Sea Glass Winter

by JoAnn Ross

  “Yeah.” Matt scuffed at a worn place on the steps. “She invited me to a party.”

  “You know she’s having sex with Dirk, right?”

  “So he wants everyone to believe.” Matt hadn’t liked the way the douche had treated her at lunch. She deserved better.

  “Oh, she is. Totally. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I’m just saying that he’s already pissed about you being on the team. And being better than him. You might want to tread carefully.”

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  “No problem.” Johnny was tossing the pebbled ball back and forth between his hands. “You ever have sex?” he asked casually.

  “Sure.” When Johnny shot him a look, Matt decided that friendships, and this looked like it might turn into one, shouldn’t be based on lies. “Sort of. Not exactly. I got to second base.”

  “Better than striking out,” Johnny said.

  “You ever have sex?”

  “Yeah.” His tone was flat, with none of the boast Dirk had shown off when he’d showed up late for lunch.

  “Was it great?”

  “No. One time was with an older girl in a foster home. I was thirteen; she was seventeen. I had no clue what I was doing and felt like a total failure when she laughed at me for lasting all of thirty seconds.

  “My next time was two years later. With a stay-at-home foster mom. She’d call me in sick, and we’d do it while her husband was at work. It lasted about three months before I got moved to a different place. Looking back on it, I think my social worker had suspicions about all my excused absences from school.”

  “Was she hot?”

  “I guess.” He frowned at the memory. “At least she thought so.”

  “Wow. That’s, like, every guy’s fantasy.”

  “It’s probably better as a fantasy. Because in real life it pretty much sucked… . But here’s the only reason I’m telling you about it. Because the one thing those times taught me is that sex should be important. Any girl who’s willing to have sex with me someday is getting a flawed guy. A guy whose total sexual experience is pretty much humiliation, fear, and guilt.”

  “I think most guys are probably afraid. At least the first time,” Matt said, wondering what the woman looked like and thinking that still didn’t sound so bad.

  “Probably. But if it’s a first time for both of you, then you’ve created a memory. Maybe one you can build on. Maybe not.

  “I’m not saying that everyone should do the promise ring, celibate thing. Just that the same way I suspect moms tell their daughters not to give themselves away too easily, it’s probably the same for guys. But nobody talks about it that way, especially guys in sports, because playing ball is all about being macho. But the one thing my dad has taught me is that being a man is also about respect. For other people, and yourself.

  “Whew.” He blew out a long breath. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to give you a lecture. I was mostly wanting to warn you Dirk has pretty much claimed Taylor for his own this year. You might not want to get in the middle of that.”

  “I appreciate the warning.” But Matt couldn’t deny that after the way the guy had tried to freeze him out of the team, taking his girl, even if they didn’t end up having sex, could be sweet. “Thanks.”

  “Like I said, no problem.” They bumped fists just as Matt’s mom pulled up in the Lexus. Matt ran to the SUV, then paused after opening the door. “That thing you said, about the girl getting a flawed guy?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think you’re wrong about that.”

  Worrying that he’d just opened them up to a weird bromance thing, Matt climbed into the passenger seat and closed the door.

  As they drove away, he looked back through the side window and saw Johnny, still sitting all alone on the porch, bouncing the basketball.

  32

  “So did you have a good time?” Claire asked as she headed down Harborview, back toward the bridge.

  “It was okay,” Matt mumbled. “His mom brought home cupcakes.”

  “That’s nice.”

  “Yeah.”

  Could the conversation be any more strained? Claire wondered. Next they’d be talking about the weather. Which would be rain. Rain. And more rain. Wouldn’t that be stimulating?

  “She told me about the crabfest when she and the others dropped by today.”

  “Sorry. I forgot about it.”

  “That’s okay. It sounds like fun.”

  “If you like crab.”

  Which Matt always had. But apparently he was still determined not to like anything about Shelter Bay. “She also mentioned that she runs a no-kill shelter.”

  “Yeah.” She felt him shoot a glance her way, but when she looked toward him, he quickly turned his head and stared out the window. “I’m thinking about doing my volunteer work there.”

  “That’d be a great choice.”

  Claire didn’t add that she’d feel more comfortable knowing that the vet and her husband would be keeping an eye on him. Heaven knows, having adopted two foster children, they must be accustomed to dealing with kids with issues.

  “I was thinking,” she said carefully, her fingers tightening on the steering wheel, “that maybe we could adopt one.”

  “A dog?” She could feel him looking at her again but this time kept her own gaze glued to the road.

  “Yes. Unless you’d rather get a cat.”

  “Cats are okay, I guess. But dogs are cooler.”

  “I agree. I always wanted a dog,” she confided truthfully. “But Mom’s allergies ruled them out. I did have a goldfish for a while.”

  “Which isn’t much like a real pet,” he said.

  “No. It wasn’t.”

  Another silence settled over them as darkness began to surround the SUV. But this one felt less strained.

  “What kind of dog?” he asked.

  “I haven’t really given it that much thought. When I was growing up, I always wanted a collie. Like Lassie.”

  “That’d be okay.”

  “If there’s one at the shelter, we might want to look at it. But I do wonder if all that fur would be hard to handle with our rain.”

  “Maybe a short coat,” he suggested. “Like a lab. Or a boxer.”

  “Two more possibilities,” she agreed. “Of course, we’ll want to look more at personalities than just focusing in on one breed. But I read on the shelter’s Web site after talking to you this afternoon that Dr. Tiernan-St. James has a degree in animal behavior and she makes certain that all the dogs she has up for adoption can, with a little love and kindness, settle in well.”

  “So you’re not thinking about getting a little dog you can dress up?”

  “I’d have nothing against a small breed. Or a mixed one, which the Web site said we’ll most likely end up with. But you’ve known me fifteen-plus years, Matthew. Have I ever seemed to be the type of person who’d put a dress on a dog?”

  “No,” he said. “You’ve always been pretty normal.”

  “Why, thank you.” She also sent up a silent thank-you to Charity Tiernan. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

  Although he didn’t answer, she could feel the tension lessening even more.

  Just wait until he got home, she thought with almost giddy anticipation.

  Thanks to the floodlight Lucas Chaffee had set up with the basketball pole, Matt saw the addition the moment she reached the house.

  “You got me a basketball rig?” His voice reminded her of how he used to sound on Christmas morning, when he’d come wandering out in his footed pajamas, all wide-eyed at the wondrous bounty Santa had left behind.

  “Coach Dillon sent it over.” Wanting to leave the driveway free, since she had the feeling he’d want to try it out right away, she pulled up at the curb in front of the house. “Lucas Chaffee—he’s a local contractor who’ll be fixing up the house—put it up. He said when we get the house done, we can make a more permanent one.”

  “This is just
the coolest thing!” His grin reminded her of the old Matt. The bright sun around which her entire world had revolved for so many years.

  As she heated up the braised short ribs Chef Maddy had supplied for their dinner, Claire listened to the familiar bounce, bounce, bounce of the basketball on asphalt, which brought her mind back to the man responsible for Matt’s happiness. While part of her selfishly wished she’d been the one to put that smile on her son’s face, Claire was relieved to see him so enthusiastic about anything again.

  Although she hadn’t wanted to admit it, even to herself, she’d been afraid that if she couldn’t find some way to break through that tough shell he’d spent the last year building, he’d get himself into even worse trouble. It was a bullet she seemed to have dodged, at least for now, because of Matt’s coach.

  Which brought her mind circling back, as it seemed to do so often, to Dillon Slater… .

  Though she’d planned this move down to the last detail, the man had turned out to be one complication she hadn’t counted on.

  “He can only be trouble if you let him,” she assured herself as she set the table.

  So what if his deep voice strummed chords she’d forgotten even could be strummed? His Bambi brown eyes could stare down into hers until doomsday, sending as many enticingly sensual messages as they liked.

  She was a grown woman, capable of making her own choices. And she wasn’t the least bit interested.

  “When did you turn into such a liar?” She slapped the paper napkins onto the placemats with enough force to create miniature tidal waves in the water glasses. “But it’ll still be okay.” She placed the forks next to the napkins with more care.

  Dillon Slater could become a complication only if she allowed him to be. For now, at this particular moment in time, with the mouthwatering aroma of braised beef wafting from the oven, and her son’s basketball bouncing on the driveway of her new, soon-to-be-renovated beach house, life was good.

  33

  “I love her!” The moment Charity had brought out the golden retriever, Phoebe had lost her heart. “She’s perfect!”

  “Goldens are wonderful companion dogs,” Charity said as she wrote up the adoption paperwork. “They’re one of the few breeds who truly build a strong lifetime bond with their human family, which is why it’s so rare for them to come up for adoption.

  “Unfortunately, they are prone to separation anxiety, which is how Sunny ended up with me. With both her humans working long hours, she tended to get bored and think up things to do to get in trouble. But with you and Ethan sharing her, she should be in doggie heaven.” Charity reached down and scratched behind the dog’s ear, causing it to wiggle its fluffy gold butt in a canine happy dance.

  “Since I’m a believer in full disclosure, I have to warn you that she’ll shed.”

  “I have a Swiffer,” Phoebe said. “I can handle some dog hair.”

  “The upside is that it’s a double coat, which makes it weatherproof.”

  “A handy thing for this area, with all our rain,” Ethan said.

  “She’s very patient, which will be a plus once your baby starts walking and undoubtedly jumps on her. And she’s strong enough to be able to take whatever roughhousing an older child will give her. And, being two years old, she’s well trained and housebroken.”

  “She’s perfect,” Phoebe repeated as she signed the adoption agreement Charity handed her. For a moment she was almost able to forget the trouble the Fletchers had brought down on her so suddenly as she imagined this beautiful, sweet dog playing with her soon-to-be-born child.

  “And you two are perfect for her. And I’m glad you both came by this evening, because I received a call from my stepfather just before you arrived. He’s not sure about the details, but there are rumors floating around Colorado that your former father-in-law might be under federal investigation.”

  “For what?” Phoebe asked in surprise.

  “He doesn’t know. Yet,” Charity qualified. “But he’s going to make a few calls to people he knows in Washington—DC, not the state—and see what else he can find out.”

  “So they’re just rumors?” Ethan asked with a frown.

  “Yes. At this point. But believe me, Benton, my stepfather, is superconnected in high-up legal circles. If the Fletchers have any skeletons in their closet, he’ll unearth them.”

  “I don’t know how to thank you.” Words couldn’t begin to describe the depth of Phoebe’s gratitude.

  “Just be happy. With your new dog, your baby, and this guy here. You’ve created a wonderful new life for yourself, Phoebe. None of us who care about you will let those horrid people take it away.”

  As Sunny thumped a thick yellow tail on the floor, as if to signify canine agreement, Phoebe thought, yet again, how of all the places that underground railroad might have taken her, she’d been beyond fortunate to end up here in Shelter Bay.

  34

  Claire had never been to New Orleans for Mardi Gras, but each time she visited Bon Temps, she felt as if she’d come close. The night of the crabfest was no different.

  Gold, purple, and green carnival masks hung on Tabasco-hued walls, and bright beads, like the kind thrown from floats, had been hung from light fixtures.

  The high school pops band was playing on the small stage. What the teenage musicians lacked in professionalism, they made up for in enthusiasm as they belted out show tunes interspersed with the Dolphins’ fight song, while the cheerleaders tried to get everyone to sing along. Spirit banners painted by various school clubs hung on the bright red walls next to the masks.

  Although she felt some chilliness from a few of the parents—she suspected they were concerned that Matt would take away from their sons’ playing time—the boosters were more than friendly, and nearly everyone else who’d shown up to support the team made a point of stopping by her table to welcome her to town.

  “I’m having a good time,” she said to Charity, who was sitting next to her at the long table.

  “I’m glad. It is fun, isn’t it?” Charity said. “Sometimes it blows my mind that I’m actually the mother of a teenager, but fortunately, Johnny’s such an easy kid.” She glanced over at her adopted son pouring water into a pitcher at a nearby table. “He looks so grown up.”

  “I know.” Claire was struck at how adult her own son, clad in slacks, a white shirt, and a black tie, looked as he moved around the room, a model of polite manners and charm as he served the crab dinner. She also watched all the young girls’ eyes following him.

  “They grow up so fast,” she said, focusing in on one blond cheerleader, who, from the hungry look in her gaze as she’d sassily flirted with him when he passed with a tray of bright red boiled crabs, looked as if she could be trouble. “I hear I have your Johnny to thank for Matt deciding to volunteer at your shelter.”

  “We’re happy to have him. And I’m so glad you’re coming by next week. We have some wonderful dogs to choose from.”

  At that moment, a little girl who reminded Claire a bit of Zuzu from It’s a Wonderful Life came spinning up to the table. She was wearing a pink tutu, striped pink and yellow leggings, a glittery pink T-shirt that read I HAVE HAPPY FEET, and sneakers that flashed as those happy feet moved up and down.

  “Hi,” she greeted Claire with a bright smile that was lacking a front tooth. “I’m Angel. And I’m a ballerina.”

  “I can see that,” Claire said. “I’ve been watching you dance with the band. You’re very good.”

  “Madame Zelda’s the best teacher ever. Mommy says that’s because she used to be a really famous ballerina in Russia. Are you Matt’s mommy?”

  “I am.”

  “He’s nice.”

  “I like to think so.”

  “Oh!” She lifted both hands up to her mouth. Her short nails had been painted with a sparkly pink polish. “I almost forgot. Mommy,” she said, “Daddy told me to come get you. He said it’s really important.”

  “I hope it’s nothing serious,” C
laire said to Charity.

  “If it was all that serious, he wouldn’t have sent Tinker Bell,” Charity assured her. “I’m on the crabfest committee. It’s probably something like we’re in danger of running out of coleslaw or another emergency.”

  Just as she stood up, Dillon walked by.

  “Dillon,” Charity said, snagging his arm, “come sit by Claire and keep her company. She doesn’t know that many people yet.”

  Before Claire could assure her that she was perfectly capable of introducing herself to other town residents, Charity was off, following the dancing sprite, causing a faint sound, like the one made when the angel Clarence finally earned his wings in It’s a Wonderful Life, to chime in the back of Claire’s mind.

  “Why do I get the feeling I’ve just been set up?” she asked dryly as the coach sat down at the butcher-paper-covered table next to her.

  “Beats me.” He popped some shrimp from a bowl in front of him into his mouth and looked around. “The place is really packed. I’m just glad I was able to find a place to sit down. It’s a little hard to crack crab standing up… . So how goes the glassblowing?”

  “I’ve been blocked,” she admitted. “Other than the green flash, I haven’t been able to come up with anything creative that works with it.” She’d begun to wonder if it was possible to actually run out of ideas.

  “That’s probably not surprising. I’d imagine all the changes in your life haven’t exactly put your mind in a creative space.”

  “True. But inspiration struck when I was down at the aquarium the other day.”

  “Cool place.” He nodded approvingly. “I took the science club there last month. They have some great programs. Maybe we could go together sometime. I have an in with the research scientists there. I could give you a behind-the-scenes tour.”

  “That sounds interesting, but I’m afraid I have a lot on my plate right now,” she said mildly as she realized a couple at the next table over were openly eavesdropping.