Mothers of the Year Read online

  “Scott,” she repeated, her focus skimming over his lips before jerking back to his eyes. “I’m Kelly.”

  He took a giant step back as his body responded with a familiar jolt. This was such a bad idea.

  “My wife danced,” he blurted.

  “Ah.”

  He stiffened as every lustful thought fled. “What does that mean?”

  “Nothing.”

  “You think I pushed my daughter into becoming a tomboy, that I dressed her like a boy, and I taught her to play baseball so that she’s nothing like her mother.”

  Silence fell between them. Instead of losing her temper, instead of meeting his raised voice with her own, Kelly retrieved her purse and coat, then opened the door before pausing to look back. “Sounds to me, Scott, like you think that.”

  KELLY DROVE away from Kiwanee, once again wishing she didn’t have to return. She’d felt something tonight—not only for Dani, but for the father, too—something extremely dangerous. She’d liked him.

  Kelly didn’t like men.

  No, that wasn’t true. She liked them, as you might like a pleasant acquaintance or a genial elderly uncle, but she never inched closer to them as their eyes fluttered closed and their face took on the glaze of memory. She didn’t breathe in their smoky, cinnamon aftershave and stare at the five-o’clock shadow just darkening their jaw. She especially didn’t long to comfort them, or to kiss them.

  What was it about Scott Delgado that called to the part of herself she’d buried back in Iowa?

  “Dammit!” She smacked her palm against the steering wheel. If it wasn’t for Dani, she’d make any excuse so that she didn’t have to return to Kiwanee, even if it meant giving up this satellite location for lost.

  However, Dani needed her, and a child in need was not something Kelly could ever turn her back on.

  She’d just have to stifle whatever bizarre urges she’d felt in that living room with Scott. He was so not her type.

  “Walking, talking, available,” she murmured. Three strikes right off the bat.

  Her cell phone rang, blessedly ending her conversation with herself. She glanced at the caller ID and quickly answered. “Paige? What are you doing up at—” she checked the digital display on her dashboard “—one o’clock?”

  “The twins have a fever.”

  “Both of them?” Paige groaned. “Stupid question.” The two did everything together, including illnesses. “Guess it’s good that you’d already planned to be home for the suspension of Maggie.”

  “Yeah, things worked out great,” Paige muttered. “How are you?”

  “Eh.”

  “That good?”

  Kelly smiled. Paige knew her so well. Quickly she told her about Dani, Kiwanee and Dani’s dad.

  “I haven’t heard you talk about a man in that tone of voice in—” Paige broke off. “Come to think of it, I’ve never heard you talk about a man. At least not like he’s a man. You only discuss them in relation to their positions in the food chain—dad, son, brother, grandpa, accounts payable.”

  Kelly didn’t answer. Paige was right.

  “All men aren’t like your ex,” Paige continued. “Someday you’ll meet one who has a brain that isn’t located between his—”

  “I’ll talk to you tomorrow,” Kelly interrupted, then hung up.

  Kelly’s story wasn’t a new one, although it was probably no longer as common as it had once been, say in the 1950s.

  She’d been married at nineteen to her high school sweetheart, not because she’d had to be but because she’d wanted to be. All of her life she’d dreamed of being a wife and mother. Maybe a strange dream for the twenty-first century, but it was her dream.

  As a child she’d babied her dolls. When she’d gotten older, she’d been the one all the girls came to for sympathy and advice. She’d enjoyed cooking and cleaning the house. It made her feel good to see wash hanging on the line, soaking up the Iowa summer sun.

  Her father had been a farmer; so had her husband. Both Kelly and Pete had wanted a life just like their parents, so shortly after graduation they’d settled into their very own farm, fashioned from a section of Kelly’s dad’s and Pete’s. They’d been happy—at least the first year—then things had begun to go badly.

  “You’re not pregnant,” Pete said.

  “Not yet.”

  “We’ve never used anything to prevent it. We do it all the time.”

  She’d laughed and kissed him. “Let’s do it again.”

  So they had—a lot.

  Another year passed. They’d gone to the doctor, and Kelly’s whole world collapsed. She was barren.

  Such an old-fashioned, cold word for such an up-close and personal diagnosis.

  She’d spent a week in bed, staring at the ceiling. Pete spent that week in the guest room. She’d been too upset to notice that he could barely bring himself to look at her. But she’d dragged herself upright, and she’d forced herself to be cheerful, to search for another way.

  Kelly could still remember what she’d made for dinner that last night—all of Pete’s favorites. Pork roast and sauerkraut. Mashed potatoes and gravy. Green beans with baby onions and bacon. She’d bought a bottle of wine in town. They were going to toast their new life.

  Pete had other ideas.

  From the moment he’d sat at the table, he’d perched on the edge of his seat as if he wanted to run away. Kelly ignored the warning bells in her head that said something was terribly wrong.

  She poured wine, chattering brightly about her day in town, then with a flourish, she handed him the brochure from the adoption agency she’d visited. Strangely enough, he presented her with an envelope at exactly the same time.

  Kelly had laughed, thinking how wonderful it was to be so in tune with someone. She’d actually thought Pete was giving her the same brochure. Then she’d opened the envelope and seen the word divorce.

  While she’d been lying in bed mourning their lost dream, he’d been hiring a lawyer and ending their marriage.

  “I want children, and you can’t give them to me,” he’d said.

  “But—” She’d tried to show him the adoption brochure.

  He’d tossed it to the ground. “I don’t want other people’s castoffs. I want children of my own.”

  “They’d be our children.”

  “No,” he’d said coldly. “They wouldn’t.”

  Kelly had packed a bag and gone to live with her parents. Before the divorce was final, Pete was engaged.

  Kelly couldn’t live in the same town and watch his new wife bear child after child, while she remained alone. She couldn’t stand the whispers, the silent, pitying stares. So she’d left everyone she’d ever loved behind, vowing she’d never open herself to that kind of heartache again.

  CHAPTER SIX

  SCOTT SPENT A RESTLESS night, tormented in turn by flashes of Kelly Rosholt’s peach lips and horrific scenarios of muffed double plays and a double-digit error count. Tonight would be his first game as manager of the Warhawks.

  Dani was already dressed and slurping cereal when Scott came downstairs.

  “What gives?” he asked. Usually he had to pull the covers off her bed and threaten an ice-water shower before she woke up.

  She shrugged, a gesture so adult and so Kara-like he winced. He took in the ribbons around her wrist and through her belt loop, the gunk in her hair. She looked adorable—a combination of little girl and fashionista.

  “How did you—?” He waved vaguely at her outfit.

  “Kelly helped me.”

  He should have known. At least the woman had managed to make Dani’s shorn head appear less like a bad prison haircut.

  “Kelly said that you asked her to teach you to be a girl.”

  Dani hunched her shoulders and practically put her nose into her bowl. “So?”

  “I didn’t realize…” He paused, tried again. “I didn’t know—”

  She glanced up. “How could you? You’re a guy.”

  W
hen had that become a bad thing?

  “It’s okay then?” Dani continued.

  Scott blinked. Had he missed something?

  “Ballet? I can go, right?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  Her face lit up. “More than just about anything.”

  How had he not known that? More and more he was beginning to feel he didn’t know diddly-squat.

  “I need new shoes.” Dani stuck out her foot, covered in gray, ripped tennis shoe.

  Boy, did she. Another check in the “I suck at being a dad” column.

  “I can’t tonight,” he said. “My game—”

  “Kelly can take me. I have to get ballet stuff, too, before class.”

  “But my game—”

  “I’ll be done by five. Your game is at six.”

  Scott reached for his wallet and doled twenties onto the counter. After Dani left, he wrote a note to Kelly, detailing what she needed to buy Dani, then asking her to bring his daughter to the game.

  He thought of Kelly Rosholt arriving at the baseball diamond in her too-high heels and her too-perfect suit. Just seeing her there should make him realize once and for all that a woman like her had no place in his life.

  BY NOON, Kelly was back on the road to Kiwanee. She’d gone to the office, dealt with what required dealing with and rerouted the calls to Paige’s home phone. The twins’ fever had broken, but they were tired and cranky. So was Paige.

  Kelly had set up a meeting with Ruth Wainright to get her notes and files on the picnic. Since Ashley and Dani both had ballet class at the same time, Kelly arranged to meet Ruth there.

  She managed to hustle Dani through the shoe store and purchase new tennies, ballet slippers and a pair of white sandals with tiny etched flowers across the straps.

  Then they speed-shopped at the family-owned department store. When Kelly grabbed the required black leotard and pink tights, Dani made a face at the color but didn’t argue. Kelly also found a winter coat, on clearance, several pairs of winter leggings and a short yellow skirt, which Dani said was the exact shade of Warhawk gold. They made it to Michelle’s with just enough time to spare so that Dani could change into her dance outfit.

  Kelly had expected Michelle to be an anorexic ex-dancer with a pretentious French accent. Instead, she discovered a local mom who’d loved to dance and been good enough that she’d attended the UW for a degree in the same. But Michelle had no desire to head to New York, or even Chicago. Instead, she’d returned to Kiwanee and opened her own school. Girls came from all the neighboring small towns to learn both art and grace.

  A small, separate room fronted a large window through which the mothers could watch, since none were allowed inside during lessons. Many brought younger children, who toddled off to play with a pile of toys or pretended to read the well-worn stack of books. The waiting moms said hello to Kelly, then settled in to read a book, knit or watch their children through the window.

  Kelly and Ruth took two chairs in a far corner of the room. Ruth was a tall, slim, efficient woman who told Kelly to call her if she had any questions. Kelly took a quick look through the file and was impressed with her notes.

  “This seems pretty comprehensive to me,” she said.

  “The file I got was pathetic. I swore the next person wouldn’t have such a rough time.”

  “I was thinking of going with a Mexican fiesta for the theme,” Kelly said.

  Ruth’s forehead creased. “Theme?”

  “You don’t have a theme for the picnic?”

  “Mother’s Day.”

  “That’s an occasion, not a theme.”

  Ruth shrugged. “I was lucky to get the balloons ordered and the games organized.”

  “Food?”

  “Hot dogs and brats. I bought them from the Save U. Had the men grill.”

  “Has anyone ever done anything different?”

  Ruth tilted her head, narrowed her eyes and thought back. “Once we grilled chicken.”

  “In other words, you grill,” Kelly said.

  “The point of a Mother’s Day picnic is that the mothers don’t cook. Which means—”

  “Someone has to, and the men know how to grill.”

  “Exactly.” Ruth beamed. “Plus, we need to stay within the budget the city gives us.”

  “Kiwanee pays for the picnic?” Kelly had figured everyone who attended contributed a little, and whatever was taken in was used for the next year.

  “It’s tradition. After Kiwanee was founded, they always had a spring get-together, a way for everyone who’d been inside and isolated all winter to reconnect before the summer planting season began. Eventually the spring get-together became the Mother’s Day picnic.”

  “What’s the budget?” Kelly asked.

  Ruth pointed to a number on the first page. “That’s for everything. Food, decorations and entertainment.”

  “Entertainment? Like games?”

  “Or music, a magician, maybe a family-style comedian. Something to make the day special.”

  “Okay.” With that budget, the Mexican fiesta was out, but she’d think of something.

  Absently, Kelly turned toward the window. All the mothers had left their seats and now stared through the glass. A few whispered, others pointed, several more glanced in her direction, then quickly back.

  Panicked, Kelly got to her feet, ignoring the file that spilled to the floor. She hurried across the room and peered in, terrified she’d find Dani on the floor broken, bleeding or both while she’d been discussing the merits of piñatas.

  However, Dani wasn’t on the floor. No one was. The class danced and, at first, Kelly couldn’t tell which girl was Dani. They all moved so smoothly. When she did find her, she was amazed.

  “Wow,” Kelly whispered. Not only had Dani caught on to the steps her first day, but she’d caught on better than anyone in the room.

  She was wonderful, stunning, a talented natural.

  When the song was over, Dani appeared dazed, as if she hadn’t known she could do that. She caught Kelly’s eye. The joy on the child’s face started a warm glow in Kelly’s chest. She gave Dani a thumbs-up.

  For the rest of the lesson, Kelly watched the tiny dancers, trying to stop her heart from breaking at the thought of all she’d lost that she’d never even had.

  DANI COULDN’T BELIEVE she was here, in ballet class. And she was good.

  But that wasn’t what made her stomach all floopy. Turning around and seeing Kelly in the window had.

  She hadn’t expected her rental mom to watch her. Kelly was meeting with Mrs. Wainwright about the picnic. But when Dani had finished the first dance and known that she’d nailed it, she’d wanted Kelly to see. When she’d turned, Kelly had been there, and her face had looked as happy as Dani felt.

  The class ended. Ashley and her friends gathered around Dani. “You want to come to my house?” Ashley asked.

  “My dad’s first game is tonight.”

  “You’re going to watch baseball?” Ashley’s nose wrinkled as if Dani had admitted to rolling in swamp water because she liked the smell.

  “Yes.”

  Dad would be upset, maybe even mad, if she didn’t go to the game. If he got the same great feeling from seeing Dani in the stands when he did his favorite thing as Dani had gotten from Kelly watching her do hers, she understood why he always wanted her there. She couldn’t take that away from him, and she didn’t really want to.

  “Hey, twinkle toes.” Kelly motioned for Dani to hurry up.

  Dani grinned. She liked all the names Kelly called her, especially sweetheart and honey. Kelly said them as if she really meant them, too.

  “You were amazing.” Kelly helped Dani into her new coat, then handed her the new tennies. Dani couldn’t walk around town in the ballet slippers, even if it wasn’t cold enough to freeze her feet off if she tried.

  “Thanks,” Dani murmured, uncertain how to handle the attention, uncertain what to say to such compliments. She was amazing, bu
t if she said that, everyone would call her stuck-up, which was almost as bad as people asking if she was a boy.

  “We need to hurry home so you can change, eat and get to the field.”

  Hearing Kelly use the word home gave Dani a wiggly, warm feeling in her chest, one she’d never had before.

  At the house, Kelly made her a grilled-cheese sandwich and heated tomato soup while Dani tried to figure out what to wear. She knew her dad wanted her to come in the kid-size baseball uniform, but she just couldn’t stand to dress like a boy again. So she stared at the blue-striped pants and told herself she wouldn’t cry.

  “Something wrong?” Kelly stood in the doorway.

  Dani looked at Kelly then back at the outfit on the bed.

  “Oh,” Kelly said.

  How did she know what Dani was thinking without her saying a word? It was both spooky and fantastic.

  “What should I do?” Dani asked. “I don’t want to hurt Dad’s feelings.”

  “Of course not. Sometimes men are—”

  “Stupid,” Dani muttered.

  Kelly laughed. “Well, let’s say slow. They try, but they miss.”

  “Just a bit outside,” Dani said in her best Bob Uecker voice.

  Kelly’s forehead creased. “What?”

  “Major League. Baseball movie. It’s Dad’s favorite.”

  “Oh, yeah. I saw that. Good stuff.” Kelly fingered the baseball pants. “Let’s mix and match, hmm?” At Dani’s confused expression she picked up the blue-and-yellow jersey. “You were right about that skirt being the same shade.”

  Dani started to see where Kelly was headed. She removed the new skirt from the bag and slipped it on, tugging first a turtleneck, then the jersey over her head. Kelly had already pulled yellow and blue ribbons from the pile and made another bracelet. She handed Dani a pair of blue tights, then found a pair of white socks in Dani’s drawer and showed her how to fold the tops over and over into anklets. Last but not least, came her shiny new tennies and the baseball cap.

  “Wear it backwards.” Kelly set the hat on her head.

  Dani’s eyes met Kelly’s in the mirror, and together they grinned.

  As they drove to the baseball field, Dani remained silent. It had never occurred to her that she might want a new mom. She’d been too busy hoping the old one would show up.