“I’m a little out of my element, but I’ll adapt.” Maybe.
The two little girls raced up the steps, intent on Meg. As they closed the distance, Summer studied their gap-toothed smiles, the flush of their cheeks, the innocent enthusiasm in their faces.
“Aunt Meg!”
The two shouted together and launched themselves at Meg. She apparently had experienced this before because she stood and planted her feet, absorbing the two wiggling girls in a bear hug. “My favorite ladies!” The hug went on and on, but finally Meg carefully dropped them to seats on the bleacher.
“Summer, this is Bonnie Sue and Belinda— better known around here as Boo and Lindy. Girls, this is Summer LeFey. She’s a friend of Uncle Tom’s.”
“Nice to meet you.” Boo said, enunciating carefully. She wore a blue striped
T-shirt and denim shorts. Lindy copied the denim shorts but had on a yellow-flowered print shirt. When they changed clothes, Summer would be in trouble.
“I have more freckles than Lindy.” Boo grinned at her.
How had she known?
Boo preened, pleased with her smarts. “Happens all the time. People can’t tell us apart.”
“Can we come to your house for a girls’ night?” Boo asked Meg, grinning.
“Yeah, please can we,” the other twin begged.
“I’ll have to talk to your mother first, so we’ll see.”
The two girls gave in gracefully. Lindy hesitantly moved up a row and sat next to Summer, while Boo jabbered at Meg about new puppies on the farm.
Summer sat in uncomfortable silence, watching Tom direct the young boys on the field. His movements were confident, smooth. She liked watching him way too much.
“I’m going to be in first grade,” Lindy confided, scooting closer.
First grade. So she was what? Six? What did one say to a little one?
Well, why don’t you ask her, Summer? She can talk you know.
Summer grimaced at her inner voice. “How old are you?”
“Almost seven. Forty-seven days to my birthday.”
“Our birthday,” Boo chimed in. “September 26th.”
Lindy’s face fell.
Summer imagined it must be hard sharing things with a twin. Nothing was ever uniquely yours. She wanted to pat Lindy’s hand, but was afraid that was too familiar. Lindy bounced her foot against the seat in front of her, her eyes downcast.
With Meg’s permission, Boo went down the bleachers and made her way to her mom and dad. To keep Olivia from having to climb the steps, they’d situated themselves on the bottom row.
Summer rummaged through her mind, trying to remember what being seven meant. Her parents had already died then. She’d liked rain, peanut butter, and Sparky—her mutt of a cat. And even then, she had color pads she drew on. “What kinds of things do you like to do, Lindy?”
She’d perked up a tad with Boo’s departure and the question. She licked her lips and tilted her head, thinking. “I like my puppies. I like when Daddy reads to me. Do you think Daddy will stop reading to me when I can do it myself?”
Surprised, Summer struggled for the right thing to say. “Not right away, I’m sure. It takes a while to learn to read.”
The girl sagged. “Good. I like reading with Daddy. And I want to learn to play the piano.”
“A good goal.” Summer sipped her drink.
“Mommy and Daddy aretalkingabout it,” she admitted with much disgust. “Boo wants to play soccer. I hate soccer.”
Ah. Could this possibly be the first time the girls wanted to do different things?
“I’m sure they’ll see your side.” Hopefully.
“I love Uncle Tom too.”
Summer raised her brow, looking side to side for a moment, not sure how to respond to that either. “He seems like a nice man,” she said noncommittally.
“Oh, he is. He likes cocoa puffs and cartoons, and he gives the best hugs. Well, next to Mommy and Daddy and Grandma Olivia, and Grandma Helen and Grandpa.” Lindy licked her lips.
Summer’s heart melted. She wasn’t at some cocktail party or trying to make nice with some art critic judging her painting technique. She didn’t have to say the right things. The freedom to just be Summer LeFey the woman rushed over her.
“He is a good hugger,” she agreed.
Lindy’s eyes rounded. “He’s hugged you?” She squeaked loudly enough to make Summer cringe.
Meg snorted beside her. “Now you started it,” she whispered.
But Summer found she didn’t care. “Yes, he has. I was sad about my grandfather, and he hugged me.”
She nodded sagely. “He’s good at that. Once we got lost in the pumpkin field, and he came to find us.”
“Ran away is more like it,” Meg said, under her breath.
Summer shifted in her seat to look at Meg. She mouthed the words “Ran away?”
“Oh yeah,” Meg mouthed back.
“Yeah, we were trying to get Daddy to marry Mommy. It worked.” Lindy made the statement so matter-of-factly that Summer clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle the chuckle.
“Does Uncle Tom like you?”
She dropped her hand, stunned into silence.
A few days ago, when she talked to him on the phone about her grandfather’s death, no she wouldn’t have said he liked her. When he first greeted her on the porch, not then either. But something had changed as they’d stood in her grandfather’s room and grieved together. Something changed when he held her. Or was the change when he’d looked at the fake painting and been offended on her behalf?
“I think he should like you. You’re pretty. Mommy says you painted that picture on the wall in Grandma Helen’s office. I liked it. Want me to do some pumpkin magic so Uncle Tom will fall in love with you?”
Pumpkin magic?
Confused, Summer looked first at Lindy and then Meg.
Meg shook her finger at Lindy. “No, ma’am. You know what your dad said about using pumpkin magic.”
“But these are special circumstances. Uncle Tom is so alone. He needs someone.”
The pleading tore at Summer’s heartstrings.
“He can find someone by himself,” Meg said, firmly.
“Well, Mommy couldn’t.”
Summer felt like she was watching a ping-pong match with no clue of the rules.
Meg stifled a laugh behind her hand, her eyes dancing with amusement.
“I take it there’s a story here,” she said under her breath to Meg.
“Oh yeah,” she whispered.
Dare she ask?
Summer looked back at Lindy. “What exactly is pumpkin magic?”
“Well, pumpkin magic is the most powerful magic there is. It brings sunshine and happiness, cause bad things can’t happen around pumpkins.”
“Ah, I see.” No she didn’t.
Lindy stood to recite. “Shasta masta lasta poo. Frog legs, bat wings, black cat scratch. Please magical pumpkin, bring us a daddy, just like that. Bibbity, bobbity boo.” She beamed at Summer.
Summer laughed. A free, true laughter she hadn’t indulged in for a very long time. When she looked out across the baseball field, Tom had stopped what he was doing and stood transfixed, staring at her.
The laughter faded as they looked at each other. From out of nowhere came a wish from nebulous dreams.
Please magical pumpkin, bring me some of that!
CHAPTER SIX
Tom cursed whatever harebrained idea made him invite Summer to the ball game. She was sitting in the bleachers chatting with Meg and Lindy like they were old friends, and honestly what the hell was Meg telling her? Summer was alternately frowning, then giving him heated looks, the likes of which made keeping his mind on the game difficult.
Not that the kids had noticed, but Rick wasn’t the town’s best lawyer for nothing. His deductive reasoning skills were better than most; one hint of Tom’s lack of concentration and Rick wouldn’t let him live it down.
“You want to move Tyler
to center field and try him out?” Rick looked down the row of kids, giving two boys who were scuffling a frown. The rough housing stopped.
“And put who in left?”
“Yancy. Let him try.”
Tom quietly assessed the situation. They had a policy of letting all the boys play, and Yancy was new to town and the team. One thing about living in Echo Falls all your life—by the time you were four and in T-ball, your baseball skill or lack thereof was assessed.
“Come on, we need to see what he can do.” Rick rose to shout at two of the boys on the field to pay attention, then collapsed back into his seat.
“Suppose he plays like Denny Kalispel?” Tom liked being devil’s advocate to Rick’s suggestions. “Hey, Denny is a master house painter now, thank God.”
Imagining Rick’s lawyer hands smudged with the yellow paint his wife had recently put on the exterior of their house made Tom grin. “Yeah, but he couldn’t hit the broad side of a barn with a baseball or a bat.”
Rick chuckled. “True. But this kid could be the next Alex Rodriguez.”
Tom gave Rick the evil eye, knowing he made the comparison on purpose. It was still a sore point with him that A-Rod had abandoned the Texas Rangers in favor of the New York Yankees.
Tom ended the train wreck conversation. “Make the switch next inning. We’ll see what’s up.”
“Gordy hasn’t played either.”
“Yeah, let him go in for Mikey.”
They both watched the game for a bit in silence. But, of course, Rick couldn’t leave it alone. “There’s a really sexy lady in the stands making eyes at you.”
Tom faced Rick, keeping his expression bland.
“Just saying.” Rick grinned.
“I know.” Tom glanced over his shoulder, assessing Summer in a two-second look. He wanted to take that ball cap off her and let down her hair, snuggle in for a good tight hug, and taste her. Stronger, hotter emotions were simmering under the pot lid, but he shook off that cauldron and turned back to the field.
He wanted a chance with her, but she wasn’t staying. He wasn’t the type to take and walk away. With every woman, he risked his heart and had it smashed a few times. His gut told him Summer might shatter his heart beyond repair.
Getting involved might be easier if she was an ordinary girl. But Summer wasn’t ordinary. She was a well-known painter with a life, a career away from Echo Falls, away from him, and although he didn’t think she was happy, it was her life. This idea he had of convincing her Echo Falls wasn’t so bad…well it was idiotic. He had about as much chance of convincing Summer to stay in Echo Falls, to date him and see where all these confused, messed up feelings were going, as he did of Yancy being the next Alex Rodriguez.
“You are no fun,” Rick complained.
“Pay attention to the game,” Tom said, sneaking another look into the stands.
Rick gave him a devilish grin. “I will, if you will.”
Tom snorted, searching for a quick come back. But the umpire called the third out, and they were changing field teams. The subject didn’t come up again, and Tom gave up trying to figure out why Summer being in the stands felt so damn right.
The Applegate Farm Trojans won the game three to two on a homer by Yancy.
££££££
The picnic part of the deal wasn’t in the public park, like Summer thought. After the ball game finished, the family massed around the kids, pulling Summer into their midst as if she belonged. Out of her depth, she felt near to jumping out of her skin. Cool, sophisticated Summer was hot, sweaty, and antsy like a Mexican jumping bean.
Tom appeared at her side, rocketing her pulse to the pace of a racing horse. How much sense was in that? She was leaving. Maybe if she painted “leaving” on her forearm, she’d remember.
When the crowd broke up, Tom tucked her hand through his arm and walked her to his truck. The action was such a gentlemanly, date-like gesture, she stumbled again, overwhelmed by that over-her- head feeling.
“Time for dinner,” he smiled, a ton of conflicting emotions in his eyes, too. So she wasn’t alone in this strange mix of reluctance and attraction.
“I thought we were having a picnic here.” Summer slipped around the truck door Tom had opened and slid into the seat. The cab was stifling hot and sweat pooled between her breasts.
He didn’t answer her, instead slamming the door and walking around to his side, waving at some other families as he did so. When he got in the truck, he started the vehicle, cranked on the air conditioning, and backed out.
“Tom, where are we going?”
“To a picnic.” He pulled out onto the road, heading away from where she knew the public park was. “At my grandmother’s, in her yard. Although I’m taking bets we’ll end up in the dining room. Too hot to sit outside just yet, let alone eat.”
Her heart stopped. Her mouth opened like a guppy’s, but nothing came out.
She couldn’t go to his family’s for dinner!
That implied things about their relationship she wasn’t ready for.
That thought stopped her further. What relationship? They didn’t have one. He was being nice to the girl who had been mean to her grandfather, his friend. That sobered her.
Tom gazed at her, a slight smile on his face. “No comment? And please don’t give me the standard ‘I should go home and wash my hair.’”
Actually, she hadn’t thought of that one, but it was true.
“I need a shower and a fresh set of clothes.” To be as spiffy as possible for dinner with his family— and why the heck did she care? She’d already sat at the ball game. They’d already seen her. Still, she felt grungy and definitely not at her best, not in any way prepared to change the impression they must have of her from the funeral and not reconciling with her grandfather.
She swiped the Applegate Farms hat off her head and laid it in the seat, groaning when the heavy weight of her hair flopped back on her neck. “I forgot to give this back to Meg.”
“Keep it. Chad’s got dozens.”
“Is there anything I can say to convince you to just drop me off at my house?” She stumbled on the word, but wasn’t above bribing or begging.
“Nope. Too late.” He took a right, and about halfway down the block, pulled the truck to the side of the street and drew to a stop at the curb.
Already? Geesh, this town was so little that getting places took no time at all, something she definitely wasn’t used to anymore.
Trees lined the street, making a canopy across the road. Wide-expanses of lawns and colorful flowers decorated every house on the street. Summer ruthlessly shoved her hair back into a messy ponytail and reluctantly followed Tom’s lead. She stepped out of the truck and onto the sidewalk, taking her first look at Tom’s grandmother’s house— captain’s perch, wide porch, flag up the pole in the circular flower bed in the middle of the front yard.
An exact match to the painting in the attic—the one she hadn’t painted.
“Summer, is something wrong?”
“Uh…” What could she say? The house had all sorts of interesting angles and lines, with a canopy of trees and flowers in riotous colors. She could see why someone would paint this scene—wished she had.
Anger, sharp and hot, swept through her.
“One of the other forgeries I’ve found in the attic—it’s of this house.”
Tom drew back as if she’d slapped him. She didn’t like the savage emotion in his face, but what could she do? A fact was a fact.
“After dinner, when I take you back to the house, you will explain what the hell all this is about. Got that?”
She licked her lips, suddenly dry against the heat of the day. “I told you I have people who handle this. One of those people is on his way as we speak.” The top dog no less. But before she could explain further, the rest of the family arrived. Car after car pulled into the driveway in a synchronized, coordinated procedure.
Her nerves flared. No amount of reminding herself they were normal
people helped her settle down. Fortunately, she had a good memory, and as everyone poured from their cars, she put names with faces.
“Did you meet everyone?”
“Meg gave me names. That’s it.”
“Let me introduce you then.” He slipped an arm around her and eased her up the walk to the gathering place on the porch.
Olivia Applegate stood on the top step watching them, her eyes twinkling with delight. She was a tiny woman, yet her dynamic presence offset the frail appearance. She reminded Summer of her grandmother, and the reminder brought tears to her eyes that she swallowed hard to stifle.
“Where’s Mom and Dad?” Tom asked, pausing at the bottom step.
“She’s at City Hall. Her car wouldn’t start. Your father went to get her,” Olivia answered. “Summer, we’re so glad you could join us.”
Olivia Applegate wore white slacks with a red print top and red canvas tennis shoes. Her white hair was styled short, and her ears were adorned with silver heart earrings. All that passed over Summer in the flash it took to absorb an impression. The lines in Olivia’s face, the happiness in her eyes, the utterly contented posture held Summer enthralled. She didn’t paint people, but for Olivia Applegate she’d be willing to try.
“Thank you for having me.” She dropped her hand from Tom’s arm, feeling self-conscious. Boo and Lindy rushed up.
Lindy wrapped herself around Tom’s leg. Boo took the stairs in a hop, skip, and jump and stood by Olivia. “Daddy said we could have a drink? Pleassse?”
Her gap-toothed smile gave Summer the inspiration to paint her with Olivia. Where the hell were all these ideas coming from? She didn’t paint people. Her forte was landscapes. It wasn’t that she didn’t know how to paint portraits, it was just her choices had led to a solid profitable career down another avenue.
“I’ll be real careful, Grandma. I’mrealthirsty,” Boo pleaded.
That child could sell air conditioning to the penguins at the South Pole, Summer thought, bemused.
“We’re having lemonade. I’ve got dinner all ready. I just have to put it out. You can wait a bit.” Boo looked like she’d argue, but Chad and Robin approached with a baby.
Echo Falls, Texas Boxed Set Page 50