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  “Well, it’s important to know exactly what’s involved,” Maddie retorted. “And I want to look at the job market while I’m at it. I should see if there’s something I’m better suited to do.”

  “In Serenity?” Helen scoffed.

  “I could be qualified for lots of things,” Maddie said, though without much conviction.

  “You are,” Helen concurred, “but not a lot of folks are going to offer you a partnership in your own business based on your résumé.”

  “I have to look,” Maddie said stubbornly. “I have to be sure that this is the right thing for all of us. I’d never forgive myself if I just said yes and you wound up blowing a small fortune because I was incompetent or hadn’t done my homework.”

  “I respect that,” Helen said. “I really do.”

  Maddie met her gaze. “But? I hear a but in there.”

  “But you haven’t taken a risk in over twenty years, and look where that’s gotten you. I say it’s high time to just throw caution to the wind and do what your gut tells you to do. You used to trust it.”

  “So?” Dana Sue prodded. “What’s your gut saying, Maddie?”

  Maddie gave them a rueful smile. “It’s saying yes,” she admitted.

  “Well, hallelujah!” Dana Sue enthused.

  Maddie shook her head. “Don’t get too worked up. From what I can see, my gut hasn’t been reliable for some time now. Up until a few months ago, I thought I had a good marriage.”

  “Don’t blame your gut for that one,” Helen said. “Blame Bill for being an excellent liar.”

  “Maybe so, but I think this time I’ll be more comfortable if I do a little research before taking the plunge. Come on, guys, thirty days. Is that so much to ask?”

  Her friends exchanged a look.

  “I suppose not,” Dana Sue said reluctantly.

  “I bet she’ll be ready in a week,” Helen told Dana Sue.

  Maddie frowned. “What makes you so sure?”

  “I looked at the want ads in this morning’s paper,” Helen said. “Trust me, you won’t beat our offer.” When Maddie started to respond, Helen held up a hand. “It’s okay. You need to see for yourself. I understand that.”

  “Thank you,” Maddie said.

  “Just in case, though, I think I’ll go ahead and start on the partnership paperwork,” Helen said.

  “Keep on being so smug, and I’ll turn you down just to spite you,” Maddie threatened.

  “No, you won’t,” Helen said with confidence. “You’re way too smart to do that.”

  Maddie tried to remember the last time anyone had complimented her on her intelligence, rather than her baking or hostessing skills. Maybe working with her two best friends would be good for her. Even if this health-club idea went belly-up, she might walk away with her self-esteem bolstered in a way it hadn’t been in years, to say nothing of the fact that they were bound to share a lot more laughter than she’d had in her marriage for a long time now. She ought to say yes for those reasons alone.

  Because she was suddenly tempted to do just that, she gave Helen and Dana Sue quick hugs and headed for the door. “I’ll call you both,” she promised.

  And, she vowed, not one minute before her thirty days was up.

  3

  At thirty, Cal Maddox had been coaching high-school baseball for only two years, but he knew the sport as few did. He’d played five seasons in the minors and two years in the majors until an injury had sidelined him. He’d been forced to accept that years in the minor leagues trying to get back what he’d once had would be an exercise in futility.

  Sharing his love of the game and his expertise with kids who might still have a shot drew him as nothing else had during those frustrating months of rehab. He owed one man for yanking him out of his initial depression and making him realize that possibilities existed outside of pro ball.

  Serenity School Board chairman Hamilton Reynolds, an ardent Atlanta Braves fan during Cal’s brief tenure with the team, had sought him out at the rehab center and changed his outlook and his life. He’d convinced Cal to come to Serenity.

  In all his years working up to his shot with the big leagues and since, he’d never seen anyone with the raw, natural talent of Tyler Townsend. Ty was every coach’s dream, a kid with good grades, an easygoing temperament and a willingness to practice and learn. He’d been all-state his sophomore year and had been headed down that road again this year, at least until a few weeks ago. Now, Cal thought, he was a kid spiraling out of control.

  Cal watched Ty’s halfhearted pitches to the plate with increasing dismay. The players, who usually had to struggle to make contact with the kid’s fastball, were slamming the balls over the fence right and left today. Worst of all, Ty didn’t even seem frustrated by his inability to get the batters out.

  “Okay, that’s it for today,” Cal called. “Everybody do a lap around the field, then head for the locker room. Ty, I’d like to see you in my office after you’ve changed.”

  Cal headed inside to wait. On some level, he half expected Tyler to blow off the meeting, but twenty minutes later the kid appeared in the doorway, his expression sullen.

  “Come on in,” Cal said. “Close the door.”

  “My mom’s picking me up in ten minutes,” Tyler said, but he sprawled in a chair across from Cal. Though he had the gangly limbs of a lot of boys his age, Ty had none of the awkwardness. His slouching posture now, however, was indicative of his overall bad attitude.

  “I think we can cover this in ten minutes,” Cal said, hiding his frustration. “How do you think you pitched today?”

  “I sucked,” Ty responded.

  “And that’s okay with you?”

  Ty shrugged and avoided his gaze.

  “Well, it’s not okay with me.” Cal’s words drew no reaction, which meant sterner measures were called for. “Here’s the deal. If you expect to pitch our opener in two weeks, you’re going to have to show me that you deserve it. Otherwise I’ll put Josh in the starting rotation and you’ll spend the season on the bench.”

  Expecting a fight or at least a reaction, Cal was disappointed when Ty merely shrugged.

  “Do what you want,” Ty said.

  Cal frowned at the utter lack of interest. “It is not what I want,” he said impatiently. “What I want is for you to get your act together and pitch like we both know you can.” He regarded the boy with real concern. “What’s going on with you, Ty? Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me, right?”

  “I guess.”

  Cal pressed on, hoping to get some kind of response that would clue him in to what was troubling the boy. “Your other teachers tell me you’re not concentrating in class. Your grades are slipping. None of this is like you.”

  “Well, maybe I’ve changed,” Ty said sourly. “People do, you know. Out of the blue, they just fucking change.” He stood up and took off before Cal could react.

  Well hell, Cal thought. He’d gotten what he was after—a genuine reaction—but he didn’t know anything more than he had before he’d hauled the kid into his office. He wasn’t sure which worried him more, the uncharacteristic swearing or the attitude. Cal had heard plenty of foul language in the high-school locker room. But he’d never heard it from Ty before.

  Nor had he seen that kind of bitterness and resignation from a boy who could have the whole world of professional baseball at his feet a few years down the road. Normally Ty hung on Cal’s every word, determined to soak up every bit of knowledge Cal had to share. His exuberance and commitment to the team had made him a role model for the other kids.

  Cal pulled a file and jotted down the Townsends’ phone number. Nine times out of ten when a kid lost focus like this, there was something going on at home or he’d gotten mixed up in some kind of substance abuse. Cal flatly refused to believe a kid as smart as Tyler would suddenly start doing drugs; besides, he’d seen no real evidence of that or alcohol abuse so that left some kind of upheaval in the kid’s home life.

&nbs
p; Cal sighed. There was nothing like calling parents and digging around in their personal issues to make his day. He’d rather take a hard fastball in the gut.

  Maddie had been on three job interviews that day. None of them had gone well, pretty much proving Helen’s point. Maddie had been out of the workforce too long for her degree or her work experience to count for much. Her résumé of early jobs looked pitiful, especially with the fifteen-year gap since the last one. She might think she was executive material, but no one else would so she’d kept her expectations modest.

  When each of the human resources people had seen that gaping void, they’d regarded her with dismay. Each had asked some variation of the same question: What have you been doing all this time?

  Keeping house, raising kids, resolving squabbles and balancing the checkbook. Not even the unpaid hours she’d put in handling the inevitable billing problems in Bill’s medical practice seemed to count for much.

  The only thing more discouraging had been her own lack of excitement about any of the jobs. Most of them had been clerical positions, the kind of entry-level work she’d done twenty years ago. It struck her as ironic that all those years of life experience had left her unqualified for even that type of work.

  She was still thinking about it—and about the alternative Helen and Dana Sue were offering her—when Ty yanked open the car door and climbed in, his increasingly frequent scowl firmly in place. He’d yanked his T-shirt on inside out, yet more evidence that he wasn’t himself. Since he’d discovered an interest in girls, he’d taken more care with his appearance, but today he looked unkempt. Given the streaks of dirt on his arms and his perspiration-matted dark blond hair, it didn’t even look as if he’d showered after practice.

  “How was practice?” she asked automatically.

  “It sucked.”

  “Having trouble with your fastball?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” he said, turning to avoid her startled gaze. “Let’s just get the hell out of here. I want to go home.”

  Keeping her temper in check, she regarded her son with a neutral expression. She would deal with his language later. “Ty, what’s going on?” she asked quietly.

  Her son’s mood had been increasingly dark ever since Bill’s last visit. Her attempt to force the issue the other night had apparently fallen on deaf ears. He was still angry and he still wasn’t speaking to his dad. When Bill had come by the night before to pick up the kids, Ty had remained locked in his room, refusing to see him.

  On some level, she’d counted on the start of baseball season to provide a certain normalcy for him. He loved the game. He excelled at it. He’d claimed there was nothing he wanted more than a shot at being a professional ballplayer. Usually by this time in spring practice, he was quoting Coach Maddox every chance he got. Of course, in the past his father had been there to listen.

  When he remained stubbornly silent, she prodded again. “Ty, talk to me. I’m not starting this car until you do. What’s going on with you?”

  “Why does everybody keep asking me that?” he exploded. “You know what’s going on. We’ve already talked it to death. Dad walked out for some bimbo. What am I supposed to do when I find out my dad’s a jerk? Can’t we just leave it alone? I’m sick of talking about it.”

  Maddie couldn’t really blame him for being sick of the topic, but clearly he needed to discuss it further, if not with her, then with a professional. He needed to deal with his resentment in a more constructive way than lashing out at anyone and everyone around him.

  “Sweetie, yes, we’ve talked about his, and I know you don’t understand what your father’s done,” she said for what must have been the thousandth time. “But that doesn’t give you the right to call him names, okay? He’s still your father and deserves your respect. I do not want to have to tell you that again, understood?”

  He regarded her incredulously. “Come on, Mom. I know you keep painting this rosy picture of things, but even you have to know what a jerk he is.”

  “What I think of your father isn’t the point,” she said. “He loves you, Ty. He wants you to be as close as you always were.”

  “Then why the hell did he leave us for her? She’s not much older than me.”

  “She is an adult, though,” Maddie said. “You, your brother and sister need to give her a chance. If your father loves her, I’m sure she has plenty of good qualities.” She managed to get the words out without gagging.

  “Yeah, right. I’ve seen her good qualities,” he retorted. “Like a 38-D, I’d say.”

  “Tyler Townsend!” she protested. “You know better than to make a remark like that. It’s rude and inappropriate.”

  “It’s the truth.”

  Maddie fought to temper her remarks. “Look, change is never easy, but we all have to adapt. I’m trying. You could help me a lot if you’d try, too. You’re a role model for Kyle and Katie. They’re going to follow your lead when it comes to how they treat your dad and his…” Maddie stumbled. Until the divorce was final and the relationship could be legalized, there was no name for what Bill’s new love could be called, at least not in front of her children.

  “Special friend,” Tyler suggested sarcastically. “That’s what Dad calls her. It makes me want to puke.”

  Maddie would not allow herself to agree with him. That didn’t mean it was easy to give him a chiding look. “Careful, Tyler. You’re very close to crossing a line.”

  “And Dad hasn’t crossed a line?” he said. “Give me a break.”

  “Did something happen yesterday that I don’t know about?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure? Did you have words with your father?”

  He remained stubbornly silent and kept looking out the window, refusing to meet her gaze.

  Obviously she wasn’t going to get through to him, not this afternoon. But she had to keep trying. At the very least, she had to rein in his nastier comments.

  “Maybe we should table this discussion for now, but in future I want you to speak to your father—and other adults, for that matter—in a respectful manner.”

  Ty rolled his eyes. Maddie let it pass.

  “Let’s talk some more about why baseball practice sucked,” she suggested, finally putting the car into gear and pulling away from the curb.

  “Let’s not,” he said tersely, then looked directly at her as if seeing her for the first time. “How come you’re all dressed up?”

  “Job interviews.”

  “And?”

  She resorted to his terminology. “They sucked.”

  For the first time since he’d climbed into the car, Ty grinned. He looked like her carefree kid again…and so much like his dad had looked at that age, it made her heart ache.

  “A chocolate milk shake always makes me feel better when I’ve had a bad day,” he suggested slyly.

  Maddie grinned back at him, relieved to see the improvement in his mood. “Me, too,” she said, and whipped the car into the left-turn lane to head for Wharton’s Pharmacy, which still had an old-fashioned soda fountain.

  Ever since her own childhood, that soda fountain had been the place where some of the most important events in her life had played out. She and Bill had shared sodas there during high school. She, Helen and Dana Sue had shared confidences. Bill had even proposed to her in the back booth with the view of Main Street with its flower-filled planters and wide, grassy median. They’d celebrated the arrival of each new baby by making a ceremonious first visit to the soda fountain so Grace and Neville Wharton could gush over the latest Townsend.

  Going there today would be bittersweet, but fitting, Maddie thought. Maybe she and her son would be able to start the healing process over chocolate milk shakes. Then again that was asking an awful lot of a shake.

  “I was real sorry to hear about you and Bill,” Grace Wharton told Maddie in an undertone while Ty was at the counter getting their milk shakes. “I just don’t know what men are thinking when they walk away from a fin
e family to be with a girl who’s still wet behind the ears.”

  Maddie could only nod agreement. As much as she liked Grace, she knew that anything she said would be reported far and wide by nightfall. Fortunately, Ty came back to their booth before Grace could pry anything more from her.

  “I hear you’ve been looking for a job,” Grace said, regarding Maddie with sympathy. “There’s mighty slim pickin’s here in Serenity. It’s a crying shame the way this town has been losing business to those big ole stores outside Charleston. I tell Neville all the time if we didn’t do such a good business with the soda fountain, we’d have to shut our doors, too. Goodness knows, the pharmacy’s not making money the way it once did. People would rather carry their prescriptions thirty miles than pay a little more for good service right here at home.”

  “It’s affecting you, too?” Maddie asked, surprised. “Don’t people realize how wonderful it is to have a pharmacist who knows them and who’s willing to bring the prescription right to the door in the middle of the night if need be?”

  “Oh, they care enough about that in an emergency, but it’s the day-in, day-out prescriptions we’re losing and the over-the-counter medicines they can buy cheaper someplace else. Losing that factory over in White Hill hasn’t helped, either. Folks there had good jobs with decent pay. Now all those jobs are off in some foreign country.” Grace shook her head sorrowfully. “It’s a crying shame, that’s what it is. Well, I’ll leave you two to enjoy your milk shakes. Honey, if you need anything, you just let me know. I’ll be happy to look after the kids for you or anything else you need.”

  “Thanks, Grace,” Maddie said sincerely. She knew Grace meant it, too. That was the comfort of a place like Serenity. Neighbors helped each other out.

  When she turned to face her son, his expression was troubled.

  “Mom, are we short on cash because of Dad leaving? Is that why you’re trying to find a job?”

  “We’re okay for now,” she assured him. “But the alimony payments your dad agreed to won’t last forever. I’m trying to plan ahead.”