“Hi, Kelsey. I need to talk to you.”
“Oh, no,” he heard her say. “Don’t tell me you’re going to ask to quit, too?”
“What do you mean, too?” He picked up a pencil and began doodling on a notepad in front of him.
“Cory was just in my office, asking if she could quit. Honestly! You two! This is not the major leagues. It’s some poor five-year-olds who want to have fun.”
It wasn’t hard to hear the frustration in her voice. Matthew felt sorry for her and realized how petty he was being.
“Well, I’ll admit that it had crossed my mind, but the thought is gone now.”
“Good.” Kelsey’s voice became brisk and animated and for a moment Matthew felt as if he’d been had. “Because to tell you the truth, Matthew, I think the lady likes you and doesn’t want to admit it.”
“You’re really a dreamer, aren’t you?” Matthew laughed shortly.
“Nope. I just know how to read people. Trust me, Matthew, Cory isn’t all prickles and stings. She just likes to act that way because it’s easier.”
Matthew smiled and doodled some more. “Easier than what?”
“Letting people get close to her. You know, Matthew, I don’t know much about her, but I do know she’s had lots of pain and disappointment in her life. I really, really like her and I want good things for her.”
Matthew leaned back in his chair. Kelsey’s defense of Cory was surprising and yet not. He remembered Deirdre telling him that he had read Cory all wrong as well. Cory seemed to inspire a fierce devotion in the people who knew her. “So what do you want me to do?”
“Try to find out her side of the story. For her sake. She told me once that no one would listen to her. Maybe you should.”
Matthew sighed, remembering his dilemma yesterday. Zeke or Cory. Who was telling the truth? Believing Zeke justified his own actions. But to disbelieve Cory was a barrier to getting to know her better.
And he knew that right now, that was something he wanted.
“Just listen to her,” Kelsey urged again.
“Thanks for the advice, Kelsey,” Matthew said, encouraged by the phone call. “I’ll try to see if I can follow it.”
“Run after the ball, Sasha. It’s getting away from you,” Cory called out, laughing as the little girl looked up from her study of her baseball glove, her expression one of confusion. “It’s behind you, dear,” Cory encouraged. “You need to get it and throw it to first base.”
Sasha tilted her head back, then faced Cory. “I don’t see it.”
“You have to turn right around,” Matthew called out. But little Stephen had come running in from his position at shortstop, pounced on it and threw it by the time Sasha realized she had to look a little farther.
The little boy on first caught it but by that time, the batter had plenty of time to amble to first base.
Matthew walked over to Sasha and knelt on one knee. Cory couldn’t hear what he said, but as he talked he pointed to the batter, then first base. His expression was intent, and Cory knew that Sasha was getting a little more information than she had bargained for.
He straightened, patted her on the head and sauntered back, a light grin tugging on his mouth.
Easy on the eye, all right, Cory thought, watching him. In faded blue jeans and a baggy T-shirt with the sleeves torn off, he was that. Easy on the eyes and somehow less the Matthew she had spent so much time disliking.
She couldn’t help remember what Kelsey had told her. Was she really making more of this than she had to? It was just that her relationship with Matthew, if she wanted to call it that, had never been straightforward. Ever.
But Zeke was gone. She and her mother had a chance at a new start. If ever there was a time to let go, surely it should be now.
“Got her all straightened out?” she asked, forcing a teasing note into her voice.
Matthew glanced at her, his mouth lifting in a careful smile as if he didn’t quite know what to make of her.
And no wonder, thought Cory. One week she was snapping at him, the next she was bantering with him.
“She’ll be in the pennant race yet,” he returned.
Encouraged by his reply, Cory took a chance. “Matthew, about last practice…” she paused, uncertain of exactly what to say. “I just want to say that I’m sorry I was so blunt.”
“Truthful, is probably more like it,” he returned.
“Maybe. But I’ve been thinking about what I said to you. I guess I just have to learn to get past this.”
“Does this mean we’re allowed to have conversations?”
Cory laughed, surprised that he could be so forgiving and thankful for it. “I guess so.”
“Good. Then we’ll talk again.”
His words hung between them like a promise. But it still made Cory feel uneasy.
The next boy, Scott, went up to bat, hit the ball squarely and once again it rolled past Sasha who, this time, was intently watching the vapor trail of a jet overhead.
“So much for Most Valuable Player,” Matthew sighed as once again he walked over to explain to Sasha what she had to do.
Cory laughed, picking up a stray helmet. “Jay. It’s your turn up to bat,” she called out.
Thankfully the next few balls sailed into left field. Which was a good thing because Sasha was alternately inspecting her glove or crouched down, analyzing the grass.
Cory stayed with the batters; Matthew worked with the kids in the field. Her job was easy compared to his. She just had to show them how to hit the ball. He was busy running from one child to the other, explaining where they had to throw the ball and why.
“But it’s too far to throw it to first base,” one girl complained. So he moved her to second base.
“How come she gets to play second? I wanted to,” another boy whined.
“No complaining,” Matthew said sternly, “or I’m going to get Coach Luciuk to come and talk to you.”
“Hey,” Cory called out. “How come I have to be the heavy?”
Matthew looked up at her and even from this distance she could see his wink. “Because you’re bossier than I am.”
“Since when?”
“Since you made me dry dishes for a couple of squares,” he returned.
Cory laughed at that, remembering their conversation in the Stanleys’ kitchen. She shook her head, still grinning, then turned to the little girl who needed help getting her helmet on.
The practice stumbled on but by the end, most of the children seemed to get the basic idea of what was expected.
A few mothers stopped by to pick up their children and after a few more rounds, Cory called out for the kids to come to home plate.
“Okay, you guys did real good,” she said as they gathered around her. “We’re going to have another practice next week and after that our first real game.”
Thirteen pairs of eyes got wide. “Against who?”
Cory glanced at her clipboard. “It’s a team from across town. The Eastside Eagles.”
“What’s our name?” one of the kids called out.
“The Westside Whiners,” Matthew muttered.
“Our name is the Stratton Tigers,” she said ignoring Matthew’s comment.
“Oh, good. Top of the food chain,” Matthew said.
She stifled a laugh, then turned to him, forcing a frown. “Would you cut it out?”
He smirked back and as their eyes held, Cory found she couldn’t look away, couldn’t break the connection. Matthew’s expression became serious and it seemed as if he leaned a little closer.
Swallowing, she forced her gaze back to her clipboard, bewildered at how quickly her feelings could change. It was one thing to establish a kind of truce between them. It was quite another to let anything further develop.
“I, uh, want everyone here next week, ready to play.” She looked around at their team who were all watching her. “You can go now.”
With a whoop the boys ran toward their parents, the girls follo
wing more sedately.
“Well, that went pretty good,” Matthew said, tossing a ball from one hand to the other. “I think they’re getting the hang of it.”
“No. It’s thanks to your coaching,” Cory admitted. She dared a quick glance at him and was rewarded with a cheeky grin.
“Wow. A compliment from Cory.” His dimple winked back at her.
“I don’t give them out very easily, so enjoy it while you can,” she replied, seeking the teasing tone she hoped would determine how they got along the next few weeks.
They were done cleaning up, the bags went into the back of Cory’s car and once again they were standing together.
A light breeze picked up Matthew’s hair, teasing it around his face. He stood in front of her, his hands in the back pockets of his blue jeans, his head tilted to one side, as if studying her.
“Do you come with a manual, Cory?” he asked suddenly.
“What?”
“You know, some kind of instruction kit that lets people know how you work, what makes you tick? I can’t seem to figure you out.”
“There’s not much to figure.” She was unsure of where he was going. She hadn’t dated enough men to feel comfortable with the slightly flirtatious tone in his voice and was having a hard time navigating this new territory.
“Sure there is. You can come across as so tough, yet when I see you with these little kids, I see someone else. When you’re in the restaurant you can laugh and joke with people. And when I see you in church, you can seem so serene. Yet around me you are as wound up as a spring.”
She swallowed. Wished he would stop talking like this. “Well, I guess I’m a lot of different people in one convenient package,” she said with a forced laugh.
“I’m sure you kept your boyfriends wondering, too.”
“Not really.” She looked up at him. “Never had a lot of them.”
Matthew looked skeptical. “Right.” He leaned against the car, his pose entirely casual, but the movement brought him closer to her, made it seem as if he surrounded her.
“Serious.” She took a steadying breath, uncomfortable with his nearness. “We moved around a lot, my mom and me. Hard to keep a boyfriend under those circumstances.”
“And the moving was because of Zeke?”
Not him again. Please, Lord. Not when she had been trying hard to see Matthew as separate from the past. “Yes,” she said quietly.
“Why?”
Okay, Lord, help me through this, Cory prayed. She had thought to keep Zeke out of any conversation they had but in spite of her resolve he came up. Again and again.
“Doesn’t matter,” she said quickly.
Matthew said nothing, his eyes still on her. She tried not to look at him. He was engaging, good-looking, and if she allowed him closer, she would have no defenses against him.
In spite of her conversation with Kelsey, the last thing she wanted was to end up like her mother. Enthralled with a man and unable to see what he was before it was too late.
“What’s wrong, Cory?”
“Nothing. Nothing at all.”
He grinned, lolling against her car, his one foot crossed over the other. He was self-confident, in charge.
“So do you have time to go out once in a while?”
Cory’s head snapped up at that, unable to stop the surge of her heart at his carefully worded question. “What do you mean?”
“I have a few papers that my father needs signed. I thought instead of trying to do this at picnic tables or in the coffee shop when you are always running around, maybe we could go out for supper and do it there.”
“Business then.”
“Absolutely. Besides, you owe me.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, suddenly wary.
“Do you remember your prom?”
It was years ago, but she could conjure up the memory in a heartbeat. The ugly dress her mother had found in a thrift shop, the patronizing smirks from her friends. She wasn’t going to go, but Deirdre convinced her to. But to see Matthew at the door of their apartment to pick her up was the final humiliation.
“I remember it all too well,” she said, her voice brittle.
“I asked you to dance and you turned me down flat. I never did find out why. So I thought maybe if I took you out to supper, you could tell me.”
“Okay.” This was really going back, she thought. “Just tell me where and when.”
“This Friday. At the Inn.”
“Why not at the restaurant?”
Matthew shook his head, frowning. “Are you kidding? You’d be getting up, pouring coffee and before I know it you’re walking around telling terrible jokes to the other customers. No. I want to take you someplace you can be served for a change.”
She wanted to refuse. It would create a complication she didn’t need. And yet avoidance seemed a coward’s response. Kelsey was right. She had to learn to get past her mixed-up feelings for Matthew and the best way for that to happen was to simply talk to him.
“What time?” she asked.
“I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“No, you won’t.”
“What?” Matthew straightened, frowning.
“I’ll meet you there.”
“You will not. I’ll pick you up. At seven.”
“Sorry. I’ll meet you there at seven.” The last thing she needed was for her mother to know that she was going out for supper with Matthew. Cory was having a hard enough time with the idea as it was.
She pulled open the door of her car, tossed Matthew what she hoped was a careless grin and got in. As she drove away, she could see him standing in the parking lot, watching her.
As if he were still trying to figure her out.
Chapter Eight
“It’s just a business meeting,” Cory reminded herself, tweaking a hair into place. So why had she spent so much time fiddling with her makeup and picking out her clothes? She knew her apricot silk T-shirt brought out the golden highlights in her dark-blond hair and emphasized the brown of her eyes. She adjusted the gold buckle of her belt so it was centered on her black pants. Not exactly high fashion, but plain enough to go anywhere. She just hoped Matthew didn’t show up in a suit.
Thankfully Joyce’s friend had come and taken her out. Cory hadn’t told Joyce that she had a date with Matthew, only that she was going out. Fortunately Joyce hadn’t asked too many questions, and Cory hadn’t had to use too many evasions.
She didn’t want to listen to her mother’s negative comments about Matthew. They often came too close to her own contradictory feelings toward him. She thought of a comment Matthew had made about the judge. It wasn’t Matthew or Clifton McKnight who had made the decision. It was the judge.
And if Matthew was right about the will, then so much of her mother’s struggle would be eased. She wouldn’t have to work as hard. They might be able to buy their own home.
They might even have some funds to start working full-time on their catering business.
To go looking for her brothers.
As she looked at her reflection, Cory reached up and touched her chin, her cheeks, wondering once again if she looked anything like her brothers. If they shared the same eye color, if their mouths looked like hers or the shapes of their faces were the same.
What would they tell her to do about Matthew? What would their advice be?
“But they’re not here,” she told herself. She thought briefly of the envelope in her bedroom. She just never had time to search for them and consequently had only a pitiful amount of information and a few contacts in various government offices.
But maybe now…
She pushed herself away and without a second glance, walked out of the house.
Matthew was waiting in the lobby of the hotel when she arrived. It wasn’t hard to miss his careless hair, his head bent over a magazine rack of a kiosk by the front entrance. He turned as she came in the doors, and his welcoming smile made her heart bump lightly in her chest. “Hi, ther
e. You’re nice and early,” he said, coming toward her. Thankfully he wore an open-necked shirt and chinos. No suit. “You look great.”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t think of anything wittier to say. His crooked smile, his casual grace made this seem more like a date than the business meeting Cory had convinced herself it was.
“I’ve got a table reserved for us. We can sit down anytime.” Matthew indicated the dining room with a careful smile, and Cory followed him inside.
The Prairie Inn was the fanciest place Stratton had to offer, and it was the first time Cory had been inside. The tables in the dining room were separated by partitions of etched, smoked glass and framed with oak, creating intimacy and openness at the same time. The lighting was low, and the atmosphere inviting. As they settled into their table along one wall, Matthew looked around with an approving smile.
“Stratton is looking better all the time.”
“This is a nice place,” Cory agreed. “First time I’ve ever been here.”
Matthew looked surprised. “No previous dates ever brought you here?”
“No previous dates brought me anywhere. I’m just too busy.” Now didn’t she sound like the town loser, Cory thought, looking quickly down.
“You and your mother do much catering?”
Cory nodded, thankful for the change in subject. “We had a couple of events last week, but that’s all she can manage.”
“Because of her fibromyalgia?”
Surprised that he remembered, Cory gave him another glance. “Yes. At times it’s under control, but it takes a lot of time and care to keep it that way.”
“Time and care that you spend on her.”
“Yes.” Cory held his eyes with hers. “I’m all she has right now.”
“She’s lucky to have you.” Matthew’s expression was serious and Cory felt a moment’s confusion at his sincerity.
“It’s not luck. It’s love,” she returned quietly.
Matthew smiled slightly at that and Cory’s confusion increased. This so-called business meeting was going to be harder than she thought.
The waiter came by with menus and asked if they wanted anything beforehand. Cory felt strange being served, and Matthew’s covert grin told her he had noticed.
A Family At Last Page 9