Turnabout's Fair Play
© 2011 by Kaye Dacus
Print ISBN 978-1-60260-991-4
e-Book Editions:
Adobe Digital Edition (.epub) 978-1-60742-564-9
Kindle and MobiPocket Edition (.prc) 978-1-60742-565-6
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means without written permission of the publisher.
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual people, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.
For more information about Kaye Dacus, please access the author’s website at the following Internet address:
www.kayedacus.com
Cover design: Lookout Design, Inc.
Published by Barbour Publishing, Inc., P.O. Box 719, Uhrichsville, OH 44683,
www.barbourbooks.com
Our mission is to publish and distribute inspirational products offering exceptional value and biblical encouragement to the masses
.
Printed in the United States of America.
Table of Contents
Dedication
This book is possible only because of the real Cookie and Big Daddy—married for more than forty-five years and more supportive and loving than I deserve.
Prologue
I
’m not a child, you know.”
Maureen O’Connor turned at the deep, masculine voice. It was not often that someone walking in to the senior adult Sunday school class at Acklen Avenue Fellowship Church was accused of being anything less than old.
Her breath hitched a little when she saw the source of the deep, gravelly voice. An oak tree. That’s what he reminded her of: tall, sturdy, and craggy. But even the weathered wear on his face and the thinning silver hair did not keep him from being quite a looker.
“Zarah has about made herself sick over this whole thing. Thank goodness the wedding is next weekend, because I don’t know how much more of this she could handle.” Katrina Breitinger looked around as if to make sure everybody in the general vicinity could hear her and knew her granddaughter was getting married this coming Saturday. Trina turned to another friend of theirs, Sassy Evans. “Have Caylor and Dylan set a date yet?”
Less than a year ago, Maureen and her four closest friends—Trina, Lindy, Sassy, and Perty—had made a pact with each other to try to see at least one of their grandchildren married. So far, it had worked out that their grandchildren had fallen in love with each other—Trina’s granddaughter with Lindy’s grandson, and Sassy’s granddaughter with Perty’s grandson—though all of them had multiple grandchildren to work with. Maureen, on the other hand, had only one grandson, and though he dated frequently, he seemed to have no interest in settling down. Only Sassy had a granddaughter of the right age for Jamie, but no matter how much Maureen loved her college friend, she wouldn’t wish the flighty young woman on anyone’s grandson.
As her four friends talked about the impending wedding, Maureen let her attention travel around the room. And in short order, it arrived back at the handsome stranger.
“I am not so old and feeble that I can’t figure out how to visit a Sunday school class on my own.” The older gentleman towered over a beautiful, blond young woman, as if trying to intimidate her. The young woman looked familiar, but Maureen could not immediately place her.
“It’s been thirty years since you’ve even visited another church. Please just let me introduce you around a little bit.”
The young woman looked like her grandson’s type: tall, slender, and beautiful. Her thick blond hair fell in a cascade of loose curls and waves to the middle of her back, and the tailored suit she wore showed off her curves and long legs to perfection. Yet even in high heels, the top of the young woman’s head barely reached the older gentleman’s nose. He rolled his eyes and then gave her an indulgent smile.
The young woman groaned, took him by the hand, and led him straight over to Maureen and her group of friends.
“Flannery!” Sassy reached out and pulled the tall young woman into a hug. Of course. Flannery McNeill, Sassy’s older granddaughter’s best friend. Maureen had met her last fall at a cookout when all four families got together. A cookout at which Maureen’s grandson, Jamie, had been present. The two had spent very little time together there, but Maureen would have sworn she saw a few sparks of interest fly between them.
“Sassy, this is my grandfather Kirby McNeill.” Flannery went around and introduced the other four friends as well. Maureen was impressed; perhaps Flannery had met Trina, Lindy, and Perty before, but Maureen knew she had only met the young woman once. And if Sassy had not said her name, Maureen never would have remembered it.
When it came Maureen’s turn to shake hands with Kirby McNeill, she found herself no longer an eighty-four-year-old woman widowed for forty-seven years, but an eighteen-year-old debutante at her first cotillion. The large hand that enveloped hers was soft…but with rough places. She imagined it was a good representation of the man himself.
Once the introductions were complete, Flannery led her grandfather away to introduce him to a group of men standing on the other side of the room. Because Flannery was one of the maids of honor in Zarah’s wedding, talk naturally turned back to that subject. Maureen’s attention, however, stayed on the oak tree of a man she’d just met.
Was he married? If not, how long had he been single? And why, at her age, was she even entertaining thoughts like this? She needed to be concentrating on finding a wife for Jamie. Her gaze fell on Flannery McNeill.
If she could get Jamie and Flannery together, she might get to see more of Kirby McNeill. Hopefully a lot more.
Chapter 1
I
hate weddings.”
Flannery McNeill sank down on the top step of the broad stage as the rest of the wedding party gathered around the wedding planner. She didn’t need to hear all of the dickering and whys and wherefores. She just wanted the bottom line: where to stand and how to get there.
“You don’t mean that.” A gorgeous man with sandy brown hair, vivid blue eyes, and dimples to die for plopped down on the step beside her.
Flannery looked at her boss and friend, Jack Colby. “Yes, I do. A wedding is a flashing neon sign warning everyone that they’re never going to have the same relationship with these people ever again.”
Jack’s broad forehead creased. “What do you mean?”
Flannery braced her hands on the stage floor behind her and locked her elbows. “Take my sisters, for example. They were fine before they got engaged. But then they couldn’t carry on an intelligent conversation. They morphed into this unrecognizable
we-us
entity and couldn’t see anything in terms of
me-I
or make their own decisions.”
Jack laughed. “People just get caught up in the excitement of planning a wedding. They’ve both been married a long time—it can’t still be that bad.”
“Ha!” Flannery’s cheeks burned a little when several people turned at her echoing derision. “Emily was one of the youngest junior executives in the bank where she worked before she had kids—now she can’t even balance her own checkbook; her husband does it.”
“Maybe she just got tired of—”
“And Sylvia, who is a sound engineering programmer in the recording industry, has to get her husband to program the clock on the DVD player every time the electricity goes out. ‘He
has
to do it; I just
can’t
figure it out.’” Flannery imitated the high-pitched, baby-talk voice Sylvia sometimes used when talking to or about her husband. It made Flannery’s skin crawl, especially hearing it come from someone now thirty-six years old.
When Jack said nothing, she glanced at him and then looked away in disgust at the smile of amused pity on his otherwise handsome face. “You just don’t get it. You don’t have sisters.”
“Is this about your sisters…or about the fact that your two best friends recently got hitched up and you feel somewhat left out?”
“I—” Flannery clamped her lips down on the denial about to pop out of her mouth. Zarah and Caylor were nowhere near as bad as Emily and Sylvia had gotten as soon as those diamond rings went on their fingers—well, Caylor didn’t have a ring yet, even though she’d been officially engaged for five weeks now. After all, when Flannery, Zarah, and Caylor got together for their regular Sunday afternoon coffee-and-chat sessions, they still talked about many of the same things they discussed before Bobby and Dylan entered the picture—their jobs, their families, their hopes and fears. Of course that last part, of late, included more discussion of Bobby and Dylan…and Zarah and Bobby’s Memorial Day weekend wedding. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around her knees.
“Who’s the hottie?”
Flannery followed Jack’s gaze to the back of the room. She groaned. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me.”
Jack leaned back on his elbows, his expensive silk tie flopping to the side. “What’s the matter?”
Flannery shook her head, pushing her hair behind her ears. “Nothing. Just someone I’d hoped never to see again.”
Jack’s gaze remained for a moment longer on the guy introducing himself to the few others at the back of the sanctuary, and then he sighed. “I’m just saying that you need to start taking note of men like that. I’m not going to be around to be your platonic date forever, you know.”
Flannery turned her head so she could indulge in rolling her eyes without his seeing it. “Whatever.”
The rest of the wedding party moved toward the back of the room. Caylor turned, caught Flannery’s attention, and motioned her to follow.
Jack stood and offered her a hand up. But he didn’t let go immediately once she got to her feet. “Flannery, you’re a good friend, and I hate to see you so miserable. Have you talked to Caylor and Zarah about this?”
She shook her head and looked everywhere but into his piercing blue eyes.
He dropped her hand. “Fine. Just remember that I reserve the right to do the I-told-you-so dance of victory later on down the road when you lose it because you’ve decided to keep everything bottled up and aren’t woman enough to talk to your best friends about your innermost thoughts and fears.” He turned and did a soft-shoe dance down the steps, waving an imaginary top hat and cane. “Now, I’m off to go ush…or whatever an usher is supposed to do.” He flashed her a megawatt smile, turned on the balls of his feet, and sashayed up the aisle.