She’d probably made things worse by assuring him that Neil would be arriving any minute. Now, if he didn’t show up, it would destroy what little progress she and Oliver had made.
Fortunately, just when she was about to call the kids up, she noticed Neil’s Jeep pulling into the parking lot. She breathed a grateful sigh of relief.
“Oliver,” she said, pointing. “Look who’s here!”
Oliver’s sulky face lit up. “Neil!” He scooted down the sidewalk, making a beeline for his hero. The man knelt, and the child took a flying leap into his arms. “Neil! Neil!”
“Hiya, buddy. Sorry I’m late.”
Oliver didn’t answer, but he didn’t have to. His beaming face made it clear that all was forgiven. Must be nice, Maggie thought, to have a little kid run like that to meet you, grinning as if you were Christmas and summer vacation all rolled up into one human being.
As Neil walked closer, Maggie’s eyes widened.
“Oh.” Even getting that syllable out was tough. “Wow.”
The shirt he was wearing sported huge, intensely yellow birds on a background of bright pink and purple flowers. It was a knock-your-eyes-out, look-at-me kind of shirt. On Neil Hamilton, it packed an additional punch because it was so...unexpected.
She wasn’t the only one having some trouble. Neil’s gaze skimmed her, and she had the satisfaction of seeing him blink hard as if to double-check his vision.
“Wow yourself,” he said quietly. “You look...amazing.”
“Thanks.” And just like that, the dress ricocheted right back up to the top of her favorites list. Her lips curved. “Amazing seems to be the word of the day. I guess this solves the mystery of why you were late. Went shopping, did you?”
He gave her a slow grin. “What makes you think that?”
“That shirt isn’t exactly something I’d picture hanging in your closet.”
“Maybe you don’t know me as well as you think you do.”
“Nice try.” Maggie reached out and snapped off the price tag dangling under Neil’s sleeve. She squinted at it and winced. “Ouch. Please tell me you got this awful thing on sale.”
“You know, I’m starting to think you don’t like my new look.” He glanced down at Oliver, who was tracing a bright beak with one stubby fingertip. “You like my shirt, don’t you, buddy?”
The little boy looked up at Neil, his eyes wide. “Whoa.”
Neil guffawed, and Maggie laughed with him. As she did, Oliver met her eyes, his face crinkled with joy. “Whoa!” He clapped his hands and giggled. “Whoa, Maggie!”
“That’s right, sweetheart.” She struggled to get the words around the happy lump that had formed in her throat. “That shirt is a whoa if I’ve ever seen one.”
Neil smiled at her. “It’s not a grass skirt, but it’s the best I could do on such short notice.”
“It’s perfect,” Maggie assured him. “Absolutely perfect.”
Chapter Nine
Neil chuckled at Maggie’s choice of words. No, it wasn’t perfect. It was—What was that word his prim grandmother had been so fond of?
Tacky.
He’d thought his new shirt was bright in the shady cabin, but out here in the intense June sunshine, it went way beyond that. He’d chosen it with Maggie in mind, figuring they’d have a good-natured argument about which of their shirts was the most obnoxious. Even though this was easily the most over-the-top thing he’d ever laid eyes on, he’d had no confidence that he’d win the contest. Maggie, he knew, tended to go all out.
She had again today, but she’d taken it in a whole different direction. Instead of a silly getup, she’d gone with a rosy floral dress that clung gently to her curves, and she wore her hair down in a cascade of ruddy curls. A large white flower drooped sweetly beside one ear, and she wore a matching garland around her neck.
No, today Maggie didn’t look silly at all. She looked incredible.
The woman standing in front of him sure didn’t belong in a high school parking lot. She belonged on some tropical beach at sunset. He could picture her walking along the surf while seagulls dipped over the ocean, catching the last of the light on their wings. He saw the scene clearly in his mind’s eye... Maggie, sandals dangling from one hand, laughing up at the man she loved, bumping into him playfully as she dodged a wave.
Knowing Maggie, she’d smell like coconut macaroons, and she’d have packed a picnic lunch.
“Neil? Is everything okay?” He blinked. Maggie was looking at him funny.
“What? Oh, yeah. Absolutely.” If you don’t count the fact that every time I look at you in that outfit, I feel like a boxer just sucker punched me in the stomach.
He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt so bowled over by a woman.
No, that wasn’t true. He remembered, all right.
It had been an ordinary day, and he’d been running late, as usual. He’d strode out to his car, coffee in hand, leather case full of graded papers slung over one shoulder. He’d glanced back and seen Laura standing in the doorway, her hands cupped over her rounded belly.
Slow down, Prof, she’d called. You’re forgetting something.
He’d grinned and jogged back up the steps to kiss his wife goodbye. And for a second, looking down into her face, he’d felt...awed. Standing there on the doorstep, Neil had thanked God with his whole heart for the blessings he’d been given.
Now get to work. Laura had given him a playful push. Those kids aren’t going to teach themselves.
So he’d left for school—his wallet forgotten on the bedside table. And the next time he’d seen Laura—
He flinched from the memory. “I guess we’d better get to work,” he said abruptly. “Am I on drink duty again?”
Maggie shot a look at the table. Angelo was presiding behind it, swathed in a large apron, his bald head perspiring.
“The kids can get their own drinks today. Angelo’s got some sort of glitch with the fruit salad, and he needs you to help him. Oliver?” She looked hopefully at the boy, perched on Neil’s forearm. “Want to come stand with me at the front of the line?”
She held out her hands, but Oliver frowned and laid his head against Neil’s chest. “Neil,” he said firmly.
“All right.” Maggie’s hopeful expression faded into resignation. “You can help Neil. Angelo—” She lifted her voice. “No yelling, okay? Not at the kids, not at Neil. I mean it.” Angelo’s only response was an irritated wave. Maggie lowered her voice and leaned close to him. She did smell like coconut—mixed with something spicy and sweet. “Have fun,” she murmured wryly. She beckoned to the students. “Come and get it, guys!”
Neil moved behind the table to stand beside Angelo. He set Oliver next to him on the ground, and the toddler became absorbed with playing with one of the big plastic flamingos in the shrubbery.
“So?” Neil asked pleasantly. “What’s the problem with the fruit salad?”
The older man shot him a narrow look. “I yell at you, you gonna get your feelings hurt?”
Neil shrugged. “You can yell if you want to. It won’t bother me, but it won’t get these lunches fixed any faster, either.” He surveyed the setup—large plastic platters full of bite-size treats. “This is different from last time.”
“It’s like a sack-lunch buffet,” Angelo explained gruffly. “I thought it’d be a nice change and cut down on waste. The kids get to pick what they want to put in their bag. I got ham rolls and pigs in a blanket and grilled pineapple bites with bacon, and I got four different flavors of chips. Now, that right there in those little cups is the ambrosia fruit salad, and that’s our problem. Inez, my part-time help at the bakery, forgot to put the cherries in. She can’t help forgetting stuff. She’s old.” He nudged a big jar of maraschino cherries toward Neil, along with a spoon. “You’re gonna fix ’em. Open them up and put a cherry in, then snap
’em closed again. Think you can manage that?”
Neil frowned. The little cups were already capped and stacked. Seemed a waste of time to open them all up just to add one additional bit of fruit. “Why—?”
“My ambrosia always has cherries!” Angelo interrupted loudly. He shot an apprehensive look at Maggie, who was marshaling the students into a line. “If I was serving these fruit cups at the bakery, I’d fix ’em right, so we’re going to fix ’em here. These kids ain’t got much, and Angelo’s ain’t giving them a sloppy lunch.” The older man jutted his chin out as if daring him to argue.
Neil grinned. What had Maggie called her surly employer? Big old ball of mush. Looked like she was right.
“You’re the boss. You say everybody gets a cherry, then everybody gets a cherry.”
“You might have a little sense after all,” Angelo grunted grudgingly. “Now stop talking and get working, smart guy. Thanks to you, we’re running late.” The bakery owner wrinkled his nose. “And just so’s you know, that shirt wasn’t worth it.”
Neil unscrewed the lid of the cherry jar without answering. He hadn’t corrected Maggie when she’d assumed that he was late because he’d been buying this obnoxious shirt. The truth was, he’d bought the shirt on the way home from Story Time at the library.
He’d been late this morning because he’d had a virtual interview for one of the jobs he’d applied for online.
It had been a weird experience, interviewing over the internet, but as near as he could tell, it seemed to have gone well. The guy on his computer screen had ended the meeting by praising the curriculum company he worked for, and Neil figured that wouldn’t have happened if there wasn’t going to be a job offer upcoming.
That was good news because it was a primo job. Nice pay, excellent benefits, located in Charleston. He’d be developing history curriculum for high schools, and if teaching was off the table, that was a pretty sweet second choice.
The guy doing the interview had frowned when Neil hadn’t had any questions—and he’d devoted a few additional minutes to upselling his company. Neil could’ve saved him the time. His hurry to finish the interview hadn’t had anything to do with doubts about retirement benefits or vacation days.
He hadn’t liked the idea of keeping Maggie waiting—of disappointing her.
“This ain’t rocket science.” Angelo interrupted Neil’s thoughts. “Speed it up. You’re making folks wait.”
The older man had a point. The line was moving along quickly, and he was getting behind on cherry duty.
“You showed up after all.” Neil glanced up to see Dex across the table, two lunch sacks in his hands.
“Yep. Here.” Neil wiped his sticky fingers, then dug in his pocket and produced a folded piece of paper. “I roughed out what you need to do to make up the work you missed. It’s all on this paper, along with my email address and my cell number. I’ve cleared it with Principal Aniston, and we’re good to go.”
Dex unfolded the paper and looked at it incredulously. “Seriously? I do the stuff on this list, I’ll pass?”
“That’s the deal. You can pace the work to suit yourself—as fast or as slow as you want. If you have any problems with the assignments, just give me a call and we’ll hash it out.” Neil held two containers toward Dex, then snatched them back. “Hang on a minute. Angelo—any milk products in this?”
“Nope.”
Neil offered the cups to Dex. “All good.”
The boy accepted them and placed them in his sacks. Neil’s eyes moved to the next kids in line. Almost everybody had collected their lunches now.
Which was a good thing. He was almost out of cherries, and he didn’t want to face Angelo if he gave out a serving of fruit salad without one. He glanced back to find that Dex hadn’t budged. The boy met his eyes with an impressive intensity.
“Look, Iceman. I don’t know if you’re just helping me to impress Maggie or what. But I ain’t playing around, and I need to know you aren’t. I need to pass this class.”
Neil met his gaze squarely. “I’m not playing, Dex. I’ll help you. I should have helped you before. I didn’t know about—I didn’t know.”
Dex nodded shortly. “I guess we’ll see, then. I’m going to do my part. You got my word on that. I know I’ve messed stuff up in the past, but now that I have Rory to look after, I need to get things right. When you got a little kid like him, who looks up to you, it makes a difference. You’ll do anything it takes.”
Neil’s eyes dropped to Oliver, who was having a staring contest with a flamingo, and then flickered over to Maggie. She was fiddling with the flower in her hair while she talked to the last couple of girls in line. “Yeah. I can understand that.”
“Dex, hurry up. You’re blocking the drinks,” a kid complained.
Dex moved on, but Neil noticed that he halted at the end of the table and carefully refolded the paper. He stowed it in his pocket before heading down the sidewalk with his lunches.
When the last kids had been served, Maggie walked over.
“Great job! Angelo, the kids loved the buffet idea. All that’s left is cleanup, and we’re done. Oliver, want to help me gather up all the birdies?”
He considered her for a minute, and his eyes slid over to Neil.
“I’m going to be cleaning the tables with Mr. Angelo,” Neil pointed out. “Boring.”
“Birdies,” Oliver decided. Maggie beamed, and he felt that sucker punch hit his gut again.
The woman sure was beautiful when she smiled like that.
He watched the two of them wander along the shrubbery, picking up the leaning flamingos. Maggie carried on an animated conversation. Oliver wasn’t answering, but he seemed to be listening.
“You gonna help or you just gonna stand there?” Angelo asked.
“Sorry.” Neil reached under the table for the coolers they’d stashed. He popped one open and started stowing away the few leftovers.
“I wasn’t too sure about you,” Angelo said after a minute, “but maybe you’re all right. That little one there—” he jerked his chin in Oliver’s direction “—he’s a lot like me. He don’t take to many people.” The baker paused. “He likes you.”
“I like him, too.”
“It’s a good thing you’re doing, helping Maggie with him.”
“I’m enjoying it.” That was true, Neil realized with surprise. He’d had fun picking out this absurd shirt. Setting up that independent study for Dex had felt pretty good, too.
“She’s worked for me since she was fifteen, Maggie has.” Angelo thumped the lid down on a cooler. “She drives me up a wall half the time, but she’s the closest thing to family I got. The way I see it, you help Maggie out, you help me out. So, you come by Angelo’s anytime, and you’ll get your coffee for free.”
Neil lifted an eyebrow. “You don’t have to do that.”
“You don’t have to do what you’re doing, neither. I just got two conditions.”
“What’s that?”
“First, you don’t tell Maggie. She already has me giving away food to half this town, telling people how sweet I am.” Angelo made a disgusted noise. “If she finds out about this, I’ll never hear the end of it.”
Neil grinned. Angelo was probably right. “Fair enough. What’s the second condition?”
“Don’t wear that shirt in my bakery. You do, and forget about free—I’m charging you double. It gives me a headache. Why’d you buy that ugly thing, anyhow?”
Neil glanced at Maggie. She was laughing at something Oliver had done, and she touched the tip of his nose with a playful finger.
“Maggie put the idea in my head,” he admitted. “She has a knack for talking people into things.”
Angelo barked a laugh and slapped Neil on the back so hard that the spoon he was holding clattered down onto the table.
“Tell me abo
ut it,” the old man murmured as he bent to pick up another cooler.
* * *
Three days later, Maggie lugged the canvas case holding Angelo’s new event tent out across the lush grass of Cedar Ridge’s Puppy Park. Oliver walked beside her, clutching a sippy cup of milk.
“Neil?” the toddler asked hopefully for the tenth time since she’d buckled him in the van that morning.
“He’ll be here, sweetie. Any minute.”
“Okay.” Oliver nodded earnestly. “In a minute.” He reached out and took Maggie’s free hand. Startled, she glanced down. The toddler trudged ahead, swigging his cup, as if holding her hand wasn’t any big deal.
Except, of course, it was.
Maggie blinked back tears. Oliver had come such a long way. They weren’t there yet, but these little improvements happened more and more frequently—especially, she noticed, when there was a prospect of seeing Neil.
Oliver hadn’t shown much interest in coming today, not even when she’d mentioned the dogs—until she’d told him that Neil would be there. Then the little boy had hopped up from the kitchen table, hooting happily.
He sure brightens up when he hears Neil’s name, doesn’t he? Maggie had asked Ruby wistfully.
Ruby’s faded eyes had twinkled. He ain’t the only one, I notice.
Maggie had shot her foster mother an exasperated look. Don’t start being silly.
Silly? Ruby had sipped innocently from her coffee mug. Oh, no. I wouldn’t want to be silly. So, you gonna wear a pretty dress to this shindig, too? Or do you only dress up fancy to pass out sack lunches?
Maggie had stuck out her tongue and quietly changed her plans to wear her new blouse. Instead, she went for a simple T-shirt and shorts. She even painted a goofy paw print on one cheek just so Ruby would know there was absolutely nothing silly going on.
And there wasn’t. Sure, she liked Neil Hamilton. How could she not? He was a very kind man who was going out of his way to help her. And yes, maybe she’d had a few romantic thoughts about him, but they didn’t mean anything. How could they? She wasn’t looking for a relationship, and even if she was, she couldn’t afford to complicate her life right now. Besides, she and Neil were so different—he was all scholarly and bookish, and she hadn’t taken a class since high school. He’d never be interested in somebody like her, so Ruby might as well get that hopeful gleam out of her eye.
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