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“It was great seeing you, Riley,” Jenny said as she herded her charges toward the parking area.
“You, too. Give my best to your family.”
“I will. Bye, Riley.”
“Bye, Riley,” Maggie parroted, waving.
“See ya around, Riley,” Mark called over his shoulder.
“Yeah. See you around.” Who knew…it was a small town. Maybe they would see each other around sometime.
It occurred to him only then that he’d never gotten the kids’ last name. It was entirely possible that he knew their parents, though he couldn’t place them with anyone at the moment.
Cute kids, he thought again as he drove his car out of the parking lot. Their parents were obviously doing something right raising them. Not a job he wanted himself—way too much responsibility and pressure for Riley—but some folks seemed to have a talent for it.
He just didn’t happen to be one of them.
Chapter Three
For some reason, Riley’s thoughts were turned to past events as he entered the Edstown High School football stadium that weekend, along with a crowd of local football fans.
It had been several months since young Eddie Stamps had been arrested for arson, bringing an end to a troubling series of local fires. Most of the buildings that had burned had been vacant, the fires more of a nuisance than a dangerous threat to the community. Two of the fires had had more serious repercussions.
The Hightower Insurance office had burned to the ground, destroying valuable personal records and expensive office equipment. Five employees had lost their jobs, since R. L. Hightower had decided to retire rather than rebuild. The most devastating incident had occurred two months before the insurance company fire, in mid-January. A small hunting cabin in the woods just outside of town had burned, killing Truman Kellogg, who’d died in bed of smoke inhalation.
Unlike the other fires, that had been the only one in which there’d been no clear-cut evidence of arson. The cause was still listed as undetermined. It had been a fluke that Kellogg had even been at his hunting cabin that night. He had visited it only infrequently during the past few years and almost never at that time of the year.
Eddie Stamps had finally confessed to most of the arsons, yet denied responsibility for the insurance company and the hunting cabin. Most locals believed he was willing to confess only to the fires with the least serious consequences, hoping for a lesser sentence. Dan had pointed out to Riley that there were some differences in those two fires, but he, too, suspected that Eddie might have been involved with them. The timing seemed too coincidental to believe otherwise.
Dan tended to believe that Truman’s death had been accidental. Since Truman so rarely stayed at the cabin, it was conceivable that the arsonist—if there was one in that case—could have believed the cabin was vacant. Because prosecutors had reluctantly decided to accept a plea bargain from Eddie’s attorney and charge him only with the fires he’d confessed to, it was possible no one would ever know whether Truman’s death had been the result of arson or merely a tragic accident.
Since Eddie’s arrest, news had been slow for the two reporters for the Evening Star. Lindsey stayed busy covering school programs and civic meetings and doing features on interesting locals. She shared hard news coverage with Riley, informally taking turns showing up when real news occurred. Riley’s regular responsibilities included attending and reporting on weekly city council meetings and sporting events and a twice-weekly column of biting political and social commentary.
The column was new, an idea of managing editor Cameron North. At first Riley had been reluctant to commit to the demands of a regular column. Cameron had talked him into it, assuring Riley that he could do most of his work at home, giving him plenty of freedom to work his own hours at his own pace, on the condition that he would produce two columns a week.
Riley enjoyed writing the columns more than he’d expected. It gave him a chance to get in a few digs at the mayor, the city council, local society leaders, the school board—he liked to think of himself as an equal opportunity needler. Even his friends weren’t entirely safe from his barbs. Dan and his police department had taken their share of hits from Riley’s keyboard.
“Hey, Riley.” The city attorney approached him at the Friday night high school football game, an aggrieved look on his broad, mocha-toned face. “That wasn’t an entirely fair column you ran today. Just because the state Supreme Court overturned one of our city ordinances doesn’t mean I don’t know my job. I honestly thought it would hold up in court.”
“C’mon, Dwayne, every business owner in town has been insisting that ordinance was unconstitutional since the council drafted it almost two years ago. Just because you and the mayor persuaded one lower court judge—a golfing buddy of the mayor’s, no less—to uphold it didn’t make it legal. As the state Supreme Court justices told you quite succinctly, by the way.”
Dwayne’s scowl deepened. “Now that’s just what I was talking about. You can’t accuse a judge of being influenced by a longtime acquaintance with the mayor.”
“Sure I can. Especially when it’s true.”
“Damn it, Riley—”
“Careful, Dwayne.” Riley skillfully sidestepped a mob of kids dashing recklessly toward the concession stand behind them. “There are innocent ears listening.”
He moved on before the mayor’s most devoted minion could get further wound up. Dwayne would get over this offense—until the next time Riley took aim at the local political scene.
“Riley!” A towheaded kid in fashionably oversize clothes skidded to a stop in front of him. A slightly smaller, more feminine figure tagged at the boy’s heels. “Hi. Remember us?”
“Mark,” Riley said, identifying the boy he’d met in the park a few days earlier. “And Maggie,” he added with a smile for the little girl. “Nice to see you again.”
“We’re going to get drinks and popcorn.” Almost shouting to be heard over the noise surrounding them, Mark waved a five-dollar bill in one hand as he pointed toward the nearby concession stand with the other. “Mom’s saving our seats. She said we have to stay close together, hurry back and don’t talk to anyone.”
“You’re talking to me.” Riley couldn’t help pointing it out.
“Well, yeah, but that’s different,” Mark replied with his usual airy disregard for details. “We know you.”
“Still, you’d better buy your snacks and get back to your mom before she starts to worry. I’ll catch you later, okay?”
“Okay. See you, Riley.”
“See you, Riley,” Maggie echoed, staying close to her brother as they joined the shortest line at the crowded booth.
Nodding toward the uniformed officer stationed by the concession stand, one of several on duty in the generally problem-free high school stadium, Riley moved toward the bleachers. It was almost time for kickoff. He wasn’t officially covering the game tonight—a high school senior with dreams of becoming a sportswriter had requested that privilege this evening—but Riley liked football and was a loyal supporter of the Edstown Eagles. He rarely missed a home game, even when he wasn’t being paid to attend.
The crowd was already pumped up and ready for the action to begin. The band played—loudly if not flawlessly—and maroon-and-gold clad cheerleaders and pom-pom girls bounced and chanted. An announcer’s voice boomed from scratchy speakers. The smells of fresh popcorn, hot dogs, nachos, coffee and hot chocolate wafted through the cool air. Young kids who couldn’t care less about football played tag on the grassy hill beside the bleachers, and groups of teenagers strutted and giggled while trying to impress the opposite gender.
Some things, he thought, never changed.
Nodding greetings to people he knew, he spotted an empty stretch of bench with a good view of the field. Climbing over a few outstretched legs, he claimed a spot, settling carefully onto the chilly aluminum seat. He glanced idly left, froze for a moment, then slowly smiled.
The woman sitting only a few feet away hadn’t noticed him yet. Her attention was focused on the cheerleaders, who were doing an intricately choreographed dance routine on the sidelines while the band members played enthusiastic accompaniment.
She seemed to be alone in the noisy crowd. Riley had every intention of changing that. He moved closer to her, waiting for her to recognize him.
Pulling her attention away from the field, Teresa glanced at her watch, then craned her head to look toward the concession stand as if looking for someone. Maybe she wasn’t alone. Maybe her date was getting drinks or something. Riley frowned.
And then she spotted him. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise at finding him sitting only a few feet away. He quickly turned his frown into a smile. “Hi.”
“Hello.” She could have been greeting a total stranger even though he knew that she’d recognized him.
She looked very pretty this evening, he mused. The thin red jacket, snug white pullover and faded jeans she wore were flattering to her—but then, most things would be. “So you’re a football fan?”
She shrugged. “I like football, though I prefer watching basketball.”
“Really? I like them both. But then, I like most sports.”
She glanced over her shoulder again and murmured something he didn’t quite catch because of the noise level around them.
He raised his voice a little, making sure she heard him. “Are you waiting for someone to join you?”
Still looking toward the concession stand, she replied, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”
So that was why she hadn’t accepted any of his invitations. She was seeing someone else. He could deal with that, he supposed. But it didn’t mean he had to like it. He’d rather fancied the prospect of getting to know Teresa Scott much better. They could have had a great time—for a while. But they could still be casual friends. He had quite a few of those. “Anyone I know?” he asked, following her glance.
“No. Actually, I—”
“Hey, Riley. Want some popcorn?” Young Mark seemed to appear out of nowhere, stopping in front of Riley and holding out a fragrant, overfilled box of popcorn.
“I didn’t want popcorn. I got candy.” Maggie leaned companionably against Riley’s knee, gazing at him with a slightly flirtatious smile. “You want an M & M, Riley? You can have a blue one—they’re the prettiest.”
“Thanks, Maggie. You, too, Mark. But I’m not really hungry right now. Um—hadn’t you two better get to your seats? The game will start any minute.” He assumed they’d seen him sitting there and had impulsively come over to share their treats with him. Apparently, these two had decided he was their pal—which was all very well, but he doubted their folks would approve of them joining him without permission.
Rather than moving on, Mark settled onto the bench between Riley and Teresa. “I’m going to sit here.”
“But I want to sit by Riley,” Maggie protested.
Wondering where their parents were, Riley glanced at Teresa. She looked thoroughly startled, he thought. He couldn’t blame her, of course. She probably hadn’t expected him to be descended on by a couple of chatty kids.
“How on earth?” she began, only to be interrupted by Mark, who informed his sister that he had already claimed the spot by Riley.
“But I want to sit there!” Maggie glared at her brother, then at Teresa. “Mommy, make him move over.”
While Riley tried to decide if he’d heard Maggie correctly, Mark scooted defiantly closer, leaving no room for his sister. “You sit by Mom,” he insisted. “The guys can sit together, can’t we, Riley?”
“That’s not fair. Mommy!”
Her eyes still locked on Riley’s face, Teresa murmured absently, “Mark. Maggie. That’s enough.”
“You mean you’re—” Riley began.
“How did you—” Teresa started to say at the same time. Each fell silent to allow the other to speak.
Maggie settled the argument with her brother by climbing onto Riley’s knee and snuggling against his chest. “Will you open my candy for me?” she asked, holding the package up to him.
Either Riley had recently developed an irresistible magnetism for children, or these were the friendliest two kids he’d ever encountered. He was pretty sure that the last time he’d had an eight-year-old girl in his lap he’d been the same age. Debbie Glover had plopped herself down on his knee and tried to kiss him.
This scene was almost as disturbing.
Teresa tried again to speak over the pandemonium. “Riley, when did you meet my—”
“Please rise for the national anthem,” the announcer’s voice boomed from overhead.
“Stand up, Mom,” Mark urged, leaping to his feet.
Riley set Maggie on the bench beside him when he stood, keeping a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Teresa leaned closer to Riley as the band launched into the anthem and the crowd surrounding them began to sing. “Where did you meet my kids?”
“At the park the other day. But I didn’t know they were yours. I didn’t even know you had kids.”
“Shh,” Maggie whispered loudly. “You’re not s’posed to talk during the anthem. My teacher says it’s disrespectful.”
Properly chastised, Riley and Teresa fell silent, though they continued to give each other searching looks. Riley was trying to figure out how he could have known Teresa for almost a month without finding out she had two children.
With gossip such a popular pastime in this typical small town, he generally heard everything about everyone eventually. But then, Teresa was new in town and didn’t seem to have gotten involved in the community yet. With the exception of finding her on the side of a road with a flat tire, he’d never seen her anywhere other than the Rainbow Café.
So why hadn’t Marjorie told him about the children? All she had told Riley was that Teresa had met her younger daughter, Serena, in college and had come to her recently looking for a job. Marjorie had teased Riley about his obvious attraction to Teresa—without once mentioning that he’d been flirting with the mother of two. He couldn’t help wondering if that omission had been intentional. Marjorie knew him well enough to be aware of his policy against dating anyone with kids.
He’d been aware, of course, that Marjorie had been not so subtly nudging him toward asking Teresa out. Marjorie was a compulsive matchmaker, and he knew she’d never completely given up on fixing him up with someone despite his repeated admonitions to her that he wasn’t the marrying kind. But he’d never realized that dear, softhearted, well-intentioned lady could be downright devious.
The crowd remained on their feet as the two teams charged onto the field and held the kickoff. The Eagles were the receivers, taking the ball on their own twenty-five-yard line. Only then did Riley sit down. Maggie plopped onto his knee almost before he was fully settled. “I can see better here,” she announced, then popped a handful of candies in her mouth.
“Maggie, Mr. O’Neal wants to watch the game,” Teresa said, looking flustered. “Come sit on my lap.”
“I can see better here.” It seemed inconceivable to the little girl that her presence would not be desired anywhere.
“But—”
“She’s okay, Teresa.” Riley cut in. “I’ll send her to you if my leg goes to sleep.”
Her expression was a mixture of apology and bemusement. Apparently she was still having trouble understanding how Riley and her children had become so chummy.
He was having a little trouble figuring that out himself.
Mark wasn’t content to be ignored for long. He tapped Riley’s arm and pointed toward the field. “Why did the judges throw down those yellow flags? Who did something wrong?”
“They’re called referees,” Riley answered. “And the other team just got a fifteen-yard penalty because one of their players grabbed our receiver’s face mask to pull him down. It’s a stupid mistake—especially this early in the game—and a major violation because it could cause serious injuries. Our team is fifteen yards closer to a touchdown.”
“Now what are they doing?”
Riley patiently answered Mark’s questions and Maggie’s ramblings throughout the first quarter. It was very difficult, he discovered, to concentrate on the game with two kids competing for his attention. There was little chance to talk with Teresa, and he would certainly have felt awkward flirting with her in front of her children, anyway.
He was aware that he was drawing quite a bit of attention from the spectators around them. He had no doubt the word would soon be all over town that he’d attended a football game with Teresa Scott and her two kids. Wouldn’t that cause avid speculation?
He lasted until halftime. Maggie had fallen asleep by then—and so had Riley’s left arm. Growing bored with football, Mark had pulled a Gameboy out of his mother’s purse and was industriously pursuing Pokémon.
“I think I’d better head for the press box now,” Riley said, standing to deposit Maggie into her mother’s arms. “I promised to check in with our high school sports reporter to see if he needs any help.”
Which was at least partially true. Riley had told the young man he would read over the copy—but not necessarily during the game.
“Are you coming back? Can I come with you?” Mark asked eagerly.
Teresa interceded before Riley had to come up with a reply. “No,” she said firmly. “I think it’s time for us to go.”
“Go? But the game isn’t over,” the boy protested.
“Your sister is tired. Our team is ahead by three touchdowns. And you haven’t been watching the game, anyway.”
“Yes, I was.” Mark hastily hid the Gameboy behind his back.
“We’re leaving, Mark. End of discussion,” she added as he opened his mouth to continue the argument.
Riley noticed that the boy subsided immediately. There was no doubt who had the final say in that household.
After taking his leave of them, Riley headed for the press box in a pensive mood. He was stopped a couple of times by acquaintances who teased him about trying to get closer to the pretty waitress by being nice to her kids. Someone else asked him if he fancied himself in the role of step-daddy.
