Daddy Patrol

by Sharon De Vita

  “Great.” Lingering over the kiss, his gaze lovingly went over her face. “But if you ever change your mind, Mattie, the offer still stands.” Grinning, he wiggled his eyebrows yet again, leaning his forehead against hers. “You can have your way with my body anytime, anywhere.”

  Mattie resisted the urge to sigh dreamily, wondering how he’d react if he knew his body had been on her mind. A lot. He looked fabulous in his baseball uniform, but lately, she’d been fantasizing about getting him out of his baseball uniform.

  “Thanks,” she responded, swiping her suddenly damp palms down her shorts. “I’ll keep that in mind.” Locked in her mind and in her heart, she thought, where her fantasies and feelings about him would forever remain, and thus, keep her…safe.

  “Lassie, did you bring them?” Clancy all but danced around her the moment she pushed through the glass door of the gallery that afternoon. “Do you have them, lass?”

  Laughing, Mattie nodded, heading toward her desk with Clancy all but nipping at her heels.

  “Fortunately, I do, Clancy.” She patted her backpack where the drawings she’d been working on the past month—as well as all the sketch pads she’d used since she’d started drawing—were safely tucked away. “But it’s a good thing I kept my sketch pads in my backpack and not my car.”

  “Why is that, lassie?” he asked with a frown, pausing at her desk.

  “My car was stolen this morning.”

  “Nay!” His eyes rounded and he cocked his head to look at her. “I’m sorry, lass, but ’tis a surprise is all.” Banking a smile, he shook his bald head. “Who on earth would want to risk prison for that rusted bucket of old bolts?”

  She laughed, tugging the ponytail holder out of her hair, and running her fingers through the loose strands. “I’m not sure, but apparently they’ve got more problems than an old, rusted car.”

  “Aye for sure,” he said with a nod, eyeing her backpack. “Well, lassie, are you going to let me see, or make me stand here waiting and wondering?”

  “Clancy, I’m not at all sure they’re any good—”

  “Aye, lass, so you’ve told me.” He rocked on his heels, eyes twinkling. “Every single day since I asked you for them.”

  With a sigh, Mattie dragged her backpack off and unzipped it, extracting four sketch pads and hesitantly handing them to Clancy.

  “This is everything I have,” she admitted. Except the sketch of Joe. She was having it framed right now, and since she would be having dinner with him and his family on Sunday, she thought that would be the perfect day to give it to him. But it wasn’t going to be a gift from her, but from the boys, to thank Joe for all his time and attention.

  “All the sketches I’ve done since I was in high school.” Reluctantly, Mattie watched Clancy take control of the sketch pads. She felt very possessive about her work, and since she’d never shown anyone else her sketches before, she also felt a serious bit of trepidation.

  “Feel like you’ve just handed over your firstborn?” Clancy asked with a knowing smile and a nod when he saw her face. “Felt the same way myself when your aunt first asked me to show her my portfolio. ’Twasn’t something I did with ease, lass, well, certainly no more ease than you have right now.” Chuckling, he began flipping pages, studying the sketches, cocking his head this way and that, humming softly as he absorbed everything.

  “By the way, lass,” he said as he flipped through the fourth and final book. “I’ve a business proposition for you.”

  “For me?” She frowned. “What kind of business proposition?”

  Eyes twinkling, he glanced up at her. “Well, if you’ve a mind to sell one of your sketches, I’ve got a buyer.” Maureen had been thrilled to learn about Mattie’s artistic secret, and then truly stunned when he’d shown her Mattie’s drawings, immediately deciding she wanted to showcase Mattie’s work in the gallery. But knowing her niece as well as she did, Maureen was sure that Mattie would never believe she had true talent, but would think Maureen was merely being…kind.

  So Maureen had decided that she would buy Mattie’s art outright, then she’d be free to display Mattie’s work in the gallery without fearing Mattie would think it was simply nepotism. It was, in fact, merely good business.

  Astonishment had Mattie gaping at him. “Someone wants to buy one of my sketches?”

  “Aye, lass, that’s what I said.” Clancy’s eyebrows drew together.

  “Why?” she asked, still stunned. She’d never even considered, never allowed herself to hope that one day she could actually sell her work. It was a dream she’d let go of a long, long time ago, certain she had neither the talent nor the time or tenacity to make a go of it as an artist.

  She knew that some artists—most artists—spent a lifetime without ever selling anything. Taking on another profession simply to pay the bills, while their quest for the art world’s holy grail of sales and a devoted following consumed them.

  But now, Clancy was offering her the one thing—the one dream—she’d long ago stopped dreaming of, and she could hardly contain her joy.

  Clancy laughed at her response. “Why, indeed. I believe, lass, because like me, the buyer thinks you have a great deal of talent, not to mention potential.”

  His words made her heart dance with pride and pleasure. “Clancy, are you sure someone wants to pay money for one of my sketches?” Disbelief tinged her words. “Real money?”

  “Aye, Mattie, I believe money was the currency we’re discussing.”

  She shook her head, trying desperately to take it all in. “Who? I mean why? Which sketch?” A million thoughts crowded her mind, and came tumbling out of her mouth, making Clancy laugh.

  “Aye, lass, I think you’d best sit down before shock knocks you down.” He pulled out her desk chair and gently eased her into it. “Now,” he began, kneeling beside her so they were eye level. “The who, I’m afraid is going to have to remain anonymous. The buyer prefers not to be known for right now. I’m acting as the…agent in this matter.”

  “Okay,” she said slowly. After working in the gallery for almost five months now, she was aware of the many idiosyncrasies that both artists and buyers possessed. Idiosyncrasies as well as superstitions.

  “And as for which sketch, ’tis the one of your aunt. You know, the one of her in the garden?”

  “Yes, yes, I remember that one.” And she remembered, too, how Clancy had admired it. She reached for his hand. “Oh, Clancy, thank you, but you don’t have to buy that sketch. I’ll give it to you.”

  He chuckled. “Well, lass, I wish I would have known that before I agreed to speak to you on the buyer’s behalf.”

  “You’re not the buyer?” she asked in surprise.

  He shook his head. “Nay, lass, I’m sorry to disappoint you, but I’m not. Although if the truth be told, I wish I were. But the buyer has asked me to offer a sum that I think is both fair and reasonable.” He named a figure that had Mattie goggling at him. It was a good thing she was sitting down, because if she hadn’t been, surely she would have fallen down.

  “Oh my word, Clancy, I can’t accept that kind of money.”

  “Shh, lass, shh,” he muttered, pressing a finger to her lips to shush her. He rolled his eyes, shook his head, then glanced around to make certain Mattie’s words hadn’t been overheard. “Aye, lassie, never, ever turn down a princely sum for your work, you’ll ruin it for the lot of us.” He sniffed, then flashed her a charming grin. “You must always make the buyer think they’ve gotten themselves a bargain, lass. And in this case, they truly have.”

  “But Clancy—”

  “No buts about it, Mattie girl. I’ve made you an offer fair and square. If the sum’s not agreeable to you, I can try to get the buyer higher.”

  “Oh my word, that’s not necessary, Clancy. Truly.” She hesitated for a moment. To even consider not accepting the initial offer, generous as it was, would be both foolish on her part and an insult to the buyer. “Clancy!” Her eyes gleamed suddenly. “If I sell
my sketch I can afford to buy a car.”

  “Aye, lass, I imagine you can. A car and a whole lot more, I venture,” he added, watching as pleasure pure and simple flooded her face, her eyes. It made his own heart swell, for he knew what it was to make a dream come true for a budding artist. Nothing gave as much pleasure, except, of course, selling one of his own paintings for a princely sum.

  “Does the buyer know this is my first work?” Mattie asked, wanting to make certain she wasn’t taking advantage of anyone.

  He nodded. “Aye, the buyer is well aware of that. And I might add, interested in your other pieces.” He held up the sketch pads. “That’s why I needed to see these.” Grinning, Clancy winked at her.

  “You mean they’re interested in seeing more of my work?” The possibility was dazzling, dizzying, and Mattie felt as if she’d just guzzled a whole bottle of champagne.

  “Aye, lass, they are. Unless, of course, you have a problem with that?”

  “A problem?” Mattie jumped to her feet, grabbing him up in a hug and doing her own version of an Irish jig around the gallery with him. “No problem at all, Clancy. None at all.”

  “Aye, lass,” Clancy said with a laugh, trying to keep up with her. “Then I guess we have a deal.”

  Her first thought—the only coherent thought that slipped through her haze of joy—was that she couldn’t wait to tell Joe, to share this wonderful news with him.

  Excitement was still humming within Mattie when the school bus dropped the boys off promptly at three. Standing at the door, she frowned as she watched them look both ways, then barrel across the street toward her, nearly knocking each other over in an effort to get to her first.

  “Mom! Mom! Guess what?” Connor beat Cody to the door by a hair. “Guess what happened in school today?”

  “She’ll never guess,” Cody said, skidding to a halt and trying to catch his breath. “Let’s just tell her.”

  Mattie held up her hand. “Wait a minute. Before you tell me what happened at school today, Cody, I’d like you to tell me where your shoe is?”

  “My shoe?” Cody repeated innocently, glancing down at his feet. He had one school shoe on. His other foot was clad only in a dark blue sock—with a hole over the big toe. He wiggled his toes as he brought his perplexed glance up to hers and gave her a shrug. “Dunno.”

  She wasn’t going to laugh. She really wasn’t. But she did, wondering how on earth this child could still delight her while he also frustrated her so. “Cody, how on earth could you not know where your shoe is?”

  Cody scratched his head, looking up at her wide-eyed. “Ma, I don’t understand what you just said.” He shrugged his skinny shoulders. “I dunno what happened to my shoe. We had gym class right before we came home, and I put my shoes in my locker, but when I went in it after gym, my shoe was gone.”

  “Gone?” she repeated with a lift of her eyebrow. “And did you ask your teacher about it?”

  “No, Ma, ’cuz I don’t think Mrs. O’Malley needed my shoe.”

  Ruffling his hair, Mattie gave in to the urge to laugh. Her babies simply delighted her. “Cody, what on earth am I going to do with you?”

  “Ma, I don’t know what that means, either,” he complained. “Now, can we tell you what happened at school?” he asked impatiently.

  “Yes, of course,” she said, corralling both boys and leading them toward her desk, where she had their after-school snacks waiting.

  “There’s gonna be a play at school,” Cody announced, bouncing up and down in excitement.

  “Yeah, for the end-of-the-semester celebration.”

  “A play?” she said, pulling off their backpacks and setting them atop her desk.

  “Yep.” Cody grinned at his brother. “And me and Connor, we both are gonna be in it.”

  “You are?” Pleased, she grinned at them both. “That’s wonderful. What play are you doing?”

  “Charlotte’s Web,” they said almost in unison.

  “It’s about a stupid girl spider. But I get to play a runt pig named Wilbur,” Cody announced with a giggle.

  “Yeah, and I get to play an even bigger pig named Uncle.”

  “Ma, what’s a runt?” Cody wanted to know.

  “A runt? Well, that’s a word that’s generally used to describe the smallest animal in a litter. Like the smallest cat or dog, or in this case, pig.”

  “Uncle and Wilbur meet at the fair,” Connor informed her.

  “They do, do they?” Mattie cocked her head to look at her sons. “Do either of you remember me reading that story to you when you were younger?”

  The boys exchanged glances, then looked at her and shrugged their shoulders. “Nope.”

  “Well, I did.” She smiled at them, then opened the refrigerator and pulled out two cans of soda. “And you both loved it,” she said, handing each one a soft drink.

  The boys merely stared at her. “This is soda,” Cody said unnecessarily.

  “Yes, I know.”

  “But we never get to have soda after school,” Connor said, just as confused as his brother.

  “Well, today is a special day and I thought we’d celebrate.”

  “Cool.” Cody popped the aluminum top on his can and tipped it back to take a long drink, gulping noisily. “What are we celebrating?”

  “Oh, lots of things. My car got stolen this morning—”

  “Are we supposed to celebrate that?” Connor wanted to know with a frown of worry.

  “Well, not usually, but I also sold one of my sketches today. And for enough money that we can buy a new car.”

  “Cool.”

  “And Coach Joe invited us to have dinner with him and his family on Sunday.”

  Both boys exchanged glances again, then grinned. “Can we go?” they both asked, and Mattie laughed.

  “Of course.” She brushed Connor’s hair out of his eyes. “And I’ll be making brownies to take with us as well. You’ll get to meet all of Coach Joe’s brothers and sisters.”

  “All of them?” Cody wanted to know.

  “As far as I know,” Mattie said.

  “Can we talk to them, Ma?” Connor asked. “Coach Joe’s brothers and sisters, I mean.” They still hadn’t been able to find out about Coach Joe and ’rithmetic, so maybe they could ask one of his brothers or sisters.

  “Of course, honey,” she said absently. “Now, since I don’t have a car, Coach Joe is going to loan me his until I can buy a new one, so he’ll be picking us up in a little bit. I thought since today was such a special day, we might take Coach Joe out for pizza tonight to celebrate. What do you say?”

  “Awesome, Ma, awesome. Then we can tell him about the play and how we got parts and everything.” Cody took another gulp of his soda.

  “Yeah, and maybe he could even help us with our lines. We have to learn our lines and then remember them, Ma.” Connor pushed his glasses up his sweaty nose.

  “We gotta memorize stuff,” Cody added, pleased that he remembered the word Mrs. O’Malley had used.

  “I imagine you do, honey.”

  “So can we ask Coach Joe to help us?” Connor asked.

  “We gotta remember all of our lines,” Cody specified in case she wasn’t clear.

  “Well, you can ask him, honey,” Mattie said hesitantly, not wanting them to be disappointed. “But I don’t know that he’s going to have the time, with baseball practice and all. But I’ll be glad to help you.”

  “Well, can we ask him to come to our play, then?” Cody wanted to know.

  “Of course you can.” Mattie smiled. “But right now, Cody, the only thing I’d like you to remember is where you left your shoe.”

  Chapter Eight

  “Ma, how come we gotta get dressed up?” Cody asked Sunday morning as Mattie gave her sons one last visual inspection.

  “Yeah, Ma, and how come we gotta wear stupid ties?” Connor added, flipping the end of the navy-and-red tie he wore up and down like a flag.

  “Because we’re going to have dinne
r with Joe’s family and it’s important that you look nice.”

  “Can’t we look nice without ties?” Cody asked, earning a look from her.

  Mattie blew out a breath and shooed them out of her bedroom. “Go on downstairs now and wait for me. Joe should be here any minute. I’ll be right down.”

  After checking herself in the mirror one last time, Mattie grabbed their sweaters off her bed and then remembered something. “Oh, and Cody,” she called down the stairs before she forgot, “don’t you dare take your shoes off today.”

  She’d already had to buy him one new pair of school shoes this week, since the one he lost on Monday remained MIA. She still couldn’t understand how the kid could lose a shoe, and worse, not notice or remember where on earth he’d lost it.

  “I won’t,” he grumbled, glumly following his brother down the stairs and flopping into one of the Queen Anne chairs facing the front window in the living-room. “Do ya’ think Mrs. O’Malley will be there?” he asked Connor, who had plopped onto the sofa.

  “Probably. She’s Coach Joe’s sister, Ma said.”

  “Then how come she’s got a different name?”

  “Because when a woman gets married, boys, she takes her husband’s name,” Mattie said as she shifted her small clutch purse from one hand to the other and came down the stairs. In her arms she carried a sweater for each of them, as well as the gift-wrapped sketch of Joe the boys were going to give him today.

  “Then how come her name isn’t Mrs. Joe?” Cody wanted to know, making Mattie laugh.

  “Sweetheart, Joe is her brother, but if he wasn’t and she married him, her name wouldn’t be Mrs. Joe, but Mrs. Marino. Which is Joe’s last name. A wife takes her husband’s last name when they marry.” At the confused look on his face, she explained further. “Before I married your dad, my name was Mattie McBride.”

  “Like Aunt Maureen, right?” Connor said with a grin.

  “That’s right, honey. But your dad’s name was Maguire, so when we got married, I took his name and became Mattie Maguire. Does that make sense?”