My One and Only (Ardent Springs Book 3) (8 page)

Without looking at his notes, he repeated everything he’d told Spencer and Caleb over lunch two days before. When he finished, the group seemed satisfied, but then Mayor Jebediah Winkle raised his hand and Cooper tensed. Winkle was a born obstructionist, and had long been an opponent to the car rally idea.

Before Caleb had suggested they organize a series of rallies as fundraisers, Cooper had tried for two years to put on something similar at the county fairgrounds with the goal of bringing tourist dollars to the town. Every attempt had been unsuccessful thanks in whole to Jebediah’s interference. As longtime head of the fair committee, the mayor opposed the use of the fairgrounds on the bogus assumption that old cars meant leaky pieces of junk. The yes-men who made up the rest of the committee bowed to their leader and voted down every proposal Cooper put forward.

“What is it, Jebediah?” asked Stallings, who was less a fan of the mayor than Cooper was, thanks to having been defeated by Winkle in the last election.

“Has anyone considered what this rally will do to traffic in the downtown area?”

Giving the obvious answer, Cooper said, “Traffic will increase around the theater, along Margin Street from Fifth to Third, but that’s the whole point. The more people we attract, the more successful the event and the more money we raise.”

Jebediah wasn’t appeased. “What about the locals who need to get through that area?”

Keeping a tight hold on his patience, Cooper replied, “The rally is on a Saturday. Nearly every business along Margin is a Monday through Friday operation. Meaning no one is going to be late for work because of this event.” The mayor opened his mouth, but Cooper didn’t give him the chance to fire off another question. “I’ve talked to nearly every business owner for four blocks and all have offered their support. The ones with freestanding parking lots have given us permission to use their property as needed, and several others have bought ad space in the rally program. Not one has complained, but if you’ve heard from anyone specifically, let me know and I’ll be happy to pay them another visit.”

Knowing he’d been beaten, at least for now, Winkle backed down. “I’m just trying to anticipate problems before they arise,” he said.

Stallings rolled his eyes as he moved to the next item on the agenda and Cooper returned to his seat. Thirty minutes later, the meeting ended.

“That was impressive,” Spencer said, a wide smile splitting his face. “Who knew you had that in you?”

An excellent question. Cooper had even surprised himself. Growing up with a father who’d never believed his son would do anything worthwhile had driven more than a few holes into Cooper’s confidence.

“He was fishing for problems,” he said, playing down the encounter. “Luckily, I had the answers to shut him up.”

“Did you really talk to all those businesses?” Spencer asked.

Cooper grinned. “Most of them. Caleb sold the ads for the program, so I can’t take credit for that part.”

They followed Caleb, Snow, and Lorelei out of the room. “But you
can
take credit for handing Winkle his ass. That was fun to watch.” With a smack on the back, Spencer said, “We’ll see you over at Brubaker’s. First round’s on me.”

Cooper never turned down a free beer. “Sounds good.”

As his friends walked away, Cooper enjoyed a satisfaction he’d never felt before. Being the person in charge instead of an invisible cog in the wheel was a new experience. And he liked it. Tonight, he’d proven he had more to offer than a tune-up and a tow. Too bad Malcolm Ridgeway hadn’t lived long enough to see how far his son had come.

“Never amount to anything, my ass,” Cooper muttered on his way through the parking lot.

Chapter 8

“In the name of sweet baby Jesus, please let my mother be in a good mood.”

Haleigh had been repeating this prayer before every family dinner for the last six months. So far, the Big Guy upstairs hadn’t seen fit to grant her request, but hope did spring eternal.

The house at 429 Rebel Circle loomed over Haleigh like a specter that she couldn’t expel. This was where she’d spent most of her childhood. Where she’d disappeared into endless worlds reading by the light of the moon in her blanket-filled bay window. Raced over the hardwood floors giggling with glee as her father chased his little princess from room to room. Teased her little brother as he grew from an annoying shadow into a barrel-chested boy on the cusp of manhood.

And then there was her mother.

Without ringing the doorbell, Haleigh opened the front door and stepped into the foyer of her childhood home. “Mom?” she called, hanging her thin jacket on a hook to her left. “I’m here.” The scent of meatloaf and fresh bread filled the air. The Church Street Deli must have been running a special.

Meredith Mitchner wasn’t the meatloaf-making, cookie-baking, always-ready-with-a-hug type of woman. At least not behind closed doors. She put on a good act, of course. Stay-at-home mom. Member of the PTA. Soprano in the church choir and leader of the bereavement committee, which meant making sure the refrigerators of the families of newly deceased church members were fully stocked with casseroles and side dishes within twenty-four hours of the passing.

“I’ll be down in a minute,” her mother yelled from upstairs. A staunch proponent of punctuality, Meredith was never late for an appointment. Dinner with her daughter seemed to be the exception to the rule.

“That’s fine,” Haleigh assured. “No hurry.”

Though she took great pride in her community duties, Meredith did not give the same effort and attention to her daughter. At age ten, Haleigh hadn’t understood the cold looks and lack of affection. By fifteen, she’d matured enough to recognize jealousy in another woman’s eyes.

Stepping into the living room, Haleigh crossed to her favorite picture on the bookshelf. Her parents beamed with pride and joy as they nestled close, each holding a child. Haleigh had been three and perched on her father’s knee showing off a mouthful of baby teeth. Her mother balanced Ryland on her hip. He’d just begun walking and Haleigh could still remember his toddler demands of “Down! Down!”

If only things had stayed that simple.

Richard Mitchner had doted on his daughter, declaring her the most beautiful girl in the world. He’d bragged of her intelligence and determination, telling anyone who would listen that Haleigh was destined to be more than a wife and mother. She would do important things. She would be somebody.

The more he’d bragged, the more Meredith silently seethed.

Haleigh knew Daddy hadn’t meant to belittle his wife. He was a progressive thinker, ahead of his time, while cursed with the age-old male trait of obliviousness. He didn’t see Meredith’s hurt, because the possibility that Haleigh’s mother didn’t share his pride and hopes for their daughter never entered his mind.

Willful or not, that failure to recognize the consequences of his words had poisoned Haleigh’s relationship with her mother. When he’d been killed in the car crash, the situation had only gotten worse. A review of her father’s financial dealings revealed a sizable college fund for Haleigh, but no will or even reasonable life insurance policy on himself.

Which meant Haleigh’s college dream had remained intact, while Meredith had been left to fend for herself and Ryland. Guilt, even by association, could be a powerful motivator. Guilt had driven her to drink. And guilt was the reason that most of her current income went straight into Meredith’s bank account.

At least she didn’t have to pay for Ryland’s college education since he’d gone into the military. Haleigh had always suspected that he’d signed up to get away from their mother, though he’d never confirmed the fact. Thankfully, he was stationed at an army base in Germany and not in the fray in the Middle East.

Running a finger along the frame, Haleigh lamented the family they could have been. If only things had been different. If only her father had chosen his words differently. If only her mother had spoken up instead of bottling her hurt and anger.

Though the chances were slim, Haleigh held out hope that someday she and her mother could have a better relationship. That, eventually, Meredith would stop holding her father’s words against her and give Haleigh the love and approval she so desperately desired.

“I see you couldn’t be bothered to change your clothes for your mother,” Meredith said from the doorway to the foyer. Critical blue eyes assessed Haleigh’s scrubs. “I guess I don’t rank high enough for regular clothes.”

Without waiting for a response, the older woman spun and disappeared into the kitchen. Clearly, that love and approval would not be granted this evening.

Bracing for the meal ahead, Haleigh cut her eyes back to the picture. “No use dwelling on the past,” she said to herself. “When the present is so much more fun.”

Her mother wouldn’t appreciate the sarcasm, but at least Haleigh was smiling when she entered the kitchen.

“Something smells good,” she said, determined to be cheerful. “I can’t remember the last time I had a home-cooked meal.” Both of them knew this dinner had not been cooked in a home, but the pretense had become habit at this point.

“That explains why you’re swimming in those shapeless scrubs. Being a doctor doesn’t mean you have to look like one all the time.”

They’d had this conversation on more than one occasion. Haleigh didn’t like fashion any more than she liked decorating. Scrubs were easy. And thanks to supporting her mother, who refused to sell the house and move into something smaller—meaning cheaper—Haleigh couldn’t afford to buy the high-dollar pieces her mother would approve of.

Employing her most successful tactic—deflection—Haleigh asked, “How was your week?”

For the next fifteen minutes, her mother provided uninterrupted commentary on the deteriorating state of the Rotary Club—that tramp Piper Griffin never should have been elected president—predicting that they would be lucky not to lose half their membership by the end of the year. On a roll, she shared her relief in not having to attend any more of those dreadful Ruby Restoration meetings, having left the committee due to an influx of new members with whom she’d rather not associate.

Not that she’d included this reasoning in her resignation. Meredith Mitchner would never allow her predilection for snobbery to show in such a public way. If Haleigh recalled correctly, her mother had used the excuse that other priorities were demanding her time and attention. Because being on call to produce a cluster of casseroles on a moment’s notice could be extremely stressful.

When they were finally seated in the dining room, her mother said, “Did I tell you that I’ve volunteered for Jebediah Winkle’s reelection campaign?”

Haleigh struggled to hide her distaste. Jebediah Winkle was a difficult man to like. How he’d managed to win the previous election remained a mystery. Buford Stallings had been mayor for more than a decade, and he’d done a satisfactory job as far as Haleigh knew, before Jebediah had deposed him. Due to being eyeball-deep in her residency at the time of the election, she hadn’t paid much attention to the local news, so she wasn’t certain how Winkle had pulled off the defeat.

“Why would you want to get involved in politics?” Haleigh asked. Her mother had never shown an interest in such matters before.

Manicured brows nearly met over an aristocratic nose. “A woman doesn’t have to go to medical school to be interested in something other than grocery shopping and pressed linens.”

As if the woman had ever ironed a sheet in her life.

“I didn’t mean to insult you,” Haleigh said, knowing better than to touch that nerve. “I’m sure they’re happy to have you.”

Setting her silverware on the table, Meredith said, “Don’t patronize me, Haleigh Rae. I don’t appreciate it.”

“I’m not patronizing you, Mother. I sincerely believe you’ll be an asset to the campaign.”

Keeping her eyes on her food, Haleigh maintained a placid expression. Any inkling of irritation would only add fuel to the fire.

“Thank you,” her mother said, reclaiming her fork. “I’ll expect you to vote for him.”

Haleigh jerked upright. “You expect what?”

Unruffled, Meredith said, “To vote for Jebediah. As my daughter, your support is a given.”

“I don’t think so,” she sputtered. “Who I vote for is my business.”

“Would it be so much to ask that for once in your life you put my desires first?”

The gall of the question struck Haleigh speechless. Nearly every aspect of her life revolved around her mother’s
desires
. Her choice of career. Her surrendered paychecks. Her pointless efforts to atone for someone else’s sins.

All for nothing.

“I’m not hungry anymore,” Haleigh said, slamming her napkin onto her plate.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Meredith demanded. “Dinner isn’t over yet.”

“Yes,” Haleigh said, rising to her feet, “it is. I have someplace else to be.”

Following her daughter into the foyer, Meredith said, “What do you mean you have someplace else to be? Having dinner with your mother should be more important than anything else.”

After tugging on her jacket, Haleigh spun with her hand on the door. “There are a lot of things that should be in this house, Mother. But at some point we all have to admit the truth.”

For the length of a breath, recognition shone in her mother’s eyes. She knew exactly what her daughter’s words meant. And if Haleigh had caught even a hint of regret in those blue depths, she might have stayed.

“By all means,” her mother said, “don’t let me keep you.”

With her jaw clamped tight, Haleigh dragged the keys from her pocket, willing herself not to cry. After all, this wasn’t a new wound. This was her reality. She had to accept it eventually.

Going to Brubaker’s didn’t have to be a mistake. It wasn’t as if Haleigh had never been in the presence of alcohol and maintained complete control over her cravings. She could hang out with friends, chat for an hour or so, and return home feeling less like emotional roadkill.

“Are you sure I don’t look like an idiot?” Haleigh’s closet didn’t contain honky-tonk attire. Jeans would have been good, if she’d been able to find a clean pair. Though her scrubs were washed regularly, the rest of her wardrobe tended to sit in the hamper for weeks on end.

“Would you trust me already?” Jessi said for the third time. “I’ve got this.”

This
was a denim jacket thrown over a casual dress that Jessi had found in the back of Haleigh’s closet. The periwinkle flowers dotting the simple beige hem played off the jacket, and thankfully, she and her best friend wore the same size shoe as Jessi had snagged a pair of cowboy boots from Abby’s closet.

They both stepped back to assess Haleigh’s reflection in the full-length mirror.

“Maybe a shorter dress,” Jessi suggested.

“This one already hits mid-thigh,” Haleigh argued, tugging on the thin material. “If I go any shorter, I’ll be arrested for indecent exposure.”

Reaching for a polka-dotted pouch, Jessi said, “Sit down on the bed so I can do your makeup.”

Haleigh obeyed the order. “I don’t see why I can’t apply some lipstick and go.”

Opening an eye shadow palette of varying shades, Jessi stared down at her canvas with an expression of pity. “I get that you’re naturally gorgeous, which is really annoying, by the way, but that doesn’t mean you can’t make a little effort.”

Rolling her eyes, Haleigh said, “I am not naturally gorgeous. I’m too thin, my eyes are too close together, and I have bushy eyebrows.”

“Full brows are in,” Jessi informed her as she dug in the bottom of the pouch. “Lucky for you, we have the same color eyes so my stuff will work for you, too.” Whipping out a small brush, she said, “Now close your eyes.”

“Please don’t make me look like a clown,” Haleigh said.

With a hand on her hip, the teen said, “Are you saying I look like a clown?”

Jessi’s look might be considered bold, but she’d never crossed into clown territory. At least not in the few days Haleigh had known her.

“Forget I said that.” She closed her eyes. “Make me up.”

For several minutes Haleigh followed orders to open wider and look this way or that. When the artist was satisfied with her work, she stepped back and said, “Now you’re ready.”

Walking to the mirror, Haleigh almost didn’t recognize the face staring back. Gold eye shadow made her eyes pop, her cheekbones had been contoured to perfection, and thanks to Jessi’s steady hand, Haleigh’s eyes were lined with a slight flare at the corners. She looked like a blonder, less-edgy version of her makeup artist.

“That’s amazing,” she said, turning left and right. “Where did you learn to do this?”

“YouTube,” the youngster answered. Of course.

While Haleigh continued to examine her look, Jessi said, “Not that it’s any of my business, but based on your lack of club outfits, I’m guessing you don’t go out like this very much?”