Calytrix Page 6

  Knowing how much fun wake riding could be, she shouldn’t have been surprised to see him grinning from ear to ear. It should have come as even less of a surprise when he sped up, no longer following her lead, but whizzing past her. Crud. What the heck was he up to? It took all of half a minute to find her answer. Flying at speeds far above anything acceptable, Zane spun around in a hairpin turn and crossed over his own wake. She could almost swear through the roar of the engines in the wind that she heard him cry out with delight like a conquering hero.

  Right about now she wished that she’d been some technical geeky kind of gal that could communicate from ear piece to ear piece and tell the math analyst to slow the hell down. The last thing she’d expected was for him to go rogue. Any hopes that he’d had his one hit of an adrenaline rush and would be satisfied were dashed when he sped up ahead and did the same thing. Except this time, flying airborne over the wave before he curved wide around and turning almost on his side, sent a splash of rushing water fanning over her.

  “Men,” she groaned. How did the saying go? What separates the men from the boys is the price of their toys. This man was playing fast and furious with one expensive toy. Gunning it, she flew past him and bouncing over his wake, did a snake turn back again and again. “Two can play at this.”

  Slowing down at a safe distance, Zane gave her a thumbs up before gunning it, this time turning and circling around her in a perfect three-sixty before taking off a few yards and slowing down. It took a few starts and stops for her to recognize the call. He wanted to race. She surveyed the horizon. No other boats. The water skiers were nowhere to be seen. No kids on paddle boats or boards. Her cheeks tugged at the corner of her lips. “You’re on, buster!” and off she went. Marina here we come!

  ***

  “Man!” Zane didn’t have a clue when the last time was that he’d had such an adrenaline high. Yes, he did. Third batter up, third batter down, no hits, no runs, he’d celebrated all night. He ripped off his gloves and glasses. No memories, bad or good, could bring him down from this high. Nothing behind a nine to five desk could compare with this kind of rush. Not just the racing and the tricks that had come back, as the General had said, as easily as riding a bike, but the company.

  Having Callie keep up with him, and even surpass him a time or two, had his blood racing. The woman was incredible. Absolutely incredible.

  Securing her Jet Ski line to the marina cleat, Callie spun around, ripping off her glasses, her gaze pouring into him. “You. Are. Crazy.” She took two steps forward and poked him in the chest with her forefinger. “You could have gotten somebody killed out there.”

  “But we didn’t.” He couldn’t stop grinning at her. “You made the same calculations I did. Had any other vehicle come within 100 feet of us, the games would have ended and you know it.”

  Chin up, she took a step back and studied him. “Fair enough. But I still stand by you being crazy. It takes one hell of an athlete’s heart to do some of the things you did out there.”

  It was probably a good thing he didn’t do a handstand while racing. While there was some skill involved in that and the other tricks he’d learned in his youth, some of them rated higher in youthful stupidity than in skills and were best forgotten. But she was right about one thing: deep down, his athlete heart still beat strong. And didn’t that give him something new to think about?

  “Please don’t tell me you two are the ones who have been running amok all over the lake?” Bobby, the manager of his family marina, stood arms crossed, glaring.

  “What makes you ask that?” Zane tucked his sunglasses in his t-shirt collar.

  Bobby uncrossed his arms and waved his hands palm up. “Oh, I don’t know, maybe my phone ringing off the wall with call after call about two jet skis racing back and forth?”

  “Sorry about that.” Callie inched closer to Bobby and handed him her keys. “We might have had a little too much fun.”

  “Fun?” Bobby’s head snapped from Callie to Zane and back. “If it were anyone else, I’d be reading you the riot act right now. This lake has safety rules that we all stand by.”

  Callie nodded. “Yes. I know.”

  Lips pressed tightly together, Bobby said, “Thanks for bringing the crafts back in one piece. Tell your grandfather I appreciate the assistance.” Headshaking and mumbling to himself, he walked away from the docks.

  “Now what?” Zane asked.

  Her phone to her ear, Callie held up a finger, then swiped at her phone and slid it into a waterproof pocket. “Gramps and Ralph left the Jeep here for us.”

  Zane scanned the area and spotted the parking lot with the Jeep in the far corner. “Here’s hoping he left a couple of towels in it as well.”

  “I’m sure he did. The man thinks of everything.”

  A few minutes later they were toweled off and in the car, heading back to the house in silence. Zane wasn’t quite sure if he was still in the doghouse or not. That was a feeling he didn’t know how to deal with. Not letting other people’s opinions matter had been a staple in his own peace of mind. When his arm had first begun to give out, there had been plenty of people to complain about him and his performance. Survival instinct had trained him to block out the negatives. To remind himself opinions didn’t matter. Without realizing it, that training had bled into his current career. It was all about the numbers, and if people didn’t agree with his analysis, well, he didn’t let that matter.

  Today that wasn’t the case. For whatever reason, Callie’s opinion mattered to him. Very much. “I’m sorry if I got you into any kind of trouble with the marina or the residents. That wasn’t my intent.”

  “I’m sure it will be fine.” She didn’t look at him, merely kept a tight hold on the steering wheel.

  “Can I treat you to something from Lily’s bakery? I hear it’s to die for.” If the things he’d sampled since his arrival were any indication, the place was heaven on earth for anyone with a sweet tooth.

  She shook her head. “Not today. Thank you.”

  At least she hadn’t said a straight out no. And maybe it was for the best. After all, he wasn’t going to be here long enough to take this interest anywhere permanent, and as little time as he had spent with Callie and the Harts, he already knew she was a permanent kind of girl. The rest of the short ride back to the house, they shared inconsequential chitchat about the sun, the wind, and the lovely sky.

  In front of Hart House, Zane gathered the wet towels and Callie grabbed the water shoes and neoprene wetsuits they’d stripped out of. Anxious as he was to get out of his wet swimsuit, under a hot shower, and then into some dry clothes, he needed to help deliver their belongings, and maybe even apologize in person to the General. If there was one thing Zane had figured out, it was whatever was going on, the General knew about it. Somehow, he always knew about it. Maybe it was a military thing.

  “So, you took the General up on his offer to enjoy the afternoon.” Lucy glanced up from her spot in front of the stove.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He really had enjoyed himself. More than he had in a long time. And as he’d thought before, he still believed the company had more to do with it than anything else.

  “And what about you?” Lucy waved a spoon in Callie’s direction.

  Dropping the equipment in the mud room, Callie came and sat by the island. “I’m still deciding.”

  Lucy frowned at her, setting the long wooden spoon on a dish on the counter. “The question wasn’t that hard. Although, word is, the two of you are speed demons.”

  Callie slapped her palm face down on the countertop. “Was the entire mountain out on the waterfront watching us?”

  “I don’t know about the whole mountain,” Lucy smiled and shrugged a shoulder, “at least the Merry Widows were. From what I hear, you guys put on quite the show.”

  “That would be our guest’s fault.” Callie waved a thumb over her shoulder at Zane. “Who knew Mr. Math Whiz was also a racing junky?”

  “Well, it doesn’
t surprise me at all.” Lucy waved a finger at Zane and he had a sinking feeling he knew exactly what she was going to say next. “After all, adrenaline fuels the male species. Especially the professional—”

  “I think we’ve beat this horse to death.” He cut Lucy off and turned to Callie. “I really am sorry if I caused any trouble, but I for one enjoyed the afternoon and company very much. Now I think it’s time to get into some dry clothes.” He waited just a few beats in hopes that Callie would say the same and not stick around jawing with Lucy.

  “Good idea.” She pushed away from the island. “A hot shower really does sound delicious.”

  He kept his smile casual and decided that his shower had better be a cold one. One thing was sure, waiting for his grandfather’s arrival was going to prove to be very interesting.

  ***

  “There’s an awful lot of laughing going on for tutoring.” Poppy looked up from her seat at the dining room table. She, Lily, Callie, and Iris had been addressing envelopes with her grandmother since dinner ended.

  Callie shrugged. “If it works, I don’t particularly care how funny it is.”

  “Laughter is a tonic.” Iris checked off her list and reached for a new envelope. “I don’t see why it can’t make learning math less painful.”

  “Now you sound like Mary Poppins.” Poppy affixed a postage stamp to the wedding invitation. “You know, spoonful of sugar and all that.”

  Lily poured herself a fresh cup of coffee. “You might have to thank the Sherman brothers for that. They wrote that song for Mary Poppins.”

  “Whatever.” Poppy waved off her sister. “You know what I meant.”

  Iris smiled. “I knew exactly what you meant. And as a former nanny, I’ll take it as a compliment.”

  “Former nanny and current mom.” Callie stuffed another envelope. “You’re doing such a great job with those kids. I couldn’t be more proud of you.”

  Iris blinked back tears. “Thank you.”

  “Hey.” Callie dropped the envelope. “What’s all this about?”

  “Nothing.” Iris waved her off. “Everything is just going so well. These are happy tears.”

  Lily looked up. “I have been your cousin my entire life. You don’t do happy tears.”

  At the head of the table, Grams had been stacking stuffed, addressed, and stamped envelopes neatly into boxes for the General to take to the post office. A twinkle in her eyes, she paused and looked at Iris. “You might as well tell them.”

  Iris’s eyes rounded big as saucers. “You know? Who told you?”

  Still smiling sweetly, Grams shook her head. “No one, dear. Three girls of my own, and nine granddaughters. And your grandfather is craving olives. You know what that means.”

  “Hold on,” Poppy almost squealed, “am I going to be an aunt?”

  Everyone in the family knew the only times the General had craved olives, which he normally hated, had been whenever Grams or their daughters were expecting. Which could mean only one thing now.

  Iris bobbed her head. “Only Eric and Zinnia know. I haven’t even told Mom and Dad. We were hoping to wait until I got past the first trimester.”

  “Ooh. How much longer is that?” Lily asked.

  “Three more weeks.”

  “Three weeks!” Poppy squealed for real. “Boy, do you know how to keep a secret.”

  “And let me tell you, there’s nothing easy about that with this bunch. I’m still amazed the Merry Widows didn’t find me out. I had to drive clear into the next county to buy a pregnancy test, ‘cause heaven knows Louise Franklin behind the pharmacy counter would have blabbed the news all over town before I’d had time to take the test.”

  The room erupted in laughter. Partly because it was such an exaggeration, and partly because it was so true. Whether it was showing off with jet skis on the lake, or having the first Hart great-grandchild, secrets were hard to keep on Hart Land.

  Chapter Eight

  Even though he’d been in town for a few days, this was the first chance he’d gotten to actually walk about on Main Street. For such a small town that catered mostly to summer tourists, the shops were diverse and interesting. His favorite so far had been Buy the Book. Charming and comfortable, and the owner Edna made fascinating conversation. Another day he would make the time to stop in, settle into one of the comfortable chairs designed for real people, and peruse through some of the hard to find books she had available to any shopper. For now, he bought the latest, signed mystery from the General’s son-in-law Alan Peters and moved on.

  From across the street, a woman with striking red hair watered large red blooms in huge urns guarding either side of the front door. His gaze drifted up to the overhead sign, curious what shop had windows with no displays. A funeral parlor. “Well, that explains the closed curtains.”

  All set to make his way down the street to Floyd’s Barber Shop, a clear call of “yoo hoo” came from across the street. Pausing to look up, he spotted the redhead waving her old-fashioned watering can in the air—or maybe at him. When he nodded, her smile grew and she trotted across the street, still hanging onto the single spout watering can.

  “I hoped I’d get a chance to see you in daylight.”

  What was that supposed to mean? He glanced up just to make sure there wasn’t a vampire or zombie special at the parlor. “Hello.” He didn’t dare say much else.

  “Some days I wish business wasn’t so good. You’d think half the town had one foot in the grave and the other on a banana peel. I do wish at least one of my daughters had gone into the family business.”

  Daughters?

  “Although,” the woman shrugged, “Poppy is sort of in the same business if you think about it. Her job involves getting folks ready for the afterlife too.”

  Of course. He should have seen the resemblance to the Nelson girls. This must be the General’s daughter that worked too hard and missed the card games the last couple of nights. “I suppose you could think of it that way. It’s nice to meet you.”

  “Same here. If I don’t make it to a card game this week, I’ll definitely be home for Sunday supper.” Her gaze lingered just long enough to make him slightly uncomfortable and give him an overwhelming urge to slap his hand protectively across his neck. “How long did the girls say you’d be staying?”

  “Another week or so.”

  “Hmm,” she muttered, still staring at him. “I suppose that’s enough.” Springing back a step and grinning more widely, she waved the can at him again. “I’d better get back to work. Don’t want the customers piling up.” She chuckled at her own joke, trotted back across the street, and disappeared behind the dark wooden door.

  Not sure what to make of the widow Nelson, he reminded himself of his reason for coming to town. He’d been looking forward to a good old-fashioned shave and trim. The way his grandfather carried on, anyone would think the loss of traditional barbers was the catalyst to the demise of modern civilization.

  He’d passed a few more stores when the spiraling striped barber’s pole came into view. As expected, a couple of men, including the General, sat hovering around the doorway. Two played checkers, and a couple more might or might not have been playing cards. Zane was pretty sure all was just an excuse to spend the day jawing the same way the Merry Widows found time to share the town gossip.

  “I see you made it.” The General looked up from the checkerboard, jumped his opponent’s men, and collected his game pieces.

  He considered how many of the men might actually be waiting for a shave or cut.

  Floyd must have noticed. “I’ll be done with Jed here in a few minutes. Take a seat and I’ll be right with you.” The man continued cutting his patron’s hair.

  It didn’t take much effort to imagine himself in the small southern town of Mayberry instead of Lawford. From his seat in the shop, time seemed stuck in earlier decades. Photographs of the shop and the town hung in proud display of the local history. Ralph, the General’s neighbor, debated the pros and
cons of having the second annual Lawford Street Fair. Two other gentlemen contributed from time to time, but mostly updated the group on the comings and goings of Bonnie and Clyde. Really? Shaking his head, he didn’t want to ask. The town might be small, but it had plenty of character—and happenings.

  “All set.” Just like in a movie, Floyd spun the chair around for him to climb into, then draped a cape across him. As he waited, the man moved around, transferring towels and who knew what else back and forth, creating an air of fresh steam.

  Having limited experience with traditional single edge shaves, he hadn’t realized a soothing massage began the process. By the time the hot towels came out, Zane was even more relaxed than he’d been after strolling down Main Street. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t be at all surprised if he fell asleep in the chair.

  No sooner had the anticipated hot towel been wrapped around the lower half of his face when a barrage of questions were shot his way.

  “I hear you’re doing wonders with our star athlete. Already making progress,” Ralph started.

  He wasn’t sure that he was really helping or how anyone expected to see a difference after only two sessions. Nonetheless, he made an effort to nod, even though he wasn’t sure anyone could tell.

  “According to Mrs. Brogan,” Floyd added, “our girl is taking another practice test in a few days.”

  She was? No one had told him that.

  “Well, she’d better git to more than practicing,” a man he’d not met said rather emphatically. “Those college folks ain’t gonna wait forever to pick their players.”