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To those looking in from the outside—people like superstar Marcus Ambrose—Wayside might appear to be an idyllic community, a perfect little slice of Americana. But Wayside had its fair share of problems. From homelessness to poverty.
Patrice was right, and so was Haley. Kara spent more time with her pet projects than she did with some of her original client work. She’d slowly phased that out of her practice, converting it instead into a one-woman resource bank for people in need.
She nodded her agreement, then scooped up the last of the hot fudge on her sundae. “Maybe I can turn this around into something worthwhile.”
Marcus Ambrose wanted to have a little amusement at her expense. Well, Kara could prove her point and win this so-called challenge.
Haley narrowed her eyes at Kara. “I don’t like that look in your eyes.”
Kara smiled and spread out her hands. “I’ve nothing to hide,” she said. “But I’m not above taking advantage of an opportunity.”
“What are you up to?”
“I just figured out how to best Mr. Ambrose at his own game. He wants to carry out this challenge. Well, he can start by picking up some of the slack on the Adopt-a-Spot program.”
Haley’s brown eyes widened. “He’s a star. I don’t think picking up trash is going to sit well. You can’t make him get down and dirty like that.”
Kara’s grin said otherwise. “Then he can help build a house for a low-income family.”
Shaking her head, Haley didn’t look convinced that either plan would work. “Matt is going to invite him to sing at a service one Sunday while he’s here.”
Kara wasn’t too thrilled about Marcus getting ensconced at their church. Haley ran the Sunday school division, while her husband, Matt Brandon-Dumaine, led the music ministry at Community Christian Church. Since he was a former nationally known gospel singer, it stood to reason that he’d want to connect with a fellow musician.
Nevertheless, she would have expected Marcus to hook up with one of the town’s larger churches, one that would showcase him to the largest number of people. With its 250 families, Community Christian was hardly a first stop on a celebrity tour—that, after all, was why Matt had sought refuge there.
“What did Reverend Baines have to say about that?”
Haley flashed her right hand in what was apparently meant as a careless, carefree gesture. Diamonds sparkled. “You know Cliff. He’s always excited about spreading the word through any ministry that will reach people.”
“And what’s this?” Kara reached for her friend’s hand, a twinkle in her eye as she waved her other hand around as Haley had been doing.
“I thought you’d never notice.” A big grin filled Haley’s face as she wiggled her fingers. “Matt gave it to me. To mark our first anniversary.”
Kara appropriately oohed and aahed over the anniversary band. “I can’t believe you guys have been married for a year already. What happened to the time?”
Since the question was obviously rhetorical, Haley didn’t respond to it. She instead asked one of her own.
“Guess what I gave him?”
“What?”
“A calendar.”
Kara groaned. “Haley, honey, you’re not really supposed to follow that anniversary guide from the card stores. Paper is so, well, cheap. Unless, of course, it’s stock options or bonds. And even those aren’t worth much in today’s economy.”
Haley’s eyes sparkled as much as her ring. The late-afternoon sun hit the blond highlights in her hair, providing what looked a lot like a halo around the Sunday-school director. “This was a special calendar. It had a date highlighted on it.”
Kara lifted her brow in an “And?” expression.
“And that date is almost nine months away. Well,” she added on a shrug, “it was almost nine months away when I had the calendar made.”
But Kara’s squeal drowned out the last of Haley’s words. The two friends were up and hugging each other, Kara crying and Haley beaming. Kara eyed her friend’s flat stomach.
“When? When are you due?”
Haley gave her the details. Marcus’s appearance at their church forgotten, the two women spent the rest of their time together talking about baby names and nursery colors.
That’s how Marcus and his entourage found them.
“Man, this place looks like it got lost in a time warp. Talk about Mayberry R.F.D.” someone said.
“It doesn’t look like Mayberry. It is,” another one of Marcus’s hangers-on said, casting a glance about Main Street.
Kara and Haley looked up at the crowd of people surrounding their outdoor table. Marcus and about six others stood not three feet away. The woman with the headset and clipboard stood sentinel at Marcus’s side, though she seemed to be having a rather heated conversation with someone. She touched him on the arm and motioned her head. Marcus nodded and she slipped away, pressing the earpiece closer and saying, “I don’t care how much it costs….”
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Marcus greeted them, the trademark smile operating at force ten on the weak-in-the-knees scale.
Haley, instantly charmed, held out a hand introducing herself when Kara didn’t seem inclined to do so.
“Hi, I’m Haley Brandon-Dumaine. It’s a pleasure meeting you. Welcome to Wayside.”
“Thank you.”
“If you’d like any information on the town, I volunteer over at the library and I’m also on the historical committee, so don’t be a stranger.”
Marcus smiled. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
“And you know Kara.”
He smiled. “Yes, I know Dr. Kara.”
For her part, Kara couldn’t believe that he’d rendered her speechless.
Patrice needs to come get her man, she thought, because he’s wreaking havoc with my senses. She tried to bring up a mental image of Howard, her on-again, off-again companion and escort—he could hardly be called a boyfriend. But Howard’s squinting image blurred in her mind with a computer monitor, just like the one he always sat in front of. An IT specialist, Howard Boyd lived and breathed computers. They’d last gone out three weeks ago—to a computer show and sale. It was his idea of a hot date, her idea of purgatory.
“Hello, Dr. Kara.”
She nodded. “Mr. Ambrose.” A man with a video camera edged around the group and aimed his equipment toward Haley and Kara. “I see you’re still being hounded by the local media.”
Marcus glanced at the cameraman. “Actually, he’s with me. I went back to the bed-and-breakfast, made a statement over at the college and gave a few personal moments and we’re all clear.”
Gave a few personal moments. For some reason that statement didn’t sit well with Kara. It was as if he could just push all the right buttons and get just what he wanted in his charmed world.
“We’re just doing a little filming to get a record of the town.”
“A video scrapbook,” Kara muttered.
“Yes, something like that.” He reached into his pocket, came up empty and called for the clipboard woman. “Nadira.”
She turned, and was instantly at his side holding out four slim tickets.
“I’d like you to be my guests at the opening reception for the film and music festival. It’s a blacktie gala followed by a miniconcert.”
“Why, we’d love to,” Haley said. “My husband is a musician, as well.”
“I look forward to meeting him. And you?” he said, addressing Kara. “Will you be bringing a date, as well?” His voice clearly conveyed the message that he hoped she wouldn’t.
Standing tall, Kara nodded. “Yes, of course.”
Marcus fingered his goatee. “That’s too bad. I should have known someone as pretty as you already had a boyfriend.”
“Oh, Kara doesn’t have a…” A quelling look from Kara silenced Haley. “Uh, what I meant was—”
“We double-date all the time,” Kara smoothly interjected. “So my friend and I look forward to your event. Tell me, Mr. Ambrose. Do you ever go anywhere alone?”
He smiled. “Would you care to find out?”
Kara blushed and backed down on the verbal aggression.
After a couple of people in Marcus’s group got ice cream cones to go, the entourage moved on. Haley turned to Kara.
“What was that about a boyfriend and double-dating? Since when are you dating anyone?”
Kara dropped her head into her hands. “I cannot believe I said that.”
“Neither can I. And where are you going to get a date for—” she glanced at the tickets “—Friday night?”
Kara looked miserable. Without even trying, Marcus Ambrose made her reckless. “That’s a good question. Maybe Howard is free.”
Haley wrinkled her nose. “He’s a computer whiz, but Kara, he’s…” She floundered for a word.
“Boring?”
“Well, there is that.”
“Haley, what have I gotten myself into?” Then she had a brainstorm. “What about Amber’s brother?”
Haley shook her head. “He’s out of the country. Deacon Prentiss from church can always be counted on as an escort, though.”
“Great,” Kara said, her shoulders slumped. “Just what I need to impress Marcus—an eighty-year-old pity date.”
The next afternoon Kara found herself no closer to landing a date to the gala than she’d been at Pop’s the day before. According to his voice mail, Howard was at an IT conference in Seattle. He’d left a phone number where he could be reached, as well as a pager number and an instant e-mail address—all in the event of an emergency.
“This is an emergency,” Kara mumbled.
But she didn’t page him, phone him or e-mail him.
She was about to pick up the phone and call in a favor with one of her male cousins when a truck backed into her driveway and over the flower bed that marked her property line with the house next door. She dropped the phone and scrambled outside.
“Hey! Hey, what are you doing?”
The truck driver looked out his window and winced. “Sorry about that, lady.” He drove forward a bit, then cut the engine, hopping down from the cab. Kara heard the other door slam, as well.
Her carefully tended flower bed was in ruins, the V-grooved treads of two tires running right down the middle of her impatiens.
“What are you doing?”
He held out one of those electronic order processing boards for her signature. “Furniture’s here.”
“Furniture? I didn’t order any—”
“Yoo-hoo! Excuse me.” A moment later Miss Ever Efficient, today in a lime-green miniskirt suit, tiptoed around the ruined flower bed. “We’re over here.” The woman made it to where they stood without getting her heels caught in the lawn. Kara had to admire the skill—and the shoes.
Her gaze was still on the shoes when another set of feet appeared. This one looked to be about a size twelve encased in Timberlands. Her stomach knotted, and Kara knew even before her gaze roamed up the man’s body and landed on his face.
“You.”
He grinned. “Hello, Dr. Kara. I seem to be bad news for flowers in this town. Maybe I need to buy some greenhouse stock. Nadira?”
“I’ll have quotes for you this afternoon.”
“My fl…”
Before Kara could get the rest of the words out, he’d motioned to the assistant, who nodded.
“Hello, Dr. Spencer. I’m Nadira,” she said, extending a hand for a quick, efficient handshake. “We’re very sorry about the lawn. I’ll have a landscaper over here to fix it pronto.” She then directed the delivery driver to the house next door and started talking on her phone again.
“What are you doing here?”
“I told you, I rented a house.”
“But…” Kara waved a hand at her home, and then at—his! “But that one is…it’s right next to mine.” She pointed back and forth between the two houses as if they might disappear if she blinked. “You can’t possibly plan to live there.”
“Not me. My staff and I,” he quickly added. “We’re all set up, except for furniture.”
“But…”
“I was glad to see there’s a path between the two houses.”
Kara winced as she looked back at the winding stone path that led from her back door to the neighboring one. Laid by her next-door neighbor’s late husband, the path had linked the two homes in fellowship and friendship for more than forty years. Kara had kept up the tradition when she moved in five years ago. The now treacherous path had been perfect when Mrs. Abersoll lived in the house next door. Kara had checked on her elderly neighbor every day. Together they’d maintained the flower beds that ran the length of the driveways. But Mrs. Abersoll had gone on to be with the Lord six months ago, and her big house had remained empty. Until now.
“So, we’re neighbors,” Marcus said.
Kara wondered how fast shrubs could grow in place of the flowers.
“So I see,” she said, trying to inject some enthusiasm into her voice.
It was one thing to be friendly toward Marcus Ambrose when she thought he lived across town in one of the big houses on Cherryville Drive. It was another completely to have to face him not just on the unlikely off chance that their paths would cross at a shop in town or one Sunday morning at Community Christian, but every single day! Kara’s sunroom faced his kitchen. If she sat in her favorite chair, he’d think she was staring straight at him.
