“Dude, you just blew through a stop sign.”
Chase glanced in his rearview mirror, then frowned at his teenage companion—Cody something or other, who played tight end. “Another one? Are you kidding me? Did the town have a budget surplus some year and blow it all on stop signs, or what?”
The kid shrugged. “Whatever, dude.”
Chase was really starting to detest being called dude, and it was tempting to lecture the kid on respecting his elders. But that meant Chase would be calling himself an elder, and he already felt old enough because of the upcoming alumni game, thank you very much. Hanging around teenage athletes was hard on a man’s ability to fool himself into thinking he was still young.
He felt anything but old, though, when he pulled up to the curb and saw Kelly at the corner of the town square. They were trying to hang a tarp, presumably to offer shade for the baked goods and lemonade stands, and she was on her tiptoes with her arms raised over her head.
The way she was stretched out made her legs look even longer, and her T-shirt had lifted enough to leave a gap between its hem and the waistband of her shorts. That teasing glimpse of skin made his mouth dry, and he found himself hoping she’d have to reach just a little bit higher.
“Dude, you’re holding up traffic.”
Busted. Keeping the curse limited to an under-the-breath mutter because he was trying to set a good example when around the kids, Chase hit the gas and drove around the square until he found a parking space that wouldn’t mean carrying the stuff in the bed of the truck too far.
Once the last item—a rocking chair with cushions he guessed had been made during the Carter administration—was deposited with the rest of the donated furnishings, he wiped a light sheen of sweat off his forehead and stretched his back.
“You guys might want to have a few workout sessions before the big game,” Kelly said from behind him, and he groaned.
He turned around, shaking his head at the grin on her face. “Don’t remind me. I think the Eagles Fest coordinators should take pity on us old folks and make it flag football.”
“You know how Coach feels about football. If you’re going to play, play it all the way. And you’re not old because then I’d be old, too. And I’m not.”
No, she certainly wasn’t. “What do you want me to do next?”
“I think we’re all set. The signs are out letting cars from both directions know there’s a town yard sale ahead, and the early bird shoppers are out in force.”
“I see that. It’s a little ironic, isn’t it, that almost the entire town has turned out to support the team when they obviously must have voted to cut the funding at the meeting?”
“I guess it looks that way.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t personal, though, and very few people wanted to cut the team’s funding. But something had to give, and it’s hard enough to keep good teachers, so we can’t and won’t make cuts there. Bottom line, it came down to prioritizing academics over athletics.”
“Tough choice, but nobody can argue it was the right one, I guess.”
“And now we’ll try to make up the difference.”
He nodded, looking around. “I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”
“I saw a paint-by-numbers horse on black velvet on a table over by the big maple tree. It would make a great Christmas gift for somebody special in your life.”
He grimaced. “I’ll do almost anything you need me to do.”
Kelly laughed. “Mrs. Smith donated some Tupperware. It’s slightly spaghetti sauce stained because she didn’t clean it with baking soda like Mrs. Donato told her to, but it’s still a bargain. Everybody needs Tupperware.”
“I’m pretty sure I saw a tools section,” he said. “Maybe I’ll do a little shopping there.”
“Just a heads-up, the reciprocating saw has a bad cord that’ll zap the hell out of you. Coach is waiting for its donor to stop hovering, trying to drive up the price, so he can make it disappear.”
“Sometimes I forget how much I love this town.”
“I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”
He shrugged, not sure himself. “A little bit yes and a little bit no, I guess. It’s weird because I feel like a visitor, but as soon as you said her name, I remembered the day Mrs. Donato forgot to put her car in park before she got out, and it almost crashed through the front window of the drugstore.”
“You’re not a visitor. You’re one of the golden boys of fall.”
“You almost said that with a straight face.” He liked the hint of mocking in her voice. It mirrored how he felt about the whole thing. He wasn’t a golden boy, by any means.
“Go get a coffee, golden boy,” she said. “And grab one of Mimi Dodge’s muffins before the bake sale table runs out. They’re that good.”
She walked away before he thought to suggest they have coffee and muffins together, which was probably for the best. Since he was having one hell of a time keeping his eyes off her legs and they were surrounded by most of Stewart Mills, it was best if he kept moving and found other things to look at. Like horses painted on black velvet.
—
Kelly lost track of time as she moved through the crowd in the town square. Sometimes she was helping to drive up prices in a friendly way, even managing to start a bidding war over a DVD player with a missing remote, and sometimes taking turns behind the tables so their volunteer cashiers could have breaks.
She never managed to totally lose track of Chase, though, no matter how distracted she was. She tried to convince herself it was because he was tall, but she felt as if her gaze just naturally homed in on him somehow, as if magically drawn to him.
He looked relaxed and happy as he reconnected with people he’d known his entire life but hadn’t seen in almost a decade and a half. And he looked sexy as hell, too, in faded jeans and an equally well-worn Boston Celtics T-shirt. It didn’t look like he’d forsaken his hometown sports teams while down in New Jersey.
“How’s my best girl?”
Kelly whirled to face her dad, embarrassed to have been caught watching Chase, even though Coach probably had no idea that’s what she’d been doing. “I’m good. And so is the turnout, don’t you think?”
“I’m starting to think you girls might pull this off, after all.”
By you girls, he meant her, Jen and Gretchen, even though Eagles Fest was happening thanks to a hell of a lot more than just three people. But it had been Jen, out of affection and concern for the kids, and Kelly—who had the double emotional whammy of caring about the kids and her dad—who had stood in the parking lot after the town vote slashed the team, and started coming up with a plan. Gretchen had joined them because what one did, they all tended to do. She wasn’t going to let Jen and Kelly take on a project like Eagles Fest alone.
“We only need a few thousand dollars more,” Kelly said. “I think we can do it. We’ll take in a few hundred dollars, at least, this weekend with the sale. Maybe we’ll even hit a thousand if we add in the tollbooth tomorrow.”
“I don’t want you to beat yourself up too much if the money comes up short,” he said, concern deepening the wrinkles around his eyes. “Sometimes the odds are just against you.”
It would break her heart if their efforts to keep the team intact failed, but she gave him a confident smile. “I hope you give better pep talks on the sidelines, Coach.”
He laughed, and the rich sound was like music to her ears. There hadn’t been enough of that lately. “I’m going to go wander around. I’m trying to convince Paul he needs that old canoe over there. You look hot, honey. Go grab a lemonade and find some shade for a while.”
That sounded like a good idea, so she kissed his cheek and headed toward the food and beverage area they’d set up. She should probably have lunch, but the line for burgers and dogs at the grill, which was being manned by the high school principal, was
long enough that she’d settle for a drink for now. Later, once the food rush died down, she’d see if they had a hot dog left over.
She took her lemonade to the shade offered by the old covered bridge. A lot of other people had had the same idea, so there was a crowd, and the picnic tables that lined one side were full. Kelly didn’t mind, though. Habit took her to the spot where a massive support beam dropped down at an angle to meet the horizontal bridge structure, which formed a rough-hewn bench of sorts.
She sat and sipped her lemonade, smiling and waving at people who greeted her. Because she’d chosen to sit alone, she was mostly left to herself, which suited her just fine. After a few minutes, she reached her right hand down behind the beam and felt around for the heart she’d carved into the wood as a teenager. Inside were the letters C and S—for Chase Sanders—though they weren’t carved as deeply as the heart.
She hadn’t dared add her initials because at the time she did it, she hadn’t been able to think of another KM in their school off the top of her head, and she didn’t want anybody to ever know the coach’s daughter had a crush on the star running back. The angle had been awkward, making it hard to see as she’d gouged the wood with her knife, but she wanted it to be a secret. There were hearts and initials and a few less savory things carved all over the bridge, but nobody would see her heart unless they already knew it was there. And nobody but Kelly knew. Not even Gretchen and Jen.
And speak of the devil. She drank more of her lemonade and then smiled as Gretchen approached. Her friend worked too hard, trying to keep the family farm in the family, and the genial atmosphere of the day was doing her good. She was even smiling and had a little color in her cheeks, as well as a plastic cup of lemonade in her hand.
“This town loves a yard sale,” Gretchen said, sitting next to her on the beam.
“I think they love poking around in each other’s belongings, secretly judging.”
“No doubt about that. But it’s also a buying frenzy. I think I saw Mrs. Tobin buy back a toaster she donated herself.”
Kelly laughed. “Whatever gets money into the Eagles’ coffers.”
“Hopefully it’ll be a lot. At the rate the sale’s going, there won’t be much left by the end of tomorrow.”
“If you don’t mind storing the remainders,” Kelly said, “I was thinking we could try to drum up some more donations over the next week and have a yard sale table during the street fair. Assuming we’re not down to stuff that would be better off thrown away.”
“I don’t mind at all. And every dollar counts, even if it comes a quarter at a time. Which it is, by the way. We’re going to have a blast coming up with a total.” She leaned closer and lowered her voice. “You’re doing a really bad job of not watching Chase Sanders, by the way.”
Kelly felt her cheeks get hot. “He’s one of our special guests. I’m just doing my part to make sure he’s having a good time and doesn’t need anything.”
“So Alex Murphy and Sam Leavitt and the other guys will get that same level of attention?”
Not unless they turned her head in a way they never had in high school. She’d always been all about Chase. “Of course.”
“Yeah, right.” Gretchen took a drink of her lemonade as a woman walked by within earshot. “Do we have enough tarps to cover all the tables overnight? Tell me we’re not bringing everything back to the farm and then back out here again in the morning.”
Thankful for the change in subject, Kelly nodded. “We’ll drag some stuff together into tighter groups, especially the furniture, but we should be all set. One of the defensive players has a dad who’s a painter, so he let us borrow his tarps. And between residents who can see the square from their windows and Dylan doing some extra drive-bys around dusk, I don’t think anybody will mess with it.”
“Let’s face it,” Gretchen said. “Our older generations went all out for this. The generation most likely to try to steal something doesn’t want anything out there.”
They talked about the upcoming events for a few minutes before heading their separate ways to see who needed a break or assistance with something. It was tiring, but neither of them would complain. This was the first day of a long two weeks, and the only way to get through it was to keep on pushing.
Kelly was especially careful to keep her mind on the job and her eyes off of Chase.
—
On Sunday morning, Chase volunteered to offer up a shift at the tollbooth. He’d never taken part in one, since it wasn’t something they’d done back when he was in high school, but it didn’t sound too hard. They were basically panhandling on the side of the road.
The theory seemed to be that traffic would be heavy midmorning through later afternoon as tourists headed home from their visits up north. The main road cut out most of the downtown businesses, since it was the truck route, but there was a short segment that required traffic going in both directions to stop. They hoped the signs announcing the impending tollbooth and its purpose, which Kelly had placed a half mile out in each direction, would give travelers time to pull cash out of their wallets or at least scoop the loose change out of their center consoles.
The boys would be doing the work, holding their helmets out to accept the donations from passing motorists, but there had to be adults on the scene, as well. Not only did they want to make sure the team didn’t get too obnoxious in their pleas or harass drivers who didn’t offer up money, but there was also always a chance an impatient driver would cause a scene.
They’d been right about the heavy traffic. He barely had time to make small talk with the teenagers since the constantly stopping cars kept them hopping. Time flew by as he accepted half-full helmets to empty into buckets Jen had given him and handed the empty helmets back to the boys.
Some of the kids had a real flair for charm, and Chase thought, by the time they handed the football helmets and safety vests off to the next shift, that they’d taken in at least several hundred dollars, if not more. Once they’d turned the cash—mostly in dollar bills and loose change—over to Jen, who was managing the money that day, he grabbed a hot dog and found a spot at a picnic table to wait for the yard sale to wrap up. He’d volunteered to help haul leftover donations back to the Walker farm when they felt as if they’d run out of buyers for the weekend. He guessed it wouldn’t be long, since the people of Stewart Mills had already picked it over like vultures, and there wasn’t enough left on display to lure the vehicles passing through town into stopping.
When he saw the three women—Kelly, Jen and Gretchen—standing in the center of the square and looking around, he knew the end was near, so he walked back to his truck so he could park it illegally on the edge of the town square’s grass. He was hot and tired and, if Officer McDonnell had a problem with his parking, she could move her own yard sale leftovers.
Other than giving him an arched eyebrow look, Kelly said nothing. Under the direction of the women, the players got everything they deemed not trash into the back of his truck, and it looked like he’d only have to make one trip, which he was grateful for. Besides being tired, he was starting to think his biggest donation to the Eagles Fest cause would be the money he was pumping into his gas tank.
“I’ll ride with you and help you unload this crap,” Kelly said. “Gretchen has to do some errands before she heads home. Assuming you don’t mind bringing me back into town after?”
“Of course I don’t mind. I have to go by here to get back to Eagles Lane, anyway.”
“Okay. I just need to help fold up these tables and make sure they’re all tagged with their owners’ names, and then I’ll be ready to go.”
“I’m going to get off the town’s lawn before the local law enforcement notices, and get some gas. You want a soda or something while I’m at the store?”
“I helped finish off the last of the lemonade stand, so I don’t need a drink.” She laughed. “The sugar had set
tled to the bottom, too, so I won’t need sleep for a while, either.”
Once he’d managed to get off the town square’s grass and to the gas station without anything blowing or bouncing out of the back of his truck, Chase swiped his card at the pump and watched the dollar amount climb. Then he pulled the truck into a parking spot and went inside for a soda.
“Well, if it isn’t Chase Sanders.”
People had been saying his name in that hey, I know you voice all day, but there was something different about the way the woman behind the counter said it. She hadn’t been working the last time he’d been in, so it was the first time he’d seen her, and it took him a few seconds to place her.
“Janie Vestal.” They’d dated most of high school, not out of any great affection, but because football players dated cheerleaders, and they’d liked each other well enough. He suspected she was as relieved as he was when they parted ways before going to college, even if neither of them had admitted it at the time.
The years had been kind to her. With her blond hair in a soft ponytail instead of teased and sprayed to its breaking point and her face free of heavy makeup, he thought she was prettier than she’d been as a teenager. He knew women well enough not to say it aloud, because she wouldn’t believe him anyway, and might even think he was saying she hadn’t been pretty enough in high school.
“How have you been?” he asked her, leaning against the counter since there was nobody in line. Even if they hadn’t been true high school sweethearts, she’d meant a lot to him in his younger years and he was curious.
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