by Regina Hart
“I did.”
“I’m glad.” And very, very surprised.
“I got caught up with all my bills. I even went grocery shopping.” Simon made a face. “I’m not looking forward to doing that again.”
Darius paused. “Have you ever gone to the grocery store before?”
Simon shoved his hands into the front pockets of his gray winter coat. He jiggled the coins he kept in there. “About thirty-four years ago.”
Darius shouldn’t have been surprised. Growing up, he’d known who was in charge of the Knight family household, and it hadn’t been his father. Ethel must have felt as though she were a single mother with two children instead of a married woman raising a son with the help of another responsible adult.
He checked his watch. “I’d better get going.”
Simon held up a hand. “What about my helping with the fundraiser?”
How could he get out of this? “Peyton and I need to put together a group of people with various skills. How much experience do you have working with a project team?”
“Are you kidding?” Simon raised his brows. “I had a lot of coworkers when I worked for the post office. I know how to work with other people.”
How well had he worked with those people? Darius remembered his father coming home, complaining nonstop about everyone, from supervisors to customers.
“What skills would you bring to this fundraiser?”
Simon cocked his head. “Are you interviewing me for a job? I’m your father. Put me on the committee.”
“It doesn’t work that way.”
“It should.”
Darius checked his Timex again. He was going to be late. “I’m sorry you’re bored. But there are other things you can do.” Things that don’t involve me.
“Like what?”
“I don’t know.” Darius shrugged, spreading his arms wide. “Get a part-time job. Take up a hobby.”
“I want to work on the fundraiser.”
“Why?”
“You said I never got to know my family, that I was just a boarder in the house with you and your mother. I spent a lot of time this weekend thinking over what you said. I want a chance to correct that. This would give me that opportunity.”
Trapped by his own words. But was Simon sincere about making amends for past mistakes?
“All right.” Darius took a leap of faith. “You can be on the committee.”
With luck, he wouldn’t regret this decision.
Darius found Peyton sitting with Ms. Helen in the Guiding Light Community Center lobby. Her expression was warm and relaxed as she laughed at something the older woman had said. His heart squeezed.
She looked cool and professional in an orange sweater and dark green slacks. Minimal makeup accented her high cheekbones and her caramel eyes. Her mass of bright copper curls framed her heart-shaped face.
Peyton smiled as he approached. “Hi.”
“Sorry I’m late.” Darius kissed Ms. Helen’s cheek, then offered his arm to assist her to her feet.
He turned to Peyton. Should he kiss her, too? Perhaps not yet, not here. Their last night together came back in heated detail. Darius pushed his fists into the pockets of his black winter coat.
“I’ve only just arrived myself.” Peyton stood.
“We’ve been getting to know each other better.” Ms. Helen smiled at Peyton. “But in the interest of time, we should get started on the tour.” She led them across the lobby. “The first thing you should know about the center is that it opened January tenth, 1975.”
Darius and Peyton followed Ms. Helen into the activity room. Darius had been eighteen the last time he’d been in the center. Over the past sixteen years, the facilities had grown worn and much worse for wear. But otherwise the center was clean and cared for, and seemed more or less the same.
The large, rectangular activity room was the size of a ballroom but resembled a high school gym. Darius, Ean, Quincy, Jackson, and Vaughn used to play basketball here in the winter. The hardwood floor gleamed. The air was bloated with wood polish and antiseptic. At the front end of the room, four basketball hoops were suspended from the ceiling. Bins full of basketballs and volleyballs lined the near wall. Across the room were Ping-Pong and gaming tables as well as exercise equipment.
Peyton led them along the perimeter, pausing occasionally to skim the bulletin boards, check the locked supply cabinets, and test the water fountains. “What did the town do before the community center was built?”
Ms. Helen took them across the activity room to an exit door on the other side. “What most communities do—we relied on our churches and schools for our programs. But as Trinity Falls grew, the community had greater needs.”
“Such as what?” Peyton smiled her thanks as Darius held the door open for her and Ms. Helen to precede him into the study hall.
“Reemployment training.” Ms. Helen stopped in the middle of the study hall.
Darius stood beside Peyton. “The center allowed the town to provide technology training for adults and students. It also provides an opportunity for youth sports and senior programming.”
“And health and wellness programs for all ages,” Ms. Helen added.
Peyton adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “The center is even more critical to the community than I originally thought.”
Considering he’d directly benefited from the center, Darius regretted that he hadn’t paid more attention to its needs. He’d rectify that in the future, starting with his participation in the fundraiser.
Ms. Helen concluded the tour by introducing Peyton and Darius to the center’s director and some of its volunteers. They were thrilled about the fundraiser and anxious to help in any way they could.
Darius followed Peyton and Ms. Helen back to the lobby. He turned to Ms. Helen. “Are you sure you won’t join us for lunch at Books and Bakery?”
Ms. Helen looked from him to Peyton and back. Her brown eyes twinkled. “I’m having lunch with some friends here at the center. You two go and enjoy yourselves.”
Darius kissed the elderly lady’s cheek. “I’ll see you later.”
About thirty minutes later, Darius and Peyton were seated at a table at Books & Bakery after ordering chicken soups and turkey with provolone sandwiches. Darius had ignored the knowing looks from Doreen, Ean, Megan, and Ramona.
“I had an idea for the fundraiser while Ms. Helen was giving us a tour of the center.” Peyton dug into her soup.
“What?” Darius drank his iced tea.
“A birthday party and dance.” Peyton beamed at him. “January tenth, the day the center opened, is a Saturday in 2015, too. We should host the fundraiser then.”
Darius considered her announcement as he ate his soup. “That’s only five weeks away. Does it give us enough time?”
Her small body seemed to vibrate with enthusiasm. “We can make this work.”
“We could ask the center’s director to let us host the dance in their activity room. It’s large enough. And that way people can see where their donations are going.”
“That’s brilliant.” Peyton clapped her hands together. “We’ll charge an entry fee, which would include dinner. All proceeds will go to the community center.”
Discussions of what they would need, what it would cost, and potential event sponsors carried them through their meal.
Peyton pulled her electronic tablet from her purse. “We need to pick committee members.”
Darius took a deep drink of iced tea. The cool bite of it helped with what he was about to say. “My father volunteered for the committee. I’m sorry. I should have talked with you first. But he asked me as I was on my way to meet you.”
“I think it’s great that your father’s on the committee.” Peyton reached across the table, covering his hand with one of hers. Her touch sent a jolt through Darius, making him lose his train of thought. “My mother and I have volunteered together on a lot of committees. Those are some of my favorite memories.”
; Somehow, Darius didn’t think he’d have a similar experience with Simon. “How many other people should we get for the committee?”
Peyton gave that some thought. “Five. With you, me, and your father, that will give us eight members. If we need additional volunteers, they could help outside of the formal committee.”
“Good point.” Darius wrote in his reporter’s notebook. “I’ll come up with some more names.”
“I want to make sure the university is represented on the committee.” Peyton typed into her tablet. “We’re Trinity Falls residents, too. We should be involved in the center’s fundraiser. I’ll ask two other professors to participate.”
Her words put a damper on his mood. “Are you going to ask Vaughn?”
“That’s a great idea.” Peyton did more typing.
Darius’s grip on his pen tightened. She’d misunderstood him. “Is there something going on between the two of you?”
Peyton blinked her surprise. “You and I had something before Thanksgiving break. How many ‘somethings’ do you think I could have at one time?”
“You’ve spent a lot of time with him.”
“Are you jealous?” Peyton’s eyes widened with disbelief.
“Yes.”
Peyton’s honey-and-chocolate-milk complexion took on a rosy hue. She blinked again, then a slow smile stretched her full lips.
“Wow.” She returned her attention to her tablet. “Should we invite your mother to join the committee? She might feel left out if your father’s on it and she’s not.”
Why was she changing the subject? “So there’s nothing going on between you and Vaughn, right? I just need some clarification.”
“No, there’s not.” Peyton put her elbow on the table and set her chin in her palm. She gave him a look that scorched him. “Is there something between us?”
“I’d like there to be.”
“We’ll see.” She went back to her tablet. “What about your mother being on the committee?”
We’ll see? Was she flirting with him or just messing with his mind?
“That wouldn’t be a good idea.” An understatement.
“Are you sure? It could give your family an opportunity to get closer.”
“No, it wouldn’t.” Having his parents volunteer on the same committee he was cochairing wasn’t a bonding opportunity. It was a recipe for disaster, one he didn’t want Peyton to witness.
“Why did you ask your father to be on your committee and not me?” Ethel stood framed in Darius’s cubicle in the Monitor’s offices later that afternoon. Her hands were fisted on her hips. Her eyes blazed betrayal.
His mother’s short, sharp question jerked Darius from the news story he was trying to file before his deadline. He rose to his feet. How had she found out?
The lightbulb came on. “Dad told you.”
“He came to the house, looking for a meal.” Ethel’s thick, brown, wool winter coat was buttoned to her neck and masked her figure. A black knit hat pulled low on her head covered her hair.
Darius frowned. “You two had lunch?”
“Don’t change the subject. Why did you ask your father to help you, but you didn’t come to me?”
“Let’s find a meeting room.” Darius maneuvered around his mother and started down the aisle. He ignored the curious stares of coworkers as he led his mother to a vacant meeting room. Now that his parents were separated, they spent almost as much time at the Monitor as he did. How could he make this stop?
The first room he came to was available. Darius opened the door and motioned for his mother to precede him. “Have a seat.”
“Why should I sit down?”
“Because I’m going to sit and I won’t speak with you standing over me.” Ms. Helen had taught him better manners than that.
“Fine.” Ethel pulled off her hat, fluffed her hair, then took off her coat before settling onto the chair.
“Dad asked to be on the committee.” Darius took the seat across from her. His answer wouldn’t be good enough for Ethel. He checked his watch. He could give her ten minutes before he had to get back to his article.
“You told him that you were cochairing a fundraising committee but kept that information from me?”
“Why would I tell you?” The Knight family didn’t have the kind of relationship in which they shared everything with each other. Ethel knew that as well as he did.
The meeting room was small and sparse: a honey wood circular conference table, matching corner stand with a black conference phone, four black-leather-and-silver metal chairs, and a whiteboard affixed to the far plaster wall. Through the room’s remaining two glass walls, Darius saw several curious coworkers looking his way. Opal Gutierrez, the rookie reporter, walked by twice, slowing down to observe them each time.
“Men always stick together,” Ethel sneered.
“What does that mean?” Darius returned his attention to his mother.
“You’re taking your father’s side.” Ethel stabbed a finger at him. “You were always closer to him than you were to me.”
What a load of nonsense. Darius checked the time. “What do you want, Mom?”
“Why do you keep looking at your watch?” Her tone was waspish.
“I need to get back to work. Just tell me what you want.”
“Did you rush your father when he was here earlier?”
Were they really doing this? “Mom—”
“I bet you didn’t. I bet you gave him all the time in the world.” Ethel leaned back onto her seat, crossing her arms and legs. “That’s what I want. I want you to give me the same time and attention you give Simon.”
Darius stood. He kept his expression carefully blank so his coworkers wouldn’t be aware of the temper building within him. “I don’t have time to indulge you. As I explained, I’m on deadline.” Without another word, Darius turned toward the door.
“Wait.” Ethel’s response shot across the small room.
Darius didn’t want to wait. He wanted to walk through the door, return to his cubicle, and lose himself in work. He was thirty-four years old. He didn’t want to be the rope in his parents’ tug-of-war anymore.
“What is it?” He spoke over his shoulder.
“I want to be on the committee, too.”
Darius briefly closed his eyes, praying for patience. “Why?”
“Your father’s on it. It’s not fair to exclude me.”
Darius faced her. “This committee is not the place for you and Dad to work out your marital problems.”
“You care more about your father than you do about me. You’re not even thinking about me.”
Darius rubbed his eyes. “Guilt has never worked on me.”
“Please, Darius. I need to do something. I’m going crazy in that house by myself.”
Peyton had been right—and he’d never been more unhappy. “All right. But the first time you and Dad argue during a meeting, you’re both out.”
Ethel’s features brightened. Her eyes shone. Darius blinked at her transformation. He wasn’t used to seeing her happy.
“Just make sure you tell your father that.” She rose from her chair and crossed to him. His mother put a hand on his shoulder. Beneath her palm, his muscles bunched.
Still surprised by her smile and her touch, Darius couldn’t form a response. In silence, he followed his mother from the room. He once again ignored his coworkers’ curiosity as he escorted Ethel down the hall.
“When is the committee meeting?” Ethel buttoned her coat and tugged on her hat.
“We haven’t scheduled one yet. I’ll contact you when we have the information.” Darius stopped in front of his cubicle.
“All right. Good luck with your deadline.” Ethel patted his shoulder again, then disappeared.
What had just happened? Darius sat at his desk. Ms. Helen had advised him to help his parents find a way to forgive each other. Maybe having them serve on the committee was his Trinity Falls miracle. Was it possible this fundraiser for t
he community center would help his family? But at what cost?
CHAPTER 16
Darius found himself knocking on Peyton’s door Monday evening. It wasn’t a conscious decision to come here. His car had just pointed itself in this direction and taken him to Peyton’s apartment.
“What’s wrong?” She opened the door, stepping back to let him in.
She’d freed her hair from its constricting bun. The thick, curly waves vibrated around her heart-shaped face. Her blue-and-white Heritage High School sweatshirt was baggy on her small frame in contrast to her navy yoga pants.
“Why do you think something’s wrong?” Darius watched as Peyton closed and locked her front door.
“Well, first, you’re here.” Her eyes sparkled at him as she reached for his coat.
Darius stripped off his black topcoat and handed it to her. “Thank you.”
“Make yourself comfortable.” She gestured toward her furniture as she disappeared through a door off the living room.
Darius’s wandering gaze found a small Christmas tree on a circular table beside her entertainment center. He nodded toward it when she returned without his coat. “When did you put that up?”
“Sunday night.”
“Why did you get it?”
Peyton looked up in surprise. “It’s Christmas.” She gestured for him to sit on the sofa.
“But it’s so small. And it’s not even real.” Darius lowered himself onto the right corner of the couch.
“You don’t have a tree, do you?”
“Why bother?” Darius was uncomfortable under her amused regard.
Peyton settled onto the other end of her silver couch. “Why don’t you stop bashing my tree and tell me why you’re here?”
Her apartment smelled of cinnamon. Her matching sofa, love seat, and armchair were a pale silver with soft overstuffed cushions. The coffee table was made of glass in a sterling-silver frame. The cool, modern effect contrasted with Peyton’s warm, traditional personality. It was at odds with the woman who’d decorate her elegant home with a plastic, wannabe Christmas tree. Who was she trying to be?
“I told my mother she could be on the fund-raising committee.” Darius studied the little tree. Its fake branches were full of pretend apples and a few real candy canes, tinsel, and lights.
