“Bad news for Harper means good news for you,” Sal said. “Pack a bag. You’ve got to be in Pittsburgh tomorrow at eleven.”
“W–what? I’m playing for Pittsburgh?”
“Well, not officially. But they want to talk to you, so start packing.”
Brandon’s heart went into overdrive. For a moment. As excited as he felt about the upcoming news, he knew it came as a result of an injury to another player.
“I don’t understand. . . ,” he started. “How? Is Carter behind this?” Surely his old coach hadn’t put his neck on the line for a virtual unknown like Brandon Campbell.
“Carter got you the interview, but I’m gonna get you the job.”
After a few brief instructions Sal hung up. Brandon held the phone in his hand, completely stunned. He thought about his bond with Coach Carter back in his college days and marveled at the fact that God appeared to be bringing things full circle. He also laughed as he thought about Sal’s words: “Carter got you the interview, but I’m gonna get you the job.”
“You’re wrong, Sal,” Brandon said to the empty room. “You’re not gonna get me this job. God’s gonna get me this job—if that’s His plan.”
With joy filling his heart, he started packing his bag. He hoped by tomorrow afternoon he’d be packing far more than that.
THREE
Brianna arrived home from work on Wednesday afternoon to find Gran-Gran at work, trimming bushes along the front of their duplex.
“Gran-Gran! You don’t need to do that. I told you I’d be happy to hire someone to do the yard work.”
“Pooh. You know I love to work in the yard. Makes me feel young.” Her grandmother turned and gave her a wink. “And keeps me in shape.”
“Still. . .”
“I’m trying to get the house ready,” Gran-Gran explained. “We’re getting a new neighbor.”
“We are?” Brianna turned to look at the twin unit. It had been empty for weeks, though a host of Realtors had brought a few people by. “How do you know?”
“The sign is gone,” her grandmother said.
Brianna glanced at the spot where the For Rent sign used to be. “Ah, you’re right.”
“And I saw the most handsome man today,” Gran-Gran said with a giggle. “I do hope he’s the new renter, not a Realtor or something.”
Brianna laughed. “Are you looking for Mr. Right, Gran-Gran?”
“Not for me!” Her grandmother giggled. “This one was your age.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. Not again.” Brianna shook her head, trying to push any such ideas out of her grandmother’s head.
“But this one’s different.”
“That’s what you said about Andy. And Nick. And Matt. Remember?”
“Well, I can’t get it right every time, Bree.”
“At least I knew those guys,” Brianna said. “We don’t know a thing about this one. What if he turns out to be the last person on planet Earth God would have in mind for me? Then what? I’m stuck living next door to him for who knows how long.”
“Oh, he’s only signed a six-month lease,” Gran-Gran said. “I asked Mrs. Brandt across the street.”
“How did she know?”
“Her daughter works as a receptionist at the Realtor’s office.”
“Have you stooped to spying?” Brianna asked.
“If it means finding you a husband, maybe!” Gran-Gran went back to trimming bushes, and Brianna chuckled as she turned to give the twin unit a glance.
So they had a new neighbor—a man, at that. Though she hated to admit it, Brianna did feel better knowing someone would be so close by, just in case.
She hoped, whoever he was, he’d have a fondness for white-haired women and homemade bread.
❧
Early Friday morning Brandon pointed the movers in the direction of the upstairs bedroom. “Watch your step!” he called out, as the two rotund, whiskery fellows rounded the corner with a chest of drawers in tow. Even with his imagination in play, Brandon couldn’t picture how both of their bellies could possibly fit into the stairwell with the dresser wedged between them. Surely disaster lay ahead.
“Oh, please be careful,” he pleaded. “That’s been in the family for—” He never got to say “years.” The deafening scrape of wood against Sheetrock made him cringe. He looked up to find a gash in the wall, then turned and closed his eyes.
The older man let an expletive fly, and the younger one lost his grip on the tail end of the dresser, nearly causing the family heirloom to tumble to the floor. Nearly. Brandon drew in three deep breaths and walked in the opposite direction, something his mother had taught him to do as a child. How many deliberate breaths had he taken this morning? Thirty? Sixty?
The doorbell rang, mercifully distracting Brandon from the scene of the crime. He chugged across the living room, nearly tripping over the large metal dolly the movers had deposited in the middle of the floor—a potential death trap. He caught his balance and continued on beyond a half dozen boxes, past the stack of wall art to open the front door, ready to argue with the man from the electric company on the opposite side. He was supposed to have been there yesterday.
To his surprise an elderly woman—certainly no more than five feet tall—stood on the other side of the door, her white hair coiled up like a mound of pasta atop her head, her whimsical blue eyes twinkling with mischief.
“Hello, neighbor!” she called out in a singsongy voice. “I’m Abbey Nichols. Live next door. Hope you’re hungry.”
He was. But he wasn’t quite sure what that had to do with anything. Until he noticed the plate in her hand. She shoved it in his direction, and a familiar, tempting smell wafted up to greet him. As Brandon glanced down beyond the clear plastic wrap, he noticed pot roast, potatoes, and carrots. And yeast rolls! Just the sight of them made his mouth water.
“Um, I’m Brandon,” he stammered. “Brandon Campbell.”
“The name suits you.” The older woman took a step in his direction, and he swung the door wide to allow her to enter. Whether he wanted it or not, company had arrived. “I’ll just take this to the kitchen.” She took a step in that direction, then very nearly tripped over a box. “Can’t see the forest for all the trees in here.”
“Sorry.” He moved a box of his favorite CDs and DVDs to clear a pathway for her.
Just then Mutt and Jeff plodded down the stairs and headed for the door. They stopped short when they saw the plate in her hand.
“Looks mighty good,” the first one said with longing in his eyes.
“A man could work up quite an appetite unloading furniture,” the second one added as he rubbed his bristly chin.
“Well, you fellas take a load off!” Abbey’s voice dripped like honey. “I’ve got plenty more where that came from. Just sit right down, and I’ll be back in a few minutes with two more plates.”
She headed for the door, and Brandon groaned. How could he tell her he was paying these guys by the hour without hurting her feelings?
The men tipped their caps in her direction then entered the kitchen and plopped down at the table. Abbey disappeared out the front door, assuring them she would return not just with dinner but dessert as well. “Apple pie!” she sang out.
Brandon shook his head and whispered a prayer for patience before joining the movers in the kitchen. Help me to be nice about this, Lord. I’m not sure I can do it on my own.
He offered the men—whose names turned out to be Jake and Lenny—cans of soda, which they took willingly. Abbey returned moments later, not even bothering to ring the bell. She pressed her way into the room with a smile that seemed to light up the place like the football field at halftime. After passing out the plates, she insisted they join hands and pray.
“You do the honors, young man,” she said with a nod. “It’ll do you good to chat with the Almighty.”
Brandon didn’t bother to mention that he’d chatted with Him every day for the past eight months. Didn’t figure it was the right time. In
stead he bowed his head and offered up a quick prayer.
Then the feast began.
Jake and Lenny dove in, barely pausing between bites to say a thing. That left the floor wide open—for Abbey.
“Tell me about yourself, Brandon,” she encouraged him.
“What would you like to know?” He broke off a piece of the warm yeast roll and stuck it in his mouth.
“Well, it’s obvious you’re not from the North—that’s sure and certain.” Abbey laughed. “Where do you hail from, young man?” She gave him an inquisitive look.
“I’m from Tampa,” he managed through the mouthful of bread. He pointed at the plate. “This is good. Makes me miss my mom’s cooking.”
“I do love to cook,” she said with a grin. “I’m especially fond of breads. I doubt Bree and I will ever go hungry.”
“Bree?”
“Ah.” Abbey’s smile seemed to widen, if that were even possible. “My granddaughter. She’s lived with me since she was eighteen. She’s a transplant, too. From L.A. But she’s fallen in love with Pittsburgh.” Here her excitement seemed to wane a bit. “Least most things about Pittsburgh. But she’ll come around on the rest.”
Brandon was just about to ask for details when Jake and Lenny nodded in the direction of the apple pie. “Do you mind?” Jake asked.
“Be my guest.” Abbey pushed the pie in his direction. “I’m planning to bake a chocolate cake for tonight.” She nodded in Brandon’s direction. “These are just leftovers from last night. Would’ve gone to waste if I hadn’t noticed the moving truck out front.”
Brandon nodded then glanced at his watch. So much for hoping these guys would finish up quickly. Looked as if he’d be writing a heftier check than planned.
As he took another bite of pot roast and leaned back in his chair, contentment washed over him.
Really, what did it matter? Even if he had to pay them for an extra hour, it would be worth it for this meal.
With a smile on his face and genuine peace in his heart, Brandon settled in for a long chat with his new neighbor.
FOUR
Later that evening Brandon caught a glimpse of Abbey’s granddaughter for the first time. As he pulled his car out of the driveway, he noticed a tall, slender blond making her way toward the front door of the adjoining house. She wore a pair of jeans and a soft blue sweater that accentuated her narrow waist.
She turned to pull keys from her bag, and he managed to get a good look at her face. Large eyes. Tipped-up nose. In many ways she reminded him of Abbey. Except for the height, of course.
What was her name again? Ah, yes. Bree.
He gave her another look. She didn’t seem terribly made-up, like so many of the women who hung around the players. No, this one had more of a girl-next-door appearance about her. Ironic. He loved the fact that a few wholesome girls were still out there. In his line of work. . .
No, he wouldn’t go there.
The setting sun cast an angelic glow above Bree’s head. The beauty tossed her blond hair back as she balanced mail in one hand and used the key to open the front door with the other.
Brandon couldn’t help but stare at her. In fact, his heart seemed to kick into overdrive, a fact that caught him completely off guard.
“Calm yourself, man.”
He found himself so preoccupied that he almost backed into the mailbox. The tires let out a telltale squeal as he hit the brake. He was thankful he missed the metal box by inches. He didn’t, however, miss the attentions of his new neighbor.
The young woman turned and glanced his way with a concerned look on her face. She almost dropped the stack of mail in her hands but managed to hang on to it. Her wrinkled brow relaxed when she realized he was okay, and she flashed a wide smile his way.
Brandon remembered seeing that same smile on Abbey’s face as she’d talked about her granddaughter earlier today. Now he understood it. This was a girl worth smiling over.
“So you’re Bree,” he whispered. “You must be something else—to keep such a beautiful expression on your grand- mother’s face.”
She nodded her head in his direction as if she’d heard every word and wanted to chime in with her agreement.
He offered up a slight wave in response, then tried to remember why he’d climbed into the car in the first place. Ah, yes. The grocery store. He needed to purchase groceries to fill his empty pantry. Funny, right now he didn’t feel much like shopping. In fact, if he had his way he’d pull his car back into the driveway and head next door to return Abbey’s pie pan. Would that look suspicious?
Maybe. Then again. . . Brandon was so struck by Bree’s wholesome beauty and her inviting smile that he couldn’t seem to remember how to get the car into gear. In many ways the beautiful blond reminded him of the girls back home in Florida. She looked. . .casual. Laid back.
Why weren’t all women like that? Why were so many of the ones he’d found himself interested in so high strung and difficult to please?
Bree gave him a curious look, and he quickly managed to shift the car into gear. Best to head on out for the evening, not give the impression of a gawking schoolboy. There would be plenty of time to get to know her later. After the news reporters picked up the story of his arrival.
On the other hand. . .
He gave her one last look as she slipped inside the twin unit. Why it felt as if a piece of his heart remained behind, he could not be sure.
❧
“Gran-Gran?” As Brianna entered the house, she turned her attention from the new neighbor, handsome as he was, and focused on her grandmother.
“Well, hello, stranger!” Gran-Gran inched her way down the narrow stairs, clutching the rail. Her tightened brow reflected her efforts to maneuver the trip.
As always, Brianna’s heart lurched as she saw her grandmother struggling to make it to the bottom step. “Do you need help?” she asked, rushing to her side.
With the wave of her hand Gran-Gran gave her answer. “Shoo now. Let me do for myself as long as I can, why don’t you?”
Brianna feigned offense but then smiled at her grandmother’s tenacity. Not every eighty-four-year-old could manage stairs without assistance. Brianna only hoped to be half as spry when she reached that age.
“Have it your way.” She offered up an exaggerated shrug as she headed back down again. “But one of these days I’ll be calling on you to help me up and down these stairs, and I hope you’ll come rushing to my side.”
“Oh, pooh.” Gran-Gran stepped gingerly down to the bottom step, then reached over for a warm hug, which Brianna returned with great joy. She glanced up at the sampler on the wall, the adage of which she had memorized less than a week after arriving as a teen. The Oldest Trees Often Bear the Sweetest Fruit. Hadn’t made much sense back then, but she certainly understood it now. Some of the sweetest things she’d ever learned had come from this beautiful grandmother of hers.
“Are you hungry?” A little wink followed Gran-Gran’s words, which explained the yummy smell in the house. She’d been cooking. Again.
“Mm-hmm.” Brianna nodded. “But you’re going to make me fat.”
“Please. You could stand to put a little meat on your bones. You’re skinny as a rail. Sometimes I think you have a hollow leg.”
Brianna chuckled. She loved her grandmother’s funny sayings. Still, it was a miracle she’d maintained her college weight, what with the great meals placed before her. Not that she would turn any of them down. To do so would be highly insulting to the one person she loved above all others. And, besides, all of this cooking gave her grandmother something to do. It kept her busy.
“Come on into the kitchen, then.” Gran-Gran led the way, and within minutes they sat together at the table, enjoying bowls of hearty vegetable soup, made from the leftovers of last night’s pot roast. And the chocolate cake looked divine!
“How was your day?” Brianna asked between mouthfuls.
Gran-Gran’s brow wrinkled a bit, and concern filled her eyes. Br
ianna couldn’t help but wonder what had put that look on her grandmother’s usually cheery face.
“It’s that new fella next door.” Gran-Gran sighed, and a sad look registered. “Mr. Campbell.”
“What about him?” Immediately Brianna’s gotta-take- care-of-Gran-Gran antennae elevated.
“Well. . .” Her grandmother reached for her napkin and twisted it a couple of times. “He’s just such a. . .a nuisance.”
“Nuisance? He just moved in this morning.”
“Yes, but what a day! I’ve hardly rested since he arrived. He kept that stereo blasting all day long. Hurt my ears something awful. And that dog of his. . .”
“Oh? He has a dog?”
Gran-Gran nodded. “Must be huge. He barked like a maniac all afternoon.”
“That’s so strange. I haven’t heard him.” Brianna took another spoonful of the soup as she thought about it. She would need to do something about this if the situation didn’t improve. She hated to intrude on a new neighbor, particularly one as handsome as the fellow she’d caught a glimpse of this evening. But with Gran-Gran rattled, someone needed to get involved. And the sooner the better.
“I’ve lived in this duplex for thirty years and haven’t had a minute’s trouble with any of my neighbors,” her grandmother noted. “Not once. And you know I’m not one to complain about such things.”
“Of course not.” In fact, Brianna couldn’t remember a time when her grandmother had ever spoken a word against anyone in the neighborhood, so this must be very serious. With Gran-Gran’s blood pressure running a little on the high side, it wouldn’t take much to send it soaring into the danger zone. This rowdy stranger would have to mind his p’s and q’s if he wanted to go on living next door under peaceable terms.
The wrinkles in her grandmother’s forehead deepened further. “I do hope my heart can take the intrusion, Bree.”
It didn’t take any more than that to convince Brianna. She would take care of this, even if it meant confronting a handsome stranger. Gran-Gran was worth it.
Red, White and Blue Weddings: Red Like Crimson, White as Snow, Out of the Blue Page 17