by Cindy Kirk
He took her hand, lacing his fingers with hers. “So soon?”
“Deb is reading to the boys now, but it’s almost their bedtime. I told her I needed to work out some parade details with you.” Her lips twitched. “She didn’t believe it, of course. But other than calling me a liar, what could she say?”
“Just in case she asks, everything is set with the parade. By the way, I just updated Eliza a few minutes ago, so we shouldn’t be getting any more texts from her, at least not until tomorrow. I told her you and I will be in constant contact with several spotters along the route during the parade so we can make any last-minute adjustments.”
“Good to know.” Prim smiled. “This whole process wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.”
He lifted their joined hands. “We make a good team.”
“Yes, we do.” Oh, how she wished she could stay. “How was Green Bay?”
He blinked.
“The IRS visit with your mom?”
“It feels as if that trip was a thousand years ago.” Max shook his head. “It went well. The agent was satisfied with the documentation. I’m glad it’s done and behind us.”
“How is your mother?”
“She’s dating again.” Max tossed the words out there as if they were of no consequence, but something in his voice put Prim on alert.
“Is it serious?”
“He’s Beck’s age.”
“Who is Beck’s age?”
“The man my mother is dating.”
Prim took a moment to clear her throat. “Have they been dating . . . long?”
“She says three months. In Vanessa Eden time, that’s an eternity.” A muscle in Max’s jaw jumped. “She told me once it quits being fun, she’ll end it. I’ve never understood that kind of mentality.”
“What do you mean?”
Max gazed down at her. With great gentleness he moved a lock of hair behind her ear with one finger. “I can’t see why anyone would invest the emotional energy in dating someone if they aren’t a person you might consider marrying in the future.”
“You picked a great week to spend time in Good Hope,” Max said to Deb and Mike as they climbed the bleacher steps. “Next to the parade, the vintage baseball game is one of my favorite events of the Independence Day celebration.”
Prim agreed. She’d been looking forward to attending the annual event with Max and her sons. Since Max had played last year, this was his year to sit out.
The game always drew large crowds. Everyone loved seeing the players in period reproduction uniforms using equipment common to the era while following rules from the nineteenth century.
The fact that Rory’s parents had decided to tag along, while not unexpected, was disappointing. Prim consoled herself with the knowledge that her in-laws would soon return to Appleton. Life would then return to normal.
For now, the six of them sat at the top of the metal bleachers. Though they’d arrived early, the upper row was the only spot left with enough space for six.
She saw Max slant a sideways glance at Deb and Mike, their chaperones for the evening.
As long as Rory’s parents were around, Prim knew there would be no personal conversation. In fact, it was difficult to have any kind of conversation at all, considering Deb seemed to be wired as tightly as the Energizer Bunny today.
When they’d reached the ball field, she’d tried to maneuver it so Max sat on the other side of Mike. Prim did her own maneuvering, making sure Max sat beside her.
As Deb rose from her seat to wave and call out to someone she knew, Max gave Prim a conspiratorial wink.
“You look extremely pretty this evening.” His voice was low, for her ears only.
Prim’s heart gave a skip and she suddenly felt quite breathless.
Sensing Mike’s curious gaze on them, she gave Max a smile, then focused on the field.
Just before Deb resumed her seat beside Prim, Connor slipped around his grandparents to sit on the other side of Max. When Max lowered his head to listen to what the boy was telling him, Deb’s lips tightened.
“You know, Primrose,” Deb said in an offhand tone that Prim guessed was anything but offhand, “you were fortunate to find a great love early in your lifetime.”
Prim simply smiled, not sure where Deb was going with this.
“You need to honor that love and the commitment you made to my son.” Deb gestured with her head toward Max. “Rory hasn’t even been gone two years and it’s obvious you’re already looking to replace him.”
“Yes, she is.” Callum spoke loudly in response to his grandfather. “Aren’t you, Mom?”
Startled, Prim turned toward her son.
“You are so going to play baseball next year. Grandpa Mike doesn’t believe me.” Callum’s eyes—as blue as his father’s had been—flashed. “Tell him. Tell him you’re going to do it.”
“It’s true.” Grateful for the distraction, Prim eagerly turned from Deb to Mike. “I may embarrass myself, but I’ve already agreed to play in the vintage ladies’ game next year.”
“Told you.”
Callum’s comment drew a censuring glance from Prim, but Connor fist-bumped his brother.
“Katie Ruth Crewes has been pushing to have a ‘Bloomer Girls’ team for several years.” Prim wasn’t about to let the topic end, not when it kept Deb at bay.
Deb frowned. “Bloomer Girls?”
“That’s what the clubs that played back in the 1890s were called,” Max answered before Prim could. “Ladies’ baseball actually thrived until the—”
“Great Depression,” Prim finished the sentence for him, and they both smiled.
Deb’s gaze turned sharp and assessing. “I never realized, Primrose, that you were so interested in sporting events. I seem to recall my son had to practically beg you to attend his soccer matches.”
Somehow, Prim kept a smile on her lips. When she spoke her tone was easy. “I’ve always been a baseball fan. When Katie Ruth called and said she was attempting to get enough women to field a couple of teams next year, Ami and I both volunteered.”
Deb turned to Callum. “Your daddy never liked baseball.”
“Really?” Callum tilted his head. A puzzled frown furrowed his brow. “Me ’n’ Connor like it a lot. Mr. Brody is our coach.”
The child grinned at Max, who returned the boy’s smile.
“Is that so?” Deb glanced pointedly at her husband, but Mike was busy watching the game.
“Put on your glasses,” Prim’s father-in-law bellowed so loudly several people sitting nearby turned to stare. “That ump is blind. That was clearly a foul ball.”
“Michael, you’re making a scene,” Deb hissed.
Prim only sighed. Mike was a nice guy, but he had been a sideline coach when Rory played, too. It had been only one of the reasons she’d shied away from Rory’s events.
“They’re playing by 1860 rules. Those rules say fair or foul batted balls caught on the fly or one bounce retire the batter,” Max explained.
“Ridiculous,” Mike muttered and refocused on the game.
Callum’s gaze turned thoughtful. “They aren’t wearing gloves. And Uncle Beck is throwing the ball funny.”
“Gloves weren’t worn until the mid-1880s,” Max clarified when everyone remained silent. “Beck is throwing overhand, which is how they did it back then. Watch your uncle.” Max gestured to his friend atop the pitching mound.
“I want to throw like that.” Excitement filled Callum’s voice. “Can I, Mr. Brody, please?”
Max ruffled his hair with obvious affection. “How about I give everyone a chance at our next practice?”
The boys cheered and high-fived each other.
Prim gave Max’s arm a quick squeeze.
Deb cleared her throat. “Rory considered baseball too slow.”
Knowing her mother-in-law was trying to steer the conversation back to Rory, Prim said nothing.
“I’ve got to go to the baffroom,” Connor announced.
Prim looked at her father-in-law, but he was busy speaking with an older man in front of him. She was about to ask Max if he’d take the boys when she felt Deb’s tight grip on her arm.
“They’re your responsibility. Not his,” Deb chided, her voice barely above a whisper.
Heat flooded Prim’s face. “Come on, boys.”
As she slipped past Max on her way to the aisle, she briefly rested a hand on his shoulder. He looked up, and Prim felt herself steady at his warm look of reassurance.
Max settled back in his seat and watched her trim figure navigate the steps with her sons.
“Rory and Prim were so close, so in love.”
He turned to Deb. “Pardon?”
“I said Prim and Rory were so in love. You were around back then. You must remember how she used to look at him, as if he was the only one in the world.”
Max remembered.
“She won’t find anyone like my son again and she’s wise not to try. Prim has only to look at your mother’s life to see how foolish that would be.”
Though outwardly Max displayed no sign that her arrow had hit its mark, he felt the sting. He cleared his throat before speaking. “My mother?”
“Like Prim, Vanessa found her soul mate at a young age. Sadly, they both lost their spouses early on.” Deb glanced over as if to make sure her husband’s attention was still on the game. “But Prim is smarter than your mother.”
Deb raised a hand to keep Max from interrupting.
“I adore Vanessa, so please don’t think I’m speaking ill of her. In fact, I believe if you asked, she’d agree with me. It would have been better for her—and for you—if she’d have stayed single until you were grown.”
Suddenly Max understood. “You’re saying Prim should remain single.”
“I’m saying it would be unwise for anyone, anyone who has the best interests of Prim and the boys at heart, to push for more.” Deb’s gaze met his and there was no mistaking the warning in those fierce blue depths. “Not to mention that person would only get his heart broken in the long run.”
A hot dog vendor had finally made it to the top of the stands. Despite knowing he wouldn’t be able to eat a bite, Max motioned the boy over and ordered six dogs.
He kept his expression bland as he handed foil-wrapped dogs to Deb and Mike.
When a crack of a bat signaled a home run, Mike grinned. “This has turned out to be a great day. I’m glad we came.”
“Me too, honey.” The smile Deb flashed rivaled the sun. “So very glad.”
On the way to the car, Deb monopolized the conversation by chattering about how much Rory had disliked baseball. It took all of Prim’s control to keep her mounting frustration under control.
Though she couldn’t prove it, Prim knew Deb had to have said something to Max during the time she’d taken the boys to the restroom. Everything had been fine between her and Max—better than fine, actually—but when she’d returned he’d been cool as a stiff breeze off the bay.
Polite but distant.
When the game was over, instead of going to the café as planned and meeting up with Ami and Beck, Max had made a lame excuse about needing to get some work done at home. Even the boys begging him to come hadn’t made him waver.
Perhaps the hot-cold act should have annoyed her, but there had been a profound sadness in those placid blue depths. Oh, how she wished she could pull him close and kiss his sadness away.
Unfortunately, that had been impossible with Deb watching her with the intensity of a shark circling its next meal.
“Later, neighbor,” she said to Max.
His gaze searched hers. “Good-bye, Prim.”
As he walked away, she hadn’t been able to stop herself from staring. She’d still been watching when he turned back, his expression somber, his eyes unreadable.
A cold shiver traveled down Prim’s spine.
Something was desperately wrong.
She only wished she knew what it was so she could fix it.
Chapter Twenty-Three
“Retirement is wonderful.” Deb forked off a piece of pancake and smiled at Prim. “If Mike and I had jobs, we wouldn’t have been able to decide to stay in Good Hope at the last minute.”
“Flexibility is nice.” Prim kept her tone easy even as she shot Callum a warning glance when he reached for a piece of bacon on his brother’s plate.
Boris moved to sit between Deb and Callum. Though feeding the wolfhound from the table was strictly forbidden, Prim suspected from the animal’s position and hopeful expression that food occasionally made it off Callum’s plate and into his mouth. Not always accidentally.
“Yes, I love being flexible. That’s another reason I’d never have a dog.” Deb made a shooing motion at Boris, who simply stared uncomprehendingly at her.
Prim cocked her head. Normally she could follow her mother-in-law’s circuitous logic, but not this time. “I don’t understand.”
“You can’t be spontaneous when you have a dog.” Deb looked at her husband for confirmation but found him intently reading the stock reports on his phone. “You have to make arrangements to kennel them even if you’re only going to be gone a day or two. If you decide to stay a week, well, that can add up to a lot of money in boarding fees.”
Stay a week?
Was Deb actually considering remaining in Good Hope through the Fourth? Prim fought a surge of panic. She was holding on to control by her fingertips now. No way could she go that long without strangling the woman.
“Mommy.”
Callum’s solemn face looked up at her. “Me and Connor have something to tell you.”
Were there any words spoken by a child that could bring more terror to a parent’s heart? Prim tried to imagine what they’d done. It had to be big or her son wouldn’t look so serious.
“Can it wait until after we eat?” Conscious of Deb’s intense scrutiny, Prim kept her tone light.
The boys looked at each other and shook their heads.
“Okay.” Prim smiled at Deb and Mike. “If you’ll excuse us for a few minutes, the boys and I are going to sit on the porch swing and have a little talk.”
“Why can’t they tell you right here?” Deb demanded. “We aren’t even through with breakfast.”
Ignoring the question, Prim rose.
“We won’t be long.” Two small hands were clasped tightly in hers as they left the table.
Prim took a seat in the middle of the white-lacquered swing, a boy on each side of her. Even as her mind raced with all the dire possibilities, she offered an encouraging smile.
When they only exchanged glances, she prompted, “You know you can tell me anything.”
Callum met her gaze. “We really like Mr. Brody.”
Connor nodded vigorously. “We like him a lot.”
“That’s nice.” Prim still hadn’t a clue where this was headed. “Mr. Brody is a good neighbor and friend.”
As well as an excellent lover, her mind supplied before she silenced the thought.
The boys sat silently for several seconds before Connor reached around her and punched his brother in the arm. Callum shot him a glinting glance before turning back to his mother.
“Me and Connor want Mr. Brody to be our daddy.” The tension eased from the boy’s face as if finally saying the words was a relief. “He’s fun and he likes baseball and he—”
“We like him better than our real daddy.” As he often did, Connor completed his brother’s thought.
The smile that had begun to blossom on Prim’s face ended in a sharp inhale of breath. She wanted the boys to like Max, she really and truly did, but hearing them say they liked him more than their own father was like a knife to her heart. Oh, Rory, I’m so sorry.
“Our real daddy didn’t like baseball.” A frown marred Callum’s brow for a second before it smoothed. “We like baseball a lot. Mr. Brody likes it a lot, too.”
“If he didn’t, he wouldn’t be
a coach,” Connor added, his blue eyes serious.
“If you married Mr. Brody, he could be our daddy and our coach.” Callum smiled as if the mere thought brought him pleasure. “That would be so cool.”
“So cool,” Connor echoed. “What do you say?”
Without any prompting her sons had blessed her relationship with Max. Though her head spun that they’d already made the leap to marriage, she found comfort that when—or rather, if—she and Max got to that point, the twins would be all for it.
Callum pinned her with those clear blue eyes, so like Rory’s. “Are you going to marry him or not?”
“She most certainly is not.” Deb’s voice slashed like a whip through the screen door.
Prim’s heart stopped, simply stopped beating, when her mother-in-law shoved open the door and strode onto the porch like a bull entering the ring. The woman had obviously been eavesdropping and had built up quite a head of steam over what she’d heard.
“Callum. Connor. Please go into the backyard.” Prim gave both boys a reassuring smile. “We’ll talk more about this later.”
The twins hesitated. Looking as formidable as the Incredible Hulk, their grandmother stood between them and the front door.
“You can go around the side of the house,” Prim instructed. “Just make sure to latch the gate.”
“Okay, Mom.” Callum turned to his brother. “Race you.”
Wanting to be on even footing, Prim stood as the twins disappeared around the corner of the house. She lifted her chin, met her mother-in-law’s steely-eyed gaze with one of her own. “I don’t appreciate you listening in on a private conversation.”
Deb’s hands were clenched into white-knuckled fists at her sides. “They told you they liked Max Brody more than their own father.”
The pain in the woman’s voice tempered some of Prim’s anger. Prim couldn’t begin to imagine how hard hearing that sentiment spoken with boyish fervor had been on Deb. “I know. Hearing that made me sad, too. But it’s understandable. Rory passed away when they were four. Though I’ve done my best to keep his memory alive—”
“Do you call bringing another man into their lives keeping his memory alive?” The pain was gone, replaced by fury. “I’m beginning to believe you never really cared about Rory. Certainly not the way you should have cared. Maybe if he’d been more content at home, he wouldn’t have felt the need to go on all those adventures. Perhaps he wouldn’t have taken that last trip and he’d still be alive today.”