Mistletoe Bay (5 page)

A silver tea set sat on the buffet, and two silver candelabras were on the table with a fall-themed centerpiece. Fine antique china and crystal filled the china closet. It obviously was a room the boys were kept out of. He would hate to think what Tucker would do to his grandmother's china.

The furniture looked like something Dorothy would treasure. She probably had inherited it from her own mother or grandmother.

He walked to the front windows, where his orange extension cord was snaked under the screen and plugged into the wall socket. He pulled the plug and pushed the cord back outside onto the porch. “I would tell Dorothy not to be too concerned about Sam. He seems like a nice kid, and he's obviously head over heels for Felicity.” The wooden window was a real pain to get closed. He muttered a couple of curses under his breath as he finally got it to lock tight.

“How can you tell?”

“He's dressed like a frog. That says it all.” He took one last glance around the room. On the far wall there was a large, strange shape, of missing wallpaper and shattered plaster. It looked like someone had used a screwdriver or a crowbar on the paper and plaster. It was a horrible, ugly, and deep scar. It was going to take a professional to fix the mess. “What happened there?” And why was the shape hauntingly familiar?

“Remember I told you about Tucker, a caulking tube of Liquid Nails, and Felicity's cat, Dumb?”

Coop stared at the wall in dawning horror. He now knew why the shape was so familiar. It was the shape of a cat. Tucker had glued the cat right to the wall!

He muttered, “Mother of God,” as he slid down the wall, laughing hysterically.

Chapter Three

For a November night in Maine, the weather wasn't too bad. Jenni had brought along plenty of blankets for herself and the boys. She hadn't been to a football game since college. Ken hadn't been a sports nut, but the boys seemed to be enjoying themselves, especially since their current idol, Sam, would be playing.

So far she had had to warn the boys only three times not to be running up and down the bleachers. They already had consumed hot dogs, chips, and sodas, and the game was just about to start. She figured by halftime she would have to remortgage the house for another trip to the snack stand. Her business had better be a huge success if she wanted to continue to feed the boys during their teenage years.

Cheerleaders, dressed in tight white, fuzzy sweaters, short blue skirts, and flesh-colored tights, were high-kicking, screaming their lungs out, and shaking their pom-poms. They also had to be freezing their butts off. The temperature hadn't been above forty degrees all day. Since the sun had set, the thermometer had been falling.

Felicity, who had come with her, was sitting with a bunch of girls on the far side of the bleachers. They all seemed to be normal teenage girls, eyeing every boy in the stadium. Except her sister-in-law, who seemed to have eyes only for Sam. Dorothy thought her daughter's infatuation with Sam was only a phase. Jenni wasn't too sure on that one.

Dorothy was the warm, lucky one tonight. She was at home by herself having a relaxing, quiet evening. Jenni's mother-in-law deserved a break from the boys and the cooking. She didn't know how she would manage without Dorothy. Raising the boys by herself would be challenging enough, but doing it while starting her own business would be nearly impossible. Dorothy was staring at the big 5-0 and should be slowing down in life.

There were reasons women that age went through menopause, and usually those reasons had names.

Jenni had seen signs that Dorothy might be starting the “change,” but so far her mother-in-law denied the symptoms or the possibility. There was always some other reason as to why she was opening windows and fanning herself in October. The other day she'd caught Dorothy crying over a cell phone commercial.

Dorothy had better be starting the change, because she didn't know what she would do if her mother-in-law was going nuts. It had been hard enough to hold herself together when Ken had been killed in the fire that had destroyed half the chemical company where he had been working. Five people had died that afternoon, including a firefighter who had been trying to rescue the workers.

“Hey, Mom,” said Chase, “there's Mr. Armstrong.” Chase stood up and pointed down to the players' bench.

She glanced down. Coop Armstrong was shaking hands with one of the football coaches. Sam was standing right beside him, beaming. Coop really had been a football player for the local high school. She had heard all about Coop and his impressive records from Sam on Halloween night. She hadn't been too surprised. Coop certainly seemed built for the role, even if it had been over a decade ago. Coop had kept in impressive shape.

She wasn't blind. Nor was she stupid. She had seen that look of speculation in Felicity's gaze the other night and the blatant attempt to set them up as a couple. Felicity knew darn well she rarely refused Chase anything, and it had been he who had asked to be taken to tonight's game.

It had been the first time Chase had shown any interest in sports. Usually his nose was buried in a book, or he was in front of the computer in her office. Chase was just like his father, a bookworm, and one who questioned everything. Her oldest son was one of those kids who just had to take everything apart to see how it worked.

“Can we go down and see him?” asked Tucker, who was standing on the bench to see where Chase had been pointing. Corey, not wanting to miss out on anything, was standing beside him.

“No, I'm sure he's busy.” She reached up and held the back of Corey's jacket so he wouldn't fall. “Let's sit down, before one of you takes a header and gets hurt.”

“How come when Tucker took a header off the front porch, he hurt his arm and not his head?” asked Chase.

She was tempted to tell them that Tucker's head was as hard as a brick, but knowing her son, that would be an open invitation for him to put those words to the test. “He landed on his arm, not his head.” Thankfully Doc Sydney said it had been sprained and not broken. “Besides, the bushes broke his fall. There aren't any bushes under these bleachers, just gravel.”

“So he took an armer off the porch?”

“Something like that.” Jenni tugged on Corey's jacket until he sat.

“Hey, Mr. Brown!” shouted Tucker, waving his arms. “We're up here!” Tucker's voice caused half the stadium, the entire football team, and Cooper Armstrong to glance their way.

She felt like crawling into a hole, or at least sliding through the bleachers to the ground below. Tucker, when he wanted to, could shatter eardrums. Corey jumped back up on his seat and started waving and shouting too. Chase just grinned and waved.

Since they were only on the third row of seating, it didn't take Coop long to spot them. Coop and Sam both waved back. Even half the players waved back, causing quite a few people sitting around them to chuckle. She hoped the cold weather was concealing the blush sweeping up her face.

If they had been on the very top row, where the boys had wanted to sit, maybe Coop and the football team wouldn't have heard Tucker. But there was no way she was allowing the boys to sit way up there. Her heart couldn't handle the stress. They would break their necks if they fell through the bleachers. Here on the third row they just might sprain an ankle. She had learned the hard way when dealing with Tucker, always err on the side of caution.

“He's coming! He's coming!” shouted Tucker.

“Shhhhh . . . Tucker, you don't have to shout. I'm sitting right here.” She also had noticed that Coop was heading their way. Now she felt like a complete idiot. She didn't want Coop to feel obliged to sit with them. She was quite capable of handling the boys at a sporting event, even though what she knew about football could be written on a three-by-five index card. The front side.

Now, baseball and bowling, she understood.

Coop chatted with a few of the locals as he made his way up to the third row of seating to Jenni Wright and the boys. He couldn't very well ignore them, especially when Tucker was shouting louder than the perky little cheerleaders with their megaphones.

“Hey, Mr. Brown, sit with us,” Tucker said.

“His name is Armstrong, not Brown.” Chase rolled his eyes.

“Boys, that's enough. Mr. Armstrong is free to sit wherever he wants.” Jenni tugged Corey's hat over his ears. “It's a free country.” She smiled at him, as if to soften her words. “Sorry about this. I'm sure you already have a place to sit.”

“As it turns out, I don't.” Coop winked at Chase and ruffled Tucker's hair. “Would you mind if I joined you?” He knew a lot of the locals, and the last thing he wanted to do was spend the night going over past glories and a whole list of might-have-beens.

“Not at all.” The players from both teams were running onto the field. “But be warned, the boys will drive you crazy with questions about the game.”

“No problem—football's my game.” Coop sat down next to Chase on the end closest to the aisle. “How many games have you boys been to?”

“None,” Chase said.

Tucker tried climbing over his brother to get closer to Coop. Jenni grabbed the back of his jacket. “Whoa . . . you sit next to me.” There was no way she was allowing Tucker out of arm's length. “Where's your hat?”

“In my pocket.” Tucker pouted.

“Put it on. Your ears are pink.” All the boys had the same style beanie, but in different colors. She never dressed the boys alike; it got too confusing to keep them straight.

“Mr. Brown doesn't have a beanie on.”

“His name is Mr. Armstrong, and he's old enough to dress himself.” Coop was wearing a brown leather jacket and a New England Patriots ball cap.

“I dress myself.” Tucker tugged on the hat and crossed his arms in protest.

“You can't tie your own shoes.” Chase had accomplished that feat when he had been only three and a half. “Mom still gives you a bath.”

“Boys, stop arguing and watch the game. It just started.” She couldn't believe Chase was bragging. Chase never tooted his own horn or ridiculed his brothers for not being able to do stuff he could. What was with him tonight? He wasn't acting like himself.

“How come Sam's not out on the field?” Chase pointed to Felicity's boyfriend, who was on the sidelines.

“He is sharing the ball, hon. Not everyone can play at the same time.”

Coop gave her a funny look before explaining to her son, “Sam's offense, Chase. He's the one who tries to get a touchdown. Right now the other team is trying to get the touchdown, so our defensive players are out on the field trying to stop them.”

“Sam can stop them.” Tucker frowned at the players on the field. “Sam's strong and fast.”

Coop gave Jenni a smile of understanding. “I'm sure he is, Tucker. But he's a wide receiver. That means he's really fast, and he can catch a football. We need him to make touchdowns for us.”

“Oh, okay.” Tucker seemed satisfied with Coop's answer. “Mr. Brown?”

“Yeah?” Coop didn't seem adverse to the name.

“What's a touchdown?” asked Tucker.

She covered up her laugh by coughing into her furry pink mittens. They were hideous mittens, but Corey had given them to her last month for her birthday. He had also made her a macaroni necklace strung on pretty yellow ribbon. Bojangles had eaten the necklace but left the ribbon unchewed, and it still was on top of her dresser.

“Mom,” moaned Corey, “I have to go potty.”

She tried not to groan. She had just taken them to the bathrooms behind the snack stand fifteen minutes ago. “Okay, boys, you heard him.” With the Wright boys, going to the bathroom was a family affair. All of them were too young to be left on their own.

“Aw, Mom,” groaned Tucker, “I don't have to go.”

“We were just there,” said Chase.

She stood up and held onto Corey's hand. “You both know the rules.”

“How about I watch them while you handle Corey?” Coop seemed innocent to the fact he would be left alone with Chase and Tucker sitting a good six feet above ground level.

“I don't know. Tucker's awfully quick.” She didn't want to embarrass her son, but Coop needed a warning.

“I was Hancock High's star wide receiver, Jenni. I think I can handle a four-year-old.” Coop looked offended.

It wasn't the fact that she didn't trust Coop with her sons—it was that experience had taught her not to trust Tucker.

“Mom”—Corey held himself with his free hand and started to dance around—“I gotta go.”

“All right, I'll be right back.” She swung Corey up into her arms and hurried to the bathroom before her son had an accident.

Coop sat there with both boys staring at him, as if he should be saying or doing something. He had no idea what they expected him to do now that their mother was gone. Thankfully Hancock High stopped the other team from making a first down, and it was their turn to have the ball. “Sam's going out on the field.”

Coop made a quick save as Tucker nearly fell off the bench trying to see. “Where?”

“There, he's number 80.” He pointed to the lineup. “He's at the far end of the line.”

“What's 80?” asked Tucker, still trying to see which one of the guys dressed in blue and white uniforms and matching helmets was his friend. With all the equipment football players wore, it was nearly impossible to tell one from another without the numbers.

“It's an eight and a zero,” answered Chase.

“I can't see.” Tucker was trying to stand on the bench.

Coop couldn't have Tucker blocking people's view or falling off the bench and getting hurt. He tugged Tucker over to him and stood him in front, facing the field. “There he is,” he said, pointing to a figure running down the field.

Sam Fischer had some impressive speed; the cornerback was barely keeping up. The quarterback faked a throw and then passed the ball to a running back, who was tackled within three yards. It wasn't a bad play, but if the linemen could have protected the quarterback for a few seconds longer, Sam would have beaten the cornerback and have been wide open.

“How come Sam didn't get the ball?” asked Chase.

“Where's he now?” asked Tucker, who had lost sight of Sam as the players lined back up.

“Maybe this time—watch.” Coop pointed to a far end of the field. “He's over there again, Tucker.”

This time the linemen gave the quarterback enough time to throw the ball long. The football went right to Sam, who caught it and ran it in for a touchdown. Their side of the stadium went nuts. Chase and Tucker cheered with the crowd.

The extra-point kick was good. The crowd and the boys cheered again.

Jenni, still carrying Corey, hurried up the steps. “What did I miss?” She looked at her two sons, expecting an answer.

Coop looked at Chase and Tucker, who both shrugged. “We don't know. Everyone started to yell, so we yelled with them,” answered Chase.

“Sam caught the ball,” said Tucker.

Coop started to laugh. “Sam scored a touchdown, Jenni.” The boys had absolutely no idea how the game was played.

 

 

Two and a half hours later, Coop helped Jenni by carrying a sleeping Tucker to her car. Her arms were already full with a zonked-out Corey. Chase was carrying a couple of blankets. Most had hot chocolate spilled all over them.