A NASCAR Holiday 2: Miracle SeasonSeason of DreamsTaking ControlThe Natural

by Pamela Britton

  She took her time fussing with her coffee, adding a little cream and a half spoonful of sugar, making him wonder if her delaying tactics were because she was unsure of the answer or didn’t know how to phrase it.

  After sampling the brew, she placed the mug on the counter but left her finger in the handle.

  “You said I have a moral obligation to tell you if there is another offer so you can bid against it. You’re probably right.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “Okay, you are right. The problem is, you can’t bid against it.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Fulton gave me an offer in writing, promising to pay a million dollars over any other offer I might receive. In cash, within twenty-four hours of notification.”

  Aidan digested the information. Slick. It was foolproof. No matter what he offered, Fulton’s was better, especially since it was for immediate payment in cash.

  “You don’t have to accept his offer.”

  “It’s not just me. There’s my mother. I might be willing to forgo the profit, but I can assure you she isn’t.”

  It was a tangled mess. Given that Fulton would have the controlling interest, Aidan wouldn’t be able to realize nearly as much from a sale to a third party as he might now. If he could sell at all, since Fulton would have to give his chop on any deal.

  On the other hand, if he kept his third interest, even though he wouldn’t be driving for Satterfield Racing anymore, he would share in the profits. It wasn’t likely Fulton would bankrupt his own team just to deny Aidan income on his investment, though he wouldn’t put it past the man to cheat him out of his due. As a minority partner, Aidan would have to watch everything that was going on to keep Fulton honest. That in itself could be expensive.

  “Thank you for telling me,” he said now.

  TWO DAYS LATER Ellie received a telephone call from her mother.

  “I’m ecstatic about the sale, Ellie, but I’m also a bit confused.”

  For Estelle to be ecstatic or confused, separately or together, was not exactly a new phenomenon. But the phrase “about the sale” had Ellie on full alert.

  “Well, Mother, if you’ll tell me what you’re ecstatic about, perhaps I can share the ecstasy with you, and if you’ll tell me what’s got you all confused maybe I can explain it to you. But first you’re going to tell me what you’re talking about.”

  There was a three-second pause on the other end. “Are you all right, dear? Is something wrong?”

  Everybody seemed to want to know what was wrong.

  Let’s see, I’ve fallen in love, really in love, for the first time in my life, only to find I’ve been used, made a fool of. I’ve been backed into a corner by another guy who called me an ingenue and proved it. Now I’m faced with a business decision that will make me rich and leave me poorer for the rest of my life. So why should anything be wrong?

  “Sorry, Mom. I’ve been wrestling with some software and it’s put me in a mood.” Since Estelle didn’t understand computers, that was always a safe excuse. “So what’s up?”

  “I got the contract approval forms by courier just a few minutes ago and am getting ready now to take them to Rupert Hollingsworth to review and to notarize my signature. I’m just wondering why they came directly from O’Keefe instead of from you? And why we’re going with separate contracts. I thought we were selling jointly.”

  Ellie’s mind was racing at a hundred and eighty miles an hour. This sharp turn wasn’t something she’d anticipated. She tried to think. Aidan had sent Estelle a contract for her to sign authorizing him to sell. Obviously Ellie wasn’t buying, so who was Aidan selling to?

  “Mother, is there a cover letter with the contract? Would you read it to me, please.”

  A minute later Ellie knew the answer and her heart sank. Aidan was selling his share of Satterfield Racing to Mitch Fulton.

  She tried to assemble all the pieces. Why would Aidan sell out to his archenemy? By beating Ellie and her mother to the punch he would probably be able to negotiate a good price for himself, which was fine, but Aidan’s share wouldn’t give Fulton control. It would, however, give him leverage. Fulton would now be in a position to buy out Estelle independently, and given her hunger for money, she’d sell, especially if Fulton was generous in his offer. It wouldn’t make any difference to him, because he could easily deduct it from what he would offer Ellie for her share, if he ever bothered to offer her anything. With control of Satterfield he wouldn’t need her share. Is that what Aidan had in mind, getting back at her because she hadn’t sold to him promptly on his terms?

  “Don’t sign it, Mother.”

  “But, dear—”

  “This isn’t what Uncle Walter would want. Trust me on this.”

  “But, darling—”

  “Put the contract back into courier and send it to me, unsigned.”

  “Are you sure this is what Walter would want?”

  “I’m absolutely positive. Put it in courier today, Mother, so I’ll have it in the morning.”

  “If that’s what you want, dear.”

  “That’s what I want.”

  CHAPTER TEN

  “ELLIE IS GOING TO BE at the party, isn’t she, Daddy?”

  “I expect so, honey. She was invited like everybody else.”

  “But a lot of people don’t come to the Christmas party because they’ve left to go to other places, and she lives way out in California.”

  “We’ll just have to wait and see, sweetheart.”

  “She said she was coming to the party,” Annie persisted.

  “Then I bet she’ll be there.”

  “Yeah.” But the girl didn’t sound all that convinced. Even though Aidan had told Annie that he and Ellie were still friends, she had figured out something was wrong between them, and it worried the girl.

  The annual Christmas party was held in the middle of December in order to give people enough time for their own holiday plans. Not many people missed it, however. Some teams had the parties on team grounds, some at private residences. Walter had always preferred hiring a hotel party room. That way someone else did the serving and cleaning up, and the hotel itself was convenient for anyone who wanted to stay over. The highlight of the festivities was the exchange of gifts, most of which were gags rather than serious. Walter had enjoyed playing Santa for that portion of the program, but Mace, who always organized the party, refused to say who would be playing the jolly fat man this year.

  As usual, team families had gotten together and decorated the hall with all the appropriate emblems of the season. A big Christmas tree stood colorfully decorated in one corner of the ballroom. Behind it was 555, pulled by nine reindeer, red-nosed Rudolph leading the way with a checkered flag. A jolly, bearded Santa, much slimmer than his stereotype, wearing a red-and-green NASCAR jumpsuit that resembled no other, was leaning out the driver’s window.

  In the other corner of the room a small combo was playing traditional music of the season. Occasionally people would join in and sing with them.

  Each of the round tables, some with red tablecloths, others with green, had Yule logs as centerpieces.

  There was stunned silence when gift-giving time arrived and Mrs. Claus came in from a side door and walked up on the stage. Below a snow-white wig, she wore wire-rimmed half-glasses on the tip of her nose, a colorful, full-skirted, ankle-length, neck-high gingham dress and wraparound apron. The moment people realized it was Ellie Satterfield, the place exploded with laughter and applause.

  “Santa’s busy supervising the elves this afternoon,” she said into the microphone, “so he asked me to come in his place. I hope that’s all right.”

  Approving cheers and hand claps resounded.

  If anyone had doubts about her commitment to the team and her growing knowledge of NASCAR, it was dispelled over the next hour. She distributed presents with verve and a surprising sense of comedic timing, adding little personal notes with each one.

  Aidan and Annie s
at at a table with Mace and his family, laughing at her jokes and occasional good-natured jabs. All the time he felt detached from what was going on, an outsider peeping in.

  At last it was his turn to receive a present.

  “Since his daughter helped pick this one out,” Mrs. Claus announced, “I think she should be the one to give it to him. What do you all think?”

  Applause confirmed her conclusion.

  Aidan and Annie walked jauntily up onto the stage.

  Annie, who was rarely shy, stared out at the sea of faces uncomfortably, until she realized she knew all or most of them. Then she grinned and took the gift-wrapped box from Mrs. Claus.

  “Merry Christmas, Daddy,” she said, holding it out to him.

  It was about the size of a shoe box. With everyone looking on anxiously, he began removing the colorful ribbon and paper. He felt a frisson of nervousness as he stared at the trademarked box in his hands. Trying to match the upbeat atmosphere, he gave the crowd a sidelong grin and prolonged the suspense by very slowly removing the lid.

  Inside he found a handmade scale model of 555, precise in every detail, every decal, even the gauges on the dashboard.

  A model of the car he would never drive again. He glanced over at Ellie, who was grinning at him rather complacently.

  “Wow!” he exclaimed and held the model over his head for all to see.

  “Do you like it, Daddy?”

  He gazed down at his daughter, the greatest treasure in his life.

  “Honey, I love it, but not as much as I love you.”

  Without thinking he handed the model to Ellie, bent down and picked up his daughter and held her in his arms. The two of them waved to the crowd like a couple of celebrities while everyone hooted and cheered.

  Aidan gazed at his little girl. Just beyond her in his line of vision was Ellie, looking beautiful and proud in her Mrs. Claus outfit.

  “You want to give Ellie her Christmas present now?” he asked Annie in a whisper.

  Her face lit up. “Yeah.”

  He motioned to Mace at the table where they’d been sitting. The crew chief passed up a gift-wrapped package.

  “This is for Ellie,” Annie said, holding it out to Mrs. Claus.

  “Maybe you can deliver it to her,” Aidan said into the mic.

  Everyone laughed.

  Caught off guard, Ellie accepted it.

  “Open it,” Annie instructed her.

  Carefully, Ellie slit the seams of the paper. “Ohhh.”

  She blushed, bit her lips, hugged the book to her breasts, then held it up.

  “Cooking Made Easy,” she read the title, “Simply Elegant Recipes for the Novice.” She laughed. “I guess I’m going to have to learn to use that fancy stove I have at home.”

  She kissed Annie and hugged Aidan at the same time, unbearably aware of the scents of child and man.

  This was the last presentation. As the crowd settled back into small groups, Annie darted off to be with her friends and Aidan started to leave the platform.

  “There is one other thing,” Ellie said to his back. “But I think I ought to give it to you in private.”

  She smiled playfully at him when he turned to face her.

  “Why don’t we go sit in the lounge,” she suggested.

  He narrowed his eyes, suspicious, or at least mystified.

  The hotel bar wasn’t open this time of day. Aidan accompanied her to a small table around the corner from the cordoned-off entrance.

  “What’s up?”

  She handed him a flat package.

  He scrutinized her rather than it as he accepted it from her hand. Responding to her nod, he removed the ribbon and tore open the shiny wrapping paper. Beneath it was a manila envelope. He turned it over and released the metal clasp, reached inside and withdrew a sheaf of papers.

  He recognized the top page of the contract release form he’d sent to Estelle. Was Ellie actually presenting him with what amounted to the sale of his team to his worst enemy as a Christmas present? That seemed rather cold.

  He flipped to the last page and stared.

  Estelle Satterfield’s signature block was crossed out with a bold black X.

  “I don’t understand,” he said.

  “No, I guess you don’t.” She was smiling, a little smugly, he thought. “You accused me of playacting, of playing games. And I’m sorry to say you’re right. My mother is even worse, but I don’t want to talk about her.”

  He waited.

  “I’ve had a hard time figuring out who I am, what I want to be when…if I grow up. But I’ve learned something since I met you. I’ve learned that I love NASCAR. I love the speed, the noise, the controlled chaos, and I don’t want the team that my uncle—and you—created to be destroyed, which, of course, is what Fulton will do if he gets his hands on it.

  “So I had to come up with some way of keeping him from getting control. You’ll have to forgive me for being so slow, so stupid about handling this, but I’m sort of an ingenue…a novice at this.”

  She smiled in a self-satisfied way that he still didn’t understand, and it made him all the more uncomfortable.

  “I learned something even more important while I was away. I learned that I love you.”

  His heart stopped.

  “I love you and I love Annie.”

  He rose, moved over to her, stroked his hands down the length of her arms, setting off firestorms of need in their wake.

  She gazed at him. “I’ve never been in love before,” she said softly. “I’ve been fascinated, infatuated, but not in love.” She raised her hand and caressed his face. “But then I’ve never met anyone like you. Youthful but mature. Responsible but fun-loving. Skilled yet modest. I’ve never met that combination in one person. I guess what blew me away was that those qualities could be combined.”

  He covered her upraised hand with his, brought it to his mouth and kissed the palm. “I’m not a saint, Ellie. Don’t make me out some sort of hero.”

  She laughed. “That’s exactly what makes you so lovable. You have no idea how rare humility is.”

  He shook his head. “I’m a man, Ellie. Nothing more.”

  “Oh, you don’t have to convince me of your gender. But let me move on. I learned something else being with you. I learned to love Annie. I’ve had almost no experience with children. Even as a kid I didn’t have close friends my own age. Other kids were competition. That was all. Annie…Annie is special.” She smiled at him. “But then I don’t think I have to convince you of that.”

  He kissed her, but not on the mouth. He gently touched his lips to her forehead in a gesture that was endearing, protective and reassuring…and promised more.

  She bit her lips to control the ache welling inside her. “Why did you send the contract release form to my mother?” she asked.

  He wasn’t expecting the question, or at least not at this moment.

  “When you suddenly gave me the brush-off, I figured you’d decided to sell to Fulton and you just didn’t want to deal with me.”

  She appeared momentarily offended, but then she nodded in recognition of the logic. Her change in attitude toward him had been abrupt, irrational.

  “Once you sold out,” he went on, “I knew I was finished. I wouldn’t be able to sell to anyone without his permission, and I knew he wouldn’t give me a dime on the dollar if I offered to sell to him. It seemed to me the best thing for me to do was sell to him first. That wouldn’t give him control of Satterfield Racing, but it would get me out with at least some dignity. Fulton would then have to either buy one of your shares to control the team or be a silent partner. I couldn’t see him doing that, but according to the agreement you and your mother had, whoever bought would have to buy both shares. That would put you in a power position.”

  “Slick,” she conceded.

  “So what do we do now,” he asked, “since you won’t let me sell?”

  “We team up, of course.”

  “I thought you and yo
ur mother wanted the money?”

  “Oh, Mom wants the money, all right. Your noisy sport may have won me over, but it’s never going to turn her into a fan. So I propose you give her a hefty down payment, a million or two ought to do it, and at the end of the season buy her out. At a fair price, of course.” She studied those deep blue pools. “Trust me, Mother will survive. In spite of her crying poor, she’s actually quite well-off. I know because I manage her accounts and her investments.”

  “What about Fulton’s offer of a million more?”

  “He bid on two shares, controlling interest. If we sell separately—or only one of us sells—his tender is void.”

  “That’s pretty slick, too.”

  “A master’s in business administration should be worth something.”

  “So we draw up a new partnership agreement,” he mused, his gaze off in space somewhere, as if he were contemplating legal clauses. “Probably need a new name?”

  “New name? You want to change Satterfield Racing?”

  “Why not? Your mother won’t be a partner, and you won’t be a Satterfield anymore.”

  “I won’t?”

  “Not if you marry me.”

  Marry you?

  “How about O’Keefe Racing?”

  “Or Annie Motors?”

  He shook his head. “That won’t work. The other kids will get jealous.”

  “Other kids? What other kids?”

  “The ones we’re going to have.” He gazed into her amber eyes. “Will you marry me, Ellie? Will you be my wife and a mother to my daughter?”

  “Will I have to learn to cook?”

  He laughed, and this time when he kissed her it was more than just reassuring.

  THE NATURAL

  Abby Gaines

  For my sister-in-law and one of my first

  and most loyal readers, Anne Latham

  CHAPTER ONE

  DANNY CRUISE was all “Jingle Belled” out. And it was only December 1.

  Unconvinced of the fun to be had riding in a one-horse open sleigh—anyone could see it would be too damned slow—he stabbed the stereo’s Off button. The cheery music died, and a blessed silence filled the cab of his Ford F-150 truck. With the darkness outside and the North Carolina freezing rain glazing the windshield, the truck felt like a cocoon.