Just to See You Smile (23 page)

Late Thursday afternoon, Alec stepped into Manning's Gallery and Art Supply shop. The door gently swished shut behind him, an overhead bell tinkling in its wake. Muted voices came through an open door behind a counter, but no one was in sight.

He looked around. It was like stepping into some futuristic setting. He couldn't relate to a thing he saw, and the scents nearly gagged him. This was Anne's world.

She emerged now from what looked like an office door, laughter subsiding in her voice. “May I help—Alec! What are you doing here?”

“Hi.” He walked over to the counter, spreading his arms, palms up. “Date night.”

Her eyebrows scrunched together. “It's your office Christmas party night.”

“I know. The one with no spouses or friends. I'm skipping it. I have more important things to do.” He smiled. “You said to let you know where and when. This is it, sweet-heart.”

A man appeared behind Anne, who still stood in front of the office doorway. “Is this Alec?”

Anne moved aside. “Uh, yes. Alec, this is Charlie, my boss.”

Alec shook his hand. The man was younger than Anne had described him, despite the gray in his reddish brown beard, despite the fact that he was reed thin and a widower.
“Charlie! Nice to meet you. I was wondering if I might steal your employee away a little early.”

The man's face softened into an easy smile. “No problem with me. Anne, show him around. I'll be in the gallery. Nice meeting you, Alec.” He ducked back into the office. Literally ducked. The guy was tall.

Confusion still covered Anne's face, which had turned rosy. “Alec, I have work—”

“I'll wait.”

“I wasn't planning on this.”

“You look great.”

She looked exasperated. “I'm not talking about my clothes. You weren't going to be in all evening. I was going to bring home a sketchbook.”

He waited for her to continue.

The hands of a normally cool, calm, collected Anne flapped wildly. “And sketch!”

She hadn't sketched in how many years? He sensed it wasn't the question to ask at this point. “Let's be spontaneous. How about dinner first?”

Charlie reappeared. “Excuse me. Anne, may I show you something in here? It concerns tomorrow when I'll be gone. Just take a moment.”

“Of course.” Anne followed him.

And Alec twiddled his thumbs, wondering if he had time to step outside for a breath of arctic air…wondering if he should just keep on going and forget about the date stuff. Was it really worth it? Peter claimed it was, but then he hadn't gone into a Plan B: What to do if the wife balks.

“Alec.” She came up behind him. “Do you want to see the gallery? I know this supply store side doesn't interest you.”

“Lead the way.”

“We'll go through the office here.”

He followed. It was a tight squeeze of an office. Charlie smiled from behind his desk as they passed through.

The gallery was light and airy. Anne showed him a variety of paintings by local artists, telling him about the ones she had met. Clearly she felt at home. “That's most of it.” She faced him. “Shall we go?”

“Do you want to go?” He forced himself to meet her eyes. There was a glimmer of smoke gray within the black perimeter.

“I'd love to go.”

“Really?” He grinned. “I thought we'd start with a movie. Unwind, forget about the kids. At dinner maybe we could talk about the movie instead of the kids.” He didn't want to talk of real life. He was tired of real life, schedules, a disordered home, and resentment at work.

“The kids! What have you done with the kids?”

“Grammy's in charge of getting the girls home and fed. Drew and Amy can take over from there.”

“You asked my mother?” Surprise and a hint of admiration crept into her voice. “A movie? On a Thursday night?”

He nodded. “I like your hair.”

She blinked. “You got used to it.”

“No. I just finally saw it in the proper environment. The one where you've sprouted wings.”

Annie smiled. “Thank you.” Her eyes sparkled. Only the gray was showing.

Sitting on the team bench during halftime of Saturday night's varsity game, Anne concluded that the turning point occurred that morning. A thoughtless word by Alec effectively unraveled the fragile bond that had begun to develop
between them Thursday night. She shook her head in disbelief. There she sat—in the midst of thumping basketballs and rock music and high-strung girls with a one-point lead and chattering fans—pondering her and Alec's relationship.

Beside her, Britte was quiet. Out on the floor, the girls and their opponents were shooting. Inside of her, built-up emotions pounded in her chest, threatening at that very moment to cut off her air supply if she didn't somehow release them.

Yes, she admitted it,
emotions
. Those abstract things she recognized only at the shop because that was the only place in her life where they made any sense. Take the phone conversation that morning, the one of Alec's she overheard.

The two of them had been in the kitchen discussing the day's schedule when the phone rang. He answered it. The conversation was work related, and so she cleaned up break-fast dishes while he talked. While he laughed. While he said “sweetheart.”
Into the phone
.

He had first begun calling Anne that when they were newlyweds. She cherished the special name he had chosen for her. It was hers alone. For keeps.

Until today.

It wasn't that she suspected Alec had a girlfriend. For goodness' sake, she was standing right next to him when he said it into the phone. No, it was that the name was no big deal. It was just Alec talking in that casual, friendly way of his.

Alec had a girlfriend And she wanted to throw the pancake griddle at him. Which made no sense whatsoever. Such emotions weren't right. They weren't safe. Therefore, she ignored them. Instead of discussing them with Alec, her ex-best friend, she bottled them up. While she was at it, she might as well admit that adding fuel to the combustible mix was her Super-woman struggle. Although she had been denying it, guilt that
she couldn't properly take care of everything weighed more heavily day by day.

Thursday's surprise date had been nice, fun, a temporary reconnection, a respite. She might have missed it if Charlie hadn't pulled her into the office and pointed out that when a husband offers, it's a shame if the wife turns a cold shoulder. However, now, two days later, the date was ancient history. There was a growing chasm between her and Alec, and she didn't know what to do about it. Actually, even if she did know what to do about it, she wouldn't have the time to do it. The new lifestyle they had chosen was in the way, gobbling up precious moments like a rabid cuckoo clock.

The buzzer blared harshly, startling her back into the present. Britte was standing already, surrounded by the girls layering their hands together in the center of the huddle and shouting, “Go team!”

Five girls ran out onto the court as the others settled onto the bench. Tanner sat at the far end, his freshmen girls behind him. The other team was Hawk Valley, nemesis, contender for second place in the conference. It should have been no contest, but then Anne had thought that more than once this season. Something was off-kilter, and that something's name was Britte.

Tonight her friend coached hesitantly, relying on her five starters to pull it off without much direction from her. Anne had spent the first half interceding more than she thought proper. It was Britte's team, and taking over for her wasn't being her assistant, nor was it being her friend.

Those pounding emotions went into triple time as Cassie smacked the tip-off into Liz's hands and Britte didn't budge. She resembled sculpted stone. Anne flew to her feet, unable to keep the lid on her emotions a moment longer. She shouted encouragement and direction.

So what that three dads had filed a complaint that week? So what that Britte had been physically attacked? So what that Joel had inexplicably tangled up her friend's heart? All of that was real life! None of those things excused Britte's behavior at the last few games. In Anne's opinion, the woman needed to grow up. As a matter of fact, maybe she needed a little shove in that direction right now before she totally lost her team.

Anne focused on one of the referees. His calls against them had been borderline all night. As he blew his whistle now, Anne's vocal cords tingled in anticipation. As he signalled his reason, she loudly sang out, “Aww, crummy call, Ref!”

It was better than throwing a pancake griddle.

“Annie!” Britte yelled from the bench.

Practical Anne Sutton, wife, mother of three, faithful follower of Jesus, PTA officer, and respected community presence was nose-to-nose with a referee.

The man in the black-and-white striped shirt stepped back, turned stiffly toward the official scorekeeper, flung his hands together into the shape of a “T” and pointed toward Anne.

Britte jumped up. “Annie, you just got a technical!”

“Sorry. I know it's not enough.”

“Not enough!”

Anne grinned at her in a strange way. “Got you off the bench. Are you in the game yet?”

Britte stared at her.

“No?” She turned and, as a girl from the other team headed to the free-throw line, Anne shouted to the ref, “You owe us
three
of those!”

It was an instant replay. He made his “T” signal again, along with a few words. He was kicking Anne out of the game. The crowd was going ballistic, most loudly in favor of Anne.

“Annie!”

“Listen, hon, this is
your
team. This is
your
game.” Her words were rushed, her eyes boring into Britte's. The referee was approaching, the game halted until the troublemaker left the gym. “Coach it your way. Sub a little more. You know how to do it. They need you, Britte. Help them win. And in case you haven't noticed, this ref is hurting us.” She glanced over her shoulder and held up a hand. “Okay.” She raised her voice. “I'm going.”

Amidst booing, Anne walked graciously toward the exit. Passing Tanner, she called out, “Let her do it! Don't help.”

As Anne disappeared through the open gym doors, a burst of anger ignited in Britte. How dare she! Anne was her last holdout. Joel was gone even if he was standing across the court. Brady was gone. Albeit on a honeymoon, still he was gone. The parents of her players were physically present, but gone nonetheless. Tanner was gone. Ordered not to help, he leaned back now, elbows propped on the bleacher behind him, legs crossed, a smug little smile on his face.

Gone. All of them.

“Coach!” Liz yelled from the court. Her arms were raised, blocking a possible pass to the girl she guarded.

Correction. Not everyone was gone. The girls were here.
Her
girls were here.

Britte flipped her a thumbs-up sign. “Let's go, ladies!”

Across the court, midway up the bleachers, Alec sat frozen in horror. His wife had just been evicted from the game. Not
his son, the hotshot player. Not his brother, the mouthy coach. But his
wife
from a
girls
game. He knew Anne could be outspoken, but this was…this was…ludicrous! What was she thinking?