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“Our team won the state championship when I was a senior.”
“But did you play?”
“I was cocaptain.” Matthew Jefferies was the other cocaptain. “Still want to take me on for a game of HORSE?”
“Sure. You can even go first,” Tyler said.
“That sure of yourself, huh?”
Overhead lights lit up the concrete pad and goal. When he bought the property for the shelter, one of the first things he did was have the pad built and a hoop installed so the kids could at least shoot baskets. He bounced the ball a couple of times and sank the first shot from ten feet away.
“Is that your best shot?” Tyler hooted and easily dropped the ball in the hoop.
Peter backed up a few more feet and missed.
“Too bad.” The teenager dribbled the ball to the edge of the concrete pad and shot from twenty feet away, easily sinking the ball.
Now Peter had to make the same shot. Which he missed, earning himself an H. Grinning, Tyler hooked the ball over his head, once again making the shot. And once again, Peter missed.
The boy was good, no doubt about it. Peter knew Dawson, had gone to school with him. It wouldn’t hurt to talk to the coach and ask if he’d give Tyler a chance, since he’d arrived too late for the tryouts.
“How are things going at school, other than the pepper shaker incident?”
Tyler half shrugged. “Okay, I guess.”
The kid was the king of half shrugs. Peter made a mental note to check his grades tomorrow. “You’re a freshman, right?”
“Yeah.” He bounced the ball back and forth in front of him, then made another three-point shot.
Once Peter had the ball, he took his time and pictured himself making the goal. Swish. He grinned at Tyler.
“See if you can make this one.” Tyler dribbled in and executed a layup shot.
When Peter tried, the ball rolled around the rim and bounced out. “That puts you up to R. Two more and you’re out.” Tyler hooked another shot over his head, using his left hand this time.
“I’ll catch up.” Peter bounced the ball, getting a feel for it, focusing. No way could he make that shot. “What are you planning to do after high school?”
“I don’t know. I want to get a basketball scholarship to State, but I don’t figure I’ll stay at any school long enough to play on a team. I’m too short anyway.” He cocked his head. “You going to shoot or not?”
Peter arced the ball over his head, and it landed behind the goal.
The teen retrieved the ball. “Good try. One more miss and you’re out.”
Tyler bounced the ball and stood a little taller, his shoulders a little straighter, and for the first time since the boy had come to the shelter two months ago, he actually looked happy.
“You’re pretty good,” Peter said. He’d like to see what Tyler could do on an actual basketball court. Too bad the youth center was still just a dream. If Peter won the contest, though, it’d be a reality, and the building that went with it would house a gym with a basketball court and a workout area.
Tyler moved to within ten feet of the basket and bounced the ball off the backboard and through the hoop. He handed the ball off to Peter. “Think you can do that?”
It was a throwaway shot. The kid had purposefully handed him an easy shot—he wasn’t sure if it was to prolong the game or for Peter to save face. He took his time and completed the throw. Tyler high-fived him, and then the teenager turned around and made a perfect three-pointer.
“You really handle the ball well.”
“My dad used to practice with me.”
He nodded, not quite sure whether to pursue the subject. Tyler’s parents had been killed in an automobile accident two years ago, and he had shifted from one foster home to another until he landed at the children’s shelter in Cedar Grove in September.
“He taught you well,” Peter said, and just as he shot the ball his cell phone rang. He missed by a good three inches.
“H-O-R-S-E!” The teenager pumped his fist in the air. “You lose.”
“I would’ve made that one if my phone hadn’t gone off.” He fished his cell from his pocket and glanced at the ID. His office. He’d call them back when he left.
“Yeah, right.” Tyler bounced the ball a couple of times, then put it under his arm. “Anytime you want a rematch...”
“I definitely want one, but I better get back to work.”
As he walked away, Tyler said, “Thanks, Mr. E., and I won’t be doing any more stupid stuff.”
Peter looked over his shoulder. “Good. And I’ll talk to the principal and see if you can go back to school tomorrow.”
Tyler rewarded him with a groan.
* * *
PETER STARED AT the envelope with his name scrawled on it in his grandfather’s handwriting. He’d purposely left reading the letter until bedtime and smiled, imagining Grandfather penning the words.
Richard Elliott had always been “Grandfather,” never “Gramps” or “Granddad”—those names simply didn’t suit him. He’d had such a strong personality, although the death of his only son a few years ago had tempered it some.
His father’s death had been a blow to Peter as well, and it’d been hard to withstand his grandfather’s insistence that he join Elliott Manufacturing. He was certain Grandfather devised the contest for the sole purpose of drawing Peter into the company, and he was equally certain the letter would confirm his suspicions.
He unfolded the paper and began reading.
Dear Peter,
By now you have learned what is in the will and are probably scratching your head. I hope you’ll take the contest seriously. I know how much you want the youth center, and I’m sure you don’t like the strings attached, but I hope you will take the challenge.
You probably are thinking I could have just given you both the money, but there is one last lesson for you to learn.
On a personal note, I want you to know how proud I am of you. You are a lot like your father, and that’s quite a compliment. While I don’t agree with your desire to serve the citizens of Cedar Grove in your capacity as director of Social Services, I see what a wonderful job you are doing. You are to be commended. Still, I would rather that you had joined the family business.
It was a joy to be a part of your raising. And never forget, winning isn’t the most important thing—it’s how you win or lose that matters—it all comes down to honor. Remember that whenever you look at the pocket watch I gave you.
I love you, Grandson, and I realize I didn’t say it often enough.
Your Grandfather
Peter stared at the last sentence. His grandfather had only told him one other time that he loved him. The day his father was buried.
A lump settled in his throat. He was going to miss them both.
CHAPTER FOUR
TUESDAY MORNING JAKE slowed to make the turn into the Montgomery and Sons Construction Company. He’d looked up Nicole Montgomery in his high school yearbook last night. The girl in the photo was rather plain, and he couldn’t place her at all.
He parked his Lexus in front of the brick building and went in, the bells over the door making Christmas sounds. The Christmas effect didn’t end there. “Frosty the Snowman” played from stereo speakers, and he smiled, thinking of the seventy-degree weather outside.
“May I help you?”
He turned, looking for the speaker. She stepped out from behind the freshly cut cedar in the corner, and he caught his breath. Oh, wow. He’d never seen a Greek goddess before, but this had to be what one would look like. Surely this wasn’t the girl in the yearbook. Her black hair was caught up in a French braid and green eyes the color of Ireland looked him over. “I, ah, I’m looking for Nicole Montgomery.”
She hung the ornament on the tree before walking toward him. “I’m Nicole.”
Jake held out his hand and was surprised at the firm grip. For the first time he could ever remember, he couldn’t think of anything to say.
She tilted her head, puzzlement in her eyes. “Do you want to hire our company to do a job for you?”
“Did we really go to high school together?” He did not remember anyone looking as good as Nicole Montgomery.
“What?”
Heat burned his face. He surely did not just say that. “Forgive me, but I think your beauty has caused me to take leave of my senses.”
She leaned back, and crossed her arms. “Jacob O’Neil, you were full of yourself in high school, and you still are.”
A memory niggled in the back of his mind. Yeah...they’d been in chemistry class together, except the younger Nicole had been rail thin and wore glasses. That hadn’t stopped him from trying to charm her, and he’d gotten the same response as today.
“Strike two, huh?”
A smile played at the corner of her mouth. “One more, and you’re out.”
“Then I better be on my best behavior.”
“Try it. You might like it.” She unfolded her arms and walked to her desk.
He checked her out while he had the chance. The silky braid draped over her shoulder. A plaid shirt, skinny jeans that fit nicely and midcalf boots—the girl he remembered would never wear anything so fashionable. Her style had changed, for sure. She turned, almost catching him.
“Now, did you have a purpose for coming in here, or is it just my lucky day?”
But not her sassy lip. Just thinking of it made him stare at her full lips. Which she promptly licked. He glanced up to focus on her eyes instead. “I came to see you about a city council proposal.”
Understanding seemed to click into place. “And you need my help.”
“No! I mean, yes.” If he’d known what a pretty woman she’d blossomed into, he’d have been there a long time ago.
She checked her watch, and he quickly did the same and groaned. Nine thirty. He had an appointment with the mayor in thirty minutes. He’d wasted what little time he’d allotted for talking to her. “Would you have lunch with me today?”
“No.”
Jake regrouped. He hadn’t made a very good impression. He held up his hand. “Hang on for a minute.”
He hurried out the door, turned around and came back in. “Hi, Nicole. I can’t believe we haven’t seen each other since high school. But I’d truly like to rectify that. Is there a snowball’s chance in South Mississippi that you’ll have lunch with me at Norma Jean’s?” He held out his hand.
A strange look crossed her face, and then she swallowed and slipped her palm in his. “I, ah, well, since you put it that way, I guess so. Noon?”
“How about eleven thirty? Would you like me to pick you up?”
“No! I’ll meet you there.”
“Great.” He started to leave and turned around. “You look really—”
“Don’t mess it up O’Neil.”
He grinned. “Well, you do.”
Jake whistled as he drove across town to city hall. Getting Nicole Montgomery’s vote was going to be much more interesting than he’d thought. But something about her name didn’t seem right.
He remembered now...it was G. Nicole Montgomery in the yearbook. He couldn’t remember what the G stood for, but given time, he’d find out.
Jake pulled into a parking space in front of city hall, and grabbed the packet that contained copies of the senior center proposal for each city council member. He would leave them with Betty Atkins, the city clerk, when he added his name to the agenda for tonight’s meeting.
Betty looked up as he entered her office and closed the door.
“What can I do for you, Jake?”
He handed her the envelope. “I’d like to appear before the city council tonight to request a permit for renovating a building on Washington Street and to submit a proposal for a senior center. I’ll also be asking for funding.”
“I see. How much?” she asked.
“Twenty-five thousand.”
“You can’t run a center on twenty-five thousand dollars.”
“That will just be the city’s part. I’ll come up with the rest. I’m going up to see Hugh now, and get his support.”
“I’ll put you down.”
“Thanks.” He turned to leave and she followed him.
“I’m going after coffee. Care to join me?”
“No, I told him I’d be there at ten, and it’s almost that time now.”
* * *
A CONFERENCE CALL about the children’s shelter kept Peter from getting to city hall when he wanted to, but at least he had a better understanding of what the inspector would be looking for next week. It was now nine forty-five as he took the stairs to the city clerk’s office two at a time.
He’d managed to get by the city inspector’s office before they closed yesterday, so his application for a renovation permit for the building was in process. Now he needed to get the youth center proposal and the New Year’s Eve teen dance he wanted to hold on tonight’s agenda.
“Is Betty in?” he asked her secretary.
Treva Fisher looked up from her typing. “She has someone with her right now. Do you want to wait?”
“Do you think they’ll be long?” He wanted to catch the mayor before he got too busy.
“It’s your cousin Jake. What do you think?”
His heart sank. Surely Jake didn’t have his proposal ready for the council. Peter was almost finished with his own except for a volunteer director. The door to Betty’s office opened, and his cousin stepped out behind the city clerk. When he saw Peter, a smug grin spread across Jake’s face.
“You’re just getting here?” Jake said.
“Yeah, I heard it’s the early worm that gets eaten.”
Jake laughed. “We’ll see, cuz. We’ll see.”
Peter ignored him and turned to Betty. “I need to put something on the agenda for tonight.”
“And, I need a cup of coffee. How about walking with me to Cups and More. We’ll discuss it there.”
He checked his watch. “I wanted to see Hugh before it got much later.”
“Whatever you want to see him about can wait. I want to talk to you.”
“Let me give him a call and let him know I want time with him.” Peter dialed the mayor and Hugh gave him an eleven o’clock appointment. He’d changed his plans without hesitation because everyone at city hall knew that since the mayor’s heart attack, Betty Atkins ran the office. “He said I’m to bring him a white chocolate mocha.”
“Don’t you dare. Do you know how many calories there are in that drink? Over three hundred, not to mention the fat.” She peered at him. “He doesn’t know you’re with me, does he?”
“I didn’t actually mention your name.” Peter tried not to grin. She not only ran the office, she ran the mayor. The two had been an item for years now, and everyone wondered why they didn’t get married.
“We’ll get him a plain coffee,” she said grimly.
The aroma of fresh ground beans met them at the door. As usual the shop was full of customers, some already at tables with their coffees and others waiting in line.
He spied a table by the window. “You stake out our table, and I’ll get your coffee.”
“Sounds good to me. I’ll take a skinny caramel latte.”
He wasn’t surprised the health-conscious city clerk ordered something low calorie. As he walked to the counter, several people greeted him, and he stopped to chat briefly with Mrs. Palmer about her health. The white-haired retired English teacher had been his favorite in school. When he turned to get in line, he bumped into another customer, making him almost spill his coffee.
“I’m sorry,” he said, and then he recognized Allie Carson’s brother. Make that Allie Jefferies. He didn’t know why her new last name was so difficult to remember. Peter held out his hand. “Clint, what are you doing in town?”
“I live here now,” Clint said with a smile. He transferred his cup and shook Peter’s hand, then nodded toward the counter. “I think she wants your order.”
“Don’t leave, yet.” He turned to the barista. “I’ll take a small Kona-blend, black, and a large skinny caramel latte,” he said, then shifted his attention back to Clint. “I thought you were the director of the Boys and Girls Club in Memphis.”
He shook his head. “I’ve taken over the farm since Dad decided to retire, and he and Mom hit the open road.”
“You’re kidding.” Why had he not heard about this before now? “Will you still be in town this afternoon? I’d like to pick your brain about something.”
“I have an appointment, but I’m free later in the week.”
“Sounds good. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Peter paid for the drinks and took them to the table where Betty waited.
She scooped a spoonful of foam off the top, tasted it and closed her eyes. “Now, that’s good.” Then she looked at him. “So, what do you want to put on the schedule?”
“I’m not sure. I’d like to hold a dance for teens New Year’s Eve. What do I need to do?”
“Apply for a permit tonight at the city council meeting. Where do you plan to have it?”
“In a building my grandfather owned. It’s part of the estate now.”
Betty sipped her latte. “Is it the same building Jake plans to use for a senior center?”
Peter nodded. So Jake had finished his proposal, and he would have left a copy of it with Betty. “Any chance I can look over his paperwork?”
She eyed him over her glasses, her green eyes boring into him.
“I’ll wait until tonight.”
“I think that’d be a good idea. So, do you want me to put your request for a permit on the docket?”
“Yeah, and I want to submit a proposal for a teen recreational center.”
“Got it.” She took another sip of her latte. “Don’t you two ever get tired of competing against each other?”
He’d like to explain that this time, it wasn’t his idea. Instead he said, “My grandfather always said iron sharpens iron.”
“Just don’t get the mayor all wrangled up in your deal—he hasn’t been feeling that well.” She hesitated, pressing her lips together. “That’s what I want to talk to you about.”
Peter resisted checking his watch while he waited for her to continue.
“I don’t think Hugh is going to run for office when the election rolls around.”
“Oh?” He didn’t know what that had to do with him.
“In fact, I know he wouldn’t if you would agree to run.”
“Me?”
“Yes, you. You’d make an excellent mayor.”
Him, mayor? He’d never considered the possibility before.
“I see I’ve taken you by surprise, but I wish you would think about it. I really don’t want Hugh to run, but he will unless someone he admires steps forward.”
“You’re serious. But why me?”
“You have all the qualifications. First of all, you’re electable. Everyone knows the Elliott name. And with a master’s degree, you’re well qualified, and your work in Washington, DC, speaks for itself. And here—you’ve done an excellent job with Social Services and getting the children’s shelter set up here. And then there’s your council seat. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t thought about it yourself.”
Now that the shock had worn off, he had to admit the job appealed to him. “I’ll think about it.”
She squeezed his arm. “Good. Now go get Hugh’s coffee. I have to get back to work.”
Peter saluted and did as he was told.
A few minutes later, he handed the mayor his coffee. “Sorry it isn’t what you ordered, but I was with Betty.”
Hugh Gordon sighed. “That woman will be the death of me. It isn’t enough that she runs this office, now she’s telling me what I can drink.”
“She’s worried about you.” Judging by his pallor, Betty had good reason to be worried. And the mayor could stand to lose a few pounds. Peter considered telling Hugh about their conversation regarding the election, but in the end, he simply said, “It’s Kona-blend.”
“That’s a plus.” Hugh took the top off and sipped the still-steaming coffee. “Now, what can I do for you?”
Peter hesitated, remembering Betty’s admonition. Better that he be prepared for tonight. “I want to start a youth recreational center in a building my grandfather owned.”
“I suppose it’s the same building your cousin wants to put a senior center in.”
Jake was going to give him a run for his money. Peter nodded. “Can I count on your vote?”
“Same thing he asked.”
“What’d you tell him?”
“At the time, I didn’t know you were going to be submitting a proposal in opposition to him, so I said yes, and I’ll give you my support, as well. But if you’re looking for funding, only one of you might receive it. Money’s tight, and there’s no guarantee either of the projects will be funded, though both do seem worthwhile.”
Peter should have realized Jake was on his way to see the mayor when he left Betty’s office. “Thanks. I’ll see you tonight.”
* * *
AT THE LAST MINUTE, Nicole had to call her mother to cover for her at the office after an expected shipment of lumber failed to arrive before noon. She paused just outside the front door of Norma Jean’s to collect herself.
If only she could lie. Really? But she couldn’t, not to her mother, anyway, not even little white lies about the person she was having lunch with. As soon as Joyce Montgomery discovered Nicole was meeting Jake for lunch, she would be off and running, practically planning an engagement party.
Not even if South Missi— Nicole broke the thought off. That’s what got her into trouble in the first place. She’d had no intention of accepting Jake’s lunch offer, but when he used that phrase, her mouth said yes even as her brain said no.
She straightened her shoulders and pushed the door open. Might as well get it over with. Besides, he’d only asked her in order to get her help. Keep that in mind. She scanned the room and spotted him in a corner booth, talking to one of the waitresses.
Nicole walked toward the booth, dodging harried servers and catching snatches of conversation. Not even noon yet, and Norma Jean’s was booming. Yet their waitress had time to stand and talk to Jake with a dreamy look on her face.
The man was too good-looking for his own good. When he came into the office this morning, she’d almost dropped the ornament in her hand. And then all that blarney about how she looked—he was probably telling the red-haired waitress the same thing. Her cheeks flushed just thinking about it.
“Sorry, I’m late,” she said and scooted into the booth. From the frosty look the waitress gave her, Nicole had arrived too early.
He checked his watch. “You’re not really late, more like right on time.”
“Water, with lemon?” Red asked.
The waitress already thought she had Nicole pegged. “I think I’ll have iced tea with the lemon.”
“Sweet or unsweetened?”
It was on the tip of her tongue to say she didn’t know Norma Jean’s served anything but sweet tea. Instead she smiled pleasantly. “Sweet.”
Red turned to Jake, and her smile stretched wide. “I’ll be right back with your coffee, hon.”
When the waitress was out of hearing range, Nicole gave him a sideways glance. “What did you tell her? That you were having lunch with the troll who lives under the bridge?”
He laughed. “There’s no use in having charm if you’re not going to spread it around.”
Jake was very good at that. His photo was often in the Jackson paper for various galas, and he never had the same woman on his arm. “Well, I’m immune, so don’t waste your breath.”
He laughed. “I can see this is going to be an interesting lunch.”
Oh. My. Goodness. He thought she was flirting with him. She wasn’t. Before she could say anything, Red brought their drinks and whipped out her pad and pencil.
“Are you ready to order?”
Jake leaned forward. “Nicole, do you know what you want?”
“I’ll take the lunch special.” It didn’t matter what it was, Norma Jean’s special was always good.
“I’ll take the same,” he said, winking at the waitress.
“Be right back with your meatloaf and English peas and baked apples.”
Nicole shook her head at his flirting, and before he could turn his charm back on her, she said, “So, exactly what do you want to discuss about tonight’s meeting?”
“No more fun and games, huh?”
“Nope.”