The Winding Road Home (3 page)

Kate wrote Adele's words. They more or less echoed what Bruce Waverly, two teachers, and one board member had told her that afternoon. Of course, those had been from politically correct people adept at speaking without the emotion coating Adele's rendition.

She turned to Chelsea. “And what do you think?”

“I want a man like Mr. Kingsley for my mom!”

Her mother groaned.

“I would have preferred
him
, but I guess he's unavailable now. They're about the same age you know. Mom's thirtysix. When he first came, I told her he was
different
and we should have him over for dinner, that she would like his nononsense attitude. But she dragged her feet and now Miss O has snapped him right off the market—”

Adele grabbed her daughter around the shoulders with one hand and stuck a carrot into her open mouth with the other. “Chelsea Chandler! How did you ever become so full of jabberwocky?”

The girl bit off the tip of the carrot and giggled around her chewing, “I had a good teacher who doubles as my mother!”

“No way!”

“Mom, you should hear yourself. Like in the pharmacy the other day.”

As the teasing continued, Kate heard muted strands of Beethoven's Fifth emanating from her bag. She dug out the new cell phone and walked into the dining room, away from their noisy banter. “Hello.”

“Kate? It's Tanner.”

“Hi!”

“I called your office and Rusty gave me this number. Do you have dinner plans? I'm still in town, and the Rib House is calling my name.”

In her mind's eye she saw Adele and Chelsea's mountain of chopped veggies. They always welcomed her to join them in their tasty, albeit vegetarian dinners. “I assume the Rib House serves meat?”

“All kinds. Are you a vegetarian? They have—”

“No,
I'm
not a vegetarian.” Her stomach rumbled at the thought of a plateful of lipsmacking slabs of pork and beef covered in barbecue sauce. The Chandlers ate seafood and dairy products, but nothing like ribs. “The Rib House sounds great. Meet you there in ten?”

“See you.”

Back in the kitchen, Kate said, “That was Tanner Carlucci, inviting me to dinner.”

“Mr. Carlucci?” Chelsea exclaimed as she dramatically threw a hand against her chest. “Mr. Carlucci?” She sighed and closed her eyes. “Dinner with Mr. Carlucci?”

Kate turned to Adele, who was tossing a salad. “What?”

“His nickname—among the high school girls—is Adonis.”

Kate thought of his expensive sweater and easygoing manner. Perfectly handsome as a Greek god? She hadn't really noticed. “Why?”

That sent Chelsea off on another round of squeals and swoonlike motions. “Kate! Are you blind? The guy is six feet tall with broad shoulders, gorgeous thick black hair, brown velvet eyes, and the longest eyelashes I've seen in my entire life.”

Adele handed her the salad bowl. “And way too old for you to be concerned about, right?”

“Oh, Mother!”

“Right?” Her voice rose sternly. Like now, she could quickly slip back into her role as mother when she deemed the situation called for it.

“Okay, okay. Right.” Chelsea set the bowl on the table, a pout forming about her mouth.

Kate cleared her throat. “You know, Adonises aren't totally what they're cracked up to be. And besides, all I'm looking for is some information and barbecued ribs!”

Standing just inside the Rib House Restaurant waiting to be seated, Kate cast a surreptitious, sideways gaze at the socalled Adonis beside her. If the epitome of Adonis was tall, husky, dark, and handsome—as in a perfectly symmetrical face—then Tanner fit, hands down. His wavy black hair was stylishly long. From the side, she discerned his eyelashes were suitable for an ad touting the wonders of mascara.

“What?” He must have caught her not-so-furtive stare.

At about 5′2″, she had to tilt her head to meet his eyes. “Oh, just the reporter in me checking out a rumor. Do you know what the high school girls call you?”

He winced. “Do I want to know?”

“Sure. Knowledge is always a good thing. They call you Adonis.”

The wince deepened. He was decidedly uncomfortable with the label. If not for his olive skin tone, he probably would have been blushing.

“On second thought, maybe I won't go into teaching full time.”

“Look at the bright side. At least fifty percent of the student population will pay attention to you.”

He rolled his eyes and touched her elbow, nudging her to follow the hostess now waiting to seat them. They crossed the main dining area, a no-frills open room of tables covered with red-checked vinyl. Every chair was occupied and the drone of conversation hummed. The woman led them to a small alcove of tables lined against a row of windows over-looking a nighttime Route 18. They sat across from each other, shrugging off their coats.

Kate said, “What do you recommend? This is my first time here.”

“I like their special.” He pointed to a description on her menu. “Ribs, French fries, coleslaw, and lemonade. You can get a half rack.”

“I can eat a full one.”

“They're huge servings.”

“I hope so.”

He grinned. “You can't eat a full one.”

“I bet you the check I can.”

“I was going to pay anyway. I invited you.”

“Please don't go Sir Galahad on me. It's Dutch treat or nothing.”

He held up his hands in mock surrender. “Okay, okay.”

“Unless I eat a full rack.”

“You're on.”

A middle-aged waitress set water glasses before them, quickly took their order, and left.

“Tanner, I should buy your dinner. I owe you for the photos. They're good, clear shots.”

“And poignant?”

Smiling, she rolled her eyes. “Yeah, yeah, and poignant. I'm sure Rusty will use one.”

“Do I get my name in fine print beneath it?”

“Of course. But what
am
I to do with a kissing principal and teacher article? On the front page?”

“Who, what, when, where, why, and how. Just the facts, ma'am.”

She glared at him over her water glass. “Now you sound like Rusty.”

“Thank you. That's a compliment. Crusty Rusty is one of my favorite people.”

Kate choked down a mouthful of water, laughing and coughing.

He handed her a napkin. “It's my pet name for her. She loves it.”

“It's—” She coughed again. “Appropriate. Why is it you have a pet name for her?” Kate couldn't stop grinning.

“She always quotes me.”

“About?”

“Ah, Kate. Your next assignment in learning the secrets of the Magic Kingdom is to read a minimum of six months' back issues of the
Times.
If you had, you'd know that I'm the freshmen girls basketball coach and sometimes varsity assistant. That's why I originally came to Valley Oaks two years ago. And then I started subbing.”

“You teach and coach, but you don't know what you want to do with your life?”

“Well, those are like…” He whirled a hand in the air as if searching for a word. “Hobbies. I have a degree in business, but I don't have a teacher's certificate, though I'm working toward one. I'm a pilot too, for private charters. Of course, that's also kind of a hobby. And I enjoy photography.”

“As a hobby.”

He smiled. “Why settle for one hobby and call it a career? Now, what brings you to Valley Oaks? I thought Rusty pretty much handled the paper on her own, except for the publisher and part-time receptionist.”

“The short version is I don't have a degree yet. I'm going for journalism from Iowa. I'll graduate as soon as I finish an internship. Nothing was available in New York or Los Angeles.” She gave him a crooked smile. “Nothing in Chicago or Springfield either. My professor is an old colleague of Rusty's. So here I am. Last stop before Washington, DC.”

“Why don't you have a degree yet? You were probably number one or two in our class.”

She held up three fingers. “I never could beat Beth Anderson and Tracy Lyndon.” She sighed dramatically. “Remember them?”

He shook his head.

“Nerds, every last one of us. Anyway, things got complicated after high school. I took a few detours along the way. You said my next assignment was to read the old
Times
. What was the first one?”

“The first one is on its way even as we speak.”

The waitress set two oversized dinner plates before them, each piled high with barbecued ribs and fries.

“Eat up.” He winked. “This is the most delicious inside scoop of Valley Oaks.”

Tanner watched Kate with amusement as she devoured her dinner, keeping pace with him bite for bite, elbows on the table, a rib held between two hands. He was going to lose the bet.

In between bites she asked, “But seriously, Tanner, how do I write this story?”

He couldn't help but chuckle. “It's a tad hard to take you too seriously.” He pointed to his own cheek, indicating where she had sauce smeared on hers.

She laughed and wiped a napkin across her face. Her laugh was infectious and suited her quirky appearance. With a forefinger, she pushed the rectangular tortoiseshell glasses up her perky little nose and asked, “Is that better?”

“Much. Okay, seriously, it's a human interest story.”

“Exactly. I know how to write those, but not for page 1, above-the-fold articles.”

“Kate, you've got to throw out everything you've learned in class and follow Rusty's lead. She has been around the block once or twice, you know.”

“I know. Are you going to eat your coleslaw?”

“Hey, the bet was only for you to finish your own plate.”

“I just didn't want it to go to waste.”

“I'm a strange eater. I always save the salad for last, but if you're still hungry…” He laughed.

She joined in. “This stuff is heavenly. Have I said that already?”

“Six or seven times.” He wondered where she was putting it all. Perhaps it fueled her spark plug of a personality. “Seriously, our
Times
is not a big-city paper. Unless there's a car accident or a fire or the village board discusses money, most of the news is human interest. For Valley Oaks, it works. That's all we need.”

“It'd never fly in DC.”

“No, it wouldn't, but this isn't DC. What's with DC anyway?”

“My next stop. I hope. I want to be the Helen Thomas of the twenty-first century. Follow the president around like his shadow. Ask him the tough questions at news conferences. Make an impact by writing, keeping the lines open between the public and the White House.”

He let out a low whistle. “Sounds like a big dream. Did you know this in high school?”

She nodded, stuffing a fry into her mouth.

They may have graduated together, but she definitely walked on a different planet than he did, then and now.

She tilted her head, looking him in the face. “What was your big dream in high school?”

He blew out a puff of air. “To get through it.”

“I see. Well, you sound fairly content here. As if hobby-ing in Valley Oaks is a fit.”

“Maybe. But I don't live here. I have an apartment in Rockville. How about you?”

“Haven't been able to afford one of those yet. I'm living with Adele and Chelsea Chandler.”

“I've had Chelsea in class. Interesting girl. What's her mother like? Chelsea looks like something from the sixties. A free-spirited hippie artist.”

“They're two peas in a pod. Adele makes pottery in her spare time, but her day job is director out at the county nursing home. They're free-spirited all right, but dedicated Christians.”

That was news to him. Not that he knew the Chandlers personally, but they sure didn't resemble Britte Olafsson or Anne Sutton, the basketball coaches who occasionally referred to Jesus in a decidedly noncursing manner.

Kate continued, “They're great roomies. Except they have an aversion to cooking meat.” She grinned and bit into another rib.

He was missing something. What could Britte, Anne, Chelsea, and Adele have in common? He looked at the funny young woman across the table. In spite of the red hair sticking out in every direction from a plastic clip at the back, there was a fresh, healthy glow about her. An innocence in the freckled nose and in the sauce where lipstick and cheek blush should have been. She was down-to-earth. Approachable. He figured that with Kate “what you see is what you get.”

Like Britte. Like Anne. Like what he'd seen of Chelsea.

Kate tilted her head again, putting herself in his line of vision. “What?”

“You're one too. A Christian.” It sounded like an accusation. “What I mean is—”

“Does that negate the bet?”

“Huh?”

“Does my being a Christian mean you won't buy my dinner?” She shoved her plate toward him.

Except for the pile of bones, it was as clean as if it'd just been pulled from the dishwasher.

He laughed. “No.” He couldn't remember the last time he'd laughed so much. Being with Kate was like being with the guys. Almost. He didn't know any guys this short. “As a matter of fact, I think we should do it again.”

“Pizza Parlor?”

“You're on.”

Tanner looked at her eyes. They were a translucent green. Not Christmas green, but combined with the red hair and colorful clothing, they added to the notion she was one heck of a surprise Santa could have left under the tree.

Kate fired up the slow beast of a computer at the newspaper office. After that delicious meal with Tanner and his lesson on what constituted news in Valley Oaks, she was ready to write the kissing principal article before heading home.

Things were looking up. She now had
four
friends in town: Rusty, Adele, Chelsea, and Tanner. Surprisingly, he was the easiest one to relate to despite their dissimilar backgrounds and approach to life. Hanging out with him was like hanging out with Beth, her best friend since high school. Almost. Beth had a husband and two little kids.

While the computer continued to grind away, its screen still dark, Kate picked up the telephone and dialed the familiar number.

“Hello,” Beth Anderson Greenly answered.

“Hey. Got a minute?”

“Kate! How's it going out there in Hicksville?”

“Puh-lease. This is my home.”

“For the duration.”

“Uh-huh. Anyway, you'll never guess who I had dinner with tonight. Tanner Carlucci from high school.”

Her friend hooted. “That jerk?”

“Come on, Beth. You didn't even know him.”

“Did so. He was in my brother's group during Todd's nightmare period. They used to—”

“Don't tell me! I don't want to know what he did over twelve years ago. We had a great time. He seems like a nice guy, just like your brother is now.”

“Is he still drop-dead gorgeous?”

Kate ignored the question. “And he paid.”

“I guess that means, as usual, Miss Journalist didn't notice.” Beth sighed loudly. “I don't know what I'm going to do with you. Well, that was kind of him to pay. I think he grew up wealthy. His dad's a doctor. Didn't he do your mom's surgery? Sidney Carlucci.”

Kate thought back nearly eight years ago. “I don't know. She had so many doctors.”