Simply Mad (Girls of Wonder Lane Book 1)

by Christina Coryell

  He looks thoroughly amused, wrapping the towel around his wrist and unwrapping it again.

  “Oh, come on, don’t you see? What is Kelli to Brent? She’s his wife, of course, but what else is she?” He smiles over at me as though he’s waiting for an answer. “She’s his assistant. Kent can’t bring his wife, so the only other person he can bring to the court is…”

  “…his assistant. You’re right!” Ugh, I can’t believe that man actually had the audacity to infer that he needed my help in running his company!

  “It’s really pretty clever, if you think about it.”

  Very clever, indeed. I’m onto you, Kent Cooper, and you better believe I’m going to make this worth my while.

  “So you’re a ringer!” Max exclaims with a laugh. “How does it feel?”

  “I don’t know how much of a ringer I can be, if I can’t even play tennis.”

  “That’s where I come in,” he states, heading toward the court. “Come on gorgeous, we’ll have you playing an ‘A’ game in no time.”

  The fact that he just called me gorgeous is not lost on me—not by a long shot.

  “What if I don’t have an ‘A’ game?” I wonder aloud, hesitantly following Max onto the court.

  He simply shrugs his shoulders and offers me a smile. “My guess is, the longer it takes you to learn, the more Kent is going to send you over here. If he wants to beat his brother, he’ll do whatever it takes.”

  “Sounds reasonable.”

  “So, if you happen to be a really slow learner, you and I might be spending a lot of time together.”

  I hear the faint sounds of angels singing, and I’m pretty sure a giant ray of light just descended upon us.

  “I’m afraid I might prove to be a very, very slow learner.”

  “We better get started then,” he answers with a smile.

  Maybe this means I’ll be over here every day. Kent Cooper will do whatever it takes? Well, I’ll do whatever it takes to use the situation to my advantage. Whether that means getting even with Cooper, or spending time with Max, this looks like a win-win.

  Approximately two hours later I’m headed upwards in the elevator to my new office. No, the tennis lesson didn’t take that long, but I’ve spent some time unwinding from my first unbelievable Max encounter and mulling over my options. My first impulse was to storm back here and tell Cooper exactly what I thought of his little scheme, but then I thought better of it. I need to really think this over and come up with a marvelous plan. There’s no reason I can’t use this to my advantage for a long, long period of time.

  By that, naturally I mean a “long enough to convince Max that I’m the right girl to spend forever with” kind of time.

  As I step out of the elevator, Dina looks up at me over her red frames. Honestly, I’m getting tired of her glaring at me. My desire to say something to her has been tempered so far by the fact that I have taken her office, and I’ve tried to put myself in her shoes. I’m sure I wouldn’t be enamored with me if I was her, but she should at least place the blame where it belongs—solidly with Cooper. I haven’t noticed her acting strangely toward him at all, and he was the one who put her in the hall in the first place.

  “Back so soon?” Dina asks with a snort, rolling her eyes. Gliding past her, I’m determined not to respond to her nastiness. I’m in no sort of mood right now to deal with the poorly directed attitude. “Were you anxious to get back over here to tell Mr. Cooper how much fun you had at your little lesson? I’m sure he’d love to hear all about it!”

  I push open the door to my office and pretend I didn’t hear her. Everything is just as I left it, with no new work on my desk. If Cooper insists on needing an assistant, the least he could do is provide something on which he needs assistance.

  “I wish I knew what it was like not to have to work for a living,” Dina jabs as I start to shut the door.

  And that proves to be the snapping point, where I decide I’ve been nice long enough. I can’t take her constant barbs. We both have to work on the same floor, after all.

  “Where is Cooper, anyway?” I ask her, stepping back into the hall.

  She adjusts her glasses on her face to better glare over them.

  “Mister Cooper is out.”

  “That’s good, because I have something to say to you,” I begin. She snarls her nose and crosses her arms across her chest defiantly. “You don’t like me. I get it, loud and clear. In fact, you don’t have to keep going out of your way to express your disgust, because I can feel it in the air every time I step into the hallway.”

  “Is that all?” she asks smugly.

  Walking up to her desk, I stand directly in front of her. “No, that’s not all. I heard you out the other day, and now you’ll hear me out. You say you’ve been here twenty-odd years and now you’re stuck in the hall? I’m sorry about that, whether you want me to be or not.”

  “So what?”

  “So what? Now we both know your side of the story, and you’re going to hear mine. I’ve been here three years. No, three is not the same as twenty, but it’s something. I’ve worked hard every day I’ve been with this company, trying to advance my career. I finally had an opening for a position I wanted and deserved, and my boss was prepared to give it to me. Instead, I had a surprise interview with Cooper and found out I was moving upstairs. To do what, you might ask. Turns out Cooper wants me to be his assistant, only there’s a small problem: He doesn’t want me to actually do any work. He wants me to be his assistant in title only. Now, why do you think he would do that?”

  “I have no idea,” Dina states, shifting uncomfortably in her chair and clearing her throat.

  “Neither did I, until today. Turns out Mister Cooper promoted me so I could learn how to play tennis. Does he merely want to promote physical fitness in the company? Oh, no. He wants me to learn how to play so he can involve himself in some sort of grudge match with his brother. Why me, you might ask. Maybe I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time—I may never know, but the next time you’re thinking about the raw deal you were handed, I want you to think about this: I could be sitting downstairs right now as Marketing Account Leader, with my good friends around me, enjoying my career and making a mark in the world. Instead, I’m sitting up here in this friendless office with nothing to do but learn how to play tennis while a grown man plans his childish revenge. I’m a pawn. You’re out in the hallway, and I’m a pawn. Deal with it.”

  Stepping into my office, I shut the door behind me. This is one of those times when I wish Katie was right here. It’s just not the same calling her from a distance. Besides, the last couple times I tried she was busy, and by the time she calls me back, I usually forget what I wanted in the first place.

  Never mind, though, because I have very important things to think about. Exactly how am I going to deal with this situation? I believe I’m in a very unique position. As long as Cooper thinks I’m becoming a pro at tennis, he’ll probably do anything to make me happy and keep me working for him. After all, if I was to decide to leave, it would take him that much longer to find another girl and start the process of lessons all over again. If he’s truly as competitive as Max indicated, he is going to want to schedule this big match as quickly as possible.

  Coincidentally, that big match brings up another set of problems. It seems to me that I need to postpone that event as long as humanly possible. What are the odds that I’m going to become good enough at tennis to beat Kelli? Max seemed to think she was a pretty tough competitor. If the big match actually happens, and Cooper loses because of me, what will the consequences be? It’s too big a risk.

  In the meantime, I should make sure to provide myself with plenty of experience so I can find a better job, if that problem arises. It shouldn’t really be too difficult. Cooper’s bound to let me run with any of the ideas I present for the company, because he isn’t going to want to cause conflict. If I just sit around a while and think of things that will look good on my résumé, I’m sure
I can come up with some programs to run by him. As long as they don’t interfere with tennis time, we should be in business.

  Hearing a light rap on my door, I look up just in time to see Dina’s beehive poke around the corner. Undoubtedly she’s been sitting out there thinking of a retort, and now I’m going to get it. She closes the door to my office and stands demurely in front of me, her hands folded together. Clearing her throat, she stares at me calmly.

  “Madeline, I have heard your remarks, and I apologize for the way I’ve treated you. I understand your situation.”

  I’m so stunned, I can’t think of a single word to say. I nod and expect her to turn and exit, but she stays put, staring into my eyes. After a moment, she bends down, places her palms on my desk, and leans toward me. Her voice is lowered to a whisper, but I clearly hear what she says.

  “Now, let’s take him down.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  I am absolutely dreading this Labor Day picnic. Josh thinks I’m crazy, but I have a bad feeling about the whole affair. Call it woman’s intuition, or just a general bad vibe, or blame it on the fact that I’ve been to these family get-togethers before. Any way you slice it, no good can come out of this event.

  Things will most likely be better than anticipated if I’m simply determined to make the best of it, and I desperately want to believe that. I even made a cake for the occasion (it’s what Mom suggested when I asked—chocolate with chocolate frosting). I am certainly not a baker, which gives me an added bonus, because there won’t be any temptation for me to eat this cake and break my diet, since I made it myself. There’s a high probability that it’s slightly burnt, undercooked, or absolutely tastes like dirt.

  “Don’t leave me alone,” I request to Katie as we step out of the car.

  Yes, I brought Katie along to soften the inevitable blow.

  “Come on, Maddie,” she complains. “It’s your family.”

  “Yes, it is, so I’m completely aware that it’s a hostile environment. Please, Katie.” I give her puppy dog eyes and bat my eyelashes, to which she smirks and shakes her head.

  “Okay, I’ll do my best.”

  That’s all I can expect, I suppose.

  Katie follows me down the walk and up the steps to the house. The smell of barbecue is drifting in from the backyard, and my stomach is already growling. Eating a better breakfast probably would have been wise. That’s one of the big things that hurts your dieting habits, isn’t it? Going to an event while hungry?

  I wait on the porch for Katie to open the door, partly because I’m carrying the cake and partly because I want to make sure she’s still right behind me. The scent of apple pie wafts through the air. Mom must be baking, too. So strange to think of my mother watching Martha Stewart-types and actually trying to emulate them. My mother, whose idea of a good dinner was stopping to grab a bucket of chicken on her way home from work. Then again, she probably thinks the same about me baking a cake.

  “Hi, Mom,” I call when I see her in the kitchen. She’s leaning over the oven door pulling the apple pie free, but she looks up and nods.

  “Maddie, there you are. I’ve been wondering about you.”

  Walking fully into the kitchen, I set my cake on the table next to…three other chocolate cakes with chocolate frosting.

  “What’s with all the cake?” I wonder aloud.

  Mom glances at the table but continues fussing with her pie. “Oh, Brittany wanted to bring cake, and I told her that was fine. Those grandkids of mine do love chocolate cake!”

  Of course. Could I have expected a different answer? Brittany even piped little flowers onto the top of her cakes in yellow and white icing. Mine looks like a big chocolate blob next to the others.

  “Madeline Jane Heard, what in the dickens is wrong with you?”

  My head snaps up, quite startled. I haven’t heard my full name like that in years. She’s standing there with her hands on her hips, and I glance at Katie, who is trying not to laugh. I’ll have to ask later what she finds so amusing.

  “Nothing,” I reply.

  She narrows her eyes and scrutinizes my face closely.

  “Are you sick?”

  “No.”

  “Have you been sick?”

  “No.”

  “Then why are you so skinny?”

  “Oh, that,” I reply, laughing with relief. “I’ve been jogging at night, that’s all. I’m becoming physically fit.”

  “Hmm…” she mutters, lifting her chin. “Well, stop it. You look positively ill.”

  “I think she looks great,” Katie offers.

  “Who is this?” Mom blurts, pointing at Katie while she stares at me. Nice question from a woman who thinks me being physically fit is revolting.

  “This is my friend Katie, from work,” I state carefully, trying not to allow my head to explode.

  “Well, Katie, be a dear and take this potato salad out to the back yard,” Mom continues sweetly, smiling at Katie. Surprisingly, Katie does her bidding without a word. Naturally, I attempt to follow her out the door, to no avail. “Now just hold on a minute, Maddie, I need you in here.”

  Katie shoots me a quickly mouthed “sorry” before she makes her escape. I’ve been defeated by potato salad and an overbearing mother. Awaiting the inevitable like a prisoner before a firing squad, I hesitate until Katie is out of sight and Mom looks me squarely in the eye.

  “You’re involved in that anorexia, aren’t you?” She waves a wooden spoon under my nose to try to press her point somehow.

  “No, Mom, absolutely not!” Talk about a ridiculous assumption!

  “What is it then, the vomiting? Madeline, I did not raise you that way!” I grab the wooden spoon, now an inch from my face, and place it out of her reach on the table.

  “For the last time, Mom, I’ve been jogging. That’s it! I’ve been eating healthy and jogging. I’m not sick, and I’m certainly not bulimic!”

  Mom continues to stand in front of me and stare deeply into my eyes for a moment before she retrieves the wooden spoon and goes back to the stove. As she stirs her concoction slowly, something inside me fizzles a bit.

  Why can’t she simply be happy that I’ve done something good for myself? Instead, I’m always being measured by this impossible invisible standard that I can’t achieve. Most of the time I can’t reach high enough, but today somehow I’m overreaching. It’s quite exasperating.

  “I’ve got my eye on you,” Mom states with her back to me. “If you go out there and eat something, don’t you dare come back in here to the restroom. I’m onto you.”

  Oh, honestly! Is it too early to call it a day and go home?

  Opening the back door, I walk out to search for Katie, who I immediately realize is next to my brother, Lance, near the food table. The yard is decked out in red, white, and blue banners, and Mom even has a centerpiece of blue flowers with red streamers shooting up in the middle. This Martha Stewart stuff is obviously going to her head.

  Upon reaching the bottom of the steps, I’m greeted by a screech.

  “Aahhh! Maddie! It’s been so long since I’ve seen you.” I turn to see my cousin Sonya, about three years my elder, approaching from the side of the house. She’s right—it’s been a long time. The last time I saw her was probably Lance and Brittany’s wedding, but she hasn’t changed much. Exact same haircut.

  “Hi, Sonya,” I say quietly. “It has been a long time.”

  “Too long, but look at you! You look incredible! How did you do it so quickly?”

  Um, what exactly does that mean? I could have looked like this for the last few years, for all she knows.

  “Nothing complicated. I’ve been jogging and watching what I eat.”

  “Well, I must say that I’m impressed!” she exclaims, scanning the yard like she’s searching for someone. “Now, where is the little one?”

  Surely she’s not so confused that she believes Lance is my little brother. “Little one?”

  “The baby? Where is the baby?
Your mom told me a while back that you were pregnant.”

  My cousin thinks I was pregnant and have lost some baby weight. Very nice turn of events.

  Two children choose that moment to dart in between us, almost knocking Sonya over. Taking her arm, I pull her toward the corner of the house where no one will overhear.

  “You think I was pregnant?” I attempt to clarify.

  “Your mom said her daughter was pregnant,” she states, suddenly looking concerned. “I’m sorry, was it supposed to be a secret?”

  “No, there’s no secret. I am not, nor have I ever been, pregnant. You’ve got some wrong information.”

  “Sorry, Maddie,” she says, making a hasty exit.

  Without even thinking, I head back up the steps and into the kitchen. Mom has her head stuck in the refrigerator, but she glances up as I swing the door closed behind me. I must have failed to notice earlier that she’s wearing a shirt with red, white and blue stripes. Perhaps Martha Stewart recommended matching the wardrobe with the décor.

  On second thought, I’m guessing Martha would give that a big N-O.

  “Mom, did you tell people I was going to have a baby?”

  She pulls her head out of the refrigerator only long enough to give me a puzzled look, and then dives back in.

  “Good grief, Maddie, why would I do that?”

  “You didn’t tell people that your daughter was pregnant?”

  Mom shuts the refrigerator door and heads to the counter, placing the condiment bottles on a tray and arranging them neatly from smallest to largest.

  “My daughter is pregnant,” she insists. “Brittany. Now be a dear and help me out with this.”

  “You didn’t stop to think that people might assume you were talking about me? Sonya thought I had a baby.”

  “And that’s my problem, you’re saying? Well, don’t worry, I’ll take care of it!” she exclaims with a sigh as I hold the door open with my arm. “Why do I always have to do everything around here?”

  This has been a dreadfully long day, and we’ve been here, what…ten minutes? How am I ever going to make it?