My One and Only (Ardent Springs Book 3)

by Terri Osburn

  Haleigh had hoped the invitation would be forgotten. “I never actually agreed to go,” she clarified.

  Lorelei stared at her over the painting. “What else do you have to do after the dinner with your mom?”

  Her reasons for declining were none of Lorelei’s business. “I don’t have to be busy to say no,” she defended.

  “How long has it been since you had a night out?” the blonde pressed, making Haleigh regret this spontaneous shopping excursion. Why hadn’t she ordered something online? All the cool kids were doing it.

  Haleigh dragged the painting off the counter as she resisted the urge to explain that it was impolite to invite an alcoholic to a bar and to freaking take no for an answer already. Not that Lorelei knew she was an alcoholic. Or that Haleigh intended to tell her so.

  “I’ll think about it.” A noncommittal answer that put Haleigh under no obligation to show up at the dance hall.

  “Good,” Lorelei said, looking very happy with herself. “We’ll be there between eight-thirty and nine. I’ll save you a stool.”

  That didn’t sound like a graceful acceptance of Haleigh’s roundabout refusal. Regardless of her efforts, Lorelei was not going to guilt Haleigh into doing something she did not want to do. And on the off chance that she ran into Lorelei again after Friday and was asked why she didn’t show, Haleigh could remind the pushy blonde that she’d never given a definitive yes.

  Dammit.

  Considering a call to Raquel on the way home, Haleigh left Snow’s Curiosity Shop with a troubled conscience but firm in the knowledge that she would not be visiting Brubaker’s dance hall anytime soon.

  Cooper hadn’t laid eyes on Haleigh in three days, though not for lack of trying. Each evening he checked on Jessi, making sure she had what she needed and reporting his findings on her J.T. mystery man. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much to report. No one Cooper had talked to had ever heard of anyone in Ardent Springs going by those initials.

  On Wednesday evening, he’d been surprised to find his mother keeping watch over the new pair, but her presence had allowed the three of them—Cooper, his mom, and Jessi—to brainstorm the situation. The Ridgeway matriarch couldn’t think of anyone in town who’d ever gone by the initials J.T. And while Jessi had offered details on the kind of men her mother typically dated, her input hadn’t helped them narrow the search.

  Understandably frustrated, Jessi remained convinced that someone had to know him. Cooper admired her determination, but the girl was chasing a ghost. If her father had ever lived in their little town, he hadn’t left much of an impression with the locals.

  At least the young girl wasn’t relying on the rest of them to do everything. She’d completed the paperwork to get Emma into CoverKids, the Tennessee state aid insurance program for children, and during her limited free time when Emma didn’t require all of her attention, devoted herself to cleaning Abby’s house, regardless of the fact that his sister had assured her this wasn’t necessary.

  Simply put, Jessi was a hard worker determined to take responsibility for her tiny family. His mother seemed to like her, and to his surprise, so did Cooper. A spunky kid with nerve and a positive attitude, Jessi had slipped into their world with less hassle than expected.

  His initial motivation to find her father had been the need to get the young woman out of Abby’s house and on her way. After knowing her for five days, Cooper’s desire to help had shifted to simply wanting to give the girl the father she so desperately sought.

  During his brief visits, Cooper had hoped that Haleigh would either walk through the front door or wander out of her bedroom. Neither wish came true. Short of finding another pregnant woman to rush to the hospital, he wasn’t sure how he’d run into her again without enlisting his sister.

  Lost in his own thoughts, Cooper nearly missed hearing his name called from the front of the room until Spencer elbowed him in the ribs.

  “Mr. Ridgeway,” Buford Stallings intoned from behind his faded brown podium. “Are you prepared to update the committee on the car rally or not?”

  “Yes, sir,” Cooper said, rising to his feet.

  Without looking at his notes, he repeated everything he’d told Spencer and Caleb over lunch two days before. When he finished, the group seemed satisfied, but then Mayor Jebediah Winkle raised his hand and Cooper tensed. Winkle was a born obstructionist, and had long been an opponent to the car rally idea.

  Before Caleb had suggested they organize a series of rallies as fundraisers, Cooper had tried for two years to put on something similar at the county fairgrounds with the goal of bringing tourist dollars to the town. Every attempt had been unsuccessful thanks in whole to Jebediah’s interference. As longtime head of the fair committee, the mayor opposed the use of the fairgrounds on the bogus assumption that old cars meant leaky pieces of junk. The yes-men who made up the rest of the committee bowed to their leader and voted down every proposal Cooper put forward.

  “What is it, Jebediah?” asked Stallings, who was less a fan of the mayor than Cooper was, thanks to having been defeated by Winkle in the last election.

  “Has anyone considered what this rally will do to traffic in the downtown area?”

  Giving the obvious answer, Cooper said, “Traffic will increase around the theater, along Margin Street from Fifth to Third, but that’s the whole point. The more people we attract, the more successful the event and the more money we raise.”

  Jebediah wasn’t appeased. “What about the locals who need to get through that area?”

  Keeping a tight hold on his patience, Cooper replied, “The rally is on a Saturday. Nearly every business along Margin is a Monday through Friday operation. Meaning no one is going to be late for work because of this event.” The mayor opened his mouth, but Cooper didn’t give him the chance to fire off another question. “I’ve talked to nearly every business owner for four blocks and all have offered their support. The ones with freestanding parking lots have given us permission to use their property as needed, and several others have bought ad space in the rally program. Not one has complained, but if you’ve heard from anyone specifically, let me know and I’ll be happy to pay them another visit.”

  Knowing he’d been beaten, at least for now, Winkle backed down. “I’m just trying to anticipate problems before they arise,” he said.

  Stallings rolled his eyes as he moved to the next item on the agenda and Cooper returned to his seat. Thirty minutes later, the meeting ended.

  “That was impressive,” Spencer said, a wide smile splitting his face. “Who knew you had that in you?”

  An excellent question. Cooper had even surprised himself. Growing up with a father who’d never believed his son would do anything worthwhile had driven more than a few holes into Cooper’s confidence.

  “He was fishing for problems,” he said, playing down the encounter. “Luckily, I had the answers to shut him up.”

  “Did you really talk to all those businesses?” Spencer asked.

  Cooper grinned. “Most of them. Caleb sold the ads for the program, so I can’t take credit for that part.”

  They followed Caleb, Snow, and Lorelei out of the room. “But you can take credit for handing Winkle his ass. That was fun to watch.” With a smack on the back, Spencer said, “We’ll see you over at Brubaker’s. First round’s on me.”

  Cooper never turned down a free beer. “Sounds good.”

  As his friends walked away, Cooper enjoyed a satisfaction he’d never felt before. Being the person in charge instead of an invisible cog in the wheel was a new experience. And he liked it. Tonight, he’d proven he had more to offer than a tune-up and a tow. Too bad Malcolm Ridgeway hadn’t lived long enough to see how far his son had come.

  “Never amount to anything, my ass,” Cooper muttered on his way through the parking lot.

  Chapter 8

  “In the name of sweet baby Jesus, please let my mother be in a good mood.”

  Haleigh had been repeating this prayer before every fa
mily dinner for the last six months. So far, the Big Guy upstairs hadn’t seen fit to grant her request, but hope did spring eternal.

  The house at 429 Rebel Circle loomed over Haleigh like a specter that she couldn’t expel. This was where she’d spent most of her childhood. Where she’d disappeared into endless worlds reading by the light of the moon in her blanket-filled bay window. Raced over the hardwood floors giggling with glee as her father chased his little princess from room to room. Teased her little brother as he grew from an annoying shadow into a barrel-chested boy on the cusp of manhood.

  And then there was her mother.

  Without ringing the doorbell, Haleigh opened the front door and stepped into the foyer of her childhood home. “Mom?” she called, hanging her thin jacket on a hook to her left. “I’m here.” The scent of meatloaf and fresh bread filled the air. The Church Street Deli must have been running a special.

  Meredith Mitchner wasn’t the meatloaf-making, cookie-baking, always-ready-with-a-hug type of woman. At least not behind closed doors. She put on a good act, of course. Stay-at-home mom. Member of the PTA. Soprano in the church choir and leader of the bereavement committee, which meant making sure the refrigerators of the families of newly deceased church members were fully stocked with casseroles and side dishes within twenty-four hours of the passing.

  “I’ll be down in a minute,” her mother yelled from upstairs. A staunch proponent of punctuality, Meredith was never late for an appointment. Dinner with her daughter seemed to be the exception to the rule.

  “That’s fine,” Haleigh assured. “No hurry.”

  Though she took great pride in her community duties, Meredith did not give the same effort and attention to her daughter. At age ten, Haleigh hadn’t understood the cold looks and lack of affection. By fifteen, she’d matured enough to recognize jealousy in another woman’s eyes.

  Stepping into the living room, Haleigh crossed to her favorite picture on the bookshelf. Her parents beamed with pride and joy as they nestled close, each holding a child. Haleigh had been three and perched on her father’s knee showing off a mouthful of baby teeth. Her mother balanced Ryland on her hip. He’d just begun walking and Haleigh could still remember his toddler demands of “Down! Down!”

  If only things had stayed that simple.

  Richard Mitchner had doted on his daughter, declaring her the most beautiful girl in the world. He’d bragged of her intelligence and determination, telling anyone who would listen that Haleigh was destined to be more than a wife and mother. She would do important things. She would be somebody.

  The more he’d bragged, the more Meredith silently seethed.

  Haleigh knew Daddy hadn’t meant to belittle his wife. He was a progressive thinker, ahead of his time, while cursed with the age-old male trait of obliviousness. He didn’t see Meredith’s hurt, because the possibility that Haleigh’s mother didn’t share his pride and hopes for their daughter never entered his mind.

  Willful or not, that failure to recognize the consequences of his words had poisoned Haleigh’s relationship with her mother. When he’d been killed in the car crash, the situation had only gotten worse. A review of her father’s financial dealings revealed a sizable college fund for Haleigh, but no will or even reasonable life insurance policy on himself.

  Which meant Haleigh’s college dream had remained intact, while Meredith had been left to fend for herself and Ryland. Guilt, even by association, could be a powerful motivator. Guilt had driven her to drink. And guilt was the reason that most of her current income went straight into Meredith’s bank account.

  At least she didn’t have to pay for Ryland’s college education since he’d gone into the military. Haleigh had always suspected that he’d signed up to get away from their mother, though he’d never confirmed the fact. Thankfully, he was stationed at an army base in Germany and not in the fray in the Middle East.

  Running a finger along the frame, Haleigh lamented the family they could have been. If only things had been different. If only her father had chosen his words differently. If only her mother had spoken up instead of bottling her hurt and anger.

  Though the chances were slim, Haleigh held out hope that someday she and her mother could have a better relationship. That, eventually, Meredith would stop holding her father’s words against her and give Haleigh the love and approval she so desperately desired.

  “I see you couldn’t be bothered to change your clothes for your mother,” Meredith said from the doorway to the foyer. Critical blue eyes assessed Haleigh’s scrubs. “I guess I don’t rank high enough for regular clothes.”

  Without waiting for a response, the older woman spun and disappeared into the kitchen. Clearly, that love and approval would not be granted this evening.

  Bracing for the meal ahead, Haleigh cut her eyes back to the picture. “No use dwelling on the past,” she said to herself. “When the present is so much more fun.”

  Her mother wouldn’t appreciate the sarcasm, but at least Haleigh was smiling when she entered the kitchen.

  “Something smells good,” she said, determined to be cheerful. “I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.” Both of them knew this dinner had not been cooked in a home, but the pretense had become habit at this point.

  “That explains why you’re swimming in those shapeless scrubs. Being a doctor doesn’t mean you have to look like one all the time.”

  They’d had this conversation on more than one occasion. Haleigh didn’t like fashion any more than she liked decorating. Scrubs were easy. And thanks to supporting her mother, who refused to sell the house and move into something smaller—meaning cheaper—Haleigh couldn’t afford to buy the high-dollar pieces her mother would approve of.

  Employing her most successful tactic—deflection—Haleigh asked, “How was your week?”

  For the next fifteen minutes, her mother provided uninterrupted commentary on the deteriorating state of the Rotary Club—that tramp Piper Griffin never should have been elected president—predicting that they would be lucky not to lose half their membership by the end of the year. On a roll, she shared her relief in not having to attend any more of those dreadful Ruby Restoration meetings, having left the committee due to an influx of new members with whom she’d rather not associate.

  Not that she’d included this reasoning in her resignation. Meredith Mitchner would never allow her predilection for snobbery to show in such a public way. If Haleigh recalled correctly, her mother had used the excuse that other priorities were demanding her time and attention. Because being on call to produce a cluster of casseroles on a moment’s notice could be extremely stressful.

  When they were finally seated in the dining room, her mother said, “Did I tell you that I’ve volunteered for Jebediah Winkle’s reelection campaign?”

  Haleigh struggled to hide her distaste. Jebediah Winkle was a difficult man to like. How he’d managed to win the previous election remained a mystery. Buford Stallings had been mayor for more than a decade, and he’d done a satisfactory job as far as Haleigh knew, before Jebediah had deposed him. Due to being eyeball-deep in her residency at the time of the election, she hadn’t paid much attention to the local news, so she wasn’t certain how Winkle had pulled off the defeat.

  “Why would you want to get involved in politics?” Haleigh asked. Her mother had never shown an interest in such matters before.

  Manicured brows nearly met over an aristocratic nose. “A woman doesn’t have to go to medical school to be interested in something other than grocery shopping and pressed linens.”

  As if the woman had ever ironed a sheet in her life.

  “I didn’t mean to insult you,” Haleigh said, knowing better than to touch that nerve. “I’m sure they’re happy to have you.”

  Setting her silverware on the table, Meredith said, “Don’t patronize me, Haleigh Rae. I don’t appreciate it.”

  “I’m not patronizing you, Mother. I sincerely believe you’ll be an asset to the campaign.”<
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  Keeping her eyes on her food, Haleigh maintained a placid expression. Any inkling of irritation would only add fuel to the fire.

  “Thank you,” her mother said, reclaiming her fork. “I’ll expect you to vote for him.”

  Haleigh jerked upright. “You expect what?”

  Unruffled, Meredith said, “To vote for Jebediah. As my daughter, your support is a given.”

  “I don’t think so,” she sputtered. “Who I vote for is my business.”

  “Would it be so much to ask that for once in your life you put my desires first?”

  The gall of the question struck Haleigh speechless. Nearly every aspect of her life revolved around her mother’s desires. Her choice of career. Her surrendered paychecks. Her pointless efforts to atone for someone else’s sins.

  All for nothing.

  “I’m not hungry anymore,” Haleigh said, slamming her napkin onto her plate.

  “Where do you think you’re going?” Meredith demanded. “Dinner isn’t over yet.”

  “Yes,” Haleigh said, rising to her feet, “it is. I have someplace else to be.”

  Following her daughter into the foyer, Meredith said, “What do you mean you have someplace else to be? Having dinner with your mother should be more important than anything else.”

  After tugging on her jacket, Haleigh spun with her hand on the door. “There are a lot of things that should be in this house, Mother. But at some point we all have to admit the truth.”

  For the length of a breath, recognition shone in her mother’s eyes. She knew exactly what her daughter’s words meant. And if Haleigh had caught even a hint of regret in those blue depths, she might have stayed.

  “By all means,” her mother said, “don’t let me keep you.”

  With her jaw clamped tight, Haleigh dragged the keys from her pocket, willing herself not to cry. After all, this wasn’t a new wound. This was her reality. She had to accept it eventually.

  Going to Brubaker’s didn’t have to be a mistake. It wasn’t as if Haleigh had never been in the presence of alcohol and maintained complete control over her cravings. She could hang out with friends, chat for an hour or so, and return home feeling less like emotional roadkill.