Season of Sisters (47 page)

"No, I have a ride waiting and I need to work tomorrow. I've lots to do in order to be ready to return to Cedar Dell in two weeks."

She felt a sudden and unexpected urge to kiss her sister's cheek good-bye, but settled for a wave and turned to leave.

Sarah's voice stopped her at the doorway. "Kate, I know it can't be easy for you, but I really appreciate what you're doing for Dad."

Kate glanced back over her shoulder. "He's my father, too."

Sarah briefly closed her eyes, then nodded. "That's some funeral dress you're wearing, by the way."

"This old thing?" She gave the skirt a flip. "It's not my funeral dress. I save my short red one for that."

Chapter 3

Max Cooper knew what he was after. The soft mist of morning. The snuggled comfort of golden curls against fluffy white. The sleepy dawn of awareness in sky-blue eyes as they opened to love.

So he waited, unmoving, steeped in the quiet peace of birdsong and snuffles. Light from a rising sun beamed through the window, traveled a snail's pace across pink-dotted Swiss, and finally kissed a button nose dusted with freckles.

Max's finger hovered. Ready... ready...

Soft as an angel's kiss, lashes lifted. Ready... ready...

Love.

His camera shutter clicked.

"Daddy." The smile stretched with sleepy delight. "Good mornin'."

She was, quite completely, his heart. "Good mornin' to you, Shanabanana. Did you sleep well?"

"Yep." Six-year-old Shannon Cooper nodded, rubbed her eyes, and sat up in bed. She held out her arms to her father. "I'm hungry."

And so their day began.

In the kitchen, Max kept a close eye on the clock as he whipped up Shannon's second-favorite breakfast, French toast, orange juice, and bacon. Froot Loops occupied the number-one slot. After long and intense negotiation, father and daughter had settled on a twice-a-week Froot Loops limit as long as French toast made at least one appearance each week.

"Hurry up, Shan. Breakfast is almost ready. We have fifteen minutes before we need to leave for school."

"Coming, Daddy." Sneakers thundered downstairs, and his favorite whirlwind burst into the room and took her seat at the kitchen table. "We can't be late today. Mrs. Litton said if I'm late one more time, she's going to give you a D-hall."

"Oh, yeah?" Max set Shannon's plate in front of her. "I didn't know kindergarten teachers could give D-halls to parents."

"Dad-dy." Shannon rolled her eyes theatrically. "Mrs. Litton can do anything."

"Hmm..." Max couldn't put up much of an argument with that. After all, Mrs. Litton had taken a sad, silent little girl beneath her wing and coaxed this happy, healthy live-wire kindergartner into being. Because of that, Max would serve a hundred D-hall's for Mrs. Litton if she asked.

"Is your backpack ready to go?"

Shannon nodded, then turned her attention to her breakfast. She took her last bite of French toast, then her eyes went wide. "Oh, no. I forgot. It's Show-and-Tell Day. What can I take?"

Max considered the question. "How about photographs again? You could take the ones we made together of Edinburgh Castle."

"No. That's boring. I could show them my doll Matilda. I was going to show her last week, but I didn't, and she's still at school, only I'm not in the mood for Matilda today." She licked syrup from her fork, then lifted her plate to lick it, too. A stern look from Max managed to stop her. She set down her plate and flashed a happy smile. "I have an idea."

Hopping down from her chair, she skipped across the kitchen to the junk drawer, then rummaged around for half a minute. "Here it is." She pulled out an old cork and held it up like a prize.

"You want to take a cork to show-and-tell?"

"It's a stopper, Daddy, and they are so cool. You can use it for tons of things."

Max started to ask, but thought better of it. Knowing Shannon, she'd want to demonstrate, and they'd be late to school. Again.

He'd just as soon avoid getting a D-hall.

Shortly after they moved to Cedar Dell in January and Max enrolled Shannon in kindergarten, he realized morning time management presented one of his little family's biggest challenges. For four years he and Shannon had been accustomed to doing things on their own schedule. They'd enjoyed that luxury owing to his work and Shannon's beloved Nana Jean.

Nana Jean had joined their family as a baby-sitter for infant Shannon after Max's wife, Rose, died. When Max left the Air Force a short time later and turned his photography hobby into a second career, Nana Jean came with them. The widow of a retired army staff sergeant, organization had been Nana Jean's strong suit. She'd enjoyed the constant travel Max's lucrative new job required, and she managed to make continent-hopping with a toddler an enjoyable experience.

Nana Jean's loving support and kick-in-the-ass attitude helped Max make it through the most difficult time of his life, and she became the only mother Shannon had ever known. Losing her last September to a heart attack had crushed both Max and Shannon. Guilty, grieving, and in search of safety and security for the family he had left, Max moved back to his hometown, Cedar Dell, and embarked on his third career, that of full-time dad.

He was still trying to get the hang of it.

Today, he was off to a good start, though, delivering Shannon to school with a kiss and three minutes to spare. He waited by the curb, watching until she disappeared inside the front door. Despite how well kindergarten was going for Shannon, he looked forward to the summer break. The vacation was longer in coming this year because of the furnace failure and burst water heaters that had delayed classes for two weeks back in January. Once school let out for summer, he wanted to drive over to Arlington and ride that new coaster that opened at Six Flags Over Texas. He and his wild child were both crazy about coasters.

In the meantime, he had to go to work. He flipped down his visor and checked the day's schedule. Well, hell. It hadn't changed. Max had fifteen minutes before he was due at Harmon Lanes to photograph members of the Cedar Dell Golden Ladies morning bowling league in action.

"Just enough time to drop you at Doc Murphy's." He glanced down at the small Heinz-57 stretched out on the seat next to him. Max had rescued the dog from a Phoenix animal shelter back in November in an attempt to distract Shannon from her grief in the wake of Nana Jean's death. The dog had quickly become a member of the family. Shannon adored the animal she'd christened, to Max's dismay, Muffykins. To compound the insult, the poor dog was male. Max offered him what dignity he could by refusing to call the canine by his name. Shannon scolded Max about it at least once a day, but on that, he held firm.

Max pulled into the parking lot at the vet's and stopped the car. He fastened Mutt's leash to his collar, then set him on the ground. The dog planted his paws and whined. "Don't do that," Max warned. "I've found you in Shannon's bed the past three nights. You're getting dipped whether you like it or not."

Leaving the vet's, Max checked his watch, sighed, then glanced next door at the neon sign shaped like a bowling pin. In the six months since he'd returned to Cedar Dell, Doc Murphy's office was the closest he'd come to Harmon Lanes. That was about to change.

Harmon Lanes. In all his travels, first as an Air Force pilot, then as a photographer, he'd never stumbled upon another place quite like it.

Established in 1948, Harmon Lanes had evolved into something much bigger than a simple bowling alley. The transformation began back in the sixties, when a tornado destroyed much of Cedar Dell. To help his friends and neighbors, Jack Harmon closed off half his lanes and donated the space for meetings and events like wedding receptions, baby showers, the Tuesday morning quilting circle, and the Thursday afternoon diet-and-exercise club. At the urging of the ladies in town, he remodeled a storeroom in back where Elizabeth Beck could set up her beauty shop. According to Max's next-door neighbor, she had yet to move out.

Max had spent many an hour in that building in his youth. Jack Harmon had given him his first job. He'd polished rental shoes and built Coke floats behind the soda fountain salvaged from the storm-ravaged drugstore. Max had a vivid memory of sweeping the floor of the beauty salon while holding his breath against the assault of perm solution. The Willie Mays baseball card he'd purchased in the Harmon Lanes Gift and Antique Shop was still one of his most prized possessions.

According to Max's barber, the soda fountain continued to attract a crowd, and the community room was still the nicest one in town. The president of the Fain Elementary Parent-Teacher Association had mentioned that the quilting circle still met every Tuesday night. The diet-and-exercise group apparently had evolved into a daily 7 a.m. aerobics class.

Harmon Lanes was both special and unique, and at times since his return, Max had missed mingling at the town's social center. Up until today, he had given the place a wide berth. The fewer times he had to look Jack Harmon in the eye, the better.

Max counted twelve cars in the Harmon Lanes lot. Nice crowd for a weekday morning.

He threw the gearshift in park and turned off the ignition. He sat staring, lost in bittersweet memories. Best put a lid on memory; it hurt more often than it helped. He grabbed his camera bag from the backseat and headed for the building.

The second he opened the door he was thrown back in time by the blend of odors and aromas—Lysol, cigarette smoke, furniture polish, perspiration, popcorn, and perm solution. At that moment, Max felt eighteen all over again. Eighteen and filled with anger and brimming with dreams.

Regrets hit him like a punch to the gut, hard and fast and ugly, and he wheezed out a breath.

"Max! Max Cooper! Over here!"

His gaze swept past the shoe rental counter, where he expected to see Jack, but didn't, to lane numbers one through four. Members of the Cedar Dell Golden Ladies bowling league were hard at play. He spied three people he recognized, and he smiled. Mrs. Dunkleburg, Mrs. Coppage, and Mrs. Kramer had been members of the Christian Ladies Benevolent Society that had been so kind to him when he was a kid. One of the first things he'd done after moving back to town was to make a substantial donation to their scholarship fund.

His smile died when he realized the Widow Gault was waving and calling his name. Loudly. There had seldom been anything benevolent about Martha Gault.

"Thank goodness you're here," she said. "We want to get these pictures in tomorrow's paper. To cheer poor Jack up."

In the process of removing his camera from its bag, Max paused. "Cheer Jack up? Why does he need cheering up?"

"You haven't heard? How can you not have heard? It's the talk of the town. Besides, you work for the newspaper. You should know the news."

Max didn't feel like going into the details of his part-time work for the local biweekly paper. "What news?"

The elderly woman's eyes lit. "About the accident, of course. You don't know? I can't believe I'm scooping the press. Jack was awfully lucky. He's going to be fine. In fact, they're both going to be fine. The doctors were worried for a while that Sarah might lose the baby, but she seems to have weathered that danger well. She's going home today. Jack will be in Bethania a few days longer. He needed surgery. If the fellow who hit him hadn't used his cell phone to call for help, Jack might have bled to death."

Max wanted to be sure he had it straight. "Jack Harmon was in a car accident? Sarah Harmon, too?"

"Jack, yes. Sarah, no. She's Sarah West now. She married Alan West not long after you left town. This is their first child. A miracle baby. They've wanted children from the beginning, but apparently Sarah had female problems that prevented... well... I shouldn't go into details. I doubt she'd care to see the particulars printed up in the
Cedar Dell Times and Record News."

"Mrs. Gault. I'm not a reporter. I only take pictures. Part-time. Just to help out. Now about Jack and Sarah?"

"Well, I swan." She peered at him over the top of her glasses. "I still don't want you printing anything about our Sarah. She wasn't in the accident itself, but the stress of the news presented some alarming symptoms regarding her pregnancy. She almost worried herself into premature labor. Such a dear, sweet girl. Such a contrast to that younger sister of hers. Although, Sue Ayer is a nurse at Bethania, and she said the younger girl did come visit her dad. Showed up late in the day and in a limousine, of all things. That's just like Kate, if you ask me. Doesn't care a lick about family. Her brother arrived hours earlier, and he rushed all the way from Houston. Why, her daddy could have died."

Max went still. "Kate Harmon is in town?"

"Do you know her? Yes, of course you probably do. She and Terri Gantt were the same age, and I know you dated Terri all through high school. Everyone in town expected the two of you to marry. Such a shock when she broke up with you, but she wasn't cut out to be an Air Force wife. All that traveling. Base housing." She shuddered. "Terri married a banker, did you know that? They have three children. Live in San Francisco. Her parents are so proud of her, but you probably know that since you bought the Gantt's house when they retired to Florida. Too bad poor Jack can't feel the same way about his younger girl."