Whatever Life Throws at You (18 page)

I make a mental note of the fact that she doesn’t point the blame at Dad or ask where he is. Which probably means that she knows he went to work and she may have even accepted the responsibility of keeping an eye on Grams during the two-hour gap of him leaving and Caroline arriving.

“God, you are completely incapable of doing anything for anyone!” I turn around and head back down the hall. Mom is quick at my heels, tying Dad’s long blue robe around her waist.

“Watch your mouth, young lady,” Mom says. “Being a bitch will get you nowhere fast.”

She stops when she sees that we aren’t alone. Her gaze freezes on Savannah, sizing her up from head to toe, taking in her usual black pencil skirt, blazer, and heels. Her conservatively styled auburn hair and natural makeup.

“Don’t tell me you’re a social worker?” Mom snaps at Savannah then she turns to me. “What did you do? Who did you call?”

Savannah’s and Caroline’s eyes are both wide, but Caroline stays focused on her job of taking care of Grams and she gets her to sit back down. “Evelyn, I’ll whip up some sausage gravy and biscuits for you right now, okay? Let’s just relax.”

Savannah extends a hand to Mom. “I’m Savannah Dawson, Jim’s assistant and a Royals’ PR rep.”

Mom’s eyebrows shoot way up. She flips her blond hair over her shoulder, straightens her back, then reaches out to shake Savannah’s hand. “Ginny Lucas…a pleasure to meet you. Sorry about the commotion this morning. I’m a bit jet-lagged and missed my cue to wake up and help Mom.”

Jet-lagged? Doesn’t that require a jet?

I release a much too loud frustrated groan. But Savannah just flashes Mom a polite smile. “Nice to finally meet you, too. I should head into work now. Looks like you’ve got everything under control.”

Yeah, right.

But I don’t blame Savannah for choosing the fastest way to exit and not get involved in her boss’s family drama. Even though she claims to clean up these kinds of messes all the time, she is the one who hired Caroline and made sure Grams had twenty-four-hour supervision. She’s done her duties already in the crazy mother-in-law of the boss department.

She glances over her shoulder at me before stepping outside. “See you in the office at noon, Annie?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there right after cross-country practice.” After she’s out the door, I ignore Mom and walk over to the stove where Caroline is making what looks like sausage gravy and biscuits. I lean in close to whisper, too afraid of causing another outburst from Grams. “My dad told you about her cholesterol problem, right?”

“Yes, he did.” Caroline continues to stir the white liquid in the pan without pause.

“I don’t mean to be bossy or anything,” I say. “But it’s just that I’ve been feeling so guilty for getting her ice cream and milk shakes all the time.”

“No worries,” she says, flashing me a smile. “I make this with turkey sausage and skim milk…no grease. It’s a perfect compromise.”

I lower my voice even more. “She won’t know?”

“I fool her all the time,” Caroline says proudly. “Tomorrow if you’re around, I’ll show you how to make the healthy milk shake, all right?”

I smile with relief. “Thanks. You’re a genius.”

Grams is digging through a basket in the center of the table now. I walk behind her and put my arms around her shoulder, giving her a squeeze. “I’m sorry, Gramsie. You’re right. Your cholesterol is fine.”

She places a hand on my arm and gives it a little pat. “Enough hanging on me, Annie. Now help me find my needlepoint.”

I almost tear up again for like the fifth time in less than twenty-four hours. I give her one more squeeze and bury my face in her shoulder. I can’t remember the last time Grams called me Annie. After I locate her needlepoint, I hurry into my room and change for cross-country practice and pack a bag for work later.

When I return to the kitchen, Grams is happily enjoying her not-so-unhealthy sausage gravy and biscuits. And Mom is seated right beside her, allowing Caroline to serve her a plate of food along with coffee and juice. My mouth hangs open, but I wait until Caroline shuffles down the hall to get clothes for Grams before speaking.

“She’s not a maid,” I hiss at Mom. “She gets paid to take care of Grams, not to cook you breakfast.”

Mom shrugs and takes a dainty bite of scrambled eggs. “She offered, Annie. It would be rude to say no.”

I toss my gym bag onto the table and fling the dishwasher open, loading each dish with an unnecessary amount of force. By the time Caroline returns, I’ve got the dishes done and the counters cleaned.

“Sweetie, you go and do your running practice,” Caroline says. “Let me clean up.”

“It’s fine. I’m almost done.”

Mom sits there watching this exchange with mild interest. “This gravy is just fabulous. I’d love the recipe.”

I roll my eyes but keep my back to them while I quickly butter a piece of toast, grab two bottles of Gatorade and a few granola bars for lunch. While the toast is hanging from my mouth and my hands are busy stuffing items in my bag, Mom finally takes a second to look me over.

“You’re not going out like that, are you? No makeup? Shorts and gym shoes? Daddy’s making enough money now to get you a little better wardrobe, right?” Her face lights up and she reaches out and grabs my wrist. “I know! Let’s go shopping. Get you something nice and have some time to talk, just us. We never get to spend time together.”

“And whose fault is that?” I yank the zipper on my bag closed and toss it over my shoulder. “I can’t go shopping. I have cross-country practice.”

I’m so looking forward to a nice long run, pounding my feet into the ground over and over again. Maybe I’ll imagine Mom’s face underneath my shoe.

Lenny London:
It’s been brought to my attention that I’m not emotionally secure enough to date an intellectual superior. You know what? Screw you. And btw, you are so not smarter than me.

2 hours ago

Jason Brody Royals Pitcher:
Less than 5 hours until my first trip to LA. What’s on the must-see/must-do list?

30 minutes ago

Annie Lucas:
Should eat more than a piece of toast before a 12-mile run. Starving. Craving hot dogs and fried mozzarella.

5 minutes ago

I’m texting Brody while walking through the stadium toward Savannah’s office. My hair is wet from showering after practice, and I’m carting a bag full of sweaty, smelly clothes over my shoulder.

ME: where are you?

BRODY: in the stadium

ME: I know that, dork. But where exactly?

BRODY: telling you could put you in danger. Where are you?

ME: down the hall from Savannah’s office

BRODY: don’t move

I stop and glance around for less than a minute before Brody comes walking down the hall toward me. The second I catch sight of his stylishly messy dark hair and the suit and tie he’s required to wear for team travel, my heart takes off and the memories of being tangled together on his couch yesterday come flooding back. To avoid showing him my flaming cheeks, I take my time bending over and tucking my phone back into my bag.

When I return to standing, Brody’s leaning one shoulder against the wall, so I do the same and watch as he slides closer.

“Hey.”

There are so many words loaded inside that one
hey,
and the weight of where we were and where we are now hits me in one quick punch.

“Hey,” I say back then notice the hot dog in his hand. “Don’t let Frank catch you with that. Ten thousand dollar fine.”

He laughs and holds it out to me. “He did catch me and when I told him it was for you, I had to listen to a really long story about why he knows that you like ketchup on one side, mustard on the other and a pickle laying across the mustard side.”

I drop my gaze to the hot dog and the memory I’d tucked carefully away for years comes back to me in an instant. I’m not in the mood to dredge up the past, so I ask Brody, “What did he tell you?”

His eyes meet mine, an amused smile tugging at his mouth. “Just that he took you to a Rangers game when you were like six or seven, and he bought you a hot dog with ketchup and you told him he made it wrong. While he was helping you carefully dress a new hot dog to your liking, he missed one of the greatest game-changing plays in major league baseball history.”

The game-changing moment isn’t anywhere in my memories, but Frank and me alone at the game is. Where was Dad?

And then I remember the relapse he’d had. There was another surgery, something that needed to be removed…a tumor, maybe? Then more radiation. He was sick most of second grade. And Mom stayed away the whole time. My teachers forgave the missed homework and reading time, my constant mess of tangled hair and worn-out clothes, not to mention my consistent lack of lunch money.

“You okay?” Brody asks.

I meet his gaze and force a smile before taking the hot dog from his hands. “Yeah, just thinking. I forget sometimes how long Frank has been hanging around my dad.”

“Frank’s a good guy.” He leaves the statement open like a question, waiting for me to elaborate. I’m not going there today. He’s right, Frank is a good guy, but every memory I have proving that comes with some pretty bad memories.

I brush my fingers down his blue striped tie. I barely notice him shuffling his feet closer to mine, but I feel the heat building in the space between us. I meet his gaze again. “Thanks for bringing me lunch.”

His eyes dart around the hall and then fall back on mine. He leans down and touches his mouth to mine. My stomach flutters and without even realizing what I’m doing, my hands grip tightly around his tie, pulling him closer.

Brody breaks off the kiss just before my hot dog gets smashed between us. “Not here, okay? We’re more covert than that.” His fingers lace through mine, and he smiles again. “I’ll call you tonight when I get to LA.” He raises our hands to his lips, kissing my knuckles before releasing me.

I stand on my tiptoes and plant one more kiss on his mouth before turning around. “See you in three days.”

I’m walking down the hall, smiling at my hot dog (it’s almost too perfect to eat) when I hear Savannah’s raised voice coming from her office around the corner. I almost head right in, assuming she’s on the phone speaking sternly to some tabloid writer, but then I hear a second voice that causes me to stop and eavesdrop.

“Consider me informed,” Dad says. “Evelyn won’t be left alone with Ginny again, I swear.”

And yeah, Brody’s so right about us not getting touchy-feely in the stadium hallway. How close were we to getting caught by Dad?

“I just don’t get it,” Savannah says. “What are you possibly gaining from keeping her around?”

“I don’t know,” Dad says, his voice fading. “It’s not something I can explain to you.”

“Well, humor me,” she snaps. “I’d love to be further educated on the workings of the insecure male mind.”

Holy shit, she’s pissed.

“She’s still my wife. Ginny’s known me almost my entire life. We grew up together.”

“Then you should be able to see her for what she is better than anyone else—selfish and cold.”

Oh boy…

“You spent thirty seconds with her.” Dad’s voice elevates, gaining strength and flipping into defensive mode. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. She’s the only woman who doesn’t look at me like I’m an invalid.”

“That’s not true,” Savannah says firm and eerie.

“How would you know?” Dad counters. “There’s not exactly a plethora of women waiting to meet a thirty-six-year-old one-legged man with a teenage daughter and a mother-in-law with Alzheimer’s to take care of.”

I figure the conversation will be done after that because how can Savannah counter an answer like that? I glance around looking for something to dive behind so Dad doesn’t think I’ve been listening in, but Savannah isn’t finished.

“That’s bullshit,” she says. “I bet you haven’t even tried to put yourself out there again. You assume that’s what people see. Are you really insecure enough to believe she’s the best you can get? Ask Annie what she thinks. Ask her how she feels about her mother constantly jerking both of you around.”

“Don’t act like you know my daughter better than I do just because she spent the night in your apartment complaining about her parents. I appreciate you helping and telling me about the Evelyn situation this morning, but I’m done discussing my personal life with you.”

The door slams shut, vibrating through the hall. I dive behind a shelf full of white towels and wait for the thud of Dad’s non-leg to fade away.

I can’t believe Savannah laid into him like that. Especially after her being so neutral and see-the-bigger-picture last night. She seemed genuinely furious with him, and it had nothing to do with her at all. The endorphins built during cross-country practice must have done miracles for my mood because I’m actually feeling a tad bit sorry for Dad.

I munch on my hot dog while taking the long way around the stadium to Dad’s office. The fight with Savannah distracted me enough to forget that I’d stormed out of the house yesterday pissed off at him. So when I walk inside his office and give a casual, “Hey, Dad,” his mouth falls open and he’s momentarily speechless.

“I’m sorry about leaving Grams this morning,” he says finally. “And just so you know, I didn’t tell Mom where we were. She found out on her own after seeing a game on TV.”

“Okay,” I say, slowly releasing a breath and leaning against the doorframe. “But now what?”

His face speaks a dozen words all at once. He’s tired. He’s afraid of what’s going to happen with his coaching job. He’s shaken by his fight with Savannah.

Dad sighs. “Do you think…would it be possible for you to put up with her for three days until I get back from California? Caroline’s going to stay in the guest room the whole time and take care of Grams. You can have a three-day sleepover with Lenny if you want.”

He’s so desperate for a quick resolution, I’m half expecting him to offer me money next. And then I do what most girls my age would do and let my mind wander to places it shouldn’t be. Ideas for using his guilt to my advantage. An opportunity to drop some sketchy info and not get hit with a retaliation of a million questions.