Lake Magic (7 page)

Surprise flashed across Mrs. Nelson’s face. “That’s great. I’m glad she’ll get to see at least one game this season.”

He smiled. “Yeah, me, too.”

“Aren’t you pitching tonight?”

“Yep.”

“Honestly, I don’t know how your mother finds the time. I can barely take care of these three, let alone hold down a job. And just last week Parker’s dad and I heard your mother’s name on the news. Again.” She shook her head. “The
news
.” Now Mrs. N. was the one with the smile. “Something about the delivery of a set of quintuplets. Your mother has such an important job. And your father. I’m just amazed—”

“Come on, Ma,” Parker interrupted, exchanging a look with Cody. Mrs. N. would go on
forever
if they let her. “We gotta go.”

“Oh, all right.” She turned in her seat, said something to Parker’s brother and sister, which instantly shut them up. “If you change your mind about that ride, Cody, just give us a call. It’s no problem.”

“Thanks, but like I said, my mom is driving me.”

After they drove away, Cody hurried to the crosswalk, only to be held up by the dorky lady with her dorky sign and even dorkier orange vest. She acted like they were still in kindergarten. Finally, she walked out into the street, held up the stop sign, and waved him and the other kids across. He took off at a sprint.

Even though his house was only seven blocks from the school, his mom had never let him walk home alone before this year. She kept saying he was too young. No matter how many times he told her he wasn’t a baby, she just ignored him and made sure Parker’s mom or one of his other friends’ mom gave him a ride. But at the start of this school year, Dad said since he was in eighth grade, he was old enough to walk home by himself. Cody couldn’t believe it when Mom finally said okay. But every day one of the moms still offered him a ride.

By the time he reached Fircrest, he was out of breath. He slowed to a walk. Maybe he should have stopped off at his locker, gotten rid of some of the junk in his backpack. But he hadn’t wanted to waste the time. Using his arm, he pushed at his backpack. A stupid book kept jabbing into his back.

A fat raindrop hit his white sleeve. He looked up and saw dark clouds rolling across the sky. Scowling, he started to run again. A few minutes later, he turned onto his street. When he hit his driveway, he slowed and headed to the side door, digging his key out of his backpack’s front pocket.

He couldn’t help but roll his eyes, like he did every time he saw the keychain. It was so retarded. Retarded and huge. Like his mom thought if she didn’t buy him the biggest one possible, he’d lose it. And if the ginormous plastic house wasn’t bad enough, she’d written his name and phone number on the back. If he lost it and a burglar found it, they’d know exactly which house to break into. Cody rolled his eyes again. Sometimes his mom was so weird.

He kicked the door shut behind him and immediately pulled off his tie. Attending Saint Charles with their stupid uniforms and stupider rules could have been social suicide; the only thing that saved him was that his buddies also went there.

He dumped his backpack in the laundry room, went into the kitchen, and picked up the phone.

“Dr. Adams’s office. How may I help you?”

“It’s Cody.”

“Hi, Cody,” his mom’s receptionist said just like she did every school day. “You made it home okay?”

Duh
. “Yeah. Can you tell Mom I’m home?” He didn’t even bother to ask to speak to her, knowing she’d be busy. She was always busy.

“I sure will.”

“Thanks.”

He headed for his room. The house was quiet, like it always was on Marie’s afternoons off. In his bedroom he found his baseball uniform washed, folded, and waiting for him on the corner of his bed. On top of the uniform, Marie had left a note wishing him good luck at the game.

Knowing he only had a half hour until his mom got home, he quickly changed.

Back downstairs, he found another note on the kitchen table, this one telling him to have an apple and some cheese for snack. And a glass of milk.

Riiight
. He left the note where it was (just in case his mom wondered what he’d had for a snack), and, instead, dug around in the pantry until he found the box of Pop Tarts buried in the back.

His stomach growled as he put two in the toaster. He hadn’t eaten his lunch today. He knew his friends thought it was because of today’s game. And yeah, that was part of it, but the real reason he was so psyched was because his mom was going to be there. Neither of his parents had been to a game all season. He knew his dad wouldn’t make a game because he was off to some country Cody couldn’t even find on a map. Doctors Without Borders. Cody wasn’t exactly sure what that meant, but when he’d tried asking his dad and mom about it, they gave him some vague answer that probably only made sense to people with brains as big as theirs.

He glanced at the clock. Fifteen minutes till Mom got home. He was just about to go into the family room and play a video game when he changed his mind. Getting his backpack, he dug out his math book and got to work on homework. Mom would be shocked. He’d made his way halfway through tonight’s problems when the phone rang.

“Adams residence.”

“Hi, Cody, it’s Mom.”

“Are you on your way?”

There was a slight pause. “Look, Cody, I’m really sorry, but I’m going to be late.”

“That’s okay. We don’t have to be there until four thirty.”

“I’m sorry, honey, but—”

“You can still make it, Mom. You have plenty of time.”

“I’m sorry, honey, but there’s nothing I can do. Something came up at work—”

“It’s always work.”

“Cody . . .”

He squeezed his eyes shut. Hard. He wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t. “You promised.”

“This is important.” She didn’t say anything for a long time, like she was waiting for him to say something. But he was done talking. No one ever listened anyway.

“I’ve already called Parker’s mom, and they’re going to pick you up,” his mom said after the silence had gone on forever. In the background, he could hear someone calling her name. “Honey, I’ve got to go.”

She paused again. Then, finally, “Bye, Cody. I’ll get home as soon as I can.”

He hung up the phone. After a moment, he rushed over to the table, grabbed his homework, and ripped it into a million little pieces.

He caught his reflection in the large mirror on the wall. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks. He ground his fist into his eyes. He was such a baby. A big fat crybaby. Who cared if his mom came or not?

He looked into the mirror again, saw his blotchy, tear-streaked face and the bright white of his uniform. Turning, he ran up to his room as fast as he could and ripped his uniform off. Shrugging into a pair of jeans and a hooded sweatshirt, he went back down and slipped on his favorite pair of sneakers. His mom hated these sneakers. She kept telling Cody to throw them away because they were so old and torn. But Cody wouldn’t get rid of them.

Without wasting another moment, he tore out the back door and grabbed his bike out of the garage. Who cared about a stupid old game? With tears streaming down his face, he pedaled as hard and as fast and as far as he could.

Jenny stared at herself in the full-length mirror and tried to recognize the woman she saw staring back. Her face was pale, her hair limp, her eyes dull and rimmed in red, and the black suit she swore she’d never wear again hung on her frame, testifying to all the weight she’d recently lost.

From the time she’d turned fifteen, she’d done the ten-pound battle, trying everything under the sun to shed it. Low carb. No carb. High fat. Low fat. All fruit. No fruit. But what little weight she managed to lose would always come right back, refusing to stay off. Until nine months ago when, on a warm August night, a drunk driver blew through a stop sign and took from her the only thing she’d ever truly wanted.

Those ten pounds she used to think so important fell off her. And then another ten. She knew she was bordering on too thin, but most days she could barely manage to choke down more than a bite or two. The only real meal she ate each week was the lunch with her mom, and she only finished that because it was easier than the verbal battle that would follow if she didn’t.

How could everything have gone so wrong in such a short amount of time?

The panic and despair she’d been fighting to keep at bay since Jared had left demanded to be let loose.

She would never sell. Never. She would brave the lion’s den—or the banker’s office, as the case may be—to save her and Steven’s dream.

The drive into Hidden Lake had never seemed to take so long . . . or go so fast. Before she had fully gathered her thoughts and courage, she was maneuvering into a parking spot right out front of the bank. Purse and file folder in hand, she entered the bank. She stopped a few feet inside, letting her eyes adjust. The two tellers—Sue and Monica—called out a greeting. Jenny waved to them and the only other customer in the bank, Mr. Denton, but her mind was elsewhere. She scanned the cool, quiet interior looking for—

“Jennifer. What a pleasant surprise.”

Slowly, Jenny turned. “Hello, Mr. Howard.”

John Howard, president of Hidden Lake’s one and only bank, stood less than five feet from her. As usual, the short man was impeccably dressed—a navy blue suit with a crisp white shirt and gray tie. His full head of brown hair was expertly styled and his black leather shoes polished to a high sheen. Even though he was only a handful of years older than she was, Jenny always got a paternal vibe from him. Maybe it was because he spoke to her in that same kind but I-know-what’s-best-for-you manner her father did. Or maybe it was because of the way he always gave her a pat and soft squeeze on her arm whenever they saw each other. As if reading her thoughts, he reached out and gave her upper arm a friendly squeeze.

“What brings you into the bank on this fine day?”

“Actually . . .” Jenny paused, swallowed. “Do you have a minute? I was hoping we could talk.”

His expression seemed to brighten. “Certainly. Shall we go into my office?” He stretched his arm out, indicating the way. As if she didn’t know. It seemed as if every other month she was making her way down the short hallway and into his office.

She gave him a smile. “Thanks.”

A new picture of his recent halibut fishing trip was on his desk, but other than that, his office was unchanged. The same serviceable oak desk, bookcase, and filing cabinet crowded the small interior. The only thing that kept the room from feeling claustrophobic was the large window that offered an unobstructed view of Hidden Lake. She shifted her weight in the chair and crossed her legs. She didn’t want to be here, but what other choice did she have? This was her problem, and she needed to find the solution.

“What can I do for you today?” Mr. Howard said, lowering himself into the chair behind the desk. “Your loan payment isn’t due for another three weeks, so I know you’re not here to ask for an extension already.”

His tone and smile were sincere, but Jenny still felt herself turning red. “No, I’m not here about an extension, but it is concerning my loan.”

“Yes?”

Her stomach tightened; her palms began to sweat. She had the sudden, insane urge to laugh and jump up, say this was all a silly joke, and flee the room. But this was no joke. And running away wouldn’t get her anywhere or anything except an unwanted partner. She tucked her purse next to her on the seat along with the folder she’d brought in. She squeezed her hands together and resisted the urge to dry her palms off on her skirt.
Oh, Steven, I need you. I can’t do this alone.

But she knew she had to. Steven wasn’t here . . . wasn’t coming back . . . and it was up to her to keep their dream alive. She just wished she’d planned a little better for this meeting. Gone over the books . . . looked at the contract she’d brought along . . . ferreted information from her brother about how she should approach the bank. But as usual, she hadn’t done her homework. She’d jumped in headfirst without stopping to look or question or seek advice. This time it was her voice in her head—not her mother’s or her brother’s—that said,
Oh, Jennifer
.

“I wanted to talk to you about a loan.”

John Howard was all patience. “Go on.”

Jenny took a deep breath and plunged ahead. “Well . . . Blue Sky Air is at a critical point in its expansion. The new advertising plan we’ve implemented is showing great promise. Early bookings for the summer season already show a positive growth. Plus, we are confident that the weekend getaway packages we’ve negotiated with hotels and B and Bs on the nearby islands are going to garner strong interest. Blue Sky should see a sharp increase in profits this year.” She didn’t know why she was using plural pronouns, but somehow it made everything sound so much . . . bigger. More official. There was no
we
any longer. Just
she
. The new ideas had been hers. Succeed or fail, it all rested on her. But the business was showing an increase. This time last year she only had one scheduled charter. As of today, she had two, and in her mind that was a fifty percent increase. Sharp indeed.