Find My Way Home (Harmony Homecomings) (12 page)

Bertie swatted at Cal. “If you wouldn’t make me work on derby night, you wouldn’t have to comp so many meals.”

“I can’t afford another floor show,” Cal teased. “Have dinner with your friends and relax a little until it’s time to sing, okay?”

“Yeah, and people in Hades want ice water,” she yelled at Cal’s retreating back.

“Is he your boss?” Maddie asked, still bouncing in her seat.

“Only in his dreams,” Bertie snorted. “Enough about bossy older brothers.” She signaled Sara Jean over and then returned her attention to Maddie. “I want to hear all about your school and what activities you like to do.”

Bertie spent the next fifteen minutes talking to Maddie about school, sports, music, Maddie’s BFF Tess, and some teeny-bopper boy band all the girls worshipped. Sara Jean brought Bertie her usual salad along with their meals, and Keith ate in silence, observing his daughter talk with her hands and use words he’d never heard come out of her mouth, like
equivalent
,
optimistic
, and
collaborated
. All good, except his daughter was growing up before his very eyes, and Keith had missed huge gaps of development by not being there. A plan to change all that formed in his mind as he listened to his baby girl sound more and more like a young adult.

“Do you like to sing and dance?” Bertie asked.

“Yeah, sure. When I know the words and I’ve practiced,” Maddie said, shoving a strand of thick brown hair behind her ear.

Bertie checked the chunky watch on her wrist. “We have about thirty minutes. How about you and I go in the back and practice a song together?”

Maddie gaped, slack-jawed. “Huh?”

“Yeah, come on. It’ll be fun. We’ll do a Taylor Swift song. They’re easy and fun. We’ve got costumes and everything.”

“Dad?” Maddie looked to him for approval or rescuing—he didn’t know which one.

“What do you say,
Dad
?” Bertie mimicked, shooting him a saucy smile.

Keith reached for his tea as a cold rock formed in his stomach. He had to remember that this was not Adriana gyrating on a bar in some revealing outfit. They were in Harmony for chrissakes, dancing to Taylor Swift, not some lewd rap song. He leveled a hard glare at Bertie. “Don’t dress her up like a hoochie mama. Nothing inappropriate.”

“Dad!” Maddie wailed.

He pointed his finger at Maddie. “I mean it. Now, go. Maybe I’ll get some peace and quiet around here. All this jabbering is giving me a headache.”

Maddie scooted to the end of her seat. “Right. Just because we aren’t talking tennis, football, or Wall Street, you think it’s silly.” She gave an exaggerated sigh. “I am a girl, you know.”

The knife sliced straight through Keith’s heart. He gulped back his groan of pain. His baby was growing up into a pretty, intelligent young lady with acute observational skills. And Keith didn’t know if he was equipped to handle it. He gave his head a shake at Bertie’s hot-pink T-shirt molding her curves. This was bossy Bertie who walked dogs, fed old people, and couldn’t skate, not Adriana, wearing spandex with no panties underneath. Then he pictured Gail in khakis, loafers, and headbands, and the panic that threatened to close his throat receded. No comparison. Gail would bring peace and stability to their lives. The perfect solution. Now if he could only convince his randy cock.

“And girls rule!” Bertie’s exclamation jerked him back to the present. She motioned for Maddie. “Come hold my hand, and whatever you do, don’t let go.”

Maddie giggled as she helped pull Bertie up, holding tight so Bertie wouldn’t fall again.

“Make sure you have a good view of the stage. You don’t want to miss this,” Bertie called over her shoulder to Keith.

Keith appreciated the view of Bertie’s cute ass covered in black tulle. A small smile lifted the corners of his mouth as Bertie reached a hand around her back to yank the hem of her skirt down. Unlike Adriana, who’d flaunted her wares for any guy with eyeballs, Keith sensed that Bertie would be more comfortable wearing a sandwich board.

“You here for the show?”

Keith turned his head to see Liza Palmer sliding into Maddie’s vacant seat. He nodded. “Yeah, my daughter is getting ready to perform with Bertie.”

Liza fiddled with the stem of her wineglass. “Cute. I can’t wait to meet her. If she’s with Bertie, it will be good.”

“Good as in hilarious? Because I’ve already witnessed her skating firsthand. Or good as in she really knows how to perform?”

Liza gave a sly smile. “Wait and see.”

“Hey, Keith. When did you get back in town? I stopped by your house yesterday with a homemade banana pudding.” Jo Ellen Huggins stood next to his table, wearing a pink cowboy hat, the only thing on her body he could actually name and identify. The rest of her outfit was beyond words.

“Thought we could share it together.” Jo Ellen batted her gooped-up eyelashes at him, looking like a half-blind raccoon.

“I got in late last night.”

Aunt Francesca would rip him a new one if she knew he hadn’t stood and offered Jo Ellen a seat like a gentleman, but he’d take his chances. Liza started to cough or laugh, he wasn’t sure which.

“Hey, Liza. What brings you to town?” Jo Ellen gathered her wide, pink skirt with black poodles all over it and took matters into her own hands by sliding into the booth next to him. Keith stifled a whimper. He motioned for Sara Jean to bring another round of drinks. His pleasant evening was taking a definite turn for the worse.

“Mini vacation to visit my parents. Like your pink poodle cashmere sweater. Where’d you get it?” Liza smiled into her wineglass.

“This old thing?” Jo Ellen fiddled with the white pearl button on her sweater, slipping it from the hole. Keith feared any more buttons opening for his benefit.

“Did we miss anything?” Opal and Emma Ardbuckle raced over, wearing matching bright blue band outfits. Why was everyone in this loony town dressing in costume on a Saturday night? The Ardbuckle twins pushed their way into the booth, squishing Keith against the wall and Jo Ellen Huggins and her pink poodles against him.

“It’s about to start!” The Arbuckle twins squealed together. Sure enough, the lights dimmed and everyone focused their attention on the stage with the pink and silver hexagon-patterned backdrop.

First, Cal took the stage and warmed everyone up with a few funny stories. “Okay, I know why you’re all here. Once again, it’s karaoke night at the Dog! Put your hands together for Bertie Anderson and Maddie Morgan singing ‘You Belong with Me’ by Taylor Swift.”

Spotlights circled the room and then zeroed in on the stage and Keith’s mouth fell open as Bertie and Maddie marched out in perfect rhythm, carrying cordless microphones. Pride filled Keith’s chest as he gaped at Maddie’s goofy flannel plaid pajama pants and oversized T-shirt covered in handwriting. A claw held her thick brown hair on top of her head and she wore huge-framed glasses that gobbled her face. But Bertie. Keith gripped his Mason jar of tea like it was a lifeline. Bertie sparkled in an electric-blue dress with long fringe that swung from her great breasts to the tops of her thighs, down to silver stilettos worthy of a centerfold. Her hair hung in thick waves past her shoulders and when she moved—or maybe shimmied would be a more apt description—the fringe caught the light and danced.

Fuck. He wanted the exact opposite influence for Maddie. His daughter didn’t need to see sparkles. Or fringe. Or cleavage. And certainly not porn-star stilettos.

Keith started to grind his teeth when Liza’s hand covered his and squeezed.

“Watch,” she murmured low.

Keith forced his gaze back on the stage, trying not to stare at Bertie, but it was damn near impossible. He scanned the crowd and noticed all male eyes were glued on her as well. He gave his back teeth another workout.

Bertie and Maddie danced with clever choreography and sang really well together. Bertie took a few steps back to give Maddie the spotlight. He grinned like the village fool when Maddie hammed it up and had the crowd laughing. Maddie caught his eye, searching for his reaction, and Keith gave her big thumbs-up. Maddie sang the words verbatim and followed the tune while Bertie switched octaves and added some harmony. When the song ended, Bertie and Maddie gave silly bows, laughing as the crowd cheered, then skipped off stage. Keith ducked his head as heat flushed his face.

“She’s really talented,” Liza said, leaning forward for Keith’s ears only.

“If being a ham is talent,” he said.

Liza laughed. “No, your daughter is very cute and definitely a ham, but I was referring to Bertie.” Liza glanced at the women jammed in the booth to make sure they weren’t paying attention to their conversation. She laughed again. “If you could see your face. I know she seems like a natural disaster sometimes, but Bertie is one of the most talented people I know.”

“She seems like a competent designer,” he said with some hesitation.

“She can also sing and dance, not to mention fill out a tight dress like no one else I’ve ever seen.” Liza smirked at him as if she could read his mind like a page in a book.

Keith gave her his supercilious look with one raised brow. “I wouldn’t know. I only had eyes for Maddie.”

“Yeah, right.”

Their attention was drawn back to the stage when Cal asked who wanted to go next.

Jo Ellen Huggins in her pink poodle glory jumped up and down in her seat, squealing, “Oooo! Me! I wanna go next.” She pushed Opal or Emma, he didn’t know which one, out of the booth and hurried toward the stage in a pink blur.

Liza moaned, “From what I hear, this should be good.”

“What?” Keith asked. But he found his answer when Jo Ellen started dancing and singing to “Rock Around the Clock” by Bill Haley & His Comets. Holy shit. Poor Bill Haley was probably turning over in his grave. The crowd cheered and clapped along. Really? They should beat a gong or extend the hook, not encourage her.

The Ardbuckle twins turned to him with bright animated faces. “Don’t go anywhere. We’re performing next to ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart’ by Elton John and Kiki Dee.”

Keith hoped his mask didn’t slip and reveal the complete horror he felt as he nodded. God, this was going to be a long night. He signaled for Sara Jean and told her to hold the tea and bring him a beer instead.

Bertie stood by the open office door and adjusted her pink T-shirt. Maddie took off for the booth where Keith still sat. Bertie hesitated to step back into the fray, still reeling from the humiliation of falling into Mr. Perfect’s lap. The falling part she could handle no problem. She fell all the time on derby night. But landing on top of Keith and then finding herself perched on his lap—so mortifying…so unprofessional…so awesome
.
Why did she always end up the fool in his presence? Okay, so she had a bad habit of stepping in poo every once in a while. But lately, she had managed to step smack dab in the middle of every pile.

One good thing came from her spectacular tumble—she met Maddie and broke the ice with her. Where Keith was remote and closed off, Maddie was animated and open. Bertie liked her on the spot and hoped that she could make Maddie happy with her design choices. Bertie needed to pick up the pace on this job if she expected to get done in time.

She’d already given Dwelling Place her check for ten thousand and her pledge for the rest. She’d visited little Jessica Alvarez at their rusted-out, single-wide home and promised her family that DP would build a house for them soon. Jessica’s mom had gasped and then grabbed Bertie, kissing both her cheeks, while Jessica kicked up dirt as she danced around the dusty yard. Bertie had made a promise, and she never broke her promises.

Time to focus on completing Mr. Heartthrob’s house, not on ways to land in his strong arms. And when she finished, she could move on to Atlanta, as she had planned. The most thrilling thing to happen in Harmony had been Keith Morgan moving to town and going on a wife hunt. Once he married and settled down, all the single women fluttering around with extra makeup, new outfits, and homemade casseroles would go back to their ordinary lives—including Bertie. But she didn’t want ordinary. She wanted exciting and new. She wanted out.

Bertie sighed, yanking on the hem of her tulle skirt. She’d better get out there and help Cal. She glanced at the Ardbuckle twins butchering Elton John in their matching outfits and tried not to cringe. She moved between some tables and tapped Hank Thompson and his brother Walt on the shoulder.

“You guys are up next. Let’s hear ‘Sweet Home Alabama’ before the natives get restless,” she said close to their ears in order to be heard. Then she signaled Julio, her painter, and a few of his crew members to do one of their fast Latin numbers. She worked her way through the crowd until she ended back at Keith’s table, where Maddie was attacking a mountain of whipped cream on a hot fudge sundae, appearing unfazed by the commotion of women swarming the booth. Keith rubbed his forehead as if it ached, and Bertie noticed he had switched from iced tea to beer. Bertie rolled her eyes at the absurdity of the situation. Time to create a diversion.

“Arlene, you better get close to the stage because Hank is getting ready to sing.” Bertie nudged Arlene Tomlin with her elbow. Arlene and Hank had dated off and on since high school, and Arlene still harbored a wicked crush.

“I do love it when that man sings.” Arlene gave a dreamy sigh and headed toward the stage.

“Crystal, that darling Patrick is home for spring break. He’s sitting over there with three of his friends. Why don’t you go chat him up? Maybe you guys can dance together.”

“Patrick’s home from UNC?” Crystal asked, slicking her red, jelly-glossed lips with her tongue. “Do I look okay?” Crystal adjusted her layered cotton tank tops.

“Perfect. Tell them to save a dance for me.” Bertie pointed Crystal in the right direction.

“Jo Ellen, there’s a table of working women who could use your expertise. They were talking about eye creams and facials. You should go introduce yourself and give them some Mary Kay pointers. Might be some new clients for you.”

Jo Ellen pushed her way out of the booth. “Let me freshen up and I’ll go help them,” she said in a serious tone, as if she were an ER doctor instead of a cosmetic specialist.

Bertie turned her attention back to the booth and found Keith staring at her as if she glowed radioactive green. “What?” She shrugged her shoulder. “Thought you could use a little breathing room. If you want, I can call them all back.”

A huge smile broke out on his face and stole Bertie’s breath. Her heart flutter-kicked inside her chest. Keith should smile more often.

“No. Breathing room is good.” Keith graced Maddie with his generous smile as he dug for his wallet in his back pocket. “You almost done, Poo? I need to get you home to Aunt Francesca’s. She’s waiting.” He threw some bills on the table.

“Uh, your meal is comped, remember?” A burst of laughter erupted from the corner of the booth.
Liza.
Bertie had forgotten she still sat there.

“You mean Keith’s the one you crashed into tonight?” Liza said between hoots. Bertie’s fist balled at her side. Even Liza, who no longer lived here, knew about Bertie’s terrible skating reputation.

“She landed on top of my dad and then she sat in his lap,” Maddie the informer added around a mouthful of ice cream. “It was so funny.” She giggled.

“I bet it was.” Liza slipped from the booth. “It was nice meeting you, kid,” Liza said to Maddie. Liza’s lip curled as she glanced at Bertie. “I’ll see if Cal needs any help at the bar.”

“You don’t work here anymore, remember?”

Liza pointed at the black pumps on Bertie’s feet. “Looks like you don’t either.”

Anger and irritation warred inside Bertie as she glared at Liza’s retreating back. Maddie stopped shoveling ice cream, and Keith’s smile disappeared. Both were riveted to the tension she’d created with Liza. She guessed Keith didn’t appreciate her running off Liza—most guys didn’t. Bertie heaved a sigh.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare her off,” she mumbled.

“We need to get moving.” Keith pushed Maddie’s empty ice cream bowl away and handed her a napkin to wipe her mouth and hands. “Let’s go before Aunt Francesca starts worrying. You should be in bed by now.” He gave Maddie a slight push from the booth.

“Great singing with you, Maddie,” Bertie said, patting her on the back. “I’ll be by on Monday to get started on your room, okay?”

Maddie’s look of worry dissolved at the mention of her room. “Okay. Don’t forget.”

“I won’t. I promise.” Bertie gave Maddie a genuine smile, which faltered at Keith’s tone.

“Maddie, go wait for me by the door, but stay inside,” he said in a clipped voice. “I need to speak with Bertie for a moment.” Maddie shoved her hands in her pockets and crossed the room toward the front entrance. Once Keith saw that she stood in the foyer, he turned his attention back to Bertie.

“We have to meet before you do any work on Maddie’s room. I need to go over some ground rules first. Okay?” he said in a low, rough voice.

Ground rules? Huh? “No, I don’t understand. What ground rules? This isn’t a competition. I’m trying to get her room done along with the rest of your house.” Frustration laced her voice.

“Listen, there are things I don’t want influencing my daughter.”

“Things? Or people?” Bertie cocked her head and gave him a long, hard stare. “Do you think I’m a bad influence?” She was stunned she even had to ask the question. No one had ever considered her a bad influence…ever.

Keith jammed his fists in his jean pockets. “We’ll discuss it later. Monday morning. My house. Eight a.m. sharp,” he rumbled close to her face.

“Oh, for Pete—”

“Bertie! I knew I’d find you here.” Bertie never finished telling Mr. Uptight how unreasonable he sounded, because she found herself wrapped in a bear hug by Scott Douglas. “Man, I’ve missed you,” Scott said, rocking Bertie back and forth.

“Uh, hey there,” she said muffled against his cotton button-down shirt. “What brings you to town?”

Bertie pushed back and Scott laughed, holding her by the shoulders. “As if you don’t know,” he said. “Let’s dance.” He grabbed Bertie’s hand and dragged her on the dance floor. Over her shoulder, Bertie glimpsed Keith leaving with Maddie, and he didn’t look pleased. In fact, he looked downright furious.

***

“Dad, what’s that noise?” Maddie twisted in the front seat to face him.

It was Keith’s back molars as he ground them down to nubs. “What noise?”

“Nothing. It stopped. Anyway, thanks for dinner and the sundae. The Dog is really cool, don’t you think?” Maddie didn’t wait for an answer. “Do you eat there, like every day? Did you really love our song? I thought Bertie and I were the best, didn’t you? Bertie can really sing and dance. She taught me all those steps real fast. Didn’t you love that dress she wore? I did. All that fringe and—”

Hell no. “I’m glad you liked it, honey. And yes, you were the most fantastic out of everyone…including Bertie.” Keith kept his eyes on the road and his mind off Bertie shimmying in that short, fringed dress.

“Why do you look so mad?”

He erased the scowl but his features were still tight.

“What did you say to Bertie? Are you mad at Bertie because she made all those silly women leave our table? She was only trying to help and—”

“No. That was a good thing. I’m not mad. I needed to talk to Bertie about the house, that’s all,” he said in a neutral voice, when he really wanted to roar and pound something with his fists—preferably that doofus in the wrinkled khaki pants and penny loafers who dragged Bertie onto the dance floor. He glanced at Maddie’s solemn expression as she twisted the sleeves on her purple hoodie. “Aunt Francesca is really looking forward to your stay this week, Maddie-Poo. Anything special you want to do?” he asked, trying to remove the shroud of worry that had draped over his daughter.

“Can we go to the mall? And maybe play some tennis?” she asked in a small voice. Keith had never been one of those parents who pushed his kid into sports, especially tennis. He didn’t expect Maddie to live up to what he had accomplished in life.

“Okay. Or maybe we could hit a few golf balls,” he suggested, in case she really didn’t want to do the tennis thing.

Maddie fiddled with the zipper on her hoodie. “And can we eat at the Dog again?” She watched him as if weighing his reaction.

The draw of the Dog…what kid wouldn’t want to eat there? At least they’d graduated from Chuck E. Cheese, which was pure hell for any parent. “Sure. Whatever you want to do.” He pulled his Cayenne into Francesca’s driveway and killed the engine.

Maddie bolted from the car. “I can’t wait to tell Aunt Francesca all about tonight,” she yelled as she rushed up the walk toward the front door.

Keith banged the back of his head against the headrest and groaned. He needed to accelerate the speed on his courtship because he needed help raising his daughter. He needed to think about sweet, practical Gail and not hot, frustrating Bertie. His mind wanted Gail, but his body screamed for Bertie. His body could use a cold shower and maybe a horsewhip.

Keith entered the kitchen where Francesca and Maddie sat on barstools at the large island. Francesca sipped a mug of tea, and Maddie held a glass of water.

“…and we both sang and danced to a Taylor Swift song. I wish you could’ve seen us.” Maddie jiggled in her seat as she told Francesca about her night. “Bertie is really good. But she can’t skate at all. You should’ve seen her. Her arms were swinging in the air”—Maddie demonstrated the windmill—“and she came flying toward us and landed in—”

“Um, time to hit the sack, Maddie-Poo,” Keith interrupted as he kissed Maddie on the head. “I thought we’d take a ride down to the beach tomorrow. What do you say?”

“Go on up to your room, honey, and I’ll be in to check on you in a few minutes,” Francesca said.

Maddie jumped up and hugged Francesca around the neck and then Keith around the waist. “Yay! The beach! Thanks, Dad.” She raced from the room.

Francesca sat in quiet calm and continued to sip her tea. Restless, Keith moved about the kitchen. He picked up a green apple from the ceramic bowl on the countertop and tossed it into the air. “Maddie looked real cute up there tonight,” he said, catching the apple.

“I’m sure she did. But it’s good you brought her home.” Francesca checked her watch. “It can get wild at the Dogwood once the dancing starts. Not a place for a ten-year-old girl to be hanging out.”

Wild? Keith wouldn’t go that far. A “wild night in Harmony” didn’t have the same ring as a “wild night on South Beach.”

“That was sweet of Bertie to sing with Maddie. I hope Bertie isn’t working too hard. She needs to relax and have a little fun.” Francesca put her dirty mug in the dishwasher. “And Lord knows that girl can’t skate a lick.”

“Don’t I know it,” Keith muttered under his breath. A picture of Bertie slow dancing with Goofy Guy popped into his head. “She seemed okay. When I left, she was dancing with some big guy named Scott.” Keith studied Aunt Francesca to gauge her reaction.

A pleasant expression came over her face as she rearranged her wooden spoons propped in a ceramic jug next to the range. “Yes, that’s Shirley Douglas’s boy. He lives in Charlotte and sells insurance. He’s been sweet on Bertie since grade school. I’m glad he’s back in town. They make such a cute couple. Shirley is dying for them to get married. I can’t blame her.” Aunt Francesca handed him bottled water from her beverage refrigerator. “Here. Drink this. You look a little hot around the collar.” She blew out her clove-scented kitchen candle. She didn’t see Keith wrenching the cap off the bottle with extra force. “Cake, dear? Maria made it fresh yesterday.”

Keith grunted, “No.” He chugged his water, trying to cool his unwanted jealousy over Bertie and her childhood boyfriend. Christ. He’d forgotten that people dated as infants around here and ended up married to their first puppy loves.

“Are you sure it was Scott? Because Joseph Phillips is a big guy too, and he and Bertie have dated on and off for years,” Francesca said.

Keith unlocked his back molars. “She said Scott, but what the hell do I know?”

“Well, I’m going to tuck Maddie in and then turn in myself. What time would you like to pick Maddie up for the beach?”

Keith shrugged. “Ten?”

“Fine. There’s an eight o’clock service at the Episcopal Church. You should join us, dear.” Aunt Francesca fixed him with her imperial stare, designed to make him quake in his boots and capitulate to whatever she demanded.