by Glynna Kaye
“Not sure I’d fit in. This is all pretty new to me. My background isn’t—”
“Hey, we all started right where you are.”
But he had more baggage than most.
Joe adjusted the ball cap on his head. “Do what you want. But it’s what I need right now. Man-to-man stuff. Keeps me moving in the right direction.”
“You’re married, though. Have a kid.”
“So? Until last March I was single again after my first wife died. Several years on my own. I know the challenges of single life firsthand. So give it some thought.”
Bryce nodded. He could promise that much, but no more.
“Say,” Joe continued, “if you don’t have other plans, drop by our place tonight. Kara Dixon and Trey Kenton are coming over for dinner. Meg’s whipping up a batch of my dad’s homemade salsa. We’d love to have you join us.”
Bryce held up his grocery bag. “Thanks, but I have supper right here, compliments of Grandma.”
Joe laughed. “I can’t compete with your granny’s home cooking. But how about next weekend? We’re getting together at Casey Lake for a barbecue with some old pals and their significant others.”
“That’s doable.”
“Great. Saturday night. Six o’clock. Bring a date if you want to.”
Bryce grimaced.
Grinning, Joe punched him playfully in the shoulder. “You don’t have to. But I’m giving you warning that if you show up stag, you’re fair game for my wife’s matchmaking schemes and I won’t be held responsible.”
“Thanks for the heads-up.”
“Anytime. That’s what friends are for. See you then.”
Bryce headed for home, his thoughts troubled. Joe’s wife, Meg, was a real sweetheart. He’d worked with her on the parsonage remodel last winter, but he’d deliberately steered clear of single women the past several years. That seemed the best plan for the time being. He still had lots to figure out about how God’s men were supposed to think and act. How New Bryce was expected to behave. So he sure didn’t need Meg telling him what to do about his nonexistent love life.
Besides, he didn’t know any single women he could ask to join him at the cookout.
Except Sandi.
And that wasn’t going to happen.
“As an educator and a parent,” Sandi concluded, weak-kneed as she stood before a wall-to-wall crowd in the city hall building, “I believe it’s vital that the heritage of our children be supported and preserved. It’s up to us to anchor them. Connect them to their roots—their inheritance. To show them that we are proud of who we are in Canyon Springs. And that they can be proud, too.”
The room erupted in applause and cheers, a gavel pounding to bring the meeting back to order. A tingling sensation raced up her spine as she again found her seat, clasped her hands to still their trembling. At least she hadn’t burst into tears when it was announced funding for the museum would be discontinued. Somehow she’d managed to rise to her feet when called upon to speak.
She’d agreed with the need for cutbacks and responsible spending. Had pointed out that while the amount provided for supplementing museum operations was a drop in the bucket of the city’s budget deficit, it made up a significant portion of the museum’s means of livelihood. She made it clear that the future of the museum during this economic downturn was in serious question—especially combined with the rent increase set to go into effect.
She’d caught Bryce’s eye at that point—and his frown when others followed the trajectory of her gaze. Now she avoided looking at him, remembering how she hadn’t told him she was coming to the meeting, even when he’d mentioned he intended to. Did he think she’d been deceptive? Set an ambush for him?
She shifted uncomfortably as the council spokesman moved on to the next item on the budget-balancing agenda. Library fines up by a cent. An increase in parks and rec use fees as well as on insufficient funds checks written to the city. A possible parking charge at Casey Lake. Escalating specialevent liquor license rates. Installing meters along Main Street was now under consideration, as well.
With the uproar ensuing from that handful of issues, the plight of the museum was quickly forgotten. Sandi slipped from the packed room unnoticed, down the stairs and into the cool night air.
Heart pounding, she leaned back against the stone facade and closed her eyes. She’d done what she could. But it didn’t look hopeful even though before the night was over there would be, as always, accusations of financial mismanagement and battle cries to “cut the fat” at the top levels of city government. Counteraccusations would follow that Canyon Springs citizens lived in a make-believe world if they thought city services came cheap.
Although it was little consolation, the museum wasn’t the only victim of funding cuts. The parks and rec department was under scrutiny as were two police force and firefighter positions currently standing unfilled. The senior citizens facility, youth baseball, city pool and a dozen others were facing major cutbacks, and there had been talk of across-the-board city salary and benefits reductions. Layoffs.
“For a moment I thought I heard a fife and drum in there,” a low male voice said. “Nice speech.”
Startled, she bolted away from the wall and spun to face Bryce Harding, who stood but a few feet from her.
She folded her arms, endeavoring to still her racing heart. He couldn’t be happy with her. Not when she practically pointed an accusing finger at him. “Do I detect a note of sarcasm?”
“None intended.”
“Right.” She shook her head as she fished her keys out of her jacket pocket and turned to where she’d parked her car, too weary to tangle with him tonight.
He snagged her upper arm, drawing her to a halt.
“Could we talk a minute?”
She didn’t attempt to suppress a sigh. “You know how I feel about the museum and the city-funding cut. About the rent increase. I don’t know what else there is to say.”
“I want you to know I wouldn’t encourage Grandma to raise the rent on the museum if I had a choice.”
“Oh. That’s right. The trip to the Bahamas you so generously invited my mother-in-law to join you on.”
“You know I was just being a smart mouth.”
Why couldn’t he admit he’d run through his army pay as if there was no tomorrow? That he couldn’t find a steady job since his return. Was mooching off his grandma—and forcing the historical society to replenish his fun money.
“Regardless, the city council is going to do what they want to do. But I couldn’t let their budget balancing at the museum’s expense go by unchallenged. I had to make my voice heard. Speak up for the kids and the community.”
“You did it well. But I have to admit your rah-rah-rah on behalf of the town surprises me.”
“Why’s that?”
“Unless my memory fails me, you weren’t happy when Keith settled you in Canyon Springs. In all honesty, I didn’t expect to come back and find you still here. Thought you’d have hightailed it back to Kansas City long ago.”
She tensed. He remembered where she was from. Knew how she’d felt about Canyon Springs. Although her husband’s forthrightness was something she’d loved about him—sometimes—why’d he have to be so candid with this man, his boyhood buddy? Bryce might not have been a stranger to Keith, but she didn’t like him knowing personal things about her that she hadn’t chosen to share.
She kept her tone even. “This is my home now.”
“It’s mine, too.”
“For a long time it wasn’t. It’s my understanding—unless my memory fails me—you could hardly wait to get out of here. To join the army and leave Canyon Springs in your dust.”
So there, big guy, something I know about you, too. Two can play this game, thanks to Keith.
His eyes narrowed in the dim glow of the streetlight, as if contemplating the next bombshell to drop on her. But after a long pause, his words came softly. “Whether you believe it or not, I don’t like causing you
distress, Sandi. Trust me, I know you’ve already been through enough.”
She had been, hadn’t she? But trust him?
Admittedly, she hadn’t expected Bryce to acknowledge the hardships she’d faced the past five years, let alone the level of anxiety the museum issue caused her. As she returned his steady gaze, the anger—the tension coiled inside—slowly seeped out of her. And with a gentle nudge, her heart reluctantly opened to the recognition of a kindred spirit in Bryce. One born of a shared loss that had ripped their worlds apart.
She spoke softly. “Keith left a big hole in both our lives, didn’t he?”
Bryce folded his muscled arms. Nodded. “He did at that.”
“I’m sorry you lost your best friend.” That had to have been hard on him. Had to still be hard. “Keith always said he was closer to you than to either of his real brothers. He cared about you, Bryce.”
“I know he did.”
They stood in silence, lost in their own thoughts as they listened to the raised voices echoing from an open window of the city hall chamber above—reminding her that the outcome of tonight’s decision could seal the museum’s fate. She should call an emergency meeting of the historical society. Brainstorm strategies, fundraisers. Prepare for the worst. She couldn’t let the museum go down without a fight.
But she’d do nothing tonight.
“I need to get going. I left Gina with a babysitter.” She turned away.
“May I walk you to your car?”
The earnestness in his voice halted her and she again faced him. “Thanks, but that’s my car right over there.”
Their eyes met again. Held.
“Then good night, Sandi.”
“Good night, Bryce.”
She tightened her grip on her keys and moved away, uncertain as to how to deal with seeing Bryce in a different light. With acknowledging his loss. With not yet knowing how much he knew of her last encounter with her husband.
What he thought of her. Really.
And why what he thought should matter so much to her anyway.
Chapter Nine
“I thought for sure by now you’d have Bryce Harding wrapped around your little finger. Would have wooed him with your feminine charms to call off the rent increase.”
Heat flooded Sandi’s face at Cate Landreth’s loud remark—made in front of a Saturday-afternoon gathering of a dozen historical society members. Crowded around the museum’s kitchen table, they all turned to her with renewed interest. Thank goodness Bryce’s grandma rarely attended the meetings and didn’t hear any of this. But she couldn’t help but imagine her friend Meg would find it funny—suitable revenge for when Sandi had joined in with Cate last fall in mercilessly teasing Meg about Joe Diaz only a few days after she’d met him.
“Very funny, Cate.” She managed a fairly normal-sounding laugh as she met the roomful of curious gazes. Just what she needed. Half the town watching her every move and speculating on her love life—with Bryce of all people.
“Let’s deal with reality here, folks. As I said, I got a personal call early this morning from Councilman Jake Talford that the city is indeed severing our support. He assures me that when there’s strong economic recovery, the council will revisit the issue. But for the time being…”
She stood, popped the lid off a red dry-erase marker and turned to the glossy whiteboard on the easel behind her. Drawing a small circle in the middle, she labeled it “museum future,” then drew a dozen or so lines radiating from it.
“What’s that?” an elderly man in overalls and a cowboy hat demanded. “I ain’t got no time for art lessons.”
“Not art lessons, Earl. We’re going to brainstorm. Put our heads together and see what we can come up with to generate more income. We need to determine where we can best focus our talents and energy.”
He scoffed. “I vote for you focusing your talents and energy on that Harding fellow. Less work for the rest of us.”
Everyone laughed, and again a wave of warmth washed through her. She forced a laugh. “Not an option, Earl.”
“Party pooper.”
“Okay now, let’s get started so I can keep my promise to get you out of here in an hour. So Cate, you’ve helped with fundraisers for years. What are a few you’d recommend?”
Basking in the spotlight, Cate sashayed around the table and took the marker from Sandi’s hand. “Bake sale. Car wash. Selling candles and chocolate bars. Oh, and can’t forget the popcorn. That caramel-and-peanut kind goes over big.”
She printed her suggestions at the end of half a dozen spokes on the board, then sat down.
A hand raised. “At Christmas the PTA sells homemade tamales. Maybe we could make enchiladas. Have people preorder them. Or have a taco bar at the softball games.”
“Navajo tacos would be even better,” another chimed in, and Sandi’s inner eye flew to the puffy, plate-size dough traditionally prepared over an open flame and topped with a variety of mouthwatering options. “We could do the honey-with-powdered-sugar ones. Or the beef-and-beans kind.”
Sandi nodded and wrote down the ideas, relieved that the focus was off her love life. More hands shot up.
“Pancake breakfast.”
“Fun run. Fish fry.”
“Fajita cook-off.”
“Horseshoe tournament,” Earl threw in, getting into the spirit of things.
She drew more lines radiating from the circle and wrote as fast as she could. “These are great ideas, keep them coming.”
Twenty minutes later the whiteboard was overflowing, words cramped into tiny print and squashed sideways into the margins. She stepped back and viewed their handiwork.
“Isn’t this awesome? Great work.”
A round of applause filled the little room.
She promised to transcribe the mess on the board and send it to everyone for review prior to their next meeting. With Independence Day only three weeks away, they had a lot of work ahead of them.
When the last society member departed, Sandi gathered her things, removed the whiteboard from the easel and let herself out the back door, eager to pick up Gina from Meg’s. The membership had been more supportive, more enthusiastic than she’d anticipated once they’d gotten their focus off Cate and Earl’s plan for her to make a pass at Bryce. Interestingly, she’d not heard a peep of outright criticism of Bryce or his grandma from the membership, so they must be buying the story that Mae was in need of additional funds. It seemed a bit too coincidental, though, that this sudden need arose with her grandson’s return home.
At least none of the usual down-in-the-mouth detractors had shown up, which enabled the meeting to run more smoothly. No doubt she’d hear from them when they received the list from the brainstorming session and realized there would be work to do.
Arms full, she awkwardly locked up, trying not to smear the unwieldy dry-erase board. As she started down the back porch steps, she glimpsed Bryce and Mae approaching from the driveway. He steadied his grandmother, then loped forward to take the whiteboard from her.
“You going to the car with this?” He held it out at arm’s length, as if trying to make sense of the jumbled text.
“What do you have here, dear?” Mae motioned to the board as she drew closer.
“Fundraiser ideas. The city’s trimming their budget—including historical society support.”
“Bryce told me. What can I do to help?”
Bryce’s brows lowered as he fixed a look on Sandi that spoke volumes. Don’t even think of telling her she can ditch the rent increase.
“We haven’t decided which projects will give the greatest returns, but I’m optimistic we’ll make that decision shortly. I think there will be a number of things you can assist with. We have a lot of work ahead of us.”
Mae smiled at her with concern-filled eyes. “I hope you’re not overdoing it at the museum this summer. I see your car out here more often than it should be. You need to take a break. Take some time for yourself.”
“Fortunat
ely, I don’t require a lot of ‘me’ time.”
“It’s healthy to get out and have some fun.”
“Gina and I are sleeping over at her grandma’s tonight, so no cooking on my part. That’s a welcome break.”
“An evening with a mother-in-law isn’t what I had in mind. You need to get out with young folks. Relax and enjoy adult conversation. Bryce is going to a cookout with friends next Saturday. You should join him.” She looked up at her grandson expectantly.
Sandi met his gaze with alarm. Was Mae trying to be nice—or setting them up? She hated setups. Had been dodging them for years since Keith’s death. People meant well, but relationships couldn’t be forced. She had to have more in common with a man than merely both being single.
He cleared his throat and his gaze flickered from his grandma to her again. “You’d be welcome to come along. They said I could bring a friend.”
A friend. As in a date. No, thank you.
“Thanks for the invitation, but I have so much going on right now.”
“Which is exactly why you should go.” Mae patted her arm. “Your summer will be over before you know it.”
It would be nice to get out on more than a playdate with other mothers. To think about something other than museum business. But she’d always felt guilty leaving Gina with a sitter more often than necessary.
“She’s wavering, Bryce.” Mae nodded at her grandson. “Convince her.”
Sandi’s eyes met his again, sensing his grandma was backing them both into a corner. “I appreciate the invitation, but—”
“She doesn’t want to go, Grandma.”
“Nonsense.” Mae’s chin jutted obstinately.
“Back in a minute, Gran.” Bryce stepped between Sandi and his grandmother. Then motioning toward the little graveled parking lot, he herded Sandi in that direction like a cowboy rounding up strays.
Uncomfortably conscious of the big man accompanying her, she strode to her car and opened the back door so he could place the whiteboard inside.