The Mischievous Mrs. Maxfield

by Ninya Tippett

  “Okay, okay!” I kneaded my throbbing temples. “Let me think!”

  “Think about what?” Brandon asked, his voice barely audible over the baby’s shrieks. “I’ll call Freddy and get him to have one of the tow-truck companies we use to come out here and help this lady out. I’m sure he can get them out here in half an hour.”

  I turned to Susan. “How far away is Plympton from here?”

  Brandon’s eyes widened in alarm. “Charlotte, we’re—”

  “It’s about fifteen minutes away,” Susan answered, her expression hopeful. “It’s pretty much a straight road west after you turn on the first right down the highway.”

  “If it’s only fifteen minutes, why can’t your husband just quickly drive out and get you?” Brandon asked, his forehead scrunched up. “If my wife were stuck out on a highway somewhere, I’d—”

  “He’s the town mayor—he can’t just leave. At least not in the middle of the biggest town event of the year! I wouldn’t have gone on this errand myself but there was no one else who didn’t have their hands full with today’s preparations!” Susan exclaimed desperately, her raised voice agitating baby Stuart further. “I can walk but I won’t be able to do it very well with a screaming baby and a box of trophies and crowns to drag about.”

  I studied Susan. She really looked desperate. She kept glancing worriedly at her son and back at the smoking car. She was trying to do something for her husband and she was failing. I knew the feeling and sympathized with her.

  “Go get Stu’s car seat and the crowns and trophies,” I told her. “Brandon and I will come help you in a minute. We just have to clear some room in the backseat. We’ll give you a ride to Plympton.”

  The woman’s eyes rounded happily, tears shining in them. “Really? Oh, my God! Thank you, thank you! Bless both of you! Thank you!”

  When Susan ran back to her car, Brandon urged me toward our SUV with little subtlety.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” he demanded under his breath as we hid behind the open door of the backseat where I started to clear out some space. “There’s a very good reason why people shouldn’t pick up hitchhikers!”

  I rolled my eyes at him. “She wasn’t trying to hitchhike, Brand. Her car died in the middle of the road. You saw it smoking. Plus, she has a baby with her.”

  His eyes narrowed even as he was helping me with moving some of our gear around. “What if it’s some kind of ploy to lure us somewhere and mug us? Did that occur to you?”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Sure, but the baby just makes it too elaborate a ploy, don’t you think? If we’re going to suspect every person in unfortunate circumstances as a potential criminal, no one will be doing good deeds anymore.”

  Brandon groaned, running a hand down his face. “Charlotte, you know what I mean.”

  I faced him and cupped each side of his face in appeal. “I do, babe. But think, what if it were me stuck out here while you’re indisposed? Wouldn’t you want some good samaritan to help me?”

  He arched a brow. “Are there really still good samaritans around these days?”

  I smiled. “Of course. You’re one yourself. So is your Dad. Lots of people! The thing about being one is that you can’t quit. You’ve got to help wherever and whenever you can.”

  He stared at me for a moment before sighing in resignation. “Alright. I hope this will be a quick trip because I don’t want us to run far too behind schedule. And if this turns out to be some kind of scheme, just remember that I already warned you.”

  I grinned. “I will. And seriously, if it is, there’s two of us. And you have a utility knife of some kind in each pocket of your cargo pants. We can put them to good use.”

  “Here we are!” Susan announced behind us as she came over with Stu’s car seat. “Let’s get this little guy in first. The trophies are in a padded box in the backseat.”

  “I’ll go get it,” Brandon said before heading back to Susan’s car.

  I helped Susan get the car seat strapped in—thank God for that little demo Brandon did for me earlier this morning—and set Stu in it. She found a little rubber lemon toy from one of the pockets and gave it to him which the baby promptly stuffed into his mouth. That shut him up good.

  “Charlotte, thank you again for helping us,” Susan said. “I know how big an imposition this is but this is my husband’s first year and the first ever summer festival in his term. He needs everything to go well and I have to help him. You have no idea how much this means to our family.”

  I smiled at her. “You’re welcome, Susan.” Then I smiled down at Stuart who had the pinkest baby cheeks in the world, and big, blue eyes that were staring at me. “I understand what it’s like to do the best you can for your family.”

  About twenty minutes later, after driving through a narrow stretch of road off the highway, we reached Plympton. We needed to get to the town hall but the main street was already jam-packed with floats and spectators.

  Susan had to grab someone diverting traffic on the street to clear a path for us to the town hall.

  A short, balding man with too tight a shirt around the belly hurried out as we got off the car, his expression concerned as he came toward Susan.

  This was most likely Mayor Al Campbell. Susan had called him on my cellphone and left him a message on our way there.

  “Honey, are you alright?” he asked as he wrapped his arms around his wife. “Is little Stuwee, okay?”

  I glanced at Brandon at the mention of ‘Stuwee’ and saw him suppressing a smile as he came over to my side and put an arm around my shoulders. We were drawing some attention from some of the people busy bustling about in preparation, and I gave a friendly smile to every onlooker I met eyes with.

  “He’s fine, I’m fine,” Susan reassured her husband before turning to us. “We wouldn’t have been if it weren’t for this wonderful couple here. Come, Al. You have to meet them so we can thank them properly.”

  The mayor stepped forward and extended a hand to us. “It’s so nice to meet you both. My name’s Al Campbell and I can’t thank both of you enough for helping my wife and son.”

  “It’s all good,” Brandon said as he shook the man’s hand. “I’m Brandon Maxfield and this is my wife, Charlotte.”

  Al’s hand automatically swivelled to shake mine but his eyes were glued on Brandon as he blinked rapidly in surprise. “Maxfield? Wait, Brandon Max... You mean you’re Brandon Maxfield? Of Maxfield Industries?”

  Brandon nodded. “Yes. That would be me.”

  Al’s eyes widened before he broke into a grin and turned to his wife excitedly. “Honey! My God! Do you know who this is? Just one of the most powerful men in the state, if not the country! He owns and runs Maxfield Industries! Advanced AgriTech is one of their companies. They supply all of our farm equipment! Well, they pretty much do for the rest of the world!”

  I gave Brandon an amused sideways glanced and saw him blushing.

  “Um, actually, my father owns Maxfield Industries,” he clarified. “I’m just—”

  “You’re one family. It’s all the same,” Al interjected with a dismissive wave. “You’re the man running most of the show now anyway. How’s your father, by the way? Heard he had a bad attack or something. I hope he’s doing okay.”

  “He is, thank you.”

  Al nodded thoughtfully. “He’s a good man. Very down-to-earth type, you know? Even though he’s rich and all that. He used to visit the farms south of the state when I was younger. Even stopped by here once. He wanted to see what farmers really needed to work efficiently. He wasn’t just building things for the sake of selling them. He wanted them to work well to help the smaller people like us.”

  And once again, Martin deserves another ring on his halo.

  Brandon smiled at the mayor broadly. “That does sound like my father. Thank you.”

  Al returned his smile and glanced at me then his wife. “Listen. It’s noon and the sun is hot and it looks like you could both use a little bit of
recharging. We have a lunch buffet set up in the town hall for all the volunteers. It’s nothing fancy but please, have something to eat and drink. It’s the least we can do for you for all your help. The summer pageant will be on its way shortly, just down at the promenade. We can get you front row seats there if you’d like to stay for a little bit.”

  I felt Brandon’s arm tense around my shoulders as he hesitated but I slipped my own around his waist and squeezed him lightly in reassurance.

  “We could use some lunch but as much as we’d love to stay and enjoy your wonderful summer festival, we’ll have to get going if we’re to make it to the campgrounds in time. Thank you though, for your hospitality.”

  Al beamed and nodded. “Not a problem at all. Come on, follow me and we’ll get you both comfortable. It’s nice and cool inside with the air-conditioning. Don’t worry about your car. Ned will look after it.”

  Three hours later...

  “I can’t feel my arm,” I told Brandon as I shifted a sleeping Stuart against my shoulder. The slight movement caused the baby to stir a little, his chubby arm lifting up to rest against my chest, his drool moving on to the newest spot on my shirt. I already had a couple of damp spots on it.

  Brandon slowly rubbed the baby’s back, which we’d discovered to be quite successful in encouraging him back to sleep every time he stirred. “Do you want me to hold him?”

  I raised my brow at him. “Do you know how to hold a baby?”

  He smiled. “I was eighteen when Mattie was born. I held him a lot when he was just a baby.”

  I’m not sure I want to see him holding a baby. I may never recover.

  But Brandon extended his arms and I found myself lifting Stuart over to him. The baby stirred again and started whimpering but Brandon quickly rose from the bench and started bouncing him a little in his arms, rubbing his back soothingly. The baby rubbed his face against Brandon’s chest until he found a comfortable spot and settled in, his eyes fluttering close again, his little pink mouth closing to a pout.

  I swallowed hard, fighting to control the sudden speeding up of my heartbeat.

  The sight of the sleeping baby in Brandon’s arms had the impact of a sledgehammer to my heart.

  Admit it. You’re always going to think of Brandon holding your son or daughter in his arms like this one day. You know that he will be a great father.

  Great men usually were and despite the scheme that brought us together in the first place, I knew that Brandon was a good, generous and kind man.

  The last three hours was an indisputable example.

  Despite his initial reluctance, Brandon gracefully joined us for lunch, speaking to the mayor and some of the other people in the council who were also farmers and business owners in Plympton. He spoke to pretty much everyone who approached him, be it someone important or not. When some of the council people asked to have their picture taken with him, he just blushed and politely agreed to it.

  When there was a small issue with a set on one on the floats parked outside the town hall, Brandon stepped in and helped the men put the collapsing corner back together.

  When the mayor and other council members asked if he wanted to judge the pageant, he’d opened his mouth to say no—I could tell by the way he darted a glance in my direction—but when I smiled at him and nodded, he said yes. Susan was a judge as well so I ended up watching Stuart, whose usual babysitter was already volunteering in the parade. I sat right behind Brandon, who sat with the panel of judges out in the promenade where they had a stage set up and everything. I held Stuart in my arms and watched the half a dozen contestants go through the different sections of the pageant like the swimsuit, talent and question and answer categories.

  When the young, sixteen-year-old Chelsea Conner was declared as this year’s Miss Plympton, Brandon and I were announced as guests of honor privileged with the task to crown her and the two runners-up.

  Since we were already late enough as it was, Brandon asked me if I wanted to see the parade which I did. I loved small towns because I never really grew up in one. There was something touching about knowing everyone and treating them like old friends and family. There wasn’t a lot of that in the big cities.

  I mean, who entrusts their baby boy to total strangers there?

  We stood on the sidewalk with Stuart in my arms as the floats did their procession, the newly crowned Miss Plympton on one, and the mayor and his wife on another. There was a marching band, the local football team and the cheerleaders, actors costumed in what might be historical town figures and little children in bright clothes holding flowers and balloons.

  When the parade ended, Brandon and I made our way back to the town hall. In a town where everything along the main street was only a block away from each other, it wasn’t a very long walk at all.

  “Susan and Al will be here in a few minutes,” I told Brandon as he sat back down again next to me. We were on a bench out on the town hall’s grounds where they had set up several event tents. We had found a shaded spot in the tent for the Jam-Packers’ Club—yes, they were a small club of town’s people who canned and packed jams, cranberry jam to be exact.

  “Once we give them Stu back, we’ll be on our way.” I rested my cheek against his free arm before he lifted it up and rested it on the back of the bench so I could snuggle up against him. “I had fun though.”

  “Me too,” he admitted, leaning down to rub the tip of his nose on the baby’s fine brown hair. “It wasn’t what I had planned but I’m glad we stayed for a little bit.”

  I touched the baby’s hand, smiling and gasping softly when it stretched open and caught my finger with its five little ones. I glanced up at Brandon and found him smiling down at me.

  My heart clenched.

  This feels dangerous. Not only am I wishing for more than a year—I’m wishing for a happily ever after, babies included.

  “Well, look at you two. If you hadn’t been planning to have one quite yet, I recommend you reconsider.”

  We looked up at Al’s voice and saw him walking toward us with Susan in his arm. They were both grinning at us.

  “You will have a beautiful family, I’m sure,” Susan said as she reached for her son. “And considering that Stu doesn’t behave so angelically for just anyone, I’d say you’d be great parents.”

  My cheeks grew hot as I struggled for something light and nonchalant to say but Brandon just laughed and kissed me on the temple as he helped me up to my feet. “I might just convince my wife to get to practice with me right away and often. So we’ll get it right.”

  I threw him a mortified look as the three of them burst out laughing. “I’m not sure I want to overwork you that much, dear. After all, it’s about quality, not quantity.”

  Brandon grinned, not looking the least remorseful. “Some can manage both with no problem, dear. I’ll apply myself as best as I could.”

  I gave up on dishing Brandon back his double-meaning suggestions because I suspected that he would just keep going, and I didn’t really want to let the mayor and the first lady of Plympton into our bedroom affairs.

  Half an hour later, with the backseat of our car loaded with cranberry-everything (because there were a lot of cranberry bogs there), Brandon and I made our way back to the highway to continue our route down to Sagamore where the Scusset Beach State Reservation was located.

  It was a little past four when we arrived at the campsite. Check-in time was at one so we were well way behind schedule but Brandon negotiated our site back (which fortunately hadn't been given away yet) by paying a heftier fee.

  Our tent site was private enough, enclosed by a thick cluster of trees.

  That was when the real fun began.

  Even though it was only about four-thirty by the time we got to the tent site, the skies had already darkened with a large front that had rolled in just in the past hour. It was thick and heavy with rain and the wind was gusting up quickly. The muggy heat had suggested thunderstorms in the forecast but it had been s
o clear earlier that we didn't really think it would happen.

  We rushed to set up our tent. With Brandon’s last experience at it being about fifteen years ago and mine non-existing at all, it was harder than we thought. The wind was starting to whip around us that even the bugs and mosquitoes went away.

  I was inside the tent unrolling the double-person sleeping bag when Brandon came running back with a bundle of firewood, which was as drenched as he was since the rain had started pouring down shortly after he left to fetch them.

  “Get in!” I yelled at him over the clap of thunder as I scooted back to give him room. “Dump the damn wood and get in here before you catch your death!”

  “I’ll get water inside,” he protested, backing away. “I’ll be fine out here. It’ll pass, I’m sure—”

  “Brandon, get your ass inside this tent right now or I’m coming out to drag you in myself!”

  He kicked off his shoes and dove inside the tent, zipping it close behind him.

  “Strip!”

  He looked up at me, smiling crookedly. “Now, that’s more like it.”

  I gave as stern a look as I could manage. “Not what you’re thinking. I’m terrified of being inside a flimsy little tent that feels like it’s going to blow away any moment now if the storm doesn’t let up. I’m cold, hungry and reeking of a baby drool, sunscreen and bug spray cocktail. The last thing I’m interested in right now is getting naked and naughty with you.”

  Brandon sighed as he pulled his shirt off and started working on his pants. I tried my best not to stare at his body but it was like trying to hold my breath under water.

  “I’m sorry that my grand plan is falling apart. I seem to have an uncanny talent at failing at everything I try to do with you.”

  I felt a pang of guilt at the tired, defeated look on his face, and I crawled over to him and slipped my arms around his neck. “Just because this isn’t exactly what you had planned, doesn’t mean it’s not fun. This may be a crazy day but it’s a crazy day I spent with you, and that’s what means the most to me.”