Take the Trophy and Run

by Gail Sattler

  Amber gulped down the last sip of her tea, he waved a good-bye to his mother, and he hustled Amber out the door. The longer they stayed, the more chances there were that his mother would ask the same question as his father, and his mother wasn’t as subtle as his father. Mostly, that wasn’t something he wanted to address in front of Amber. At least not yet.

  Just as he started the truck, Amber tapped him on the arm. “I need the charger for my cell phone back.”

  Stan smacked his palm to his forehead. “I forgot it inside, as well as my cell phone. It’s still charging. Wait just a minute, I’ll be right back.”

  Looking through the window, he saw that his mother was still on the phone, so he didn’t knock, he just went straight in. His father was no longer in the living room, and his mother’s back was to him, giving him a good opportunity to just grab his phone and the charger and get out of there before she saw him. If she did, then she’d ask the same questions as his father, only worse, since Amber was no longer with him. He didn’t want to go through that again, not today, not ever.

  He glanced at his mother. Since he was nearly six feet tall, even if he took off his boots and tiptoed across the room, she would still see him out of her peripheral vision. If not, he’d still cast a shadow, and she’d see that, even if she didn’t see him.

  He looked across the room to the coffee table, where his phone glowed with the charging icon flashing.

  He needed his phone, and Amber needed her charger. He also needed to do this fast, because Amber was waiting in the truck.

  Not caring that he felt as foolish as he probably looked, he lowered himself to his hands and knees and crawled across the living room without taking his boots off. The closer he got to his phone, the closer he got to his mother, so close that he could actually hear her conversation. He didn’t want to listen in, but when her words hit him, he froze with his hand in midair above his phone.

  “. . . is spelled with an E, not an I. How could you use a word like that and not check how it’s spelled? And another thing, they came in here to talk to me with his arm around her shoulder. Sylvia just called to tell me that about an hour ago she was driving by Amber’s house and saw them smooching in his truck in her driveway. Earlier Caroline called to say Stan kissed Amber in the backyard when they came to get the new note. Our plan is working!”

  A rush of adrenaline flooded Stan, filling him with the urge to either roar out loud or hit something really hard. Instead, he grabbed his phone, yanked the charger out of the wall and hightailed it back across the floor, his temper flaring with every step, or whatever it was when a person crawled instead of walked. It took all his mental strength to click the door shut rather than slam it, and he stormed back to his truck, struggling even more not to slam the truck door.

  “What’s wrong? What happened?”

  “I’ll tell you when we get back to your place,” he snapped between his teeth, and the pickup roared off down the street.

  Chapter Thirty-one

  I’ve never seen you like this. Please tell me.”

  “I refuse to talk about it while I’m driving.” He gripped the steering wheel so hard that his hands shook.

  Amber gulped and said a prayer for their safety. Not only had she never seen Stan this angry, she’d never seen him drive so fast.

  She almost prayed for Tucker or Bubba to come after them, in or out of uniform. Unless Stan was driving so fast that they’d have to throw him in jail. She couldn’t pay his bail.

  They made it home in record time, unescorted.

  He stomped his way to her door, used his own key to unlock it, and was inside before she was halfway down the sidewalk.

  Somebody had done something really, really bad. Since they’d just come from his parents’ place, she had a sinking feeling it was his mother.

  By the time Amber made it to the living room, Stan sat on the couch, leaning back, his arms crossed over his chest, his knees pressed tight together, his whole body as stiff as a board. She could almost see steam coming out of his ears.

  The mental image almost made her laugh, telling her that she was nearly at the edge, herself. She didn’t know whether she should try to lighten the moment by offering to get a fire extinguisher, or give him a hug to try to make his pain go away.

  Instead, she sat beside him, not touching him, and waited for him to talk when he was ready.

  “You don’t have to worry about getting kicked out of the garden club,” he snapped, his tone harsher than she’d ever heard out of Stan. “I think I know where the trophy is. You’ll probably find it safe and sound in Pamela’s den, in the same case where it’s stored all winter.”

  “Do you mean the Gnapper is Pamela? That’s not possible.”

  “It’s not just Pamela. It’s all of them.”

  “All of who?”

  “All of them, every place where Gnorman’s been. I heard my mother on the phone, scolding someone for spelling clandestine wrong. Then she told the bad speller that both Caroline and Sylvia called, and that their plan was working.” He turned to Amber. “She didn’t say ‘my’ plan, or ‘your’ plan, or ‘their’ plan. She said ‘our’ plan. That tells me there are at least four people involved, but the more I think about it, I think that everyone who has had Gnorman in their yard is somehow involved. That would explain how Gnorman so strategically disappeared from every single yard without being seen. They’re all in on it.”

  The membership spreadsheet flashed before her eyes, with the operating board members highlighted in yellow. She counted on her fingers. “That means Pamela, Sherry, Libby, Sylvia, Victoria, Andy, Minnie, Caroline, Naomi, and your mother.”

  “Yup. All of them.”

  “Why? You said I’m not going to get kicked out of the garden club. I don’t understand.”

  He gritted his teeth, sighed, ran one hand through his hair, then looked away. She’d never seen anyone working harder to avoid saying something.

  “Come on. Just say it.”

  “It had nothing to do with your membership, or your garden, or even the garden club. It’s a matchmaking scheme to get us together,” he said, not facing her as he spoke.

  “What?”

  “You heard me. Caroline reported back to my mother that I kissed you in the backyard at the B&B, and Sylvia reported back to my mother that we were smooching in my truck in your driveway.” He turned back to her, his expression looking like he was ready to blow a gasket or something. “Smooching! What kind of description is that? That’s almost as dumb a word as clandestine!”

  “You’re yelling.”

  “Sorry,” he snapped.

  He didn’t sound very sorry, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. Besides, this whole thing wasn’t his fault.

  Amber turned away from him so she could think. She couldn’t think with him glaring at her like that.

  She tried to piece together the information he’d given her, but one phrase kept ringing through her head. Matchmaking scheme.

  She turned back to him. “I don’t understand at all. A matchmaking scheme would be something to throw together two people who don’t know each other. We don’t need to be matched. We already see each other nearly every day.”

  “I know.”

  “If Caroline and Sylvia were reporting back to your mother, does that mean that everyone is watching for us, spying on us?”

  “I hope not.”

  “I haven’t noticed anyone following me.” But then, she’d never have a reason to look. From now on, though, she would. “Have you noticed anyone following you?”

  “No.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “You’re sure full of answers. No sarcasm intended.” Contrary to her words, she let her voice drip with sarcasm.

  Again, he t
urned to glare at her. “I heard very little of the conversation. I was only in there for what, two minutes? Then I had to get out as fast as I could, before she saw me.”

  “You’re right. I’m sorry. This is just such a . . . a shock. What were they thinking?”

  “I don’t know.”

  She looked at him, waiting for answers, but he had as many as she did, which at the time, was zero.

  He opened his arms toward her. “Come here,” he mumbled.

  She didn’t need any more invitation. Amber leaned against his chest, sliding one arm around his back, the other across the front of him, planting her open palm at his shoulder. When she was settled, Stan’s arms wrapped around her and he held her tight.

  She didn’t talk. She didn’t need to. Besides, she had nothing to say.

  Apparently neither did Stan. The silence dragged so long she felt a compelling urge to turn on the television, but she couldn’t reach the remote without pulling herself away from Stan, and she didn’t want to do that.

  She should have been overjoyed. Her membership with the garden club was safe. The steady income she earned with the garden club membership would remain unchanged, so unless something bad happened, her business was probably safe too. The trophy was in the hands of someone on the operating board, probably the president of the club, so the trophy was safe.

  Here she was, nestled in the arms of her lifetime buddy, driven there by the matchmaking schemes of the operating committee.

  Her heart was definitely not safe. Being wrapped in Stan’s embrace felt good . . . too good, even though she could still feel the tension of his anger in his body.

  For her, to be caught up in a matchmaking plot was almost funny, except she wasn’t laughing. Even though she no longer felt quite on the edge of going bankrupt, she still didn’t feel secure that sometime in the next four years that she wouldn’t. Then she’d still have to leave everything she knew and pack up and move to Chicago. Chicago wasn’t a bad city, it just wasn’t Bloomfield. She was in no position to be matched. Fortunately for her, no one knew how close she still was to the red. Often when that happened, people didn’t feel secure, and they took their business elsewhere. That only worked to drive the struggling business all the way into the hole instead of just tottering on the edge. So if she counted herself safe, for now, she was, but she didn’t know if it was only temporary.

  Stan, on the other hand, was in a great position to be matched. Over the past few months he’d shown signs of being ready to settle down. She wanted him to be happy and to do whatever it took to find that happiness. Stan deserved it. For a man his size, he had a kind and gentle heart, even if he didn’t want to admit it. Amber knew it, and so did many of the other women her age. She should have been the one trying to match him to someone suitable, not the operating committee of the garden club, and especially not his mother. However, now that he—or rather, they—were caught in the middle of a plan that had not yet been seen to conclusion by the conspirators, there was nothing she could do. Worse than that, no one could know they knew because then she’d be asked questions she didn’t want to answer. Careless words or a retreat would make things even more complicated than they already had become. Even without their help, she had to be careful not to fall for Stan. She didn’t need any help from interfering but well-meaning friends, if it wasn’t too late already.

  With her ear pressed to Stan’s chest, his voice echoed with a deep rumble when he spoke. “You’re thinking about something.”

  “So are you.”

  He grunted. “You first.”

  Even though she wanted the best for Stan, she couldn’t share her current train of thought. “My mind is spinning with all this. My first thought is that we can’t let anyone know we found out what they’re doing, and especially not why.”

  “I was thinking the same thing. In fact, they’ll be off our backs sooner if we let them think they got what they wanted. My mother’s words to the bad speller were that their plan was working. If they feel confident enough that it worked, then we’ll be free and clear.”

  “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  “Yes. Word is that we’ve already been caught twice, and we’ve been seen on a date before that. My mother is telling everyone else that their plan is working, so if we go the whole way and start holding hands in public and stuff like that, they’ll think it’s a natural progression, give themselves a pat on the back for putting us through the wringer, and leave us alone and let nature take its course.”

  She wasn’t very happy with faking public displays of affection, but she did like the part about everyone leaving them alone. “I suppose we could do that.”

  He sighed, and it wasn’t a very happy sound. “I can’t believe my mother would do this to me. I wonder if my father knows.”

  “I doubt it.”

  “I’m not so sure. He asked about you when you went into the kitchen with Mom to get your tea. So either they are thinking the same thing at the same time because they’ve been married so long, or he’s in on it, or he’s been listening to her schemes and dreams.”

  “Then that could go either way.”

  “Yup. No ally in my dad.” He sighed. “Is this what it feels like to be a pawn in a chess game?”

  “Probably.”

  He sighed again. “I should go home. I’m not feeling very sociable right now.”

  They shuffled apart, and she immediately missed his warmth.

  She saw him to the door and had started to close it when his fingers appeared, grabbing the door, halting its movement. He pulled it back open, released the door, grasped her hands with his, and gently pulled her outside until they both stood on the mat.

  “I’m sorry,” he muttered. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this.” Then, right there, standing outside her front door, for all the neighborhood to see, he leaned down and kissed her. Not the bone-melting kiss of Friday night, but not the chaste peck like earlier that same day. Just as it felt like he was going to settle in for more, he yanked himself away, spun around, and stomped toward his truck.

  Amber watched him drive away, then went inside and turned on the television.

  It was already past her usual bedtime, but she knew it was going to be a sleepless night.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  You’re going to break something, boss.”

  Stan straightened, set the crowbar down, pulled a rag out of his pocket to wipe his hands, and then stared at Jordan.

  Part of him wanted to reprimand Jordan for insubordination, part of him wanted to tell Jordan that if he did break something, he would fix it; but the smarter part of him needed to tell Jordan that he was right. The workplace was no place to exorcise his frustration. If one of his employees did what he had just done, Stan would probably have written him up.

  “You’re right. Thanks for pointing that out. Unless you just want me to be quiet so you can have a nap.”

  Jordan grinned, and his eyes lost focus. Stan mentally kicked himself. If Jordan was going to bring out more baby pictures and tell more baby stories, it was time to get out.

  “She’s sleeping better, and so are we.” Jordan’s smile widened, and he reached into his pocket for his cell phone. “Look at her little smile,” he muttered as he turned the phone to camera mode and started scrolling through his photos.

  Stan’s phone picked that moment to ring. He checked the caller ID to see who it was, but he would have answered it even if it was his garbage collector.

  It was Amber. “Sorry, dude. I have to take this.” He walked through the open bay door and into the middle of the parking lot to get away from the noise of Hank using the impact wrench. “Hey. What’s up?”

  “I’m sorry to bother you, but I was wondering, what if someone calls and tells me they’ve got Gnorman in their yard? What do I say? What are we going t
o do?”

  He honestly hadn’t thought that far in advance. “Go with the flow, I suppose, and do the same thing. We’ll go wherever he is and get the new note, but we’ll have to do a little convincing while we’re there.” He didn’t want to think that more people would be involved now that they’d pretty much figured out that it was the committee members. It would be interesting to see if Gnorman’s next journey would be to the yard of someone who was just a regular member. If so, then the scheme was much more far-reaching than he feared, and he didn’t know how he’d deal with that. He already had a hard enough time dealing with it. He’d simply assumed that Gnorman would go back to one of the same yards, and the circle would start again, not necessarily in the same order, just to keep them guessing.

  “Okay. Just so we’re on the same page. I’ll call you the next time someone calls me, just the same as I did before. Thanks.”

  Stan hit the End Call button and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

  They weren’t on the same page at all.

  He wanted exactly the same thing the committee wanted, and he had been getting there without their help, just not at the speed he wanted. He didn’t know why Amber was so slow to respond, or why she seemed to be fighting the changes in their relationship, but he had been making progress. It may have been three steps forward and two steps back, but it was still forward. He’d taken her on two dates, and he’d kissed her a few times, and she’d responded. Now, with the interference of his mother and her cohorts, when he kept on his current trajectory, he wouldn’t know if Amber’s responses were sincere or just playing the part.

  He looked inside the shop, where everyone once again worked diligently.

  Again, he wanted to go back in and hit something.

  This might kill him, but he didn’t know what else to do, short of getting down on one knee, blurting out that he loved her, and asking her to marry him. He would do it in an instant if he thought she would realize he was serious and say yes. But knowing Amber, she wouldn’t just say no. She’d retreat. Not only did she have a nearly terminal fear of heights, she also had an intense fear of making the wrong decision. He’d never known someone who hated to take chances more than Amber. He didn’t know how she started up her business with a mind-set like that because many start-up businesses did fail. Yet she went with it, she worked seriously and diligently, and she still went with it, even in a tough economy.