s in remission now and doing great.”
“I hope that continues.” Prim thought of her mother. For six years she’d been cancer-free. Then it had come back with a vengeance.
Max motioned to her. He took a couple of steps away from the boys and lowered his voice so they wouldn’t be overheard.
“Jackie, Cory’s wife, has MS.” Max gestured with his head toward a couple with two younger children sitting in the shade. “They’re good people. You’ll like them.”