Holly's Heart Collection One (32 page)

Paula and Kayla Miller smiled, their perfect teeth glistening in the August sunshine.

“You’re on,” Jared said, spinning the volleyball on his pointer finger.

Danny’s parents came outside and stood on the redwood deck. “Room for two more?” asked Danny’s dad.

“C’mon down,” said Billy, motioning to them.

The neighbors next door peered over the fence. Danny waved and
they
joined us, too.

Since the sides were uneven, Danny volunteered to referee. Paula Miller went over to play on the guys’ side. She seemed flattered as Jared lifted the net when she ducked under. I wondered if she cared that Jared was the world’s worst two-timer. Andie was watching Paula, too, as Jared turned on his charm. Too bad. Both Andie and I knew firsthand how it felt to be fooled by him.

Danny put his fingers between his teeth and whistled. “Ladies first,” he said. Our side cheered its approval.

Andie served, and Billy bumped the ball back to our side. Kayla set me up, and I spiked it down right in front of Jared. He missed. Our first point.

“Check it out,” called Andie. “Holly’s volleys can’t be beat.” Everyone laughed except Paula’s twin, Kayla, who seemed more interested in watching Danny. He seemed too busy keeping score to notice.

A few minutes later it was my serve. I glanced at Danny anxiously. He encouraged me with his grin and a gesture, a reminder to get down under the ball and follow through with the forearm motion he’d shown me today…before the crowd showed up.

I stepped back, took a deep breath, and served. The ball barely missed the net. Billy set it up for Danny’s dad, who tapped it with his fingers. Jared came in for the kill.

I saw it coming and moved out of my position in the back row. Leaning down, I got under the ball. It shot high enough for Danny’s mom to punch it over the net.

We volleyed back and forth three more times before Billy fumbled. Our score again!

For some reason, we were unbeatable. After winning two games in a row, we broke for a snack of chips, dip, and pop.

Danny invited me up to the patio, where he introduced me to his parents.

“We’ve seen you singing in the youth choir at church,” his dad said. “It’s nice to meet you finally.”

Finally?
What did that mean?

Danny’s mom was pleasant. “Please come over any time, Holly,” she said. Her smile reminded me of Danny’s. “We love to entertain our son’s friends.”

“Thanks, Mrs. Myers,” I said politely, hoping we could get better acquainted soon. There was so much I didn’t know about Danny.

He carried the bowls of chips around the yard, stopping to talk to Kayla longer than any of the other girls. Her brunette hair was pulled to the back of her head in a ponytail and secured with a red beaded twist. Paula was sitting with Jared in the far corner of the yard, under a stand of aspen trees. She wore her hair the same as Kayla, only it was secured with an orange twist.

Just then Andie came running. She grabbed my arm and asked Danny’s mom where the bathroom was.

“Through these doors—you’ll see the powder room to the left of the kitchen,” Mrs. Myers told her.

“Are you sick?” I asked Andie, locking the bathroom door behind us.

“No, but
you
might be when you hear this,” she whispered.

“Kayla likes Danny.”

“I noticed,” I said. “But worse—what if
he
likes
her,
too?”

“Danny’s just exceptionally polite,” Andie said. “That’s all it is.”

I noticed the thick, luxurious towels nearby. There was a monogrammed
M
on each one.

“His parents must be rolling in it,” I said.

Andie eyed the towels. “Give me a break. Nice towels don’t mean anything.”

Washing my hands in the cream-colored sink, I enjoyed the lilac scent of the reed diffuser on the counter. The bottle was especially elegant. “What if Kayla Miller and Danny have money in common?” I said. “What about that?”

“If you’re going to freak out over something, just think about being stuck in eighth grade while Danny and Kayla trade notes in advanced math class, one grade higher.”

I sighed. “You’re right. They were in algebra together last semester, when the Millers moved here in April. Yikes.”

Andie picked up the pewter soap dish. “Now
this
looks expensive,” she whispered. “Maybe you’re right. Maybe Danny’s folks are—”

“Who’s in there?” cooed a female voice.

“Shouldn’t you say ‘knock, knock’ first?” Andie asked.

“Okay. Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?” we answered in unison.

“Justin.”

“Justin who?” we asked, puzzled.

“Just in time for another game. Wanna play?”

I opened the door to see Kayla and Paula, the ponytailed wonders.

Andie giggled. “Hey, you’re good,” she said. “You fooled us. We thought there was only
one
of you talking.”

Heading toward the sliding glass door leading to the patio, I lagged behind. The draperies in the family room coordinated perfectly with the sofa. Shelves filled with books covered the far wall. And was that a crystal chandelier over the dining room table? Money! They had it, all right.

We played volleyball until it got too dark to see, even with the impressive floodlights that came on automatically around the yard.

When it came time, Danny’s father offered to drive Andie and me home. I jumped at the chance to ride in his new Lexus SUV. Unfortunately the Miller twins were also included in the invitation.

Paula and Kayla’s house stood on the side of a hill in another classy part of town. As we turned into their steep driveway, Kayla asked Danny when they could get together to work on her serve. It wasn’t what she said but
how
she said it that made me swallow to keep from choking. Talk about flirting. The girl had it down to an art form.

“What about tomorrow around three?” Danny’s response was almost businesslike. But that was his way. He was probably totally in the dark about Kayla’s cooing.

Tomorrow afternoon Danny and Kayla would practice volleyball techniques together. Unless I could spoil their plans somehow…

Danny’s dad made small talk as he drove down the tree-lined streets toward Downhill Court. His sports utility vehicle was sleek and comfortable, and it made me think of one of my snail mail pen pals, Lucas Leigh. Recently, Lucas had written that he was car shopping.
I’m considering a Corvette, but there’s nothing like a Porsche,
he’d written in his last letter.

I knew absolutely zip about sports cars, except that they were flashy and fast. As for me, this Lexus was cool potatoes!

When we arrived at my house, I thanked both Danny and his dad for a fabulous time. Then Andie and I scurried up the steps and into the house.

Goofey, my motley-colored cat, sat curled up under the card table. Mom and her date, Mr. Tate, were playing checkers in the living room.

“Hi, Mom,” I said, kissing her cheek lightly.

Andie and I stood there for a moment, staring at the red kings invading Mom’s territory. “Looks like you’re surrounded,” Andie said.

Mr. Tate looked up momentarily. “Holly,” he said to me, “your mother saved leftovers for you and your friend.”

“Thanks, Mom,” I said softly. To
her.

Mr. Tate continued to study me. “And,” he said, pausing like what he was about to say was very important, “this is your night to clean up the kitchen.”

Mom turned to me. “Because your sister’s spending the night with Stephanie.”

“Uncle Jack and my cousins arrived?” I said, thrilled to hear the news.

“Not Uncle Jack and the boys, just Stephanie,” Mom explained. “She didn’t want to go on a business trip with her dad, so she’s staying at the Millers’ house till Uncle Jack returns.”

I glanced at Andie. “We were just at the Millers’, dropping Paula and Kayla off.”

“Well, that’s where Stephanie’s staying for now,” Mom said, focusing on the game again.

“Why didn’t
we
keep her?” I asked.

“Because I didn’t want
you
to be stuck baby-sitting during your final days of summer vacation,” Mom said. “Besides, Paula and Kayla baby-sat Stephie all the time when they lived in Pennsylvania.”

The twins’ father, Mr. Miller, had worked for the same company as Uncle Jack. After much persuading from the Millers, Uncle Jack decided to move to our ski village—Dressel Hills. His wife, my dad’s only sister, Marla, died last February.

“When is Uncle Jack actually coming to town?” I asked.

“Last I heard, in a few weeks.” Mom’s checker was close to being snatched by Mr. Tate’s king.

Mom’s date stared at me. “You have kitchen duty, Holly,” the not-so-great Mr. Tate said. A control freak, he was growing worse by the week.

In the kitchen, Andie and I loaded the dishwasher. “So…has you-know-who rearranged your life yet?” She was wise to keep her voice low.

I snickered. “That’s just how he is. Could be that he’s the takecharge type because of Zachary’s cancer. Speaking of which…”

“E-ee-ow, zoom, crash!” Here came Zach. He’d grown a little over the summer, but for a seven-year-old, he was still very small.

“Hey, Zach. How’re you doing?” I asked as he kaboomed and gazoomed his fighter plane in patterns around us.

“I’m remissed,” he said.

“He’s what?” Andie asked.

Zach jumped up and down, trying to get the word out. “I’m getting well. I’m remissed.”

“That’s great news,” I said, giving him not-so-high fives all around the kitchen. “His cancer’s in remission,” I told Andie, who poured the powdered soap into the dishwasher.

“Let’s celebrate,” Zach said, opening the freezer and poking around, trying to find some strawberry ice cream.

“Hold on.” I rushed back into the living room.

Mr. Tate looked up as I came in, the top of his bald head shiny with beads of perspiration. Seemed like he was playing checkers for keeps.

“That’s fabulous news about Zachary,” I said, thrilled.

“We’re delighted, too.” Mom clasped her hands together. “An answer to our prayers.”

Mr. Tate’s face broke into a rare smile. He reached for Mom’s hand. “Now your mother and I can make the plans we had to put on hold for a few months.”

Gulp!

Staring into this man’s eyes, I was certain he wasn’t the best replacement for Daddy. Could I live with him calling all the shots, stepping in all too eagerly as Mom’s husband and my step…uh, father?

Zach was back in my face with a dipper for the ice cream.

“Is it okay with you?” I asked his dad.

Dramatically, Mr. Tate stretched his arm out to peer at his watch. “I believe it’s too late for sweets,” he announced.

“Aw, Dad,” Zach whined.

Mom intervened. “But it’s such a special time.”

This was a mistake. By the look on Mr. Tate’s face, Mom’s pleading hadn’t gone over too well. He simply shook his head with great finality.

Mom wilted.

Andie motioned to me from the doorway.
She
didn’t think it was too late for sweets. And I wasn’t about to ask Mr. Tate’s permission, either.

I joined her in the kitchen, where I spotted today’s stack of mail on the desk. Sorting through it, I discovered a letter addressed to Mom. On the envelope, our address,
207 Downhill Court, Dressel Hills, Colorado,
was followed by a large
U.S.A.

“Who’s this from?” I muttered, showing Andie the stamp.

She rotated the envelope, studying the postmark. “It’s from Japan. Does your mom know anyone there?”

“Let me see that.” I held it up to the light. “It’s handwritten.” My curiosity grew as I glanced toward the checker game in the living room.

I got Zach’s attention. “Do you know when you and your dad are heading home tonight?” I asked.

“Nope,” he said, carrying his jet planes and stuff down to the family room.

I whispered to Andie, “I hope they leave soon.”

Sliding the mystery letter under the pile of mail, I dished up ice cream in record time. Andie and I smuggled our bowls upstairs. “Nothing like a huge bowl of strawberry ice cream shared with a best friend.” I closed my bedroom door behind me.

Andie laughed. “Sounds like a verse on a greeting card.”