Stealing Home (3 page)

“Their loss is our gain,” Helen said briskly. “We can get it for a song.”

“I’m not surprised,” Maddie said. “Are you sure it’s safe to go inside? Looks to me as if all sorts of critters might have taken up residence in there.”

Dana Sue nudged her in the ribs. “Do you think we’ve forgotten about your terror of spiders and snakes? Helen made sure the real-estate agent had it all swept out last week. There’s nothing in there but the resident ghost.”

“Oh, please,” Maddie said. “How can there be a ghost? No one’s died here.”

“But wouldn’t it be fabulous if there were a ghost?” Dana Sue persisted. “Just think of the PR value. There’s nothing a Southerner loves quite so much as a good ghost story or bragging rights to having one up in the attic.”

“I’m not sure having a ghost would be much of a recommendation for a health club,” Helen said. “What if it appears in a mirror one day? It could scare twenty years off someone’s life and pretty much destroy the place’s reputation as a fitness mecca. I’m not sure even I could win that lawsuit.” She met Maddie’s gaze. “Ready to go inside?”

“Sure. Why not?” Maddie said, still trying to see what the two of them obviously saw in the run-down house. Even her memories of the way it had once been didn’t help her to envision it as a thriving spa.

Not two minutes later, though, once she’d stepped across
the threshold and into the sunlight pooling on the old oak floors, her pulse began to race a little faster. The downstairs rooms were huge. The windows were dingy, but even so they let in streaming rays of sun. With pale yellow walls and white woodwork, the spa would be cheerful and welcoming. The floors could be brought back with sanding and a good coat or two of polyurethane.

When she reached the dining room, which faced the back of the property, she realized that the French doors and tall windows opened to a wooded lot with a small stream trickling through it. Treadmills set up to face that way would give the illusion of walking or running outdoors. Wouldn’t that afford women a sense of serenity while they exercised?

Dana Sue latched on to her hand and tugged her into the kitchen.

“Can you believe this?” she demanded, gesturing around her. “The appliances are old and the cabinets are a mess, but the room is huge. Just imagine what we could do with it.”

“I thought the idea of this place was to make people forget about food, not to feed them,” Maddie said.

“No, no, no,” Dana Sue chided. “It’s supposed to give them a place to make healthy choices. We could set up a counter over here and a few small tables in that area by the door. We could even open it onto the back patio and add a few tables outside.”

“Can you cook and serve in the same space?” Maddie asked.

“There won’t be any cooking done here, except for whatever classes we offer. I’ll cater the salads from the restaurant kitchen. We can get a professional refrigerator or display case for those. And we’ll offer smoothies and other drinks. Can’t
you just imagine what fun it would be to work out with a couple of friends, then sit out there gazing at that stream and eating a chicken Caesar salad and drinking mineral water. You’d leave here feeling a thousand percent better, even if you never lost an ounce. And if we offered a hot tub and massages, oh, my gosh…” She sighed rapturously.

“That sounds great for someone who has all morning or all afternoon, but won’t the people who can afford what you’re talking about be working?” Maddie asked, continuing to play devil’s advocate.

“We’ve thought of that,” Helen said. “We could offer day-long or half-day packages for women who want to be really pampered for a special occasion. But we could also have a half-hour workout and lunch deal for someone who only has an hour-long break from work. And there are so many bedrooms, we could even convert one room to a nursery and hire a day-care worker so moms could exercise in peace.”

Maddie regarded them with surprise. It was beginning to seem they had an answer for everything. “You’ve really given this a lot of thought, haven’t you.”

Helen shrugged. “What can I say? I hate Dexter’s place and I really need to work out. I might as well create someplace I’ll enjoy going.”

“Me, too,” Dana Sue said. “If I own a place like this, though, I’ll have to stay in shape. I’ll be happy. Doc Marshall will be happy. Even my daughter will stop commenting about the bulge around my middle.”

“You do not have a bulge around your middle,” Maddie said indignantly. “That’s ridiculous!”

“Compared to my daughter, I’m downright obese,” Dana Sue insisted. “To tell you the truth, I think Annie’s taking the
whole dieting thing to extremes, but every time I try to talk to her about it, she freaks out. And I can’t get her near a scale to prove my point.”

Helen regarded her with alarm. “You don’t think she’s anorexic, do you? Lots of teenage girls are, you know.”

“The idea scares me to death,” Dana Sue admitted. “I watch her like a hawk to see what she’s putting in her mouth, and she seems to eat okay. Maybe she’s just burning it all up. Some people are just plain lucky to have high metabolisms.”

Helen exchanged a worried look with Maddie.

“Dana Sue, don’t ignore this,” Maddie said gently. “It can be really dangerous.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Dana Sue snapped in a rare display of temper that proved just how worried she was. “I was there when Megan Hartwell collapsed at the prom, same as you. She nearly died, for goodness’ sake.”

Maddie backed off. That night had been one none of them would ever forget. It was the first time they’d seen what an eating disorder could do to someone their age. Heck, back then no one had even
acknowledged
there was such a thing as an eating disorder. Before that, Megan Hartwell’s dieting obsession had just been a joke among them. If Dana Sue’s daughter did have a problem, surely Dana Sue would recognize it and deal with it without Maddie or anyone else nagging her.

“Sorry,” she apologized.

Dana Sue gave her a hug. “No, I’m sorry for biting your head off.”

“Okay, let’s try to focus on this place,” Helen said briskly. “Maddie, now that you’ve seen it, what do you think?”

“I think it’s a very ambitious plan,” she said cautiously.

“Not for us,” Dana Sue said. “We can do anything we set
our minds to. We are, after all, the Sweet Magnolias. Everyone at Serenity High knew we were destined to succeed. They said so in our yearbooks.”

“They also said we were most likely to raise a ruckus and land in jail,” Maddie said.

Helen grinned. “Okay, so it was a toss-up. But we’ve all stayed on the straight and narrow. And we
have
succeeded.”

Dana Sue nodded. “Pretty much.”

“Maybe you two can claim success,” Maddie said. “Helen not only made it through law school, but she’s built an incredible practice all over the state. Dana Sue, you’ve created a restaurant that’s as good as anything in Charleston, and that’s saying something. What have I ever done?”

“You put your worthless hubby through med school, managed a home and raised three great kids. That’s nothing to sneeze at,” Helen said.

“I just don’t know,” Maddie said. “This would be a huge time commitment and I really need to pay attention to the kids right now. They need me.”

“We know that. We probably understand your priorities better than any other boss would,” Dana Sue told her.

Maddie knew that was true, but she still wasn’t ready to say yes. There was one significant consideration she couldn’t ignore. “I’d be terrified of messing up and costing you a small fortune,” she admitted.

“If I’m not worried about that, why should
you
be?” Helen asked.

Despite the reassurance, Maddie couldn’t seem to shake the sick feeling in the pit of her stomach that she was getting in way over her head. “How big a hurry are you two in to do this?” she asked.

“I took out an option on the property yesterday for thirty days,” Helen said.

“Then give me thirty days to make up my mind,” Maddie pleaded.

“What will you know in thirty days that you don’t know right this minute?” Dana Sue argued.

“I’ll be able to do some cost projections, some market analysis, take a look at what’s being offered in other towns in the area,” Maddie began.

Helen grinned again. “I told you she’d focus on all that sensible stuff,” she said to Dana Sue.

“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.

A
t 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.

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 fine 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.”