by Gemma Bruce
The women in the other cars began setting up card tables of food and drink. And J.T. began composing her next article.
They were sitting on car bumpers, blankets on asphalt, and the few patches of grass, eating dinner, watching the fireball of sun dip behind the mountains, when Bernie’s car drove up. The passenger door opened, and Bernie hoisted his cast out of the car.
Tommy and J.T. went to help him with his crutches. J.T felt a little awkward, but she knew she’d have to face Bernie sooner or later, and she didn’t want to put it off any longer.
“I’m okay, damn it,” Bernie groused. “Remember your manners and open Thelma’s door like the gentleman you were taught to be.”
“Thelma’s with you?”
“She drove me.”
Tommy sprinted around the front of the car to open the driver’s door. He offered Thelma his arm and eased her out of the car.
“Well, well,” she said, looking over the people and the burned-out building. She turned to J.T. “I’m glad you had the fortitude to stick it out. Tommy might not have his dream come true if you hadn’t.”
“Really. I didn’t…”
“And everybody here is well aware of it. I hope you’re not planning on leaving too soon. I’d like to have you and Tommy for dinner one evening.”
“I…”
“But first, there’s something I need to discuss with Tommy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“I never imagined that one of my children would bring me to this.”
J.T.’s stomach clenched. What did she mean? It was too late to take back the property, wasn’t it?
“Larry isn’t talking, but I have my suspicions about who’s behind these incidences. Maybe not directly, but he condoned it. I imagine he’ll cut a deal likely as not, but I have his promise to resign as mayor. Not drag this thing on forever. He just got his teeth into an idea and couldn’t let go. Vanity more than anything else I expect.”
Her lip twitched at the corner. “I’d hate to see him go to jail. But if he’s guilty, he will. Just like everybody else. I just wanted to tell you that I’m sorry. You, too, Bernie.”
“Thelma, you don’t have to.”
“I know, but I want to. It’s what an honest person does. And I’m honest. Unfortunately, I managed not to pass that along to Charlie.”
J.T. and Tommy both protested, but Thelma waved them aside. “He’s an adult. He’ll face the consequences. I want to make that clear. Maybe he’ll learn something along the way.
“Now I have something to say to you, Bernie.”
“Don’t start with me, Thelma. I fell off a ladder. Plain and simple.” He shot a look toward J.T. and Tommy, daring them not to argue. “Maybe Charlie was in on the other stuff, maybe he wasn’t. No lasting harm came of it. Sanchez is going to start practice next week.”
Thelma nodded. “That’s good, but that’s not what I’ve got to say.”
Bernie heaved a long-suffering sigh.
“What I’ve got to say is that you’ve let Gilbey Field run to seed. I’ve never seen such disgraceful bleachers. The grass is half-dead, you need a new organ, and that Beavers costume has to be thirty years old.”
“Well, that’s just great, Thelma. Why don’t you talk to the owners? They haven’t pumped squat into this team in years. They’re using us as a tax loss.”
“That’s just what my lawyers said. So I took some of that outrageous amount Tommy paid for this dinosaur and bought fifty-one percent of the team. I want my own box. A real box.”
Nobody moved. Nobody spoke, just gaped at her.
Finally J.T. broke ranks and threw her arms around Thelma’s neck. “Thelma, you’re the best.”
Thelma snorted. “I may not be the best, but I’m the boss.”
“Damn,” said Bernie.
“Looks like the Beavers will be getting a face-lift.” Tommy leaned over and kissed Thelma’s cheek.
“You’re darn straight they are. I’ve got a list in my purse. Come on, Bernie. We’ve got work to do.”
Bernie rolled his eyes but followed.
Thelma stopped. “It occurs to me that the town will be needing a new mayor. One that has the whole town’s best interest at heart. Rich and poor, old and new.”
Tommy automatically started shaking his head.
“That’s a great idea,” said J.T.
Tommy shook his head more vehemently.
“But a mayor needs a wife by his side. I always told Charlie that. He didn’t believe me. So if you ever think about running for mayor, Tommy, you better get yourself a wife first.”
Then she winked at him. His mouth fell open and Thelma took the arm and crutch Bernie offered her and let him escort her away.
“Mayor, huh?” said J.T., knowing she was blushing. Thelma had been as subtle as a grand slam.
“Not me. I’ll have my hands full getting the center up and running. But I could use someone to write copy for me. Not brochures. I’ll hire a specialist for that. But someone to do the human-interest stories. Keep us in the people’s minds. I’ve already gotten a donation.”
“Tommy, that’s great.”
“It was because of that article you wrote.”
“No way.”
“It was. The donor said so. I figure…oh hell, J. T., I’d like you to stay. I know that isn’t fair to ask. You have your job in Atlanta and everything, but—you could write from here, go on the road when you had to. Pursue other avenues, freelance, write a book. And besides…” He grinned. “Down the road, I might decide to run for mayor.” He raised his eyebrows at her, over-the-top innocence.
Neither of them was ready for anything drastic yet. She certainly wasn’t. She had a career to redirect.
“Hell, J.T., marry me.”
“Tommy. We’ve only known each other a few weeks.”
“It feels like a lifetime.”
“Is that a compliment or a complaint?”
Tommy shrugged. “How about sticking around for another lifetime and find out.”
She just looked at him.
“And don’t you dare say you can’t because the Coach has always told you to get married and have grandsons.”
“I wouldn’t…” she began.
“We can have all girls.”
“How many are we talking about?”
“Eleven. Thirteen? We’ll need a couple of pinch hitters and a utility infielder. But hey. We’ll have the only team in the league where the players call their coach Daddy.”
It was a huge step. But forward or back? Was she just putting her life in another coach’s hands?
“Nope,” he said, reading her mind. “Fifty-fifty. All the way. Say yes, Jessica Tiffany.”
Chapter 32
The Beavers finished a respectable third in their league that season. At the end of September, renovations began on the clubhouse.
The marriage of Jessica Tiffany Green and Thomas Reid Bainbridge took place a week before the World Series, and a week after the groundbreaking ceremonies of the Michael Bainbridge Community Center.
Tommy’s mother put her foot down. Tommy could only add her name once she and Michael were united again. She got her way.
It was a quiet wedding, but the reception list was so long they cut their cake at home plate, while the whole population of Gilbeytown and a battery of camera crews stood on the newly sodded field and toasted their health.
So while fans from around the country stood in line to enter the stadium to watch the best two teams in America vie for the national championship, the newlyweds honeymooned in Acapulco. J.T. heard there was a schoolteacher who’d organized a girl’s softball program in a village nearby and she wanted to write an article about it. Tommy just wanted to be with J.T.
They wrote and read and lazed in their ocean cabana, sipping champagne while the sun set over the Pacific Rim.
And if they were curious as to which team won the pennant and walked away with the trophy, they didn’t show it. They were too busy making little trophies of their own
.
BRAVA BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
850 Third Avenue
New York, NY 10022
Copyright © 2008 Gemma Bruce
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Brava and the B logo are Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
ISBN: 0-7582-3748-0
