I hand Baby Kate back to her mom, not quite knowing what to do with my hands as we make the trade-off. How the hell did Lindsey make it look so easy?
“I don’t think I’ll be in town long enough for anyone to hook me up with Nessie Nichols or Bailey Joyner. How is Mama?”
Lindsey wraps up her baby as she nudges me toward the coffee line.
“She’s better since we put in the ramp on the back porch. Thanks for the cash for that, by the way.” Lindsey clears her throat and tucks her hair back behind her ears. “She’s still not talkin’. The stroke took pretty much every part of Mama you’d remember. And you wouldn’t believe… Well, I’d put her on for your FaceTime calls more if she could even recognize you, Gray. You know that.”
Her voice fades out, and she turns to me suddenly, resetting her face into another bright and cheery smile.
“I still can’t believe you’re in town at all.” Her grin fades a little as she gauges my reaction, and her brow pinches in the middle. “How ya holdin’ up after… everythin’?”
“I’m regrouping and it’s coming along. I’m sure I’ll be courtside again in no time.”
My throat goes dry. Saying the canned media line out loud in The Daily Buzz really makes it sound as false as it feels. Coach Gunderson hasn’t messaged me since he put me on leave, and I watch Sports Center enough to know there are already rumors buzzing about who might take my coaching position.
Lindsey raises one red eyebrow. “Gimme the real tea. There’s no good gossip in Little Haven these days. At least, not until the next teenager gets knocked up or Bobby Stewart pulls out his pecker at the Christmas parade.”
“Geez, is he still doing that?”
“Within the first ten minutes.”
“And is it still—”
“Gets more and more purple-lookin’ every year. At this point, the whole town thinks something is medically wrong with him.”
I half-smile. “After all these years of Christmas tradition, no one has suggested Bobby put down the bottle long enough to take a trip to see Doc Hanson?”
Lindsey waves me off, grinning. “Doc Hanson is in the crowd every Christmas parade. He assures us he’ll step in if he spots any bumps or lesions.”
I snort at that. Once again, talking to my sister in person has eased up a tension I hadn’t realized I was holding.
“So, has Jake ever arrested Bobby for indecent exposure?”
“That would require someone being able to catch Bobby.” Lindsey taps the side of her nose knowingly. “That mother fucker isfastfor a septuagenarian. They find him sleeping it off in somebody’s barn the mornin’ after the parade, and by then the town has moved onto somethin’ else. You know how Little Haven is.”
I glance around the coffee shop. I do remember how Little Haven is.
An older man catches my eye from across the shop, and it’s instantly apparent that he recognizes me. Little Haven might be in the sticks, but they do still get ESPN. This guy has all the telltale signs. He averts his gaze quickly, pretending to be interested in his coffee before laughing too loud at some joke one of his companions makes. But in a moment, I see him raising his newspaper to cover the side of his mouth and lean in, and I could swear I hear him whisper the wordsphysical altercation…
It’s one thing to read about my suspension online or see segments about it playing on TV. It’s another thing entirely to hear someone from home talking about it. The humiliation is so much keener when I can put a face with the judgement. I might not know this man personally, but Little Haven is small: surely I’ve dated his daughter or bought groceries from his son. He’ll know all about my history as the high school All-Star. He’ll remember as well as I do all theoldheadlines about me, the ones you could read in a local paper that talked about a small town boy with big dreams.
I want to run back out into the snow. Screw my Oxfords. I’m not too proud to spare myself unnecessary humiliation.
I’ll tell Lindsey I need to use the bathroom at her place or something. I’ll—
“Next!”
I jerk back to attention. Today’s little old woman is waving us up to the counter.
“Y’all dining in or out?”
“In,” Lindsey says at the same time I say “Out.”
I glance over at her, my stomach tightening. “I just thought… well, with the baby, wouldn’t it be easier to take things back to your place?”
“You are the picture of sweetness, Gray.” Lindsey puts a hand to my arm, giving it a squeeze. “You probably would like to see what we built with all that money you keep sendin’ us, hm? Now I know I keep sayin’ you should cut it out with those checks, but I will admit that I’ve grown accustomed to the wraparound porch. I like to go out there on nights when Kate is actually sleepin’ and just enjoy the nature of the woods—”
“Ahem.” The little old woman taps the side of her ancient cash register, one blue-gray eyebrow sliding up her forehead.