Under the Lights (5 page)

“I can run home, change and head out there. Even if Dylan left the scene now, I'd still beat him.”

After taking some good-natured ribbing from Jen and Gretchen for sticking them with the cleanup, Kelly swung by her apartment and suited up before heading to the Conrads' home.

She could hear the yelling as soon as she got out of her car, and she hoped yelling was as far as they'd gone. Her knock was firm and loud—her “cop knock” as Jen called it—and she knew they heard her, because the shouting stopped.

She knocked a second time and did some yelling of her own. “Stewart Mills PD. Open the door, please.”

When Peter Conrad swung the door open, she could see his flush of anger, but she was happy not to smell alcohol. It had been a bit of a scandal when Doreen left him two years ago because of his drinking, and he'd quit to get his family back. Hopefully the strain wasn't threatening his sobriety.

“It's just an argument,” he said. “It got loud, but it's just an argument.”

“I'm glad to hear it's not more than that. I'll just say hi to Doreen and then be on my way.”

“She's pretty upset. I think she locked herself in the bathroom.”

Kelly kept her expression neutral. “Arguments will do that. I'm going to tell it to you straight, Pete. I'm not leaving until I've seen Doreen, so you may as well let me in.”

“The kids are in their rooms with their earbud things in, so they don't know what's going on.”

She didn't bother telling Pete he was fooling himself. Kids couldn't block out their parents' relationship straining at the seams and getting ready to blow. “I need to talk to Doreen, Pete.”

He let her in and she looked around while Pete yelled to Doreen to come out of the bathroom. There was no evidence their argument had turned violent. Nothing overturned or out of place. No crooked pictures on the wall or knocked-over knickknacks.

Pete sank onto the couch and dropped his head into his hands and, a few seconds later, the bathroom door opened.
Doreen's eyes were red and puffy, but she only looked tired instead of scared.

Kelly talked to her in a low voice in the kitchen and, after a few minutes, she was certain Pete had been telling the truth. It was an argument, if a particularly ugly and loud one. Doreen was discouraged, but she wasn't afraid of her husband. Since there had never been a hint of violence in Pete before and her gut told her Doreen had been forthcoming, Kelly decided not to upset the kids further by interviewing them. They were both in the elementary school, so they knew who she was, but she hadn't had as much interaction with the younger kids as with the middle and high school students.

“If your neighbors heard you and were worried enough to call the police, imagine how the kids feel,” she told Doreen, and the other woman's eyes filled with tears. “If you and Pete need some help communicating, call Jen Cooper.”

“The school guidance counselor?”

“She can't give you marriage counseling, but it's within her job description to help your kids feel secure and happy in their home. She can help.”

Doreen took the card Kelly handed her, then Kelly said her good-byes to Pete. “I hope I won't be back anytime soon.”

He nodded and Kelly walked back to her truck. Seeing good people she'd known her entire life struggle broke her heart, and it had been a long day. And tomorrow she'd be up at the butt-crack of dawn, as her dad had so eloquently put it, and she'd be seeing Chase.

She threw the truck into gear and headed back toward
her apartment. She'd be seeing a lot of Chase in the near future and she had to be on top of her game. Stewart Mills badly needed a win, and she wasn't going to let old teenage fantasies—or new,
very
adult ones—make things messy with the Eagles running
back.

E
ven with a thermos of hot coffee prepared for him by Mrs. McDonnell, Chase wasn't particularly enjoying the butt-crack of dawn. And it wasn't made any more pleasant by the addition of sullen teenagers.

He'd made so many trips between the Walker farm and the town square, he was pretty sure he could make the drive with his eyes closed now. But he didn't try because he'd probably nod off and wreck his truck. Or run a stop sign.

At least Kelly wasn't on duty, so he wouldn't make an ass of himself coughing up cheesy lines trying to charm his way out of a ticket again. He'd caught a few glimpses of her as she moved around the large, grassy square, helping to organize the donations set out on tables and quilts. She was wearing white shorts that made her legs look long and lean and overall perfect for wrapping around his hips. But she was
also wearing a blue Eagles T-shirt and a blue and gold ball cap, which were hard-to-miss reminders that she was Coach's daughter, in the unlikely event he was tempted to forget for a few minutes that Kelly McDonnell was off-limits to him.

“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.

—

K
elly 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.

—

O
n 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.