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Love in a Small Town Page 4
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Lily snapped her fingers. "You still haven't told me your last name."
Had she asked before? He felt as if he had jet lag but hadn't flown. Maybe it was the rapid-fire way she asked questions. "Champion."
Lily grabbed his hand as if she'd discovered a first edition by Thoreau at a yard sale. "I can't believe I found you. Next door. Sam Champion. You're the man I've been looking for."
"Please, don't tell me I'm a father."
The joking remark was in poor taste, he realized, when it brought a blush to Lily's cheeks.
"Sorry if I'm overreacting," she said, "but I'm sending out invitations for our twentieth reunion and I hadn't found your address yet."
Sam received an invitation to the tenth but tossed it in the trash. He'd never been close to anyone in his class. He didn't remember anyone except--he snapped his fingers. "Lily Madison, did you used to have a gap between your front teeth?"
She smacked him on the arm. "Of all things, why did you have to remember that? I suffered through braces a few years back."
"I thought the gap was cute, but you wouldn't smile at me. You sat on one side of me in psychology class and didn't know I existed. A blonde who sat on my other side flirted with me daily, but I wasn't interested in her."
She let out a hoot. "That would be Carla Baker. I remember now. I thought you must be stuck-up because you blew her off, and no one else ever did. She probably remembers too." Lily touched his cheek. "You were wiry and good-looking, but you were new and I was self-conscious about the gap; the other kids were used to it."
"I liked it, but you have a lovely smile today."
"And you're handsome and well-built." Smiling, she ran her hands over his muscled shoulders, making him glad he worked out regularly. "Maturity becomes you."
"And you." No one he'd ever met was so open. "Lily," he said softly. "You are an extraordinary woman."
"No. I'm not, but thanks for saying so, and thanks for dinner and the house tour. Get a good night's sleep, and take a fresh look at Browning in the morning. See if you find it appealing, and give it time to grow on you."
At the door, she turned to frame his face with her hands, and his fatigue seemed to evaporate with her touch. She was as refreshing as a strawberry soda with light, frothy whipped cream on top.
She tipped her head back, to look at him. "You may decide you want to live here."
Sam brushed a finger over her parted lips. "I can't. Remember?"
Lily smiled against his fingertips. "You can do anything if you want to badly enough."
He might be crazy, but he wanted to kiss her.
"Welcome home, and goodnight, Sam Champion." She kissed his fingertips and fled.
* * *
Next morning, Sam carried his coffee out back. He'd heard Lily drive off while he was still in bed. Everyone in the neighborhood heard unless they were hearing impaired. He'd gotten up to look out the window and saw she drove a convertible that looked like an oversized banana and sounded like a John Deere with emphysema. He wasn't surprised by the color, or the nosegay of flowers tied to her antenna, but he was surprised she didn't know her muffler was bad. In Tempe, she'd have been ticketed the first time she passed a patrol car. Local law enforcement must be lax.
A squirrel scampered along the wooden fence bordering the back of his property, and Sam leaned against the warm cement step behind him. Watching the squirrel's antics as it leaped from the fence to a shed roof on the other side, he sipped his morning Joe, and relaxed.
Sighing, he stretched out his legs. The breeze was gentle, the sunshine pleasant. Two doves on Lily's porch roof cooed. A robin cheeped noisily. Maple leaves so thick and heavy they bent the boughs of the trees, fluttered. Roses clambering over dilapidated trellises in his side yard perfumed the air. The vibrant greens of grass and trees amazed him. He'd grown used to sand and brick colors in Arizona, and staying inside this time of year. Late spring was breathtaking in the Midwest.
His daily swim in the pool at the condos gave him some tan, but Lily, thanks to driving a convertible and the neat little garden patch she'd laid out in her backyard, was golden brown. He should get outside oftener, but you could bake tortillas on his patio in Tempe soon after sunup. People could tell you the heat's different in Arizona, but dry or not, hot is hot, and the townhouses in his complex were wide open to the sun. The occasional palm tree, set there by a developer, was for decoration, not shade.
All around Browning, leafy green trees had been set between the sidewalks and streets, offering shade wherever you went.
A movement caught Sam's eye…the squirrel returning. Scurrying along a telephone line, it leaped to a post where a bird feeder hung empty. If he filled it, how would he keep squirrels from robbing the birds' food? He'd never learned the habits of backyard creatures.
Raucous barking pierced the quiet of the morning. Coming from the direction of Lily's house, it must be her retriever. Dogs weren't allowed at Ranchero Condos, or he'd buy one. He'd wanted a pup as a kid.
Sam walked to the border of his property where he could see Brandy throwing her body against a fenced area of the backyard, carrying on loudly. A rabbit sat, unruffled, on the other side of the fence, a respectful distance away.
"Stop it, Brandy," Sam called. Instead of quieting the dog, his voice sent the ball of fur hopping.
Brandy, growling, continued to prowl the borders of her daytime captivity. Figuring he'd done all he could, Sam went back to his house, ready to get some work done. He'd just reached the steps to the back porch when—wham—a hurtling body crashed into him. Again. "Dammit, dog."
Sam half-fell, banging one knee on the steps and dropping his cup. Brandy broke its fall, but the cup scared her, and she whined as if she were killed. She looked silly with coffee dripping down her ears and eyes, and Sam laughed. "You big baby."
She must have taken his gentler tone for sympathy because she came crawling on her belly to push her wet nose against his leg. Looking down, Sam saw the knee of his jeans was torn and bloody. "Damn," he muttered, and Brandy burrowed her nose deeper.
"You might as well come inside," he told her, opening the screen. She walked in and waited politely until he entered, then followed him upstairs where he washed and bandaged his knee and changed to shorts.
Looking out his bedroom window, Sam saw she'd knocked down a portion of the fence. If she'd tried to jump it, she might have hurt herself. "Come here, girl."
Brandy came and licked his hand.
He examined her belly and enjoying the attention, she held all four legs in the air and lolled her head sideways, tongue hanging out. Finding nothing wrong, he got her a pan of water and left her in the kitchen, drinking, while he went to examine the fence. The poles weren't stuck deep enough in the ground, and the dirt was too hard to plant them deeper. He'd ask Lily if she knew someone who owned a posthole digger.
"Sorry, girl, you're going to have to spend the day with me," he told Brandy when he returned. She was lying on the cool tile floor in the bathroom off the downstairs hall. She lifted her head to look at him and rolled over.
"That's good; make yourself at home." Sam chuckled. His father wouldn't let him have a dog. They moved too often, he said. Mom, who usually sided with Sam, agreed.
"The next place, your pet might wander off and get lost," she said.
He'd have felt less lost with a dog at his heels. He'd adjusted at each new location, but when he took the job at the college, he immediately bought the condo, eager to have a home and stay put. No more moving. No more starting over.
Downstairs, Sam started sorting and packing, doing the small stuff first and leaving the furniture until later. It amazed him that his mother let the place sit empty for so long when she could have been renting it.
Mercifully, the basement and attic were almost empty, but there was the garage in addition to the rest of the house. Countless boxes had been stored in a sewing room at the back of the house, and he began there. Tins of buttons and thread lined the top of an old
treadle machine and a pincushion sat on the windowsill. Made to look like a tomato, its red felt had faded to a pinkish gray from longtime exposure to outside light. Sam, sitting on a footstool, held it in his hand for a moment. It wasn't attractive enough for Lily to consider it a collectible, and it didn't meet his criteria for usefulness since he didn't sew. He dropped it in an empty box.
Browning was a blip in the kaleidoscope of schools he attended during Dad's naval career, and the last semester, it seemed useless to make friends. Especially girlfriends. In a few months, he'd take off for college, and man, was he ready. Four years in the same place would mark a milestone in his life.
Opening a drawer in the treadle sewing machine, Sam found it empty except for a piece of pink lace and some tiny satin rosebuds. Had they decorated his mother's dress when she was a little girl? Had her mother saved them hoping one day she'd have a granddaughter to sew for? As an only child, Sam had been both women's only chance. He laid the dainty items in his pile of things to save.
Lily was wrong. His mother would have known he couldn't live here.
For the last fourteen years, he'd taught at Cranston, a small private college in Phoenix, and now, a break that would make his doctorate pay for itself was coming his way. An extension campus to house accounting and related courses was opening in Tempe just blocks from his condo and Sam was going to be Department Chair.
When he went to see Mark Rybolt, Dean of the School of Business, to express interest, he already had Sam's personnel folder on his desk. Winking, he patted it, and said, "Samuel, my man, you're in line for this appointment."
Teaching accounting had grown stale, although he wouldn't admit it to Lily who'd given math in general a black eye, but the prospect of breaking into administration invigorated him. He loved a challenge and always had.
Lily Madison wouldn't look his way in high school, but he had her attention now. And her dog. Petting Brandy, he wondered how soon Ms. Sunshine would come knocking on his door.
Chapter Four
Lily straightened a pink blossom in a slender vase on her desk in the mayor's office. Did Sam Champion want to kiss her last night, as badly as she did him? According to ancient Chinese tradition, displaying a peony was supposed to bring romance into your life. Peonies bloomed in early spring, so she'd had to resort to a silk flower, but she hoped it would bring real love her way.
She hadn't planned to kiss his fingertips. Thinking she shouldn't have been so spontaneous, she'd fled, but the feel of his fingers on her lips lingered.
She walked to the window. Mr. Tuttle passed by, wearing his sweater and straw hat, and they exchanged waves. He was headed for Jodie's already. With no rain in the air to aggravate his arthritis, he'd feel up to telling jokes, and no matter how old or corny, everyone would laugh. He was always the first to arrive at the Chrome Grill and the last to leave.
In ten minutes, it would be noon, and the lunch counter crowd would arrive and wagers would fly. When would rain finally fall, and would it come in time to save the crops? No money was ever exchanged, but the words "I bet" were frequently heard.
"Anything else you want done before we close, Miss Madison?" Oliver, the town assistant, asked. "I turned on Mr. Champion's water first thing, like you asked."
Lily curved her lips in a half-smile. Champion. The name described Sam perfectly. He was so handsome. So virile. So analytical and uptight. Did he ever loosen up and act on impulse? It would have been nicer if he'd done the kissing.
She sensed he viewed Radiance with amused tolerance and considered selling candles and lotions a cute feminine thing to do. If he knew she was utilities commissioner, he'd think she was an airhead who'd failed to turn on his water. But Joe hadn't called in the order. "Did you call Mr. Bottomley's oversight to his attention?"
"Indeed, I did."
She smiled her approval. "There's nothing more then."
District carriers handled gas, electricity, and telephone, and Sam could consider himself lucky the busy attorney took care of those, assuming he did. Joe, the town's clerk, treasurer, and attorney, also ran a private law practice.
The office was stuffy and Lily opened the door for a refreshing breath of air. Joe said she should ask the town board for an air conditioner, but she had more important things to do with town funds.
Lily watched Oliver drive away, headed home to eat lunch with his new bride. She might pass up lunch at Jodie's if she had a husband waiting for her. Her mother, after seeing an Oprah show, suggested Lily move to Alaska to meet an eligible man. She said she wasn't that desperate. That was two years ago.
She still wouldn't throw herself at anyone, but she would like to know Sam better, and he wasn't the type to throw himself at her. If she could convince him to stay for the class reunion, he might ask her to be his date. Nick Noland, eat your heart out. Smiling, Lily flipped over the CLOSED sign and stepped out into bright sunshine. She'd find an excuse to see Sam tonight.
* * *
Sam looked in the window of Jodie's Chrome Grill and spotted an old man sitting at a table by himself. The man waved and Sam decided it looked like a good place to eat. He was ravenous and for all he knew, it was the only restaurant in town.
He'd left Brandy in the house after giving her a sandwich he'd intended for himself. She appeared in the kitchen doorway the minute he set out the bread and lunch meat. "You have a good sense of hearing, or smell, or both," he told her.
She wagged her tail and hung out her tongue.
He couldn't eat with those envious eyes on him, and he needed fresh air, so he gave it to her and left the house. It felt good to stretch his legs on the short walk downtown. On the way home, he'd pick up a few groceries at Schube's, or maybe he'd go to Brandenburg's Market, a mom and pop store he'd noticed in the next block.
The tantalizing smells that greeted him inside the Chrome Grill assured him he'd made the right decision. The proprietor, he assumed, came to greet him. "Good afternoon. I'm Jodie, and you're new in town."
"Sam Champion. I'm visiting."
"So you're the one."
"What one?" Sam, squirming under Jodie's scrutiny, thought it would be unwise to make a joke.
"Lily Madison eats lunch here every day. She missed yesterday because you were late picking up your key. She left just a little while ago. Most of the regulars have already gone except Mr. Tuttle." Jodie motioned a hand and the man waved again.
"My arthritis isn't bad today," he said as if he'd been asked.
Recognizing him as the man who'd waved to him the day he arrived in town, Sam nodded. Maybe he wore a sweater to protect against it, or maybe his blood had grown thin with advanced age. He had taken his straw hat off. "That's good."
Sam took a seat in a booth by the window, across from him, and Jodie went to fetch his iced tea. If he'd caused Lily to miss lunch, he was lucky she hadn't thrown the hanging pot at him. "I asked her to eat dinner with me," he told Jodie when she returned with his tea. "Do you suppose that helped?"
"Could have." She laid down a menu that looked like the grill on a car. "The 'fifties special' today is tuna casserole. Everyone ate tuna and noodles then."
She hadn't been born yet, and neither had he, but he'd take her word for it. "I'm not a fan of tuna."
"The Elvis Burger is a best seller."
Sam figured you couldn't go wrong with a burger, but piled high with cheese and bacon and dripping some kind of sauce, the Elvis was as big as Mount Everest, with more fat grams than a plate of lard.
The restaurant was done in black and pink tiles and Formica, with a generous amount of chrome. A low lunch counter with stools ran three-quarters of the way across the back with a neon-lit jukebox and doors marked "Guys" and "Dolls" at the open end. Booths lined the front of the room with windows looking out on the street. The middle was filled with tables and chairs. Pictures on the walls were of movie and music stars from the fifties, plus several cars from that era. One looked like Lily's bomber, except it was pink. It could be James Dean standing n
ext to it, but whoever he was, damned if Sam could imagine a guy driving a pink car. As gaudy as Lily's banana-mobile was, he preferred it to pink.
While Sam tackled the gastronomic horror, Jodie told him and Mr. Tuttle a story about some man who'd asked her to go to a movie, and even though she didn't like science fiction, she went. Judging by her denim skirt and western boots, Sam surmised she'd have preferred a cowboy show.
Mr. Tuttle interrupted her story to tell Sam that Browning still had a small theater; the Vaudette had been there fifty years. Jodie told him some guy from Browning wrote science fiction books that were sold nationwide, and she hoped one day they'd make one of his stories into a movie.
Sam, who'd managed to eat almost half his burger, asked for a doggie bag and Jodie handed him a sack with bones printed on it and the caption--People Bag. Sure you have a dog.
He accepted it without telling her he had temporary custody of a golden retriever, and while cramming the rest of his heart attack sandwich in the bag asked Tuttle how long ago Lily left.
"Forty minutes ago. Jodie could set the Pat Boone clock by that woman. She leaves the mayor's office at twelve o'clock sharp, hightails it over here, and leaves at five of one to open shop."
The mayor's office? Did Lily work there in the mornings? Maybe she had a part-time secretarial job. That would explain how she got by financially. Rising, he thanked the older gentleman.
"Lily Madison is a smart woman. When my wife was bad sick with nerves, she told me to buy some goldfish to soothe her. Worked too. She'd just stare at the bowl of water and those fish circling around."
Sam nearly choked on that information. "Is your wife well now?"
"God rest her soul, she died peacefully."
"Of heart failure, a year later," Jodie added, wide brown eyes twinkling.
"Tomorrow's special is beef stew." Tuttle said. "You need to get here earlier if you like people. Everyone's gone back to work now. Lily comes every weekday for lunch. She enjoys the crowd."