Love Lifted Me (35 page)

“If she don't beat all. We have a running bet to see who can find out news first. In fifteen years, I've never beaten her once.”

“Until now. With this bit of drug
news
.”

He sighed. “Until now.”

Thirty-one

Talking kindly to folks went along with any good Realtor's job. Brenda considered herself quite versed in the art of schmoozing, but boy howdy, she hated plying her earned talent to the likes of cranky ol' Polly Vance.

But she'd promised Max she'd do a favor for him and darn it, she was going to see it through. Finally, after months of Sunday afternoons sitting in the hot, stale Vance house, with all the dust-ridden furniture, drinking Polly's bitter tea, the old woman made the offer Brenda had been longing to hear.

“Brenda, what do you want?” Polly said. “We like each other all right, but I'm tired of having you come around once a week for tea. Gets on my nerves.”

“I want a black dress from your attic.” Brenda set down her saucer and cup, wadding up her napkin.

“What? You been coming here every Sunday for months to get at a dress?

Land amighty, girl, you should've asked right off and saved us both.” But her words were tender, kind. Grateful. “Ain't nothing up there worth a plug quarter. Take it. You can have the whole lot of clothes. Heaven knows the girls don't want any of it.”

“I'll pay.” Brenda snatched up her purse, kissed the old battle-ax on the cheeks, and ran for the doorway.

“Take it and don't come back until spring. That'll pay me plenty.”

“Then Happy Thanksgiving, Merry Christmas, and Happy New Year, Polly.” Brenda jogged up the stairs, gasping for air by the time she rounded to the third-floor landing. She spied the attic door.
Oh, mercy, no. One more flight?
She flopped over the end of the banister, catching her breath.

Know what? She was going to get that dress, but then Jade wouldn't even be able to wear it because of the two babies growing in her belly. Never mind, Max said to get the dress, and she was going to get it. Brenda opened the attic door and ascended.

Warm and dusty, a bit of the November light peeking through the portal just under the front eave . . . the attic felt a bit magical. As if stepping back in time five, six decades. Boxes lined the walls along with the odd piece of furniture. Brenda didn't see any clothes at first but then spotted the far closet.

What did Jade see in all of this old stuff? Turning on the closet light, Brenda ran her fingers over the fringe of the flapper dresses, spying the little black dress hanging on the back wall.

She examined it in the light. Sure enough, Coco Chanel. It was rather nice.

Classy.
Hmm
. . . the coats were stylish. And a pillbox hat. Pink too.

With catlike motions, Brenda filled her arms with clothes from the closet, turned off the light, and scurried downstairs.

“Thanks, Polly. See you in the spring.” Brenda reached for the front doorknob, trying not to drop the clothes. “Lovely having tea with you.”

“Wish I could say the same. See you in the spring.”

Out to her car, Brenda settled the clothes in the trunk, an urgency in her spirit. She'd learned to obey that prickly sensation. The wind gusted cold, fragrant with possible snow.

As she drove down Gallia, passing under craggy, barren tree limbs, Kathy Carroll drove by in her car.

Brenda gripped the wheel and glanced in her rearview mirror. Thank goodness! She got out of the house with the dress, just in time. If Brenda had met Kathy on her way out . . .

She peered at the little black dress lying over the passenger seat. Jade sure would look pretty wearing that thing.

Brenda was almost to her office when her phone rang. Rick Lundy's number flashed on her screen.

How do, if Brenda Karlin wasn't accomplishing all of her Benson duties today. She tapped her earpiece to answer. “Rick, sugar, tell me what you know.” She listened, a bit of her hot blood running cold. “He what? Stay put, I'm coming over.”

“Come on, catch it.” Jade bent low and tossed Asa the small plastic Warrior football. His pudgy little hands, outstretched, beat the breeze but missed the ball. It floated through his arms and bounced on the ground.

He gasped, eyes wide, and stooped to pick it up. “I got it.” The flash of his white grin sparked in his brown eyes.

“You did. Run for the touchdown. I'm coming after you.”

Delight switched to shock and dismay. Asa placed the ball under his arm, just like Tuck taught him, and ran. Toward no particular goal. He just ran, his dark bangs flying.

Jade called the play. “He's at the thirty, the twenty, the ten, oh, ladies and gentleman, Asa Benson is going to score a touchdown. He crossed the five and—”

She turned toward the melody of tires crackling over the gravel driveway.

The last thing she expected was Max and her old pickup rocking toward the house this time of day. It wasn't even eleven.

With a glance at Asa, who was just running in circles now, Jade walked toward the truck, concern swirling under her thoughts.

“What is it?” Jade grabbed hold of the door as Max stepped out, pain in his eyes, his angular face drawn with deep lines of frustration.

“Bobby claims he found Percocet in my office.” Max fell against the truck door. “Came in this morning with Chevy, accused me, and asked for my resignation. He's calling a press conference this afternoon.”

“What? He makes a claim out of nowhere and snap, he fires you? No proof, no investigation or inquiry?”

“Chevy is backing him, Jade. Doesn't want it to go to the press. Doesn't want the bad publicity. Bobby will line up his greased-palm witnesses while I repeat the same mantra. ‘They're not mine. I'm not using.' ”

“Can't you take a drug test?”

“A drug test won't help—they'd still want me out,” Max said, shrugging off his disappointment. But Jade felt his burden. “Even if I'm clean the story will change from suspicion of using to intent to distribute. Maybe pep up the boys before a game.”

“So that's it? You're out and Bobby is in?”

“Chevy's letting it happen. I can't figure out what's going on between those two. Chevy refused to hire him. Goes out on a limb to hire me, then Bobby works up a frame on me and Chevy caves. Something isn't right—but I walked out without much of a fight. I can't keep working for these people.”

“But how can you let them get away with accusing you like that? Those pills aren't yours and you're not using. I live with you. I can tell.”

He grinned and reached for her, pulling her against him. “Don't look now, Mrs. Benson, but you're making an argument for your husband's defense.” His kiss was sweet. Grateful.

She smoothed her hand over his chest. “I can't stand the idea of letting Bobby get away with framing you.”

“But proving it is another story.” He released her, letting his fingers slip under her palm. “There's no time to prep a defense.”

“Why don't they just fire you?”

“'Cause that's too easy. Bobby wants a show. He's going to make a big deal out of stepping into his coaching shoes Friday night. He's restoring the Molnar legacy. He's rescuing,
finally
, the Warriors.”

“But why the frame when he could just convince Chevy not to rehire you?”

“Chevy wants me to stay. And in case you haven't noticed, your dashing, brilliant husband is gaining popularity.”

“Yes, I've noticed. Not surprised.”

“If they fire me for no reason, the boosters, the players, and the parents would ask too many questions. Another coach? Seven in six? What gives? But if I'm a bad guy, like my past sets me up to be, then Bobby's the justified hero.”

“That scheming, lying snake.”

“He's good. Did a little research, found out what pills I popped. Now he's finally leveraged something against Chevy to get the job he's always wanted.”

“Didn't you tell Chevy I found pills planted in a drawer?” Jade peered over the yard to check on Asa. Now he was rolling around in the grass.

“No, I didn't want to tip our hand, let on that we know anything about pills in my office.”

“Okay, let's think.” Jade paced a small circle with a glance toward her son. “Asa, baby, come back this way.” She waved him toward the house. More and more, he tested his courage and independence, pressing his parents' and his yard's boundaries. It was going to be interesting as he got older. Jade planned on having Lorelai on speed dial. “Come see, Daddy.”

Tires crunched against the gravel. Max moved to the back of the truck, staring at Haley's big F350 barreling down the driveway. Hines road shotgun.

“We can't let him get away with this, Max.” Haley slammed her door shut.

“He's pulling something.”

“I'm open to ideas.”

“I knew it, I knew it.” Hines fumed in circular fashion, his broad hands on his hips, ire in his full dark features. “He's scared, Max, if he's calling for the resignation today. Doesn't think he can hold up the façade long enough for a real inquiry.”

“Yeah, and what do you know, Hines?” Max regarded him. “I saw you talking to him in the field house one night. About nine o'clock. Sure you weren't cooking up something with Bobby?”

“Max!” Haley said.

“It's all right, Haley.” Hines stopped wearing down the grass. “He asked if I'd be on his team. Keep an eye on you, let him know if you were using. He pretended to be concerned for you, your well-being, knowing you'd just left the Outpost and how stressful coaching could be. I was onto him—I thought, now's my chance to get in the inner circle. Find out
his
game plan. But he kept me way at the end of his arm.”

“Did you tell him about my history with Percocet?”

“He told me. You and I never talked about it, Max. I figured it was over and done.” Hines absently reached down for Asa and swung him into his arms.

Remorse flooded Max's expression. Jade related. If he'd known when he started abusing pills what he knew now . . .

“Lord, give us wisdom,” she said, low, steady. “Max, if the Lord has truly called us here and if you are truly innocent—”

“If ?”

“You know what I mean. You are innocent. The Lord will take care of you.

Of us.”

“Joseph was innocent and ended up in prison for fifteen years,” Hines said.

“But eventually he got released and became a head football coach,” Jade countered, offering her interpretation of the ancient Egypt events. “Max, let's trust God. Isn't that what this whole venture was about? I'm tired of being chained to our circumstances and our feelings. Tired of being in park. I want to be in drive. We've seen what man can do, let's see what God can do. If all you have at this press conference is your hat in your hand and your profession of innocence, then so be it. But do not resign. Do not.”

“I'm with Jade on this, Max.” Hines dotted the air with his finger.

“Me too. In fact, you might let Jade speak for you. Nice speech, woman.” Haley popped Jade a low five.

Then Jade remembered Brenda.
Of course
. “Actually, Max, I've already put a dog onto this trail.”

“What? Who? I was thinking we could get—”

“Brenda Karlin.” Max's and Jade's voices bumped together.

“I'm thinking the same thing.” Hines. Faithful Hines.

“If there's any chance of making this go away before four o'clock, I agree,” Haley said. “It's Brenda Karlin.”

Max tugged his phone from his pocket and dialed. “Jade, I'm starved. Got anything for lunch?”

“Come on in. Saving a career does make a body hungry.” She started up the porch but Max snatched her by the arm, lowering the phone away from his head. Hines and Haley passed on inside.

“What'd you say? Just now?”

“I said, saving a career makes a body hungry.”

“That's what I thought.” Max hooked her waist with his arm and kissed her, a seal on the deal of this venture. “Thank you,” he whispered, tapping his forehead to hers.

“I decided I like Texas. I like being the coach's wife.”

Bobby's office door opened after a knock. He glanced up to see Chevy poke his head around. The man had no spine. Hallelujah. Worked in his favor.

“Got a sec?” Chevy invited himself in. “Let's get our story straight before this press conference.”

“Story. Chevy, come on, you make it sound like a conspiracy.” Bobby came around his desk, kicking out a chair to sit Chevy at the mini conference table.

“We found the pills in Max's office. We don't need the scandal.”

“Who put them there?” Chevy sat, paper and pencil in hand. Ever since high school, the man carried around something to write with.