LITMIR.BIZ

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ready in a week,” Helen told Dana Sue.

      Maddie frowned. “What makes you so sure?”

      “I looked at the want ads in this morning’s paper,” Helen said. “Trust me, you won’t beat our offer.” When Maddie started to respond, Helen held up a hand. “It’s okay. You need to see for yourself. I understand that.”

      “Thank you,” Maddie said.

      “Just in case, though, I think I’ll go ahead and start on the partnership paperwork,” Helen said.

      “Keep on being so smug, and I’ll turn you down just to spite you,” Maddie threatened.

      “No, you won’t,” Helen said with confidence. “You’re way too smart to do that.”

      Maddie tried to remember the last time anyone had complimented her on her intelligence, rather than her baking or hostessing skills. Maybe working with her two best friends would be good for her. Even if this health-club idea went belly-up, she might walk away with her self-esteem bolstered in a way it hadn’t been in years, to say nothing of the fact that they were bound to share a lot more laughter than she’d had in her marriage for a long time now. She ought to say yes for those reasons alone.

      Because she was suddenly tempted to do just that, she gave Helen and Dana Sue quick hugs and headed for the door. “I’ll call you both,” she promised.

      And, she vowed, not one minute before her thirty days was up.

      3

      At thirty, Cal Maddox had been coaching high-school baseball for only two years, but he knew the sport as few did. He’d played five seasons in the minors and two years in the majors until an injury had sidelined him. He’d been forced to accept that years in the minor leagues trying to get back what he’d once had would be an exercise in futility.

      Sharing his love of the game and his expertise with kids who might still have a shot drew him as nothing else had during those frustrating months of rehab. He owed one man for yanking him out of his initial depression and making him realize that possibilities existed outside of pro ball.

      Serenity School Board chairman Hamilton Reynolds, an ardent Atlanta Braves fan during Cal’s brief tenure with the team, had sought him out at the rehab center and changed his outlook and his life. He’d convinced Cal to come to Serenity.

      In all his years working up to his shot with the big leagues and since, he’d never seen anyone with the raw, natural talent of Tyler Townsend. Ty was every coach’s dream, a kid with good grades, an easygoing temperament and a willingness to practice and learn. He’d been all-state his sophomore year and had been headed down that road again this year, at least until a few weeks ago. Now, Cal thought, he was a kid spiraling out of control.

      Cal watched Ty’s halfhearted pitches to the plate with increasing dismay. The players, who usually had to struggle to make contact with the kid’s fastball, were slamming the balls over the fence right and left today. Worst of all, Ty didn’t even seem frustrated by his inability to get the batters out.

      “Okay, that’s it for today,” Cal called. “Everybody do a lap around the field, then head for the locker room. Ty, I’d like to see you in my office after you’ve changed.”

      Cal headed inside to wait. On some level, he half expected Tyler to blow off the meeting, but twenty minutes later the kid appeared in the doorway, his expression sullen.

      “Come on in,” Cal said. “Close the door.”

      “My mom’s picking me up in ten minutes,” Tyler said, but he sprawled in a chair across from Cal. Though he had the gangly limbs of a lot of boys his age, Ty had none of the awkwardness. His slouching posture now, however, was indicative of his overall bad attitude.

      “I think we can cover this in ten minutes,” Cal said, hiding his frustration. “How do you think you pitched today?”

      “I sucked,” Ty responded.

      “And that’s okay with you?”

      Ty shrugged and avoided his gaze.

      “Well, it’s not okay with me.” Cal’s words drew no reaction, which meant sterner measures were called for. “Here’s the deal. If you expect to pitch our opener in two weeks, you’re going to have to show me that you deserve it. Otherwise I’ll put Josh in the starting rotation and you’ll spend the season on the bench.”

      Expecting a fight or at least a reaction, Cal was disappointed when Ty merely shrugged.

      “Do what you want,” Ty said.

      Cal frowned at the utter lack of interest. “It is not what I want,” he said impatiently. “What I want is for you to get your act together and pitch like we both know you can.” He regarded the boy with real concern. “What’s going on with you, Ty? Whatever it is, you know you can talk to me, right?”

      “I guess.”

      Cal pressed on, hoping to get some kind of response that would clue him in to what was troubling the boy. “Your other teachers tell me you’re not concentrating in class. Your grades are slipping. None of this is like you.”

      “Well, maybe I’ve changed,” Ty said sourly. “People do, you know. Out of the blue, they just fucking change.” He stood up and took off before Cal could react.

      Well hell, Cal thought. He’d gotten what he was after—a genuine reaction—but he didn’t know anything more than he had before he’d hauled the kid into his office. He wasn’t sure which worried him more, the uncharacteristic swearing or the attitude. Cal had heard plenty of foul language in the high-school locker room. But he’d never heard it from Ty before.

      Nor had he seen that kind of bitterness and resignation from a boy who could have the whole world of professional baseball at his feet a few years down the road. Normally Ty hung on Cal’s every word, determined to soak up every bit of knowledge Cal had to share. His exuberance and commitment to the team had made him a role model for the other kids.

      Cal pulled a file and jotted down the Townsends’ phone number. Nine times out of ten when a kid lost focus like this, there was something going on at home or he’d gotten mixed up in some kind of substance abuse. Cal flatly refused to believe a kid as smart as Tyler would suddenly start doing drugs; besides, he’d seen no real evidence of that or alcohol abuse so that left some kind of upheaval in the kid’s home life.

      Cal sighed. There was nothing like calling parents and digging around in their personal issues to make his day. He’d rather take a hard fastball in the gut.

      Maddie had been on three job interviews that day. None of them had gone well, pretty much proving Helen’s point. Maddie had been out of the workforce too long for her degree or her work experience to count for much. Her résumé of early jobs looked pitiful, especially with the fifteen-year gap since the last one. She might think she was executive material, but no one else would so she’d kept her expectations modest.

      When each of the human resources people had seen that gaping void, they’d regarded her with dismay. Each had asked some variation of the same question: What have you been doing all this time?

      Keeping house, raising kids, resolving squabbles and balancing the checkbook. Not even the unpaid hours she’d put in handling the inevitable billing problems in Bill’s medical practice seemed to count for much.

      The only thing more discouraging had been her own lack of excitement about any of the jobs. Most of them had been clerical positions, the kind of entry-level work she’d done twenty years ago. It struck her as ironic that all those years of life experience had left her unqualified for even that type of work.

      She was still thinking about it—and about the alternative Helen and Dana Sue were offering her—when Ty yanked open the car door and climbed in, his increasingly frequent scowl firmly in place. He’d yanked his T-shirt on inside out, yet more evidence that he wasn’t himself. Since he’d discovered an interest

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