***
On Sunday evening, Grey tossed Deedee the softball as the last rays of bright sun played over the grass. Her bat thumped it into a grounder that sped past him and came to rest under the playground's sliding board. He took off at a run and scooped it up while Deedee adjusted her baseball cap on her pixie-cut black hair, bringing the brim to rest at the nape of her neck.
At age twenty four, her coordination was better than it had ever been. He could remember a time after the accident when they didn't know if she'd speak, let alone walk again. She was a trouper. And she loved baseball. They spent most Sundays together and their activities usually involved a game of catch. Today, they'd gone to the movies, then for a drive to enjoy the wonderful July day, stopping eventually at her fa
vorite fast food restaurant. Af
terward, as customary, they'd ended up here.
"Hey, Dee. Don't you think we should quit? It'll be dark soon."
"We should put a light on the ball."
He laughed. Her solutions were often better than his more complicated ones. Draping his arm around her shoulders, he guided her to the truck. "Would you like to go for ice cream?"
She gave him the smile he loved. "You bet."
When they got to the truck parked at the curb, Grey warned, "Look before you open the door."
She frowned. "I know, Grey."
She used that impatient tone with him when she thought he was treating her like a child. But she did have to be treated like a child at times, despite her chronological age. She didn't always think things through or see the consequences. Problem solving was still complicated for her, though living at the group home had helped her with that along with making attachments to other people. He and his dad had been much too protective of her for too long.
Traffic was heavy as Grey eased the truck onto the main highway. When he stopped for a light, Deedee said, "I'm going to Harrisburg next Sunday."
"You are?" The directors at the group home arranged a field trip at least once a month.
"Yep. We're taking the van to the Museum of Science and Discovery." She drew out the last word, pronouncing it carefully. She was usually careful about her words, deciding on them slowly. If she went too fast they got mixed up. The therapist had worked with her long and hard on her patterns of speech.
"That's terrific. Is Tanya taking you?" Tanya was the caring director of the group home.
"Yep. You know what, Grey?"
"What, honey?"
"I like taking long rides."
"Maybe we can take a long ride soon. Down to D.C. They have lots of museums."
"Washington, D.C.?"
He switched on his turn signal. "Um hum. Where the president lives."
"Can we see him?"
Grey suppressed a smile. "He's an awfully busy man. I don't think he'd have time to see us."
"Like you're b
usy sometimes?"
Pangs of guilt stabbed Grey when Deedee said things like that. She needed as much of an independent life as she could have. That's why she was living at the group home rather than with him. Logically, he knew it had been the best thing to happen to her. And the job they'd placed her at in a pet store had done wonders for her
self-esteem
.
"Like I'm busy," he agreed. "Like you're busy."
"I'm busy at work. We have two new cats. Tanya said maybe I can bring one home."
Home. She meant where she lived now, not the house where she'd lived for twenty-two years. Grey veered into Dairy Queen's parking lot and pulled into a space. Suddenly he saw a blond woman come out the door. He leaned forward. Could it be...?
The person swung around and he saw that the woman ...wasn't Kit. He had to get her out of his mind.
"Grey, are we going in?"
Deedee's voice dissipated the picture of Kit he too easily carried in his head. "Yes, we are. I hope you're hungry. How about a banana split?"
"Sounds good."
Grey chuckled and opened his door. Deedee was reality. Kit was dreams. Could reality and dreams ever meet? Experience had taught him no. He had full financial and emotional responsibility for Deedee. Yes, she had the workers and tenants at the home. But he was her family. Her only family. And he couldn't shove her to the background. He wouldn't.
***
"Grey, it's Kit Saunders."
Wednesday morning he picked up the phone not prepared to hear her voice. It was cool and polite and the addition of her last name made it formal. "Good morning."
"I have a plan ready to present to you but I'm waiting for some return calls. After they come in, I'll stop over if that's all right. It should be about
—
"
"Are you free now? I can drop by and save you the trip."
"All right. I'd appreciate that. I'll see you in a short while." With a good-bye, she hung up.
Grey stared at the receiver before he returned it to the console.
Fifteen minutes later, he stepped off the elevator onto the floor where Sunrise Public Relations' offices were located, feeling he should have changed his khakis and polo shirt into a suit and tie. Stopping at the desk, he asked for Kit. The receptionist motioned him down the hall to the fourth door.
She sat behind her desk, shuffling through a folder. Today, she wore a boldly patterned gauzy blouse and skirt in shades of gold, bronze, and orange. Orange and gold beads hung around her neck and long matching earrings swayed against her hair as she leaned forward, studying the papers.
When he rapped on her door, the carousel mobile hanging from the corner of the ceiling caught his eye, and then the shelf in back of her desk with at least ten clown figurines. But his gaze gravitated back to her. She smiled, her blue eyes widened, and his heart seemed to skip a beat. Nah! Couldn't be. Must be his imagination.
But then the smile faded as she waved to the teal leather chair in front of her desk. "Thank you for coming." Pulling the folder closer to her, she lifted a typed sheet of paper and waited until he was seated. "This is the promotion campaign I've planned. The first thing I'd advise is developing a website. Along with that I'd like to see you send out fliers for a sales promotion each week. That day, anyone with a flier would get a ten percent discount on everything they buy. That will make customers read the fliers and of course you will have other items advertised on it also, larger items like lawn mowers, vacuum cleaners, etc. The volume of sales will more than make up for the discount."
"We run sales now...sporadically."
"Do you advertise?"
"In the newspaper."
"You need to get into your customers' homes. The website with coupons and the discount in the fliers will make them take a good look at what you have to offer."
"I've been meaning to do a website, just wasn't sure who to contact or exactly what to put on it. But I'm open to that." He crossed his ankle over his knee.
"Next, I know you want to keep the old fashioned flavor of the store. There are several ways to do that. I saw park benches out back in your storage area."
She met his gaze but all he could find was the public relations expert, not the woman he'd first met. "We don't sell many of them."
"I suggest you put two outside, one on either side of the store entrance. Let your customers use them to chit chat. I bet you'll sell more, as well as adding to the atmosphere you want to create."
"I should have thought of that," he murmured.
Without responding, she continued down her list. "Consider having a celebration called the 'Good Ole Days.'
One Saturday a month, you'll run a special sale
—
one in which certain items will be the same price that they were in the 1950's. You can plan these for the year and buy from your wholesalers accordingly. Use special discounts and promotions they give you and pass those
on
to your customers."
"That would be a draw into the store on an ongoing basis."
She finally smiled. "Exactly."
Their eyes collided, and Grey remembered the feel of her in his arms, the temptation to kiss her. Her smile was as radiant as sunshine.
But the sunshine faded, replaced by a seriousness that didn't seem to belong. She pushed a piece of paper toward him. "This is a cost break-out for what I've suggested. I have several more ideas that won't be too costly, but will bring in more business. I just wanted to give you a taste."
A taunting voice inside him asked, That's exactly what you'd like, wouldn't you? A taste. He leaned closer to the desk and studied the figures. "But, of course, I'll have to sign on the dotted line for those other ideas."
She sat back in her chair and dropped the sheet of ideas onto the folder. "Yes, you will."
"And you have something bigger than fliers and park benches up your sleeve, don't you?"
"Yes, I do."
Damn her professional attitude. He missed her friendliness, the connection they'd made from the moment he'd seen her in his store. The electricity was still there, but she'd put up a shield. It was his fault, but he still didn't like it. "And what's your fee?"
She pulled a sheaf of papers from the inside of the folder. "Take this along and read it. It's my standard contract. If you decide you want to sign it, give me a call. Sunrise will be glad to do business with you."
"Kit..."
She waited expectantly, her face a mask of professionalism.
He took the sheaf of papers from her hand. "I'll get back to you as soon as I decide."
Kit stood and extended her hand. "I look forward to doing business with you. I know I can help you save your store, Grey, if that's what you truly want."
He knew he wanted to save the store, but at this moment he wasn't sure that was what he wanted most. What he wanted had more to do with Kit and seeing her smile just for him.
Wednesday evening, Kit sat on the patio outside Maggie's house in Maple Grove and noticed the smile on her sister's face as she watched Eric paint the picket fence
half
way down the yard. "You're really happy, aren't you?" Kit asked, suspecting the answer.
"I've never been this happy."
"Eric is a special man."
"His mother called last night. She invited us to come up to Connecticut over Labor Day."
"It was obvious at the wedding that she's coming to love you as much as Eric. She's so gracious and...independent. So unlike Mom."
Maggie sighed. "All my life I've wished things could have been different in our family. But 'could-have-beens' don't work for me anymore. I love my life now. I wouldn't change a thing."
Their father had died while they were in college. Their mother had passed away only two years ago. Sadness remained, but Maggie and Kit had gone on to find their own lives. There was only one thing now that Kit suspected Maggie would change. "You want to have children, don't you?"
"Eric and I have been talking about it."
"How does he feel?"
"I think he'd like a big family. He wants to buy another house with more space, but I want to stay here. My business is here. My clients know where I am. I like this area and the neighbors."
A C.P.A., Maggie liked having her business in her home. She'd been set up for four years before she met Eric eighteen months ago when his law firm had hired her to do their bookkeeping. When they decided to get married, he'd given up his condo and moved in with her. Maggie didn't take to change easily. Kit adapted much more quickly. But then she'd been the one who conformed to no one's standards but her own. She'd never tried to be the perfect child as Maggie had.
Eric came toward them and wiped the sweat from his brow. "I think that's enough for tonight." He dabbed a smudge of white paint on his wife's nose. "It looks better on you than on the fence."
She jabbed him in the ribs and didn't try to wipe the paint from her nose.
Eric sat down next to his wife in a webbed lawn chair. Taking Maggie's hand, he put it on his jean-clad thigh, covering it with his, then turned to Kit. "So, did you get the Corey account?"
She shrugged. "I don't know yet. Grey's looking over the contract."
"What did you think of Grey?" her brother-in-law asked casually.
That wasn't an easy question. "He's an interesting man."
Eric raised a brow and caught the look Kit exchanged with Maggie. "Um. I have a feeling my wife knows more about this than I do."
Eric knew Kit and Maggie confided in each other. Soon after he'd married Maggie, he'd told Kit he didn't expect Maggie to reveal any of her sister's secrets. He respected their closeness. But so far there hadn't been any secrets. "There's nothing to know," Kit said.
"I liked him," Maggie offered. "You two danced well together."
Kit remembered the dancing, the closeness, and the conversation.
Eric nudged Maggie. "She's not talking. That means something."
Maggie scolded, "Don't tease."
Kit shifted restlessly in her chair, knowing the couple meant well. "Look, you two. Grey's an attractive, intelligent man. But I'm not ready to get involved with anyone. I'm not ready to trust another man."
"Sometimes being 'ready' doesn't count for much," Maggie said softly.
Maggie had insisted she wasn't ready for love when Eric walked into her life. Look what had happened between them! Yet despite being sisters, Kit knew she was different from Maggie. She was bossier, more assertive. Not as easy to love. She didn't even know why she was thinking about loving again. She'd just met Grey. Yes, she was attracted to him. But that's all it was
—
attraction. And apparently he was already involved with someone. No way would she set a foot into that kind of mess.
Kit stood. "I'd better get going."
"I didn't mean to chase you away," Eric said.
"You're not. I have some work to do at home."
Maggie and Eric exchanged a look that said they didn't believe her. But she did have work to do. And right now work was a better alternative than thinking about the reaction Grey caused within her, let alone analyzing it with her sister and her husband.