“Then pack your interview clothes and take that flight.”
What had he said? “Interview clothes? What’s going on?”
“Plenty’s going on, my dear. The timing’s perfect. And you’ll be perfect in the position.”
She sat down. Hard. “Uh…what position?”
“Isn’t it quite remarkable how some things seem to work out? Yes, indeed. Truth is surely stranger than fiction.”
“Dad, what are you talking about? What things are working out?” Either her father was losing it, or had had an extra glass of wine. Overindulging was not a normal Lou Goodman trait.
“I was going to tell you about it when you came home, but then again, it’s not really good news. But since it’s about our alma mater…”
Her dad’s voice trailed off for a moment, and in her kitchen, Rachel chuckled. He wasn’t losing it. He was talking about Pilgrim Cove Regional High School, a subject that always evoked emotion in him. He’d loved his career there. The school had lost an outstanding educator when he’d retired. He’d loved helping students with research and introducing them to wonderful writers. He’d fought for up-to-date technology, so the students would have up-to-date skills. Lou Goodman considered Pilgrim Cove High his alma mater as well as hers and her brother’s.
“Want to start over, Dad?” she asked.
Now it was her father who chuckled into the phone. “I’ll give it a whirl,” he said. “Remember the standardized tests you used to take when you were in school?”
“Sure. We took them every spring.” Oddly enough, she’d always done well on them. She handled standardized testing a lot better than regular schoolwork.
“The students’ scores came in two weeks ago,” her father continued, “and they were not good. In fact, it pains me to say that our students’ scores have been decreasing over the last three years. Extremely disappointing.”
“Oh, dear. I didn’t know. I’m very sorry to hear that.”
“Of course you are,” said Lou, his voice more cheerful, “and that’s why you’re going to interview for the new position the board approved last week. They acted fast. Only took three years.”
“Dad! Is that sarcasm I detect from the man who keeps his cool?”
“Cool, my petutie! In the face of this performance? But here’s the important part.” He paused, and despite herself, Rachel focused on what was coming next.
“We now have an opening for an assistant principal of academic studies,” said Lou. “Right up your alley. The application’s online. Fill it out and attach your résumé. Bring a hard copy with you when you come home.”
Her dad sounded so excited, but images of her unhappy high school years flashed through Rachel’s mind. Yes, she needed a job, but Pilgrim Cove High? The place she’d left with barely a backward glance? The place where her family lived? Short stays worked well for her. Despite her occasional longing, she’d be safer maintaining that pattern.
“Can people really go home again, Dad?” she asked softly.
Silence on the other end. A ringing silence filled with hurt. She could feel it vibrate through the wires and wanted to retract her words.
“Try it,” said Lou. “You might be surprised.”
Had her dad forgotten the distress of her teenage years? Could he not see how much happier she’d been in recent times? “Tell you what,” began Rachel, “I’ll stick with my vacation plans and come home, and I’ll think about the job, but—I’m not making any promises. Definitely not.”
“That’s good enough for me,” replied her dad. “We want to see our beautiful daughter.”
Beautiful? That was a joke. “Then I must have a sister somewhere! This daughter of yours is built for distance swimming—tall and skinny with bony elbows and the delicate fragrance of l’eau de chlorine surrounding her half the time.”
“Rachel…Rachel. You’re slim, not skinny. Have you looked in the mirror lately?”
Rachel laughed into the phone. “Every day. And the mirror doesn’t lie. But I’m not going to argue with you. Let’s just agree that with the right clothes and cosmetics, I can make myself presentable.”
The fact that she was ordinary-looking didn’t bother her as much as it used to. Her career was what was important; her administrative and communication skills, and her ability to relate to students. These talents were the ones that counted, and she’d worked hard to develop them.
After saying goodbye to her dad, she walked to the computer in her den, pulled up her résumé and started revising. When she was satisfied with the result, she printed the document and studied it.
“What the hell?” she finally murmured. “Might as well take a look and see what he was talking about.”
She accessed the job posting for Pilgrim Cove Regional High School and stared at the application form. What a joke it would be! Pure O. Henry. She could imagine the lead story in the Pilgrim Cove Gazette. “Swimming jock and underachiever, Rachel Goodman, returns to Pilgrim Cove High charged with improving the academic performance of the entire student body.”
Laughable. Painful. Pitiful. She didn’t need it.
What she did need was a swim, and the community center was open, keeping to its normal schedule. A great decision, Rachel thought. Routine countered catastrophe. She glanced at her watch as she grabbed a bathing suit and towel. She’d be at the pool earlier than usual. She wondered whether or not any of the girls would show up for the training session. While no one had been hurt by the tornado, everyone had probably been scared. Her young team, however, had to prepare for a local meet this weekend.
Rachel locked the door behind her and headed to the community center. Time to get back into the water.
IN HIS COMFORTABLE KITCHEN in Pilgrim Cove, Lou Goodman turned to his wife. “I think you’re wrong, Pearl. I really think I hooked her. The job is perfect.”
But Pearl shook her head. “She’ll come for a week, and then she’ll be gone.”
“But…”
“When was the last time Rachel allowed herself to get hooked?” interrupted Pearl. “Never. She swims away like a smart fish. And not only from us. Every time a decent boy—I should say ‘man’—gets serious, she runs in the other direction. So, don’t get your hopes up. She’s coming home because she didn’t want to disappoint you. That’s all.”
Lou felt his smile slip as he walked to the woman with whom he’d spent forty-two years of his life. He loved her and knew her well enough to know that she was usually right about these things. He reached for her hands as she stood at the counter preparing a simple supper.
“Pearl,” he whispered. “Where did we go wrong when we tried to do everything right? How did this happen?” His head drooped. “My fault. My fault.”
When she looked up at him, her eyes were shiny, her mouth trembled. She didn’t speak, just leaned closer and wrapped her arms around him. He embraced her as he’d done for a lifetime, loving how she nestled into his shoulder—how she felt against him. He’d hold her for many more years, God willing, as many as they were given on this earth.
But he was seventy-one years old now and still had unfinished business.
RACHEL WALKED THE LENGTH of the pool, assessing the performances of each member of her team. To her delight, all twelve girls had shown up that evening, each one eager to swim. Seemed they needed to be in the water as much as she did.
She wouldn’t mention the probability of them getting a new coach. Not yet, anyway. Not until she knew for sure where she was going.
“Looking good, ladies,” she called to them. “And time’s up.”
“Already?”
“No way!”
Rachel grinned. Her kids loved the sport.
“Think we really have a chance to place at the meet?” asked one of the girls as she got out of the pool.
Time for a pep talk. The girls were only nine and ten years old. Still learning. Still needing confidence. “Everyone, listen up,” said Rachel.
They gathered around her, towels slung
over their shoulders. “You have each improved tremendously this year because you worked very hard. And I promise you that your chances of placing in the events are as good as anyone else’s.” She eyeballed every girl. “Maybe better.” She paused. “Believe me?”
Slowly, they nodded, one at a time.
“You’re swimming because you love the sport. You want others to love and respect the sport. And no matter what happens at the meet, you’re still going to love to swim.” She paused a moment. “And who knows? You might save a life one day because you swim well. That’s something more important than a meet. Isn’t it?”
They nodded again, and Rachel watched their expressions change as they processed her words.
She leaned forward as if to share a secret. “In my book, you are winners right now. Every one of you.”
CHAPTER TWO
RACHEL GRABBED HER SUITCASE from the carousel in Boston’s Logan Airport and made her way to the water-shuttle dock. As far as she was concerned, the best part of the trip was about to start. A seven minute boat ride from the airport to Rowes Wharf in Boston Harbor followed by a half-hour ferry ride to Pilgrim Cove. How many people had the luxury of trading in bumper-to-bumper road traffic for a ferry ride as their daily commute between work and home?
Not that she was going home. Her home would be wherever she decided to live. Today she was going back to her parents’ house on Atlantic Avenue, less than two blocks away from the beach. Whatever reservations she carried with her from her childhood, living by the ocean was not one of them. She bought a round-trip ticket for the shuttle, stepped on and quickly arrived at the large harbor in the heart of downtown Boston, where she bought another round-trip ticket for the Pilgrim Cove ferry.
She leaned against the rail of the boat, studying the afternoon scene before her. Busy Boston Harbor. A luxurious hotel with a grand archway and its own dock nearby, elegant restaurants and cafés, soft-rose brick buildings and a variety of office towers all stretching upward to create an impressive skyline. And in the opposite direction, sailboats glided on the water, the sun reflecting off their pristine cloth. Motorboats, too, with people who enjoyed going against the wind. People who were probably on vacation and had jobs to return to when playtime was over. Unlike Rachel.
She eyed her suitcase, which contained a navy-blue suit accented with a white collar and cuffs, a pair of low-heeled navy pumps and matching panty hose. In the end, the reality of unemployment had prompted her to e-mail her résumé to the school board. To her surprise, she’d wound up with an appointment to meet the people on the hiring committee. The fast turnaround could only mean they were in a hurry to fill the position by the time school started.
She’d come prepared, and she’d do her best. But she wasn’t hungry for the job. Not deep inside. For the first time in her life, she was moving with caution. Staying at the shallow end of the pool. And it felt…weird. Better to think of this interview as practice for other opportunities she’d be seeking.
“Rachel? Sure, it’s Rachel Goodman.”
Rachel twirled from the railing as the familiar voice jerked her out of her musings. An energetic couple approached. The man had bristly gray hair, and his blue eyes creased in the corners as he gave her a hearty hug.
Kate Lyons spoke first. “You’ve just arrived, haven’t you?”
Rachel nodded with a grin as the couple eyed her suitcase. “I see you’re both as sharp as ever.”
“And aim to stay that way!” replied Mike. “In fact, I’m doing a little consulting work with the aquarium. That’s where we were today.” He turned and looked back out over the bay as the ferry left the dock behind. “We have got to take better care of these waters.”
Mike Lyons was a retired environmental engineer with a strong interest in the seacoast habitat.
“You and my dad,” said Rachel. “Neither of you will ever be fully retired. I think he volunteers as many hours in the town library as he put in when he worked at the high school.”
“We love what we do. And that makes all the difference.”
“I know what you mean,” said Rachel, nodding in agreement. “I really understand.”
“I can see that,” said Kate. “Your smile gives you away. So, if they offer you the job, will you take it?”
Whoa! “I’d forgotten how fast news flies around town,” said Rachel.
But Mike was shaking his head. “Not the whole town, my dear. Just the breakfast boys.”
“The breakfast boys?” Rachel repeated slowly, trying to remember.
“You’ve been away too long, Rachel, or you’d never forget our boys,” said Kate, eyes twinkling, “and their daily breakfasts at the Diner on the Dunes.”
“Breakfast at…you mean the ROMEOs!” said Rachel. “Of course I know those boys. My dad’s a charter member of the Retired Old Men Eating Out. And so are you, Mike.”
The man pretended to pout. She and Kate looked at each other and tried to swallow their laughter. Unsuccessfully. Kate patted her husband’s shoulder. “You’ll always be my young stud, honey. Never an old man.”
“She’s right,” said Rachel. “How can you be old when you’re running around every day? Seems to me that the ROMEOs are misnamed! None of them acts retired.”
“That’s a fact,” said Mike. “Sam Parker still works with Matt at the store, and Joe Cavelli puts in time at the garage. Ralph Bigelow does electric work for folks when they need him—”
“And we can’t forget the one who puts in more hours than a day holds,” said Kate, tightening her lips. “That Bartholomew Quinn. If his Rosemary were still alive, she’d flay him but good.”
“No, no, she wouldn’t,” said Mike. “She had almost as much energy at Bart.”
Rachel listened absentmindedly as the Lyonses brought the town alive with their descriptions and up-to-date recitation of the latest goings-on. There was only a tiny possibility that she’d remain here, so remembering any of this talk wasn’t necessary.
Mike’s voice penetrated when he mentioned her dad. “I had breakfast with Lou this morning. Your visit’s got him walking on air. Can’t remember the last time I saw him so excited.”
Rachel winced.
“See what I mean?” said Mike, pointing at the Pilgrim Cove harbor.
On the big dock was Rachel’s dad waving at them with the gusto of a kid. Her mom stood right next to him, hands shading her eyes as she searched the crowd on the ferry. Then a big grin crossed her face, and she waved, too.
Rachel’s week at home had begun.
THE EVENING HAD GONE WELL. First, a leisurely dinner for three in her mom’s comfortable kitchen, where Rachel consumed every morsel of the braised lamb roast Pearl had put on her plate. No one could outdo her mom in the kitchen. Then, she’d unpacked and had run an iron over her navy-blue interview suit. And now, Rachel was walking along the beach, wearing a bathing suit under a pair of shorts, a towel slung around her neck.
“I don’t think the lifeguards are still on duty,” her dad had said as she left the house. “Maybe you should postpone your swim.”
“No way! It’s a hot August night. I’ll find someone to keep an eye out when I swim.” She gave him a quick kiss. “I can take care of myself. Don’t worry.”
“Right. You’re all grown up now.” His smile was brief.
Dusk had fallen a while ago, and the beach was not very crowded. It had been a long time, however, since she’d strolled along the shore, and she was enjoying everything about it—the scent of the salt air, the sound of the waves as they ebbed and flowed in their steady rhythm. She also enjoyed stretching her legs and using her muscles against the sand. Very different from walking on hard cement sidewalks. Too bad there were no oceans in Kansas!
She’d kept a good pace for two miles, almost half the length of the entire beach, and felt warm despite the evening breeze blowing off the ocean. The moon was rising now, illuminating her way in the growing darkness. A perfect time to hit the water. Rachel scanned the area for someone who had
a few minutes to spare while she swam. Her best hope was the party of teenage boys who were horsing around near the shoreline. At least she wouldn’t be taking them out of their way.
She jogged toward the group, vocalizing her request as she approached.
“For Pete’s sake, Aunt Rachel, you don’t need a lifeguard. You could be a lifeguard!”
“David! Is that you? Let’s see what a year’s done to you, kiddo!”
Her nephew embraced her, and she had to lift her eyes to his. “Seems like the Goodman genes haven’t skipped a generation. You’re only fifteen, right?”
He grinned with pride and nodded before he answered. “Going on sixteen with more inches to come.” His voice had reached a new low.
She turned to his friends. “Hi, guys.”
They chorused a greeting. Rachel looked at the group, recognizing the boys she used to see playing with David. Bigger now. She shook her head. “This is what happens when I turn my back,” she complained. “You all grow up!”
She dropped her towel and pulled off her shorts. “Can you hang out for a few minutes? I won’t be long.” Without waiting for a response, she ran into the water, giant-stepping through the shallows until she could strike out toward Europe.
She did freestyle strokes for a while, totally at home in the ocean, enjoying the water caressing her skin. Enjoying the exertion of energy. When she was beyond the breakers, a fair distance from shore, she flipped to her back and began swimming parallel to it. The backstroke was her second-best stroke. She could keep it up for hours if she floated at regular intervals and rested.
“Sweetheart, I know you’re having fun, but it’s time to get yourself back to land.”
Surprise almost made her go under before she turned herself around and treaded water. A few feet away, a man faced her, quietly keeping himself upright, too. She couldn’t see much in the shadowy moonlight, just a lot of hair plastered to his head. Where had he come from? And how had he managed to approach without a sound?
Rachel was completely at ease in the ocean and she took definite exception to being ordered around. Narrowing her eyes, she said, “And you are…?”
Reluctant Housemates Page 2
