Her Summer with the Marine: A Donovan Brothers Novel (Entangled Bliss) (12 page)

“I’ve been thinking of changing my name.”

Ellie glanced over at B.B. “Isn’t one name change enough?”

Arranging things on the tray beside the embalming table, B.B. laughed. “I know going from Barbara Beth to just plain B.B. was a jump, but this isn’t really a big change. It’s a little change. Instead of having people call me B.B. I thought everybody should call me Queen B.”

Ellie couldn’t even measure her curiosity. “Queen B?”

“I am the leader now.” She shuffled her instruments. “And I thought it would be cool if everybody called me Queen B. Like that one singer.” She excitedly faced Ellie. “You guys could start calling me Queen B and I could say, ‘S’up,’ and we’d be like the young, cool funeral home.”

Ellie only gaped at her as her horror morphed into real fear. “We do not want to be the young, cool funeral home.”

“Seriously? Everybody’s going after the younger crowd now. And with you planning to sell funeral packages, not waiting for people to die, it just makes sense that we should project a younger image.”

Ellie sighed, but luckily she heard the sound of the hearse pulling up to the building. “Barbara Beth, call yourself Queen B if you like. Call yourself Lord of the Flies for all I care. Right now we have a funeral to take care of.”

After the body arrived, Barbara Beth got to work and Ellie went upstairs to wait for the family.

She assisted the grieving widow in choosing a casket, set times for the wake, family prayers, the funeral. She took the suit Mrs. Fredericks offered with loving hands, and told the widow they’d make her husband look as handsome as he had on their wedding day.

And she’d smiled.

Ellie walked the suit to the basement. Sullen Barbara Beth took it and turned away. Not wanting to argue about B.B.’s new name again, she headed upstairs.

When she reached the hall to the office, LuAnn Donovan stood just outside the door, waiting for her.

“Hey.”

She walked over and took her hands to squeeze them. Now that she knew this woman’s life had been anything but the perfect vision her family had projected to the world, she couldn’t describe the feelings in her heart. If anything ever happened to Finn, Ellie would take LuAnn in herself so she wouldn’t have to go back to her abusive husband.

“Hi, Mrs. Donovan.”

“We heard about Mr. Fredericks.”

Ellie nodded.

“Simon Chambers had a heart attack at his office and he came to us.”

She gasped. “Simon Chambers died?”

LuAnn nodded. “Finn sent me to coordinate times with you.”

Her heart fell. “Oh.” Who’d have thought she’d be so miserable over Finn not talking to her? She’d always believed she was only sexually attracted to him. Always believed he was a liar. Knowing that he wasn’t seemed to change everything. What if he’d really liked her, as a person, and she’d more or less thrown that back in his face?

“Come into my office and we’ll coordinate.”

LuAnn sat on the chair in front of her desk. Ellie took the chair behind it, and they went over the times she’d set with Mrs. Fredericks. Because both deceased had attended the same church, Ellie agreed to call Mrs. Fredericks and set a different time for her husband’s funeral.

LuAnn left with a smile, and Ellie had just picked up the receiver of the phone when Sandy appeared in her doorway. She replaced the receiver.

“What’s up?”

“I got a call from Finn about the Chambers funeral.” She sat on the chair in front of Ellie’s desk. “Terrible thing. I heard he was going to retire next month.”

“Wow. That is awful.”

“Anyway, I got Finn’s dinner menu and figured I’d come and get yours.”

Remembering how she’d run out on Sandy a few hours ago, she glanced down at her desk. “A phone call would have been fine.”

“It’s such a pretty day, I thought I’d take the walk.”

Happy to avoid talking about her quick departure that morning, Ellie nodded and printed out her menu for Sandy. As she handed it to her, Sandy caught her wrist. “You know we love you, right?”

Ellie shook her head. “Don’t. You don’t have to say things like that. I understand.”

She said the words Sandy wanted to hear because she should believe her and she should let go of the past. She had to work here. She needed these people, and if her disagreement with Finn had taught her anything, it was that she had to trust. Believing Sandy, accepting the apology, was her first shaky step.

Sandy beamed. She squeezed Ellie’s fingers, then released them. “Did I see LuAnn leaving?”

Confused by the quick change of subject, Ellie said, “You did. She came to coordinate times.”

“Oh, I thought Finn would do that.”

“No. He sent his mom.”

“But you’re friends.”

Ellie sniffed a laugh. They might have been friends. Or maybe Finn had thought they were friends, but she’d blown that. “Not even close. We’re competitors. We always have been.”

“Yes.” Sandy laughed. “You always were.” Her gaze lowered and she drew an imaginary circle on the desk. “You know, with you being a Dinner Belle and all, that little competition you have with Finn might work in our favor.”

She frowned. “Work in whose favor?”

“Remember how we were discussing needing something to draw customers to our fund-raiser?”

“Yes.”

“After you left this morning, we got to thinking about what might draw people in, and someone suggested a ‘Dunk the Clown’ booth.”

An ugly suspicion caused her to sit up and pay attention. She’d seen Dunk the Clown booths at other town fund-raisers when she was a kid. Volunteers sat on a seat above a tank of water, and people paid money to throw balls at a bull’s eye. When they hit it, the person in the booth fell into the tank of water. That was why it was called
Dunk
the Clown.

“We make money two ways. We attract people to the park where we’ll be selling food and drinks and fifty-fifty tickets. But we’ll also get the proceeds from the money people spend to try to dunk you and Finn.”

And here was the fulfillment of the ugly suspicion. “Dunk me and Finn?”

“Well, you said you were competitors. So we would bill this as something like a match to see which of the two of you earns more money, and hopefully enough people will want to help you earn money for charity—”

“Or see the two of us dunked.”

“Or see the two of you dunked,” Sandy agreed, “that we would make a few hundred bucks.”

“Are you nuts?”

Sandy laughed. “It’s one of our warmest Junes in town history. You’ll get your shorts and T-shirt wet, and they’ll dry in the sun. But you’ll make money for a good cause.” She sighed. “I didn’t want to have to pull out the big guns, but you and Finn are the Dinner Belles’ two biggest customers. And we’re a charitable organization. We don’t get paid. Even those donations you make for every funeral are given back to the community. When a family can’t afford to have an after-funeral lunch, we donate it. Not just our services but the food too.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Sandy rose. “You don’t have to say yes, but we’re desperate. And if the proprietors of two competing businesses could stir up some fun competition, that would be a fantastic way for us to make money.”

Picturing herself in a wet shirt and jean shorts, with wet hair and running makeup, Ellie grimaced. “Maybe.”

“Plus, it will prove to everybody that the big city didn’t change you. That you’re a good sport. You haven’t been out in the community much. This is a good way to get yourself in front of everybody.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Ellie sat back with a sigh, suddenly realizing she really was here to stay. Like it or not, she was part of this town and couldn’t turn Sandy down. “Have you asked Finn?”

“I wanted to get your reaction first.”

“I’ll tell you what. I’ll do it if Finn does it.”

Chapter Eleven

A haze of humidity hung over Harmony Hills the day of the fund-raiser. Across the street from the park, on McDermott’s front porch, Ellie could smell the butter and onions from the pierogis and haluski, the rich scent of pork roasting over an open fire, and sugar from cotton candy and homemade funnel cakes.

Already, a crowd of people milled around the grassy site. But with a hot dog and soft drink in hand, without something for entertainment, they could eat and leave—and not spend any more money.

Sandy was right. They needed entertainment.

“Perfect day to fall into a four-foot tank of water.”

Ellie glanced at Ashley. Dressed in white shorts and a flowery top, with her hair in a fat blond ponytail, she did not look like the mother of three. Even with a chubby-cheeked baby girl on her hip.

“Easy for you to say. You’re not the one being dunked.”

“It’s going to be amazing. I’ll finally get a crack at extracting a little justice from Finn for hurting you.” She pivoted to face Ellie. “Are you going to try to knock him in?”

She hadn’t thought about it, but the vision that appeared made her laugh. She was done being upset over not believing him. They were competitors. Period. May the best person win.

“Yeah. Maybe I will.”

Even as she spoke, the sound of a motorcycle roaring down the quiet street echoed around them. Though they were poised to take the first step down the stairs and walk across the road to the park, they both stopped.

Finn cut his bike’s engine and pulled off his helmet. He stowed it and headed to the gazebo where Sandy had set up shop as ticket saleswoman.

Ellie just stared at him. He wore shorts, a sleeveless T-shirt, and flip-flops, as she did, because that’s what Sandy had told them to wear. But he looked so much better in his. The shirt showed off his tattoos and muscled arms—not to mention a well-developed chest. His cargo shorts caressed a perfect butt. His sunglasses hid his blue, blue eyes, but added an air of sexiness that more than made up for it. His white teeth gleamed when he smiled.

Still, none of those things held a candle to the swagger. He strolled to the gazebo as if he owned the place, stopping to chat with a person or two he met along the way. His gait easy. Comfortable. Sensual.

She swallowed.

“Oh, come on. He’s just a guy. I’ll bet you competed with lots of guys to get ahead at Great Expectations.”

Glad Ashley thought she was scared of the competition and not in near drool mode, Ellie said, “I did.”

“And you won.”

“Yes. Because I’m gifted with figuring out how to make people want to buy things.”

Ashley giggled. “You’d have to be to sell adult diapers.”

“Not really. Necessity pushes those.”

“Come on. You’ve beaten this guy before. And you’ll beat him today.” She headed down the steps. “Let’s go, Champ.”

They walked across the street, then parted company when Ellie had to check in with Sandy at the gazebo.

Finn had already signed his release and sat on the seat to Sandy’s right, behind a big jar already half-filled with one-dollar bills. Ellie walked up the two steps to Sandy’s table.

She lifted her chin. “Finn.”

He pulled his sunglasses down his nose. “Ellie.”

She tried not to react to the gleam in his baby blues, especially since she knew he now disliked her. But her efforts were useless. A wave of caring surged through her. Deep down, he was a really nice guy.

Reminding herself that was a moot point, she let her feelings for him ebb and flow, grabbed the pen, signed all the release forms Sandy had laid out for her, and took the seat on the left. The one in front of the empty jar.

“First of all,” Sandy said, turning from Finn to Ellie and then back to Finn again, “I want to thank you both for doing this.”

Finn grinned. “It’s our pleasure.”

Sandy, even though she was well past seventy, all but swooned.

“As you said.” He took off his sunglasses and gave her another smile. “We’re your biggest customers.”

Sandy giggled. “Yes, you are.” She took a breath and faced Ellie again. “The rules are very simple. Each of you sits in the booth on a chair suspended above the four-foot tank of water for three half-hour stints. While you’re in the booth, the people who have bought tickets get to throw balls at the bull’s-eye. But in between your times in the chair, you can walk around, selling tickets for when you’re on the hot seat. You can beg people to pay to dunk you. You can tease them into it. Or you can remind people that they might have always wanted a shot at you, and this is better than a fistfight because you can’t hit back.”

Finn snorted a laugh.

Ellie frowned. Nobody mentioned that she had to sell tickets. “So it’s like a reverse popularity contest?”

Sandy patted Ellie’s hand. “But it’s all in good fun.”

She grabbed the bullhorn and walked to the front of the gazebo where she announced that the Dunk the Clown booth was now opening, and Finn Donovan would be the first to sit above the tank.

“All you guys who had a girlfriend stolen by Finn, this is your chance for revenge. All you girls who got your hearts broken by Finn? Well, five bucks will get you six chances to dunk him.”

Sandy and Finn left the gazebo and headed toward the hot seat. As they walked, Finn took off his shirt. Washboard abs and perfect pecs were exposed to the entire town.

Ashley sidled up to Ellie. “Holy crap.”

Ellie swallowed. “I know.”

…

Finn ambled up to the ladder and climbed to the collapsible chair. He already had a line of guys, all waiting to get their six baseballs from Charlene Simmons in her straw sun hat and jeans, overdressed to protect herself from either the sun or the splash of water when he hit the tank.

Knowing the drill, he eased onto the seat. Jimmy Ferguson stood behind the white line, tossing his first baseball into the air and catching it.

“Hey, Jimmy, nice to see you.”

Jimmy said, “Right,” then hurled his first ball at the bull’s-eye. A miss.

“I see you still have the same arm you had when we were playing high school ball.”

The next ball sailed through the air and hit the bull’s-eye with a
thud
. The next thing Finn knew, he was in water over his head.

He straightened his legs and pushed himself up in the tank. But he realized something. If he harassed all the men who stood lined up, waiting to drop him on his ass in the water, he might win this competition, but he’d ruin the relationships he’d begun to build with the people of this town.

A good businessman first and foremost, he wiped the water from his face and said, “Now that was a throw. Always wondered why the pros never scouted you.”

He climbed up to the seat again, and Jimmy dunked him four more times before he walked away happy.

His half hour on the hot seat whipped by. For entertainment’s sake, he tossed his head to get rid of the water in his hair, and pretended falling into four feet of cool liquid on a hot day was a hardship. But right before his stint was over, he glanced up and saw Brent the bartender talking with Ellie.

His gut tightened. He told himself not to care, as little Ozwald Theys stepped up to the line to throw his first ball. He let his gaze amble over to laughing Ellie and in-f-flirt-mode Brent, then suddenly found himself submerged again.

He jumped out of the water. He shook the drops from his hair and wiped his hands down his face before he climbed the ladder. What did he care if Brent was flirting with her? She didn’t like him. And now he didn’t like her.

Ozwald’s first throw must have been a lucky shot, because he missed the next five.

Sandy came over with the megaphone and announced that Finn was getting out, and Ellie would be getting in for the next half hour. Two disgruntled teenage boys displayed tickets, but Sandy told them they could come back for Finn’s next half hour.

The pretty blond girl he’d met at the American Legion sidled up to him. She handed him a fluffy white towel. “My mom told me to give you this.”

Relief washed through him. Not just because he was back—a woman was flirting with him, he was no longer obsessed with a woman who thought him a liar—but because he now had a way to figure out her name.

“Really? Where is she?”

The blonde giggled. “Over there, silly.”

Two feet away stood her mother, Marian Pringle, who waved.

Wow. He’d sort of made an ass of himself, but he now knew the blonde was Mackenzie Pringle.

He dried himself off and slid his hand across her shoulder. He didn’t really care about Mackenzie, but this was all about being back in the game. “Can I buy you a soda?”

She giggled. “Sure.”

And they walked away. He refused to watch Ellie climb onto the chair, but he couldn’t stop his ears from straining for the sound of the first bull’s-eye that would drop her into the water.

He listened for it, as he and Mackenzie strolled to the soft drink stand, listened as Karen O’Riley handed him two cans of cola, listened as he took his first long swallow.

Nothing.

Damn it. He couldn’t stop himself from turning around, looking to see what was going on.

Mackenzie placed her hand on his forearm. “Don’t worry about the competition. You have none.”

Sure as hell, there wasn’t one person in Ellie’s line. Hurt for her filled him. Granted, she wasn’t quite a boyfriend stealer the way he had been a girlfriend stealer. And, no, she hadn’t gotten into fights in the boy’s room at school. And, no, she hadn’t beaten any seniors out of a spot on the football team when she was only in ninth grade…but surely somebody should want to see her T-shirt wet.

Actually, he did.

Still, he could not go over there and lob the first ball. He saw the two boys who were disgruntled that they’d have to wait a half hour for him to get back on the chair, and inspiration struck.

“Hey, kids.”

The one turned.

He nudged his head. “Come here.”

Frowning, and hesitating, they walked over.

“You should be all over that Dunk the Clown game now.”

The chubby kid’s eyes narrowed. “We wanna see you fall.”

“Yeah. You think you do, but you’re what? Fifteen?”

“Fourteen.”

“You should want to see Ellie in a wet T-shirt a little bit more than you want to see me get water up my nose.”

It took a second for the reasoning behind that to dawn, but once it had, the two boys raced away, up to the gazebo to Sandy, to trade their unused tickets for baseballs.

Finn leaned against an empty bench, snickering.

“What are we doing?”

He glanced down and saw Mary…no, MacKenzie. “Um. We’re watching the competition.”

“It’s boring.”

And she sounded twelve. She might be old enough to get into a bar, but she didn’t act like it.

“I’m staying here. You can join if you want, but if you don’t, that’s cool too.”

She sighed heavily.

The first kid raced to the line. Ellie sat up nervously. Adrenaline pumped through Finn. She deserved this—for thinking he was a liar. For not cooperating until it was obvious she could beat him. For that stupid coupon.

The kid threw the first ball. A miss.

Finn yelled, “That’s okay. Good effort. Put your shoulder into the next one.”

Mackenzie sighed.

The kid threw the second ball. Another miss.

Finn clapped like a Little League coach and pushed away from the bench so he could inch closer. “You’ll get it.”

Ellie’s head snapped up. “No coaching from the sidelines.”

He took another step closer. “I don’t remember there being a rule that said we couldn’t coach the pitchers.”

“I stayed away from you.”

“What? Following imaginary rules—even when they hurt people?”

The kid threw his third ball. Another miss.

Finn sighed. Walked over. Leaned in and whispered in the kid’s ear. “Wanna see that tank top wet?”

The kid nodded.

“Give me the last ball.”

He handed it over without hesitation. Before anyone really realized what was happening, Finn turned, pulled his arm back, and threw the ball. Like lightning, it shot out of his hand and thwapped the bull’s-eyes with a resounding
thud
. It released the lock under the chair and,
splash
, Ellie was in the water.

She sputtered a bit coming up. But the two boys clapped for joy. Finn fought a ridiculous surge of pride. He could still throw a ball, and she could kiss his behind. He hadn’t lied. He’d confided, believing he had a kindred spirit in her, when all she really was was his competition. The rival for business he needed.

After that, the game began in earnest. When it was Finn’s turn on the chair, Ellie bought balls.

“You thought it was funny to see me go into the water?” She threw the ball and it barely hit the bull’s-eye, but it hit, and he went under.

He surfaced, tossing his head, spraying water. “You’re still a girl.”

She sniffed. “You’re still an idiot.”

He climbed up the ladder. “Really? I seem to one-up you a lot.”

This time, she wound up before she pitched, and the ball hit the bull’s-eye with a
thud
. He plunged into the water.

“Right now, it looks like I’m getting the better of you.”

A ripple of laughter sounded around him. When he got the water out of his eyes, he saw a crowd had begun to form.

She missed her next two shots. “Oh, poor baby!” he chided. “Looks like you’re not the hotshot pitcher after all.”

The men in the crowd laughed, but B.B. raced over to Ellie and handed her a little basket of balls.

“Here, sweetie. I think this guy needs to be taught a lesson.”