Though Ben hadn’t argued the point too strenuously, he hadn’t wanted her to stop home-schooling the kids. That had always given them the flexibility to be on the road with him. Since late August, he’d been traveling without them. Although he remained surrounded by the dozens of people involved in keeping a NASCAR team up and running, the nights alone were tough.
Ben was just getting ready to call Susie when his screen flashed with the notice of an incoming text message. He smiled when he saw it was from his wife; she detested texting and said she’d do it only with those she really, really loved. Despite his stupid behavior last night, he must still be on that list. Ben opened the message.
Am meeting with friends at 8:30 tonight. Please be home to watch C and M. Thanks.
Usually her texts ended with ILY—short for I love you. Thanks fell far short of that.
“My fault,” he reminded himself.
He’d make up for last night. Ripples in his professional life shouldn’t affect her or the kids. Ben closed Susie’s text and exited the car. He was looking forward to his meeting with Kane Ledger. The guy was a straight shooter and a good source for business advice, too. Ben needed him for both attributes this morning.
As Ben made his way through the club’s nearly imposing front door and to the dining room, he returned greetings from the many friends he’d made in his years belonging here. It blew his mind to think that a Tennessee farm boy had grown up to become a NASCAR driver and golf lover, but here he was.
The maître d’ showed Ben to a windowside table where Kane already waited. Ben’s agent stood and shook his hand. Ben believed in vibes and instinct, and both were already telling him that this would not be an upbeat meeting. He’d let Kane take the lead, though. No sense in inviting trouble when it seemed to be appearing at his doorstep daily already.
After ordering eggs, bacon and wheat toast, and getting a little caffeine into his system by way of coffee, Ben eased into conversation with Kane. They had moved on to shop talk about the weekend’s upcoming race in California when the food arrived. Ben was two bites into his eggs when Kane spoke.
“I’ve got some news for you, and it’s not good,” he said. “Hometeam Insurance has been in contact with Gil Sizemore and me. At this point, they won’t be renewing their sponsorship for next season.”
Appetite gone, Ben pushed aside his plate.
This wasn’t just a small sponsorship with a sticker on the car’s B-post; this was Ben’s primary sponsorship. His car had been painted the Hometeam colors of navy blue with red and gold accents, and covered with its logos for almost a decade. The company had paid millions of dollars annually for the privilege, too. Teams folded and drivers lost rides over a departing main sponsor. In this case, Gil Sizemore would be fine. He had other drivers, with other sponsors. Ben stood at much greater risk.
“Did they say why?” he asked.
Kane hesitated before speaking, something Ben had seldom seen him do.
“I think it’s a number of things. Money is tighter in the insurance business, and everyone is looking for ways to reduce expenses.”
“So we’ll just cut a new deal with them. I can do more promo work and attend more corporate events, too.”
“I’ve already offered that,” Kane replied. “It was a no go.”
The problem with a straight shooter as an agent was taking those blows straight to the gut.
A nod was pretty much all Ben could work up in response. He followed that with a coffee chaser to see if he could lose some of the numbness that seemed to be working its way from the inside out.
“This is rough, but it could be worse,” Kane said.
“There won’t be a public announcement by Hometeam unless they settle on someone else to sponsor, and I’m going to do all I can to keep the lines of communication open. The real issue is a loss of confidence that you’re going to get them the exposure they want for that kind of money.”
Ben couldn’t help but defend himself.
“Exposure comes in a lot of forms. Even if my finishes have been down the past couple of years, my website still has one of the most active forums out there. I get more discussion and more hits than just about anyone but Kent Grosso, and Hometeam’s color and logos are all over the site.”
“I agree your fans are active, but I’m also beginning to read some unhappiness,” Kane replied after a bite of his breakfast. “They’re losing faith in your ability on the track. They still respect the way you mentor other drivers and they applaud your volunteer work. But even then, I’ve seen some concern that your activities are affecting your driving, too.”
“You’re sure sifting a lot from a pack of one-sentence posts,” Ben said.
“It’s my job to know what’s going on with you,” Kane replied. “And I do…at least on the surface. Do you have anything else you think I need to know?”
Ben didn’t want to talk about any of this. If Kane had been keeping an eye on the fan forum, he had also seen the idle chat about when Ben might be retiring. The whole damn topic had him rattled.
“No,” he said to his agent. “At least not now, with this Hometeam thing to absorb. I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”
“Okay,” Kane said. “And in the meantime, I’ve already talked to the team about putting out quiet feelers to your secondary sponsors to see if anyone is interested in a bigger investment. We’ve had some curiosity. If you stay in at least the top quarter of finishers for the rest of the season, we might get something going.”
Time was, Ben might have felt hungry and ready to grab at success when faced with a challenge like that. Now the prospect of cold scrambled eggs seemed more attractive. Ben returned to his breakfast knowing it was going to be a helluva long day.
WHEN SHE COULD WRANGLE the time, Susie always loved going to Maudie’s Down Home Diner to meet with the group of women who affectionately referred to themselves as the Tuesday Tarts. Tonight, she almost hadn’t made it. Even though Ben had sent her a text saying he’d be home to watch the kids, he hadn’t shown up. At first, she’d resigned herself to staying home. Cammie had pointed out, though, that if she was old enough to babysit for other families, she could watch Matt for a few hours. And so Susie had come to the one location where all those connected to NASCAR could relax and be themselves. Yet tonight she felt restless, sad and strangely out of place.
It wasn’t the company. Sheila Trueblood, the diner’s owner, was her same hospitable, sharp and funny self. The women present were also as they had always been…laughing and talking about everything from last weekend’s race in Kansas to their favorite authors. Right now, Susie’s dear friend Patsy Grosso, co-owner of Cargill-Grosso Racing, was listing off-site places to visit if anyone had a few spare minutes at this weekend’s upcoming race outside of Los Angeles. Happiness fairly glowed in the small yet comfortable seating area that occupied part of the diner’s storage room.
Because it would be rude to just walk out, Susie checked her cell phone and gave a shake of her head, as though she’d just received a text message that was a bit of a bother. Then she did as she’d been yearning and rose to step out of the confines of the back room.
“Is everything okay, Susie?” asked Patsy.
Susie worked up a smile. “Fine…I just need to call home. Cammie has a question for me.”
Patsy laughed. “It’s funny how critical it is for our families to hunt us down during our ‘me’ time, isn’t it?”
“We become indispensable the moment we step away,” said fellow Tart Cara Stallworth, a mother of three.
Keeping her expression bright, Susie waggled her phone in her hand and said, “Let me take care of this, and I’ll be right back in.”
Susie slipped from the back room and into the diner, which had only a few customers at this time of the night. She was thankful for both the relative quiet and the fact that she needn’t keep that cheerful expression pinned on when she was away from her friends. Her face was beginning to ache.
Susie settled
into a booth far from the other customers, closed her eyes, tipped back her head and let calm wash over her. She felt a little guilty for scamming her friends in the other room, but not enough so that she was about to go back in there. She needed this moment to collect herself. She had relaxed just about to the tips of her toes when a sound from behind her jolted her back to full awareness. She swung around so that she was able to peer over the back of the booth.
Mellie Donovan, Maudie’s waitress and occasional Tuesday Tart, had just set down refilled salt and pepper shakers at the table. It was no great commotion, but it didn’t take much to rattle Susie these days.
“Mellie, you nearly scared me to death!” she said, lightening the drama of her words with a shaky laugh.
“I’m sorry,” the younger woman replied quietly. “Everybody’s served and happy, so I’m trying to get some side work done while I can. It seems like I don’t have enough hours in the day.”
Susie could relate. “Isn’t that the truth? I feel as though lately I’ve had a chain of endlessly long days.”
Mellie hefted a second set of salt and pepper shakers that she still held in her left hand. “I keep looking for the upside to schedules like ours. The best I’ve come up with is that I’d rather be wildly busy than bored.”
Susie could scarcely recall Mellie ever standing still—or talking this much. With her short-cropped black hair and delicate features, she hardly looked old enough to hold a job let alone have a three-year-old daughter, yet Susie knew she did. Mellie and her daughter, Lily, lived in an apartment above the diner. And because Maudie’s was truly a big family, Louise Jordan, wife to cook Al, was Lily’s daycare provider while Mellie worked. But based by the baby monitor that Mellie carried, tonight Lily must have been sound asleep upstairs.
“Somehow, I doubt you’re ever bored,” Susie said.
“I have no time for bored, though someday I’d like to try it out,” the waitress replied.
Susie hesitated before asking, “Would it be okay if you sat with me for a couple of minutes?”
She liked the quiet younger woman and felt right now as though they were kindred spirits. Susie was as emotionally restless as Mellie was tense.
The waitress looked around the diner, then without so much as a nod, sat.
Faint purplish shadows showed beneath Mellie’s brown eyes, and Susie felt a stab of remorse for complaining about long days when this girl worked them just to survive.
“I know it’s none of my business, but you seem kind of sad. If you’d like someone to talk to…” Mellie trailed off, then shook her head. “I’m sorry. That sounded silly. You’ve got a roomful of friends back there.”
Susie did, indeed. But those friends were all intimately connected with NASCAR, whether as a team owner, team employee or wife of a driver. All of them had known Ben for years. Susie could never get past a feeling of disloyalty if she were to tell them how worried she was about her husband, both because of his self-confidence issues on the track and because of the disconnect that had popped up in their marriage. She didn’t feel comfortable giving Mellie the particulars, either, but she could talk in generalities.
“Have you ever felt as though things are spinning out of control?” she asked Mellie.
The girl nodded. “Lily just turned three. Things are always spinning out of control.”
“Good point. It’s been a while for me, but I remember those days.”
Susie tilted her head as she recalled how much busier, yet simpler, life had been for her family even seven years ago, when Matt had been three. Ben had been doing well and was fairly consistently in the Chase. She’d been totally in love with homeschooling Cammie and Matt, and their course in life had seemed so clear. Not so much, these days.
“So, does it get less busy as children get older?” Mellie asked, breaking into Susie’s reverie.
“It’s busy, but a different kind of busy. You don’t have to worry so much about those toddler-proofing issues, but that gained time is taken up by being sure they’re doing what they should at school and by getting them where they need to be. It’s just as tough keeping up, but exciting to see them grow and change.”
“The changes I see in Lily just over a week or so are amazing,” the younger woman said. “She learns new words almost every day and gets a little bolder about trying to boss me around, too.”
Thinking of Cammie, Susie laughed. “Trust me, that won’t change.”
“My life is a lot to handle between work and Lily, but I’ll do whatever it takes to keep her safe and loved,” she said with a fierceness that Susie had never before heard from her. She was sure there was something else going on, but Mellie didn’t continue.
And after listening to the younger woman’s determination in the face of such challenges, Susie knew that it was time to stop fretting and start doing when it came to her family. After all, family was everything.
One of the customers began to stir, and Mellie rose.
“I’d better get moving,” she said.
“Of course,” Susie replied, then smiled. “And Mellie?”
“Yes?”
“Thank you.”
An expression of surprise passed over the young woman’s face. “For what?”
“A long overdue reminder,” Susie replied, then rose, too.
Mellie shook her head. “I don’t know what I did, but you’re welcome.”
And Susie would not forget.
Back in the Tarts’ corner of the world, conversation rolled on, fueled by coffee and some sinfully rich brownies that Sheila had baked.
“Is everything okay at home?” Sheila asked when Susie reentered the room. “You were out there for a while.”
“Everything’s fine,” Susie assured her.
Or at least it would be fine after she brought back some of the “good old days” into her family in hopes that Ben’s optimism, which he’d had so much of back then, would also return. Once he was back to normal, Susie would relax, and the kids would benefit from both of those changes.
Susie settled next to Patsy on a plump love seat. Patsy smiled at her in acknowledgment, and Susie smiled back. She had looked up to Patsy, who was a bit older, forever. Patsy Grosso was one of those women who managed to look put together in nothing more exotic than a pair of jeans and a crisp white shirt. Susie was more the bohemian skirt and a colorful hand-knit sweater sort, but over the years she’d grown comfortable with who she was.
“So, tell me again what you’re thinking of doing in California this weekend?” she asked her friend in a low voice as other conversations swirled and eddied around them.
“Does this mean you’re actually coming to the race?” Patsy asked in response.
“I think so. I’d like to surprise Ben by showing up there with the kids. I’m also hoping I can talk him into playing hooky for a day or so after the race, too.”
“That sounds wonderful! Though I understand why you had to let Cammie have some say in her high school years, I know Ben misses having all of you around,” Patsy said.
Susie nodded. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to pull this off. I need to check commercial flights. Since Ben can’t know what I’m up to, we can hardly tag along on his charter flight.”
“We have room on our plane. Just come with us on Saturday morning and then book a commercial flight back.”
“Are you sure?”
“Absolutely. We have plenty of room this weekend, and Dean and I haven’t had time with Cammie and Matt in ages. Let me know if there’s anything else I can do to help.”
“You’re doing enough already. Thank you so much,” Susie said.
This was going to work! By the time they came back from California, her family would be back in kilter.
CHAPTER THREE
A SATURDAY AFTERNOON in sunny Southern California was far from a bad thing. Ben relaxed on a lounge chair outside his motor home and used his laptop computer to respond to a couple of questions on his fan site. After he finished catching up, he
planned to do something really decadent such as read a book and doze in the sunshine. He smiled at the thought. There was a time when he’d want to be out kicking up a little fun instead of kicking back. Today, this suited him just fine.
Ben had just shut his laptop and his eyes when he heard the scuff of footsteps coming his way. Without even looking, he knew it was Darrell, his motor home driver/cook. Darrell’s lazy gait had grown heavier over the years, as had Darrell. No surprise, though. His cooking made Ben the envy of all the other drivers, and Ben a big fan of working out.
“Hey, hate to mess up your afternoon, but Chris needs you at the garage right now. He says it’s important,” Darrell announced.
That was enough to make Ben open his eyes. “And he sent you?”
The larger man shrugged. “I was over that way, so I guess he decided I was easier than a phone call.”
It wasn’t a matter of ease. Sampson flat-out liked ordering people around, and Ben was tempted to ignore the demand even if it had been couched in terms of a request. He’d already told his crew chief that his goal was a quiet afternoon, but what he’d really been shooting for was a Sampson-free one. Ben had qualified a very respectable twelfth, practiced well earlier this morning, and for once the crew wasn’t tense. Since he didn’t want to see those dynamics change before the race tomorrow, he gave up on his idea of paradise.
“All right,” he said, rising from the lounge. “So much for a semilazy Saturday. Would you mind sticking my computer back inside?”
“No problem,” Darrell replied.
As Ben covered the relatively short distance from the drivers’ and owners’ lot to the garages, he readied himself to keep his calm in the face of his crew chief’s abrasive bluntness. Leading by example was a belief that anchored Ben’s world. He would not let Sampson change that.
The area directly around Ben’s garage stall was pretty much a ghost town, but that wasn’t unusual since a NASCAR Nationwide Series race was about to start out on the track. Most everyone would have their attention turned in that direction.
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