More satisfied than she’d been after a meal in a long time, she straightened up the kitchen then plopped down on the navy sofa. The dishwasher grinding pierced the quiet evening, the smell of the bison dogs and mustard lingering. All too soon, the pleasant memory would turn to indigestion. She got up, slipped a cup of water in the microwave, and reached in the cabinet for a peppermint tea bag.
Within five minutes, she carried the drink upstairs and put it on the wicker nightstand where it waited to ward off the stomach problems this malady inflicted. She lay on her bed, propped up on the pillows, and glanced at the potion. Would this be the night she slept normally? She rolled over on her stomach and dozed.
An ache gripped her chest and knotted around her heart. She sat up. Hope had mocked her. She gulped the rest of the tea. Her stomach settled, and she traipsed downstairs to make more for the next onslaught.
The outside lights filtered through the slats in the blinds, creating stripes across the kitchen counter. The bulb in the vent-a-hood cast a soft glow over the stove, the refrigerator humming. Outside, a dark curtain of quiet hovered over the complex. Those who lived in the development rested, except for her. Disgust and anger mixed with the pain tormenting her.
The microwave pierced the silence, and she jumped. Then she pulled out her libation and sipped it. She trod up the steps, set it on the nightstand, and fell onto the bed. To cushion the hint of pain still left, she pulled a pillow across her stomach. Finally, sleep overtook her.
She shot up as the weakness swooped over her like an evil wind, the racing and shaking following in bouts. Dr. Granger hadn’t tricked her body yet. She picked up the clock by the nightstand—four in the morning. She dropped back down. It was worth trying to sleep a little longer. What would it feel like to wake up refreshed? Would she ever know?
Not today. Her revved-up nerves ran through her body like electricity. A friend in Blue Mountain, Janie Hubert, once told her even if she wasn’t sleeping, as long as she stayed in the bed and relaxed, she was getting rest. The theory wasn’t working. She bounded onto the floor, meandered to the wicker chair, and opened her Bible. Psalm 28 brought comfort, especially verses six and seven.
Praise be to the Lord,
for he has heard my cry for mercy.
The Lord is my strength and
my shield;
my heart trusts in him, and
I am helped.
My heart leaps for joy
and I will give thanks to
him in song.
She closed the Bible and laid it on the small side table that matched the wicker chair. God would give her strength for the rest of this day and every day she needed it. Wouldn’t He?
CHAPTER TWELVE
The thirteen-and-up children swam laps back and forth, water splashing the cement deck. Suzie stood at the end of the pool, the bright sun creating a glare. She squinted at the parking lot. Where was Ellie?
The white bus rumbled up and stopped.
The younger children raced from the play area as the older ones hoisted themselves out of the pool. They dried off and towels swished every which way. Then they pulled shorts over their swimsuits. Suzie escorted all of them to Ellie, the black pavement emitting heat, making the sweltering, humid day seem even hotter.
Anna took hold of a pink bow on a ponytail holder in Melissa’s hair. “Hey, that’s so cute. Where’d you get it?”
Melissa jerked free. “A big store where I went with my mom and my older sister. I’ll show you. If you want one maybe your mom will take you there.”
Ellie waved at Suzie as the kids clomped onto the large vehicle one by one. Warmth lined her eyes. She was a bit older than Suzie, but age made no difference, only what a person was inside. Suzie smiled and returned the gesture. Then Ellie shut the door and pulled away, leaving a puff of exhaust in her trail.
Eight more days until the first meet. A nervous shiver ran up Suzie’s spine. All of the children could stay afloat, but how could this team hold its own in competition?
Matt’s voice echoed behind her. She turned and shaded her eyes with her hand as he headed toward her.
“If it’s all right, I’ll pick you up around one forty-five. It shouldn’t take you long to eat a couple hot dogs.” He caught up to her and winked. “I mean, bison dogs for lunch.”
“I was so hungry. I appreciate your coming to my rescue.” Suzie dried her dripping wet shoulders and arms with her towel. “I’ll be ready.” She set her jaw. She’d think of something to land that sponsor. She didn’t bring up his other comment about stopping at The Sun Dial. Just in case, she’d bring her resume and files.
“See you then.”
* * *
Suzie showered, stepped onto the fuzzy rug that matched the white tile then wrapped a towel around herself and ambled to the bifold closet. Soaking in the air conditioning, she stared at her clothes. The new blue blouse fit perfectly. She pulled it and a blue-flowered skirt out, slipped into them and buckled a belt around her waist. Would the prospective sponsor notice the bunched-up material? The shirt covered it. The doorbell rang. The outfit would have to do. She bounded downstairs and answered the door.
Matt wore a navy suit, a pale yellow shirt, and a blue tie with thin yellow lines. He stepped back and eyed her. “You look great.”
I guess the possible sponsor will never know my skirt’s way too big. Matt didn’t. “And you, sir, have a debonair, professional look.”
His lips turned up on the corners. “Anything to buy those kids what they need.”
They slipped into Matt’s sporty car, drove to two white high-rises overlooking the ocean, and parked. A whiff of salt air wafting from the sea hit Suzie in the face when Matt let her out. She blinked and sucked in a big breath. She removed a notebook from her briefcase and left the attaché in the car.
“Pelican Point.” Matt waved toward the structures as they strolled to them. “We’ll enter Building One. I borrowed a ledger from the Piranhas Swim Team to use as a guide for the Dolphins, but it wasn’t much help. The Piranha’s parents purchase nearly everything.”
“A sponsor will work nicely.” Suzie tried to sound confident in spite of the butterflies dancing in her stomach. She held up the notebook as they approached a massive wooden door. “Let me know when you need prices.”
“Okay.” Matt pulled on a gold doorknob and swung the portal open. They stepped into a spacious reception area with a mahogany desk.
“Hi, I’m Marge. You must be Miss Morris and Mr. Combs. Mr. Deleona is expecting you.” A woman with black hair and brown eyes smiled then pressed the intercom. “Vic, Miss Morris and Mr. Combs are here.”
A man with broad shoulders and a muscular build appeared in the lobby from a room behind Marge. His size, stature, and demeanor demanded respect. Would he be intimidating to talk to?
He stuck out his large hand with dark hairs on the knuckles, and they exchanged handshakes. “I’m Vic Deleona. It’s nice to meet you.” He escorted them into his office and motioned toward two black leather chairs. “Have a seat. What can I do for you?” He sat at the desk across from them.
Wrinkles creased Matt’s brow.
Was he going to say anything? Jitters ran through Suzie’s veins. Should she do it? No wait. Mr. Deleona studied a paper.
The real estate tycoon looked up. “The county’s sponsoring a team, and the children’s parents don’t make enough money to pay for extra expenses.” Doubt filled his voice.
“That’s right. These are kids of Destin’s service personnel, such as the maids and cooks who work long hours during tourist season. We’re meeting the operational needs of the team and providing transportation for the kids, but suits and caps aren’t in the budget.” Matt found his voice and sounded convincing.
Mr. Deleona leaned forward and peered at him with questioning eyes. “I see. How much money are we talking about?”
Suzie flipped open her notebook, a slight tremble and a prayer in her heart. “A total of $2,470 would cover the cost of
swimsuits, caps, goggles, and team shirts with your company name imprinted on them.” She glanced at Mr. Deleona. His lips turned up a tiny bit on the corners. “We’ll have six regular meets. The swimmers who qualify will compete at higher levels. Approximately two thousand local people will see the shirts at the county event, plus an extra five hundred at the state races.”
Mr. Deleona sat back in his seat as though he soaked in Suzie’s information. Then he leaned up and placed his palms on his desk. “The real estate company name on back of the kids’ shirts. I like that. Why don’t I donate $3,000? Maybe buy a better grade suit, or throw them a party. Marge will take care of it for you.”
Matt sat straight up as Suzie fought to keep her mouth from gaping. They stood and shook Mr. Deleona’s hand.
Suzie jumped up and down inside, but she wanted to sound gracious and as sophisticated as Vic Deleona’s office looked. “We appreciate your help. The suits and shirts will mean a lot to the kids.”
“I’m glad to do it. Ah. Send me a schedule. Maybe I can attend a meet.”
“That would be fantastic.” Suzie gave the victory sign. “Come watch them win.”
Mr. Deleona chuckled. “You bet.”
That was much easier than Suzie had anticipated. She stepped a little lighter out of the office onto plush green carpet in the reception area.
Matt walked to Marge. “Mr. Deleona’s agreed to sponsor our summer league swim team, the Okahloosa Dolphins.”
Marge opened a checkbook, spreading it out on her desk. “He just shot me an e-mail. Who should I make this out to?”
“The Parks and Recreation Department of Okaloosa County,” Matt said.
Marge handed the check to him with a smile.
Then Matt and Suzie zipped out to the car.
“You little charmer, you.” Matt draped his arm around Suzie’s shoulder.
His praise warmed Suzie’s heart. “I don’t think I had anything to do with it. He seemed a generous and wealthy man. He probably won’t miss a few thousand dollars.”
Matt opened the passenger door. “Don’t underestimate yourself. You convinced him to donate when you mentioned putting the company name on the shirts. Not having to look for another sponsor will save us time and money.”
Suzie’s spirits soared to the sky as Matt slid behind the steering wheel.
“The Sun Dial isn’t far away. I’ll drive you there and introduce you to Cammie.”
“Thank you.” Suzie’s muscles tensed with excitement over the possibility of writing and earning extra money. Could she make a good impression on Cammie? Goodness knows, the way she needed the funds, she’d sure try, but she’d hardly recovered from the stress of meeting Vic Deleona.
She smiled as she opened her briefcase. She had concerned herself about Mr. Deleona needlessly. He was a nice man. She thumbed through her papers until she found copies of articles she’d written for the Western Insider. Cammie probably would be just as kind.
In five minutes, Matt and Suzie parked in front of The Sun Dial and entered the newspaper office. The smell of stale doughnuts and coffee wafted from a metal tray at the end of the narrow room. The sun shone in the window onto two black desks across the aisle from each other, a petite dark-haired woman sitting at one of them.
She looked up and smiled. “Hi, Matt. And you must be Suzie. Matt mentioned you might write freelance articles for Bill and me.” She switched off her computer and pointed to the black leather chair in front of the other desk. “Pull that up and have a seat.” She directed her gaze toward Matt. “There’s a folding chair in the back. Tell me a little about yourself while we’re waiting on him. You used to edit a magazine, right?”
Cammie’s friendly demeanor put Suzie at ease. “Yes, in western North Carolina. The Western Insider.” She passed the samples of her writing to her.
Cammie scanned the first couple of pages then focused her gaze on one. “These look good, but of course Bill Collins, my boss, has the final word.” She handed the papers back.
Suzie’s heart sank.
“He wants to expand our coverage to include San Destin and Fort Walton Beach as soon as possible.”
Matt scooted up as though he was part of the conversation. Suzie sensed unspoken support from him, and it boosted her confidence.
“If you could write features for either or both, I think he’d go for them. The Sun Dial pays two hundred dollars for a full article and one hundred for a short piece, plus expenses. Does that sound enticing?”
Visions of shirts, skirts, and blouses from the bargain store danced in Suzie’s head. If only Bill Collins agreed. “Yes. When do you need them?”
“No rush. We assign photography to a freelance guy.” Cammie snickered. “But watch out for him. He’s a wild one. A womanizer of sorts.”
Matt folded his arms across his chest and knitted his eyebrows.
Cammie glanced at him and waved her hand. “No, I’m kidding.” She directed her gaze at Suzie. “Just send your ideas to me, and I’ll pass them to Bill to approve.”
Hope for a sure assignment dwindled every time Suzie heard Bill’s name. “Okay, thank you for the opportunity.”
“Hey, we’re lucky to find a good freelance writer.”
Had Cammie seen Suzie’s disappointment at not receiving the go ahead immediately? “Thank you. I’ll do my best.”
Matt guided Suzie out the door.
The uncertainty of the freelance job knotted in Suzie’s stomach, but she intended to come up with something Bill Collins couldn’t refuse. She turned toward Matt as they strolled to the car. “Thank you. You’re such a good friend.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Friend, huh?”
“Very good friend. Friend who cracks frozen hot dogs.”
Matt laughed as he let Suzie in the car. “All right. I’ll go along with that.”
He shut the passenger’s door, slipped into the driver’s side, and started the engine. “Something just dawned on me. Lloyd Sparks is starring in a concert at Beside the Bay in San Destin.” Matt thumped his fingers on the steering wheel. “I spoke without thinking. I guess it’d be impossible to connect with him now.”
“I’ll conduct a phone interview and ask for a picture. Thanks for the tip.” The desire to secure this assignment pounded in Suzie’s heart.
“How are you going to convince him to talk to you?” Matt pulled up in front of Suzie’s apartment.
His question hung in the air as Suzie opened the door and stepped out. She stuck her head back in. “Thanks for everything. I’ll think of something. See you tomorrow.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Matt drove by the stucco apartment buildings around a small lake and pulled into heavy traffic on Highway 98. The SUV in front of him had an out-of-state license plate. Hmm. Kentucky. He glanced at the big neon-colored signs advertising bathing suits and sand crabs in front of the next four beach shops he passed. The tourists had arrived.
His mind wandered back to Suzie. The way she tackled the difficulties of this team seemed admirable but expected with her swimming and coaching background. Saying she would talk to Lloyd Sparks as though all she had to do was call and he’d speak with her seemed a bit optimistic. He wanted to know if that happened. Then again, she sure dazzled Vic Deleona, and she wasn’t even trying. A certain elegance flowed from her. She looked so hot in that blue outfit. That probably didn’t hurt her effort with Vic.
Matt pulled up in front of the one-story beige stucco office and walked inside, the hum of the air conditioner running. Cool air filled the room.
He slipped off his coat and slung it across the back of the chair then loosened his tie and plopped down, glancing at his “done” box for the Dolphins. Suzie had taken care of every detail.
Why did he keep thinking about her? He had no intentions of falling for anyone. That led to a commitment he wouldn’t make. Not after Lucy Evers. She ended that stuff for him. He scooted up his chair and reached for his legal pad.
All he had to do was look over at
henpecked Harold. That guy seemed afraid to eat his lunch unless his wife, Doris, approved it. What a way to live. Of course, Harold didn’t view it that way. He bragged about Doris taking such good care of him. He complained about missing her every day when she left to visit her sister for a week.
Matt wasn’t Harold.
Nope. Getting involved with a woman meant he had no time to play football on Saturdays. She’d drag him shopping and to plays. He rubbed his hand over his face. The worst thing of all—church. Nearly all of the women he knew wanted him to get some type of religion. By now, he easily could have joined the Catholics, Baptists, Presbyterians, or Methodists. No thank you. He’d bloody well take care of himself, solve his own problems, and live by himself.
He glanced again at the pile of work completed for the Okaloosa Dolphins. Suzie wasn’t paid enough for all she did. He breathed in deep and exhaled as he picked up the phone and dialed. “Hi, this is Matt.”
“Hello.” Confusion laced Suzie’s voice.
“I wanted to thank you for helping recruit Vic Deleona as a sponsor for the Okaloosa Dolphins.”
“You’re welcome. It was no problem.”
“I understand, but it’s a big deal that we have the funds and unbelievable we obtained them so quickly. Let’s celebrate. You tell me. What do you want to do?”
“Honestly?”
“Yes, you decide, and we’ll do it.”
“I’d love to find a church home. Do you have one?”
Matt shot upright in his seat, held out the receiver, and stared at it. Had she really said, “church?”
“Hello. If you don’t want to go to church, we could do something else. You just asked what I—”
“Church is fine. You’re right. I asked because I wanted you to choose.” He racked his brain. What was the name of the last church he attended? He couldn’t remember, but everyone seemed to enjoy worshiping by the sea. “If you don’t mind a nondenominational sermon, there’s a sunrise service on the beach.”
Barely Above Water Page 10