Wanted--The Perfect Mom

by T. R. McClure

  “Hello, Chief McAndrews.”

  Mac’s eyebrows bunched as he shook the woman’s hand. “Ma’am. Have we met?”

  Her laugh was like church bells, soft and musical. “You wouldn’t remember. I was getting my hair cut at Hair Today. You came in to ask Megan if she was missing anything.”

  Mac’s eyes lit in recognition. “Right. Now I remember.”

  “I’m Laura Norton. I’m the new first-grade teacher at the elementary school.”

  Holly studied the slim young woman standing at the end of the picnic table. Wavy, honey-blond hair ended in a gentle curve at her shoulders. Dressed in a pair of khakis and a fitted coral shirt, the woman was a breath of fresh air in a sea of blue jeans and T-shirts. One hand rested on the handle of a stroller, where a wide-eyed toddler sprawled.

  “Will your daughter be in first grade this year?” Laura asked.

  Mac’s gaze darted from the schoolteacher to Riley and back again. “Well, we haven’t decided yet if she’s going back to her grandparents in North Carolina.”

  Laura leaned down and gave Riley a smile. “If you stay, I hope you’re in my class.”

  Riley smiled shyly.

  Laura tugged the sleeve of Mac’s T-shirt. “You look different out of uniform. Friendlier.” Her laugh drifted over the chatter of the nearby patrons. “This is my nephew,” she said. “My sister-in-law just had a baby. I’m giving her a little break.”

  “I’m sure she appreciates the help.” Holly didn’t miss the admiring glance the young woman threw Mac’s way. Mac had been the object of much interest in the barns, where women dominated the population.

  “I don’t mind. I miss the kids in the summer. I’ll be glad when school starts. Nice meeting you.” With a nod to Holly and a smile for Mac and Riley, the teacher moved on.

  “I like her. Can I go to school here, Daddy?” Riley forked a chunk of meat loaf into her mouth.

  “She’s nice,” Holly said. “Perfect, in fact.” Exactly the type of woman Mac was looking for. Her appetite gone, she pushed away her plate. Watching Mac with another woman might be harder than she’d thought.

  * * *

  THURSDAY MORNING, TWISTER stood freshly bathed in the open area between the barn and the ring, his bay coat and black mane and tail gleaming in the morning sun. Holly stroked his neck as she and Sonny waited for Rosalyn to put on her boots. “You’d never know you’re twenty-five, old boy. You take care of this girl, do you hear me?”

  Twister’s ears flicked back and forth. Holly laid her cheek on the soft hair of his neck and breathed in the familiar scent of horseflesh and leather. The saddle, the same one Holly had used as a young rider, glistened.

  “I’m ready, Aunt Holly.” Rosalyn stood next to the stirrup. Her thick chestnut hair was tied at her neck with a blue ribbon. A narrow leather belt engraved with daisy designs surrounded her small waist.

  “Rosalyn, you look great.” Holly’s heart melted at the pleased grin on her niece’s face. “You’ll do amazing. Remember, Twister knows what he’s doing. Trust him. Don’t get nervous.” She sat back on her heels and studied the girl’s face.

  “I’m not nervous, Aunt Holly.” Rosalyn strapped her helmet under her chin. “Dad says riding’s in my blood.”

  Holly caught Sonny’s eye. “I reckon he’s right about that, little one.” She stood. “Let’s get you on this horse.”

  Rosalyn put her boot in her father’s joined hands and he hefted her into the saddle. She barely touched the seat before she picked up the reins. Shoulders back, hands relaxed, she faced the announcer’s stand.

  Holly grabbed Sonny’s arm and backed away. “We’ll be along the fence.” They walked to one side of the entrance. Fritz, Rose, Carolyn and her children, and Riley sat halfway up the bleachers set on the back side of the ring. Behind the bleachers a small stream flowed and on the other side a patch of woods provided shade for half the ring.

  Rosalyn nodded at them, and then returned her gaze to the ring, where the judges handed out ribbons for the previous class. To polite applause and a few whistles, the students exited through the open gate.

  Twister and Rosalyn were third into the ring. As each horse and rider entered, the judge announced their names. Rosalyn sat straight in the saddle, her elbows tight to her side, and looked ahead. The class of nine circled the ring, alternately walking and trotting as the announcer directed.

  Holly leaned on the fence. “What do you think, brother?”

  “Is it just me or is she the best rider in the group?”

  Holly smiled. “It might just be you...but she is good.” Fifteen minutes later they were proved right when Rosalyn and Twister got a red ribbon for second place.

  Holly elbowed Sonny in the ribs. “Not bad for four weeks of training.” She caught sight of Tiffany and her daughter as they accepted a ribbon for fourth place. “Tiffany tries too hard. That’s too much horse for a little girl.”

  They spent the rest of the day at the fair. The family wandered around the displays of canned goods, flowers and vegetables set up in the many buildings. Mac found them midafternoon just as Riley had lost interest in the displays. She wanted to go on the rides and Mac bought a long string of red tickets. Folding the tickets in a neat pile, he murmured, “I should arrest these guys for robbery. The prices are outrageous.”

  Holly pushed him through the gate to the merry-go-round. “Riley’s having a good time.”

  Mac turned halfway through the gate. “Hey, I’m not riding.”

  Riley grabbed his belt and pulled. “Come on, Daddy, you can ride with me.”

  Mac made a face before handing the scruffy-looking guy at the gate a handful of tickets. He followed Riley to the carousel, lifted her up on a horse and swung a leg over one nearby. Rosalyn climbed on a black horse and waved at her aunt.

  Holly moved along the makeshift fence, watching the three as the carousel picked up speed. Riley was talking a mile a minute and the broad smile on Mac’s face showed how much, despite his protest, he was enjoying the ride with his daughter. She thought back to the night of the fireworks, of Mac’s stiffness when Riley had climbed onto his lap. Little by little, he was changing, softening.

  Holly thought of Tiffany’s assumption they were a family and for the first time, she entertained the possibility. Riley was easy to love. She was an inquisitive, active, loving little girl. Mac was easy to love, too. No trace of the taunting boy from gym class remained.

  The carousel slowed and came to a stop. Mac lifted Riley off the horse. Feet moving before they touched the ground, Riley ran up to Holly.

  “Can we go to the swings next?” Without waiting for an answer, Riley took off, with Rosalyn close behind.

  Mac jogged after her, talking over his shoulder. “This one’s yours, Holly. I don’t do swings.”

  Dressed in jeans and a casual shirt, Mac looked like any other father on an outing with his child. His hair was longer now, the blond streaks becoming more noticeable thanks to the summer sun. Holly followed them to the next ride and, after getting rid of more tickets, lifted Riley into a swing, hooked the chain across the front and settled into the outside swing next to her. Rosalyn insisted on getting herself into a swing.

  A man approached Mac at the fence and they shook hands. Mac waved to get Holly’s attention and he said something she didn’t catch.

  Hands grasping the chains of the swing, Holly leaned forward. “What?”

  He pointed to Riley. “Keep an eye on her. I’ll be back.” He turned and followed the other man down the midway until he disappeared into the crowd.

  Not until they had gained height did she take her eyes off Riley. In the ring, a halter class was underway. The smell of popcorn hung in the air and her grumbling stomach reminded her they had skipped lunch. The swings were losing altitude when she spotted a familiar hulking form i
n front of one of the games of chance. Moose Williams, a toy rifle dwarfed by his big hands, took aim at a line of moving ducks. She was about to look away when she saw a flash of blond hair standing just behind him. Moose had a girlfriend?

  When the swings came to a stop she slipped out of her chair and helped Riley and Rosalyn get down. Both girls raced for the exit. Holly hurried behind. “Wait for me, girls.”

  They disappeared into the crowd. Holly’s heart pounded as she ran after them. When she saw Rosalyn’s curly ponytail and a mop of blond hair next to her, she breathed a sigh of relief. She wove through the throng and walked up to the stand. “I know you’re double digits, kid, but don’t run off next time. I thought I lost you two.” She looked down at the little blonde girl next to Rosalyn. Only the child wasn’t Riley. “Where’s Riley?”

  “She was right behind me,” Rosalyn said. “She wanted to see the jewelry.”

  Holly’s heart jumped into her throat. She spun around, looking for Riley’s blond ponytail. Pushing through the crowd, she ran straight into Mac.

  He gripped her shoulders. “What’s wrong?”

  “I can’t find Riley.” Once again she had failed.

  Mac’s hands dropped as he started looking in each direction. He raised his hand and pointed. “There.”

  Tapping Rosalyn on the shoulder to let her know it was time to go, Holly followed Mac through the crowd to a building. A goldfish Ping-Pong game was set up in the entrance. Riley stood pressed against the wire enclosure, watching entranced as white plastic balls bounced from one small fishbowl to the next.

  Mac stood behind his daughter, taking slow, deliberate breaths when Holly and Rosalyn arrived.

  The child hadn’t gone far, but Holly had lost her. How could Mac ever forgive her?

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  FRIDAY MORNING MAC found Holly with her legs flung over the arm of one of her comfortable chairs, reading a paperback. “No customers this morning?” He went behind the counter and poured a cup of coffee before settling into the chair across from her.

  Holly turned a page. “Everyone’s either at the fair or getting ready to go to the fair.”

  “Are you going out to take care of Twister later?”

  “Nope. Thomas and his gang are going this afternoon and he and the boys will check on Twister.”

  “They’re taking a newborn to the fair?”

  Mac finally got a reaction from Holly. She lowered her legs to the floor and set her book facedown on the table. “Yes. Mac...”

  Mac held up his hand. “Forget about it. Water under the bridge.”

  Holly’s eyes widened. “For goodness’ sake, Mac, I lost your daughter. I feel awful. I’m such a failure with children it’s a wonder my family lets me around their kids. That was the longest two minutes of my life.”

  She was right, of course. He knew better than anyone the risk of child abductions at an event like a county fair. He shook his head. All the more reason to find the right person to become a mother for his daughter. At the same time, he understood Holly’s despair. The same thing could easily have happened to him.

  Holly’s shop was in perfect order. All the tables were wiped clean, the books and magazines were on their shelves and the pastry case was full. He sipped his coffee, his thoughts returning to the afternoon when he, Riley, Rosalyn and Holly had gone on all the rides Riley was tall enough for. He had always thought fun was a fishing trip with the guys, but he had to admit, he’d enjoyed himself more than he’d thought possible. After her initial coldness, Riley seemed to have accepted Holly’s presence in their lives.

  Holly’s book was still facedown on her lap. The cover showed a cowboy on a horse. “You’re reading a Western novel?”

  “Louis L’Amour. His books are classics. I’ve never taken the time to read them before.” She flipped the book over and turned another page.

  “I wanted to thank you again for letting Riley tag along with you and Rosalyn.” He caught a brief flash of green eyes as Holly glanced up and then back at her book.

  “I enjoyed it. Twister did, too.” She rested the closed book on her stomach as she stared at the ceiling. “That’s something else I haven’t taken the time for lately—riding.” She sighed. “I’ve been home six months and not once did I take Twister for a ride. The girls reminded me how special horses are, you know?” She tipped her head, a question in her eyes. “What was the mare’s name? Frosty’s dam, I mean.”

  The sudden change of subject took Mac by surprise. He took a deep breath and exhaled completely before answering. “Black Coffee Morning.”

  “You’re kidding.”

  “Nope.”

  Holly waited, as if hoping he’d continue the story. When Mac remained silent, she prompted him. “How did the horse get its name?”

  Mac drummed his fingers on the arm of the chair. “Anne’s father liked cream and sugar in his coffee, but when the mares were getting ready to foal, he wouldn’t have time to fix his coffee the way he liked. So he used to say ‘this is going to be a black coffee morning.’”

  “What a great name,” Holly said. “So what’s Frosty’s paper name?”

  “Frosty Morning.”

  She glanced down at her paperback. “I like those names. I’m surprised she gelded Frosty.”

  Mac nodded. “I know. But he was the mare’s fifth foal. Anne bred her right after Riley was born and intended...” He closed his eyes and let out a breath.

  “You know, Mac, not using a beautiful animal like Frosty for his intended purpose is like...like not letting the public visit the Sistine Chapel. Beauty, and talent, should be appreciated.”

  “You’re riding him. Isn’t that enough?” Mac stared into the depths of his cup. His intention that morning was to warn Holly his daughter was becoming too attached, but now he wondered if it wasn’t the other way around. “Holly—”

  “Good morning, you two. Lovely day.” Mayor Gold strode into the room, battered thermos in hand. “Don’t get up, Holly, I’ll just help myself and give you—” she dug into her pants pocket and dropped coins onto the counter “—the right change.”

  Mac grinned at Holly. “Pretty soon you won’t even need to come in.”

  “They still need me for the espresso drinks.” She rose and replaced her book on the shelf. “Thanks, Mayor.”

  Holly walked to the cash register and rang up the coffee. At twenty-eight, she was the woman the girl had promised to be...strong, independent, fearless. He had made the right decision that long-ago day. Holly ran a hand through her dark hair. “Are you letting your hair grow, Holly?”

  She frowned and ran a hand through her hair again. “I was thinking about it. Why?”

  Mac shrugged. “No reason. It looks nice.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be in the kitchen if anyone needs anything.”

  The door swung closed and the only sound in the coffee shop was the crinkle of the mayor turning the pages of the newspaper. “Did you hear about the copper stolen from the construction site up on the mountain?”

  “I did.”

  “Any leads?” She turned another page.

  “Not so far.”

  She sighed. “People get desperate sometimes.”

  “Doesn’t make it right, Mayor.”

  “I know.” She folded the paper and poured coffee from the thermos into the lid, shaped like a cup. “Did you know I used to be married?”

  Mac shook his head, wondering where she was going with the sudden change of subject. “No.”

  The mayor sipped her coffee and settled back in her chair. “Leon and I were married twenty-two years.” She looked at Mac over the rim of her cup. “I’ll bet you’re surprised to hear that, aren’t you? Someone like me being married.”

  “Not at all, Mayor.”

  “He died of cance
r.” She swirled the coffee in her cup. “I was devastated, still pretty young, just in my forties. I didn’t think I could ever find anyone like him so I didn’t bother looking. I’ve spent the last twenty years alone.”

  Mac didn’t know quite what to make of the mayor’s unexpected revelations. So far their encounters had been about recycling and the vacant lot. But he and the mayor had far more in common than he’d realized.

  “I was right, you know. I wouldn’t have found anyone like Leon. What I wish I’d known then is that I could’ve found someone else to love. I thought loving someone else meant I didn’t love him as much, and that’s just not true, you know?”

  “My father died of cancer.” As soon as the words were out of his mouth he wished he could take them back.

  She focused on her coffee, somehow knowing Mac didn’t want eye contact. “How old were you?”

  Leaning forward and resting his arms on his thighs, Mac said, “Fifteen. We moved here a couple months after he passed away.” At a loud crash from the kitchen, Mac jerked his head up. But the swinging door remained closed. He thought of meeting Chris, then the rest of the Hoffman family, and finally Holly, the apple of her father’s eye.

  Deb upended the cup, then reached for a napkin. “You never get over losing someone you love. You can move forward, but you never forget.” Wiping the last of the coffee from the thermos lid, she strolled over to the door. “Look at those roses. Why, they’re just a riot of blooms.”

  Mac joined her in the doorway. On one side of the vacant lot was the town library, and its boundary was marked with a wooden fence covered by old-fashioned pink tea roses. “Lots of thorns, too.”

  Deb elbowed him in the side. “The sweetest fragrance comes with a few thorns.” She opened the door and walked out onto the porch. “They’ve grown next to the library ever since I can remember. We have to do something with the lot, Mac, money or no money.” She set her thermos in the basket of her scooter and buckled on her helmet. “We’ll think of something one of these days. Take care, Chief.” She motored down the street.

  Mac opened the door of his SUV. Across the street a cherry-red pickup idled in front of the bank, Ethan Johnson behind the wheel. Tom stood in the street talking to his son. Mac shook his head, unable to imagine being the father of a teenager. He envied the boy in the truck, then in a flash of insight wondered if he had envied Holly the year following his father’s death.