A Time To Come Home

Jim owned a bar and two regulation-size pool tables he was about to replace. He would have sold them to the center at well under retail. Tyler should know. He’d negotiated the price.

“That’s right. I took a closer look at the budget and decided the center couldn’t afford it.” Chris crossed his arms over his chest, as though reluctant to explain himself. That didn’t make sense. Chris often stated that the community deserved a say in matters concerning the center.

“Jim says he has another offer. The center can’t afford not to buy those pool tables,” Tyler argued. “As soon as the nightly basketball game’s over, the kids scatter.”

“Pool tables aren’t enough to make them stick around.”

“They’re a start,” Tyler snapped. He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated at himself for raising his voice. Every good lawyer knew cool logic got better results than heated words. “We’re on the same side here, Chris. We both want to keep kids off the street. But how can we do that if we can’t keep them at the center?”

“I don’t disagree.” Chris’s body language said differently. “But I have to consider what’s good not only for the teen program, but for the center as a whole. Our grant’s up for renewal in a few months. How can I justify spending such a large chunk of money on our least represented group?”

“By explaining that you’re trying to increase attendance.”

“Except I believe you can’t solve a problem by throwing money at it. Look at some of the things we’ve tried since the center opened. Paid speakers who talked to mostly empty rooms. Dances where nobody came. A study lounge hardly anybody uses.”

Tyler addressed only his last concern. “That’s because there are no computers in the study area.”

“Computers cost money, which we don’t have much of. I’ve got a tight budget. And, like I said, a lot of other programs to consider.”

“Then I’ll donate the pool tables,” Tyler said, surprised the solution hadn’t occurred to him before now. He’d sunk most of his disposable income into the house he’d bought last year, but he could afford used pool tables. “And maybe you could do some fund-raising for the computers.”

“Any fund-raising I do is global, benefiting the center as a whole. I can’t—”

“What if I get somebody to donate the computers?” Tyler asked, although he could ill afford the time. His work schedule was jammed.

Chris transferred his weight from one foot to the other. “That’d be great. But I’m still skeptical that pool tables and a couple computers will increase attendance.”

“It can’t hurt.”

“I hope you’re right,” Chris said, then nodded to him. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have some things I need to do.”

Without another word, Chris headed down the hall. Tyler turned to leave and saw what he thought was a mirage. Walking toward him was a grown-up version of Diana Smith, the girl who’d broken his heart. He blinked, expecting her to disappear, but she kept coming.

Her figure was curvier, the glossy brown hair she’d once worn parted in the middle feathered around her face and her features more mature but there was no mistake about it. It was Diana, who’d left Bentonsville—and him—ten years ago.

Memories slammed into him. Of Diana’s tears dampening his T-shirt while she cried over her dead brother. Of her hazel eyes reflecting the attraction he hadn’t been able to deny. Of her face infused with pleasure and passion as he made love to her.

Of her lips telling him she’d cheated on him with countless other guys.

The last memory was the strongest, perhaps because it had been the impetus he’d used to get over her.

And he had gotten over her. Years ago. But that didn’t mean he hadn’t thought about her and wondered what had become of her. Especially recently when her mother had been on a quest to keep her brother’s killer from getting parole, gathering signatures on a petition in front of the grocery store and placing ads in the local newspaper.

With her clear skin, apple cheeks and gently arched brows, Diana had a natural quality that had always captivated him. She’d gotten even more appealing with age, something his infatuated teenage self wouldn’t have thought possible.

Her step didn’t falter, her slight smile didn’t waver, as though seeing him again hadn’t unduly affected her. It could have been because she’d done the spurning, although he could no longer blame her for that. With the wisdom that comes with age, he understood that she’d turned to him out of grief. But it still stung that he hadn’t mattered much to her while she’d been vital to him.

“Hello, Tyler,” she said, her voice still low, still smoky.

Annoyed at his reaction to her, he tried to pull himself together but still couldn’t manage to smile. “Hello, Diana.”

He knew he was staring, but couldn’t help it. Although her oval-shaped face appeared virtually the same, her eyes seemed different, as though they’d seen more than she’d bargained for. His gaze slid downward to the tiny mole to the left of her mouth that he used to like to kiss. Before she’d told him he hadn’t been the only guy she’d granted access to it.

The thought snapped him out of his embarrassing stupor. He wasn’t a teenager anymore but an accomplished adult who prided himself on his poise. He could deal with the unexpected appearance of a girl from his past.

“This is quite a surprise,” he said, pleased his voice sounded the way it always did. “I hadn’t realized you were in town visiting.”

A few beats of silence passed before she shook her head. “I’m not visiting. I’m working here at the center.”

“You’re working at the center?” he repeated numbly, barely keeping the incredulity out of his voice. “Since when?”

“Since today, actually.” She slipped one of her hands in the front pocket of her slacks, where she seemed to be fiddling with something. He tried to wrap his mind around the startling revelation that she wasn’t only back in Bentonsville temporarily. She was back to stay. “I’m going to school in Gaithersburg. My plan was to work there, too. But I ran into Chris over the weekend, he offered me a job and here I am.”

Yeah, here she was. Back in Bentonsville for a reason that had nothing to do with him.

Blindsided that he’d subconsciously wished she’d returned to town because of him, he felt the need to put space between them. He wasn’t that naive kid who’d once stupidly confused a grieving girl’s dependence for something it wasn’t.

But for the life of him, he couldn’t make himself move.

“How about you?” She broke the deafening silence between them. “What are you doing here?”

“I needed to talk to Chris.” His spinning brain furnished a reason why he was still frozen in place. Should he prepare himself to run into her around every Bentonsville corner? “Are you living here in town?”

“No, I’m not. I’m in a hotel right now but I’ll probably get an apartment in Gaithersburg.”

“I hope it all works out for you,” he said shortly. Move, Tyler, he told himself. Leave before you say something you’ll regret. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to be getting back to work.”

“Oh, of course,” she said, taking a step sideways so he had more room to pass. The way she turned her head subtracted years from her face, peeling the decade away and taking him back to the time he was trying to forget. A time when he’d dreamed of a perfect girl, a girl he cared about and who cared about him.

He walked determinedly past her, banking his urge to speed up. His vaunted poise hadn’t held up as well as he’d hoped, but a hasty retreat might give her the idea that her long-ago betrayal still hurt.

Which, unfortunately, it did.

CHAPTER THREE

DIANA SAT on the tall stool behind the welcome counter during a temporary lull, nursing her third cup of coffee of the day and turning over and over a smooth, flat stone with a psychedelic design.

Jaye had painted it last year during art class, then gravely presented it after Diana crashed into the tree. Amidst all the upheaval in their lives, Diana had forgotten the stone’s existence—until she’d found it inside a box last night, its bold slashes of red, blue and yellow demanding to be noticed.

Her daughter had insisted it was a good-luck charm. After Diana’s earlier encounter with Tyler, during which she’d held onto the stone like a lifeline, she seriously doubted it held hidden power.

She’d wondered if Tyler had thought to ask about her child, paving the eventual way for her to tell him he had a daughter. But he’d been silent, showing no more interest in the subject than he had a decade ago.

Disappointment rose up in Diana. He’d seemed like a stranger and not the boy she’d loved.

She hadn’t remembered him being over six feet, but then he’d been young when they were together and possibly still growing. His chest and shoulders had filled out, changes apparent despite his well-cut gray suit. His face was different, too. The shape more rectangular, his clefted chin squarer, his blue eyes warier.

Once she’d been able to tell him anything, but she’d had a hard time getting out any words at all, let alone about Jaye.