“Mom doesn’t play games.” Caden found a pad of paper under the directions in the box. “Oh, look!”
The pad bore at least a dozen sheets of scores. Her name and Landon’s. Sometimes his mom had played too. Bailey had always been too active to sit still for a board game.
“Those are sure old,” Landon said.
“Notice who always won,” Sam couldn’t help adding.
Caden flipped through the pages while Landon placed a word adjacent to Caden’s.
“Sheesh, did you ever beat her, Landon?”
“Mr. Reed,” Sam corrected.
“It’s okay,” he said. “She can call me Landon.”
“You call him Landon when you tell me stories, Mom.”
Landon drew four tiles. “Stories?”
Judging by the heat in her face, Sam knew it was turning pink. Somehow admitting she’d told Caden their stories was like admitting he’d been the cornerstone of her childhood. She didn’t know why that embarrassed her.
“Oh, sure, Mom’s told me all about you. She told me about the time capsule, and about that night crawler you dug up that was the size of a snake, and about the time she rode on your handlebars and got her foot stuck in the spokes.”
Sam studied the letters on her rack, carefully avoiding Landon’s eyes.
“She did, huh?”
Sam picked up her tiles and arranged a word.
Coop
. “Double word score,” she said.
“Did she mention I warned her about the perils of riding on handlebars?” Landon asked.
She’d only been eight or nine, and she thought it would be great fun to ride on the handlebars. Barefoot.
“She said you were always trying to talk her out of stuff.” Caden tucked her golden hair behind her ear.
“He was a chicken,” Sam said.
“I was cautious. And for good reason. You broke your big toe, if I remember right.”
“Small price to pay,” she said. “Your turn, Caden.” Sam drew three tiles and arranged them on the rack.
“Did she tell you about the time she dug up Miss Biddle’s flowers?”
Caden smiled. “No!”
“I didn’t dig them up; I just picked them. And only the roses.”
“Her
prized
roses.”
Sam shrugged. “I had good taste.”
“Why’d you do it, Mom? Did you get in trouble?” Caden added two letters to make the word
mob
. “Triple letter on the
m
.”
“It was my mom’s birthday,” Landon said.
“Miss Biddle wasn’t too happy, either.” When Mrs. Reed took Sam over to apologize, Miss Biddle had surveyed the mess, her eyes watering like a sick puppy’s. It was the year before Sam’s dad died. “Miss Biddle didn’t tell my mom and dad. She always had a soft heart.”
“She put a gate around her garden, though,” Landon said.
Sam laughed, and it felt good. When had she last laughed?
They played until all the tiles had been drawn and no more words could be formed. It was no surprise to anyone when Caden tallied the scores that Sam had won. But Caden had come within four points of beating her.
“Caden, it looks like you inherited your mom’s knack for the game.”
“I guess she has.” Sam helped her put away the pieces. She needed more times like this with her daughter. Back home it seemed she was forever playing the bad guy.
Caden, go clean your room. Caden, brush
your teeth. Caden, do your homework.
Why was it so hard to have moments like this with her?
Max barked. He sat at the door, his head cocked toward them.
“You need to go out, buddy?” Landon stood.
“Can I take him?” Caden asked.
“Sure.” Landon put the Scrabble game under the TV console while Caden left.
Sam stood and stretched, her right arm and lower back already aching from the painting. They’d finished the first coat, and she figured she’d wait a couple of days on the second coat. Her muscles thanked her.
“I appreciate all your help today,” Sam said. Truthfully, work aside, it was the best day she’d had in a long time. She’d never had a friend like Landon, someone she felt so comfortable with. He knew her inside and out and liked her anyway, and she experienced a certain security in that.
He leaned over the stereo. Turning it up, he faced Sam, smiling. “Remember this one?”
It was “I Can Love You Like That.” She hadn’t heard it in years. Not since the week before their senior prom. Landon had planned to take Bekah Ward, a pretty girl who had a crush on him through most of high school. He finally asked her to prom, then admitted to Sam he didn’t know how to dance.
“Don’t be silly,” she’d said. “Give me your hand.” His parents had taken the boat out, Bailey was on a date, and they had the little Reed cottage to themselves.
Once she was in his arms, she swayed with the music, her feet shuffling back and forth. He was stiff as a statue.
He stepped on her foot. “Ouch,” she said.
He chuckled. “I warned you.”
“Loosen up. Let your knees and hips move.”
“I can’t.” His breath tickled her ears.
“Of course you can. Close your eyes. Listen to the music. Feel it. Move with it.” She closed her eyes, but instead of hearing the music, she heard his heart. Instead of feeling the music, she felt the warmth of his body.
Sam opened her eyes, looking over his shoulder but seeing nothing. Her palms grew clammy, and she swallowed. Their movements grew subtler. He was moving with her now. “That’s better,” she rasped. His hand settled on the small of her back, and she fought the urge to arch closer.
What was getting into her?
This is Landon. Your best friend, Sam.
“See?” She pulled away, out of his arms. “That’s all there is to it.”
He thanked her for the lesson, but a week later, when she sat home thinking of Bekah in his arms, she wondered who’d learned a lesson that night.
“I guess I was a real klutz back then,” he was saying now.
“Bekah didn’t seem to think so.” Did she sound snarky? She smiled to soften the comment. The Monday after prom, Bekah bragged about Landon’s good night kiss. Sam had
wanted to slap the silly smile off her face. That’s when she knew she was in trouble.
Landon cocked his head, studying her. The soft glow from the table lamp turned his skin golden brown.
Sam shifted under his scrutiny and looked away, feeling her skin heat.
“I wanted to ask you, you know.”
The timbre of his voice beckoned her attention. “Why didn’t you?”
The corners of his mouth tucked in. “You’d been my best friend all my life, and suddenly I was thinking of you in a different way. I was afraid of what you’d think.” He lifted a shoulder. “Afraid you didn’t feel the same way.”
What would she have said if he’d asked her? She remembered the dance they shared in this very room all those years ago. Her own feelings were changing then; she just hadn’t wanted to admit it.
“I did finally outgrow my two left feet.” He reached over and turned the volume up. All-4-One belted out the chorus.
Sam knew what was coming next. It was time to leave. Before she turned to pick up her purse, he spoke.
“Let me prove it.” He held his hands out to her, palms up.
All she had to do was step into his arms. Put one foot in front of the other and slip her hand into his. She could lay her head on his shoulder and lose herself in the strength of his embrace. She could forget about her pile of debts and the stress of raising a child alone. She could just follow someone else’s lead for a change.
Sam remembered the way she felt when she first danced with him for those brief moments. She remembered that night out on the ocean when he told her he loved her. She remembered the fear that sprang up from deep inside.
“I should be going.” Sam retrieved her purse. “I have to get an early start in the morning.” She turned toward the door, seeing his hands drop to his sides.
“Thanks again for your help today,” she said, opening the door. Max was sprinting up the porch steps ahead of Caden, and Sam let him pass. “Time to go, Caden.” She crossed the lawn, hearing her daughter’s footsteps behind her, swishing through the grass as Sam fled into the darkness.
S
am was prying the lid from the paint bucket the next day when Max darted into the yard, his owner following.
“Max!” Caden called from the end of the pier. “Come ’ere, boy!” Max ran, his paws clattering across the boards. He stopped just short of jumping on Caden, and she rewarded him with a hug.
“’Morning,” Landon said.
Sam stripped the lid from the bucket and set it in the grass next to the Adirondack chairs. “Good morning.” He looked good in the dusty blue T-shirt and jean shorts. Too good. She’d thought about him until past midnight. The scene in his living room had replayed in her head, and because she tossed and turned, she slept in and was getting a late start.
She wiped down one chair with a wet rag to prepare it for the paint.
Landon put his hands on his hips and eyed the extra brush she’d brought out for Caden.
“I don’t expect you to help, Landon. I know you have a life.” She turned the chair over and wiped the underside.
“I want to.”
And I want you to keep your distance.
Yesterday had shown her how vulnerable she was still. After all these years, they picked up right where they’d left off. As much as the friendship pulled her, the deeper feelings he evoked made her want to hightail it back to Boston.
When she dropped the rag and reached for the brush, Landon picked up the discarded cloth and began cleaning the second chair. She filled her brush and slathered paint on the wood.
A few minutes later Landon dropped the rag and picked up Caden’s brush.
“Have you considered keeping the house?”
“No.”
He swiped the paint neatly along the wooden slats. “Why not?”
Sam shrugged. “My life is in Boston.”
“Doesn’t have to be.”
Keeping the house had never even occurred to Sam, and she didn’t plan on considering it now. Besides, it wasn’t as if she could afford living here. “I never wanted to stay here. You know that.”
He took his time trimming the edge of the chair’s arm, his tongue caught between his lips. “Emmett’s gone.”
“The memories aren’t.” If she was honest, they were with her even in Boston. Landon tossed her a look, but she turned to load up her brush.
“You could make good memories here. You and Caden.” When she didn’t answer, he continued. “All the memories aren’t bad. We had good times.”
In her desperation to escape her house, the outdoors and Landon’s house had been her sanctuary. He’d been her refuge, her comfort, her safety.
Then he’d left.
“Selling is the right thing. Once we get it fixed up, it’ll bring a pretty penny.” Then she and Caden could go back to Boston and wait for the sale. When the money came in, Caden’s future would be secure.
Landon dropped the subject, and they finished painting in silence. After setting the chairs in the sun to dry, they put the first coat of gray on the small shed. When the wind blew the door shut, they discovered it locked automatically, so they propped it open with a rock. Afterward, Landon secured the wobbly porch railing while she worked on the flower beds.
Sam was tilling the soil when she heard a friendly voice call out. She turned and watched Melanie jog up the drive, cute in her baby-blue shorts set.
“Wow, the house is looking fabulous, Samantha.” She wiped a dot of perspiration from her forehead, her breathing labored.
“I didn’t realize you lived nearby.” Sam set the cultivator against the porch rail and pulled off her gloves.
“Yeah, not quite a mile away.” Melanie put her hands on her slim hips. “You’ve come a long way in a short time.”
“You haven’t seen the inside. I haven’t done a thing in there.”
“Hi, Landon.” Melanie smiled, all dimples.
“Hi there. How’s Taffy’s ear?” Landon asked.
“Oh, just fine. Those drops you gave her are doing the trick.” She turned to Sam. “Hey, Samantha, I was wondering if Caden would like to come over sometime. Amber loves to have friends over, and I was thinking Caden might like a change of scenery now and then.”
“I’m sure she’d like that. Just give us a call when you’re ready.”
“Great.” Melanie backed away. “Well, I’d better get back to it before I lose my energy. See ya.”
Sam watched her go, her blond ponytail swinging rhythmically. Melanie would be an easy woman to dislike if she weren’t so nice.
Sam put her gloves back on.
“Is Melanie your Realtor?” Landon took the cultivator and picked up where she’d left off.
Sam grabbed the hoe and began defining the edges of the bed. “Yeah.”
“She’ll do a good job. She handles a lot of properties around here.”
They worked in silence for a while, and Sam couldn’t help but think about Melanie and Landon and how suited they were to one another. She was pert and blond, and he was tall and dark. She was a warm, likable person, and he deserved someone like her. Sam wondered if they’d ever gone out.