CHAPTER 6
Smelling of iodine and still in her scrubs, Liv hurried to the back of the Bear Claw Bakery and plopped down at the end of the table, going low in the seat, a little breathless from her mad dash across the parking lot. She’d just finished a shift at the hospital and was gearing up for her second shift as president of Team Paxton Fan Club when she’d seen Ford standing across the street looking like sex on a stick.
The worst part was that he’d seen her. Not just a moment ago, but the other night on the beach. He’d blasted right past the grieving-widow exterior and spoke to that place, deep inside, that she purposefully kept secret. Even more terrifying, she liked what she heard.
She could blame the romantic backdrop of the sun setting over the deep blue lake for confusing her. But she was pretty sure it was the man himself. Which was why she’d spent the early part of the week avoiding him. A hard task since he lived just three doors down.
But when Liv set her mind to something, she saw it through.
Unfortunately, she chose to duck into the meeting place of the Women of the Wagon Trail—Sequoia Lake’s version of the Daughters of the American Revolution. Made up from some of the town’s oldest families, the WOTWT was the area’s oldest society. And she’d sat down just in time for their weekly fund-raising meeting.
“What are you doing here?” Avery asked, looking at Liv as if she’d grown a third head.
Nope, just wings and feathers. And at any minute she was going to cluck like the chicken she was.
“I’m here for the meeting. Is it over?” Liv asked, looking around the café to find it oddly empty, then back to her two friends. Avery and Grace—the only two WOTWT members who seemed to be present.
Maybe her luck was changing.
“Hasn’t started yet.” Or not. “Irene was about to call the meeting to order when Mavis started harassing a couple of firemen, asking to sample their buns,” Avery said, her hiking boots, khaki shorts, and fitted tank making her look like a real-life Lara Croft with long blonde locks. Which was fitting since she worked as an adventure guide at the local lodge. “Mavis took one look at their uniforms and thought they were the entertainment, so she started waving bills in the air, and chaos broke out.”
Liv slung her bag over the back of a chair and took a seat. “Where are they?”
“Shelia kicked them out when someone started sampling buns without permission. Said they can’t come back in until they promise to behave,” Grace Mills, the third piece in their bestie sandwich, said. She was dressed in pressed capris, a light cream top with matching ballet flats, and a look of utter confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“It’s the weekly Wagon Days meeting, right?” Liv asked, playing it cool and reaching across the table to help herself to one of the many cupcakes piled in the center of the platter. “I heard there was some kind of problem with the entertainment, and they needed volunteers, so where else would I be?”
Easier than explaining she was hiding from her sexy new neighbor.
Wagon Days was an annual fund-raiser hosted by the Women of the Wagon Trail, and it was their most honored achievement. It served as the biggest community fund-raiser and the most-attended family day of the year.
It was a time for neighbors to mingle and kids to run free. It was on old-fashioned town fair with more than a hundred food and craft booths from local vendors, a gold-panning contest, and even a cakewalk. The goal was to bring the town together to celebrate family, history, and nature the way the founders of Sequoia Lake intended when they settled this town. While raising much-needed funds for the local schools and churches.
Avery shot Liv a look. “Um, anywhere that doesn’t involve talk of crafting, committees, and who’s going to run this year’s cakewalk.”
Liv felt a rash break out on her wrist. “I don’t see any glitter or glue guns. I’m on the Yahoo group committee for WOTWT—”
“Everyone in town is on the Yahoo group. It’s not a committee,” Avery interrupted.
“—and I happen to love cake.” To prove it she snagged a cupcake right off Grace’s plate and sank her teeth into the gooey treat, moaning with pleasure. “God, that’s good,” she said around bits of key-lime cupcake. “So is there a sign-up list going around?”
“It must be low blood sugar,” Avery said to Grace.
“Either that or she accidentally ate one of Shelia’s special cupcakes,” Grace said, guarding the rest of the cupcakes with her arms. “Because I could have sworn she just said sign-up list and smiled.” She looked at Avery. “That is a smile, isn’t it?”
Avery leaned in for a closer inspection. “I see teeth, but I’d say her lips are more curled than curved.”
“Hello? Sitting right here,” Liv said.
“We know,” Avery said. “You are here, at a Women of the Wagon Trail meeting, of your own free will. An emergency meeting that will likely include people sharing their opinions in a loud manner and forced participation, and you’re not looking for the nearest exit.”
“When I mentioned it would be cheaper to sign up for my Sips and Splatters class rather than pop in every week, you said it was too much of a commitment,” Grace pointed out.
Liv snorted. “You make me sound like I’m allergic to commitment.” Which was ridiculous, because Liv was the most committed person on the planet.
As the daughter of two doctors, Liv had built her life around commitment. Always weighing her decisions in terms of achievement. Even before marriage, she’d only dated men who had potential to go the distance. She’d never had a fling, a hobby job, or even a phone plan that lasted less than five years.
“See.” Grace pointed at her. “Just the word has you scratching.”
Liv looked down and realized she’d been itching her wrist, so she sat on her hands. “Between Paxton and work, I never know what my schedule is going to look like. I didn’t feel comfortable promising I’d be there if I couldn’t be sure I wouldn’t have to flake. So it is easier to pop in when I can.”
Avery leaned in and asked, “So what has you popping in today?”
Besides avoiding a too-young man and all of his too-good lines?
“I talked to Dr. Brown about the Mobile Medic position, and she said I have all the qualifications she’s looking for.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Dr. Brown had said she needed to get involved in the community, and now she was sitting at a community meeting.
“Liv, that’s amazing,” Avery said. “It will give you the hours you’ve been asking for and the extra benefits for being full-time.”
It was all those things and so much more.
“Except, she needs someone who is involved in the community. And since the other person on her list is Kevin Curtis—”
“Mr. Sequoia Lake Curtis?” Grace asked, plucking a second cupcake from the plate and handing it to Liv. “Seriously, senior year I was voted Most Likely to Study Abroad, and he was voted Most Likely to Be Mayor.”
“Which is why I’m here.” Liv licked the frosting off the top of the cupcake like it was an ice cream cone. “The best way to prove to her that I’m invested in this community is to help out with Wagon Days. And while I don’t bake anything but cupcakes, and I can’t craft,” she said, convinced she sounded like the worst mother on the planet, “I make a mean Rice Krispies treat, and I’m as cool as a cucumber under pressure.”
“A cucumber, huh?” Avery teased and let out a big yawn.
“Early morning at the lodge?” Grace asked.
“Nope. A couple of late nights with my sous chef.”
“How did the iron steak and sweet potato mash turn out the other night?”
“Inedible.” Yet her friend couldn’t stop smiling. “I overcooked the steak, burned the sauce, and didn’t even get to the green beans before Ty got home, looking like a rugged, hungry mountain man. So I made omelets in nothing but my heels and a spatula. According to Ty, I should check off another adventure in my journal, because he thinks I’m Sequoia Lake’s hottest chef.”
Liv remembered those early years, before kids and mortgages, when everything between Sam and her was so simple. Spontaneous and easy. Every little thing was an excuse to fall into bed together. They had miss-you sex, make-up sex, morning sex, mad-for-you sex. And her personal favorite, maybe-we’ll-get-caught sex. Which happened often, but rarely happened in a bed. And they never got caught.
That was the Sam she’d mourned, the marriage she’d grieved. But the grieving had started long before the accident.
“Was there dessert? I mean, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t feel comfortable,” Grace said, tearing off the top of her cupcake and flipping it over to make a cupcake sandwich. “But please tell me. The closest I’ve come to sex on a stick was eating a Fudgsicle while watching the lawn boy manicure my hedges.”
“Why don’t you ask Liv?” Avery said, skewering Liv with an amused look that sent her pulse skyrocketing.
“Why me? A Fudgsicle makes my vanilla ice cream sundae sound tame,” Liv said coolly. Only her palms were starting to sweat, and her cheeks felt awfully red for a girl who hadn’t spent much time in the sun.
“I was talking about you playing doctor with Cub Candy the other day—”
“Cub Candy with the abs and perfect butt?” Grace asked.
“I had an emergency. He happened to pass by and lent me his finger,” Liv said, and Grace’s mouth fell open. “He was helping me stitch up Superdog Stan!”
“What exactly was he helping you do on the beach at sunset, then?” Avery asked.
“Nothing,” Liv said, but Avery wasn’t having it.
Giving another yawn, her friend sat back in her chair and settled in for the long haul. “From what I heard, it looked like a whole lot of something was going on.”
And since Avery had more sources than the local newspaper, Liv knew there was no point in lying. “Fine. I came home to Paxton hiding Ford’s dog in his room, so I went over to his house to return him. Ford was there, and I thanked him for helping with Stan, then apologized for my son being a pet-tomaniac. No big deal.”
“Even a blind woman would agree that Cub Candy in nothing but lake water and a wetsuit is a big deal,” Avery said.
Liv held up a hand. “Can you please stop referring to him as a cub? It’s not like he’s a coed guy spending his summers paddling around the lake and picking up on sun bunnies.”
He was spending his summer rappelling from mountains and rescuing coeds. Big difference. Or so she’d told herself every night when she’d fallen asleep thinking about just how hard those glistening abs would feel—above her.
Both women exchanged a pointed look that, combined with the snorts, had Liv squirming in her scrubs.
“From what I understand, he was too busy eyeballing you to even notice the sun bunnies,” Avery said.
“He wasn’t eyeballing me. He was just making me laugh, flirting with me to get a reaction.” And her body had reacted all right. Revved up as if it had never seen a half-naked man before.
Not like him, her girly parts whispered. Because while Sam had been handsome in a distinguished doctor way, he’d never looked as if he lifted logs for sport. Sam was a surgeon with a one-track mind and a soft touch.
There was nothing soft about Ford. Even his name suggested molded steel and firing pistons.
“According to Ty, the only thing Ford was interested in making was moves on you.”
“God, I wish someone would move on me,” Grace said. “It’s been so long I don’t know if my body would know how to move back.”
“How would Ty know if he was making moves?” Liv asked with an exaggerated eye roll, even though something about Ford making moves her way sent her stomach into a free fall.
“He was paddleboarding with Ford, doing his male-bonding-with-the-new-team-member thing,” Avery said. “He claims he waved to you, but you were too busy drooling over Ford to wave back.”
Good God, had she been that obvious? And in front of his new teammate?
Tyson Donovan wasn’t just Avery’s husband. He was also head of the technical rope team for Sequoia Elite Mountain Rescue. He was the coordinator for the local team and ran most of the searches in the area. He was on the fast track to coordinating the entire Sierras.
And Liv was on the fast track to developing a serious crush on his newest coworker. Not all that unexpected when one came eye to pec with something oh so tempting three times in one day. Plus, Liv hadn’t been tempted by another man since college when she’d met Sam, so the attraction had caught her by surprise. “Making moves is like breathing for a guy like Ford,” Liv said. “Trust me, he isn’t interested in anything more than a little flirting with a cougar.”
Grace snorted. “If you’re a cougar, then I’m a saber-toothed tiger.”
“Half my age plus seven is the cougar equation,” Liv pointed out, reciting one of the dozen or so Cougar Life blogs she’d stayed up late reading.
“That only works if you’re over forty, and last I checked you weren’t anywhere near the big four-oh.”
“Maybe not, but I’m closer to cougar than coed,” Liv said, trying to remember the last time she’d had the energy to paddleboard after a full shift at the hospital. The closest she’d come was lifting the couch to find the remote. Had it not been Bachelor Monday, the only heavy lifting she would have done was with the Costco-size bag of Red Vines licorice hidden in her bedroom.
“Before you start checking the mail for your AARP magazine,” Avery teased, “I will have you know that Ford is twenty-eight.”
“Twenty-eight?” Six years’ difference wasn’t so bad, Liv thought as she took a sip of her lemonade. Twenty-eight meant they were almost in the same decade. Almost.
“And he’s sexy, single, and a stand-up guy,” Avery added, as if she were reading his profile off a dating website.
“He looks more like an up-against-the-wall kind of guy to me.” Grace shrugged. “But what do I know? I’ve been divorced for more years than I was married.”
Avery considered this for a moment, then scrunched her nose. “He looks like more of a kitchen-counter guy to me, but that could be last night coloring my opinion.”
Liv could picture him as both, but what had her heart going thump-thump was that he’d also be a sweet lover. She could see it in the way he looked at her, how gentle he’d been helping her at the craft store. Ford would be considerate and thorough and—oh my God, did she just moan?
“Even though he’s older than I thought, he’s still six years, one marriage, and thirty-six hours of labor younger than me,” Liv said, feeling the wrinkles set in.
“There’s always Chuck from Bunny Slope Supermarket,” Grace offered, and Liv shivered—and not in the same way she shivered when she thought of Ford.
Chuck was balloon-shaped, balding, and the town butcher. He was also fifty and convinced that Liv needed a man to bring home the country-cut bacon.
“Ford is looking better and better,” Avery teased. “Plus, he’s on loan from Reno and leaves at the end of August, making him the perfect summer fling.”
Liv’s heart stopped, and she choked on a piece of ice. “I don’t think so.”
“What if you give him a kiss and see how you feel after?” Grace asked, eyes wide with excitement at the idea.
“Because the last man I kissed was Sam,” she said, a wealth of conflicting emotions churning in her belly. “And kissing someone else would change that forever.” And when something had the power to change forever, Liv had become gun-shy.
“Plus, I have my hands full with work. Paxton’s still taking in stowaways, only this time it wasn’t a stray. Carolyn is in town, her helicopter-grandma blades going a zillion rotations per second. And Ford and I are in completely different phases of our lives.”
He was living life single and fancy-free, and she was a single mom who had lived more lives than she’d ever hoped to.
“Avery said a summer fling, not matching headstones,” Grace reminded her.
“And being in different phases makes this perfect.” Avery shook her cupcake at Liv. “Remember when we sat in my hospital room while waiting for the transplant results and made a promise? We vowed we were going to stop letting fear and outside limitations decide our future. To go after life at full speed and find some happiness.” Avery’s tone was soft but serious. “I believed you, so much that I dove in without looking and found my way. I found Ty.” She took Liv’s hand. “Now it’s your time.”
“Ford is not my Ty, and I barely have time to breathe. And what about her?” Liv pointed at Grace. “She was there too.”
“Don’t throw me under the bus just because you know she’s right,” Grace said defensively. “But if it makes you feel better, we can tackle my disaster of a life right after you find your smile.” Grace’s hand went in a circle to encompass Liv’s face. “And I’m not talking about the plastic everything’s peachy one you give everyone around town. But a real one, like you wore a second ago when you were talking about Man Cub. I’m not saying a fling is the answer, but you need to make a bold step.”
“I dropped Paxton off at summer camp even though he was one blink away from a meltdown. That’s a bold step.” One that had her looking at her watch.
Avery’s hand came to rest over the face of Liv’s watch. “You have twenty minutes until you need to go back to being Supermom. Right now we’re talking about you being bold.”
“Bold is convincing my scared, crying kid it will be okay and driving off while his little eyes followed me out of the parking lot . . .” Liv swallowed down the overwhelming sense of helplessness that had haunted her all day. “I told him it would be a great day, even though I knew it would suck.”
“That is a bold mommy move,” Grace agreed quietly, her eyes a little misty. “I wouldn’t have been strong enough to drive off.”
Liv’s went misty too, because Grace knew just how painful the inability to protect a child could cut. She had tried for years to have a family, only to have her dream of motherhood end seconds before it was supposed to begin. It took days for her to admit her baby was gone and months for the sorrow to fade enough to leave her house. In the end, Grace found herself divorced and childless, in a home built for a family.
“I almost turned around,” Liv admitted.
“But you didn’t—you showed him that you believe in his strength. So even if it’s an awful day, he has the confidence that he can push through it,” Avery said. “And before you know it, he’ll be jumping out of the car, excited to see his friends.”
“What if he doesn’t?” Liv asked, as terrified that day would never come as she was that it would.
“He will. The more he steps out of his comfort zone, the more he’ll come to understand that sucky days happen, just like magical ones.” Avery leaned in, her tone careful. “It’s going to be up to you, though, to show him it’s okay to wish for the magical ones. And to enjoy them when they come.”
“What does that mean?” Liv said, her voice a little cutting. Because she worked hard to make every day magical for Paxton, and her friends sounded as if she were holding him back.
And that hurt.
Avery and Grace were her two closest friends. Had been since Liv started at the hospital. Avery had been in long-term care waiting on a kidney, Grace had suffered a shocking miscarriage, and Liv had buried her husband. They’d connected over cupcakes and bonded over loss, eventually promising to be one another’s lifelines.
Although right then, it felt as if they were lifting the rope just out of reach.
“Only that you deserve some magic.” Avery’s face softened. “I survived because I received a kidney transplant, but I am living because my mom showed me how to be more than a survivor—she showed me how to be a warrior,” Avery said, her voice so full of conviction Liv felt her chest swell. “That was her biggest gift to me. And it’s a gift you can give Paxton.”
Avery took Liv’s hand. “You are an amazing mom and friend, and your devotion to Paxton is breathtaking. But you are more than a mom and a widow, just like he’s more than his condition. You deserve to have things in your life that make you happy.”
Liv wanted to be happy—she really did. But she didn’t know how to do that without losing focus. She’d pieced their lives back together like a patchwork quilt—she’d found a job, figured out how to change a flat and fix the garbage disposal, and even weathered two winters at high altitude. But happy? That still hadn’t happened.
“Which is why I want to volunteer to help with Wagon Days,” Liv offered. “I hear they need some extra hands. I happen to have two available.” She wiggled them for show.
Her friends looked at her as if she were crazy.
“What? It’s a great way to get involved in the community,” she defended.
“You do know that the State Line Seniors are hosting the first annual Carson City Campout and Carnival the same weekend as Wagon Days?” Grace asked.
“How is that an issue?”
“Because the State Line Seniors have been trying to one-up the Women of the Wagon Trail since the state line was drawn,” Avery pointed out. “They hired some fancy carnival company to bring in rides for the kids and a paintball alley for the teens and dads. They booked Adelle to perform and even got Cesar Millan as a judge for their Pets on Parade.”
“The dog whisperer to the stars?” Grace asked, shaking her head. “There goes the Wagon Days Darlings for the parade.”
“Did you say Adele?” Liv asked, wondering just how connected these State Line Seniors were—and how bad it would be if she found herself in Carson City.
“Adelle Lewis,” Mavis said from behind, a group of blue-haired biddies standing in her wake. “She was Miss Nevada 1956. Won her crown by maneuvering her baton and tassels in a perfect horizontal twirl. But her real claim to fame is her immunity to gravity.”
“With Adelle and her tassels, we’ll lose the Moose Lodge, Senior X-Treme, and the Sequoia Senior Guard,” Patty Moberly said, coming forward. “The carnival rides take away the families, and without them our parade is sunk, and LuLu has worked so hard.”
“The parade is the kickoff for the weekend,” Shelia, the head of the parade committee, said, stepping out from behind Mavis. “It’s what gets people in town and ready to spend a day at the fair. Without a parade there is no fair. The schools count on the money. Last year’s event funded the kids’ music program.”
It also funded the academic-outreach program for kids who had a hard time merging into mainstream schooling. Kids like Paxton.
“Which is why we need to rethink our game plan. Give residents and tourists a reason to come here,” Irene, the Wagon Days chairwoman and Avery’s mother-in-law, said.
“Maybe we can bring back the Mango Mamas. I heard that the lead singer is almost recovered from her stroke,” Shelia suggested.
“Their mangoes are too ripe to stand up to Adelle’s tassels.” Mavis shook her head. “We need an overhaul.”
“Wagon Days is in three weeks, and there isn’t time to change everything.” Irene held up a three-inch worn leather binder. “This is every contact, sponsor, committee list, map, and booth that has been approved for this year’s Wagon Days.” She slid it across the table. “I’m not willing to do everything needed to change a year’s worth of work.”
A symphony of amen and uh-huh arose, and the room filled with suggestions and opinions, people dividing into two sides, arguing about patchwork quilts versus a party barge.
Liv wasn’t crafty or into boating, and she didn’t know who the Banjo Brothers with the flaming fiddle were, but there was one thing Liv did know. Years in the ER had taught her how to manage and solve problems.
As Dr. Brown had pointed out, Liv was great at finding common ground. What she needed to work on was her ties to the community. And maybe this was the way to do both.
She ran a finger down the spine of the binder and felt her heart give a little jump. Because it was more than lists and ideas—it was three generations’ worth of stories and friendships and traditions. Traditions Sam had been a part of.
Traditions she wanted her son to experience.
She picked up the binder to flip through it. The corners were worn, the leather touched until it felt like butter. But inside sat a treasure trove of connections and opportunities. Opportunities to grow and build roots, two things her little family needed.
“I’ll do it,” Liv heard herself saying. She even looked down to realize she was standing, her hands sweating from the sudden shift in attention. Meaning she was the center of everyone’s attention.
Instead of smiles of delight, Liv was met with horrified gasps, and Gretchen, their oldest member, checked her hearing aid. “Didn’t the girl just move here?” Gretchen asked.
“Two years ago. Long enough to appreciate the traditions, but fresh enough to have a new perspective,” Liv said, wondering when she’d become the kind of person to get involved. She looked at her friends. “Right?”
“You still walk around like a deer in the headlights when it snows and a neighbor asks if you need your driveway shoveled,” Avery said innocently.
“Because I can shovel my own driveway.” And clean her own gutters, mow her lawn, and when she really wanted to have fun, she changed the oil in her car. “And with your help, I can make this event representative of the entire community. The founders as much as the newest generation.”
“We need some young families to breathe new life into the event,” Mavis agreed. “Leapfrog races and panning for gold aren’t doing it anymore. Kids nowadays want interaction, adventure, thrills, and unless we give them something new, the State Line Seniors won’t be our only problem.”
To Liv’s surprise, a wave of bobbing gray buns flew through the room. A burst of warmth skated through her body, and deep down, Liv knew this moment was important. For the town and for her.
“What if we sprinkle some new booths in, add some local celebrities to the parade, and find some entertainment that would appeal to the whole family? If we play to our strengths, we can figure this out.”
“Backwoods Brewhouse has more than a dozen local craft brews on tap. I bet a craft beer booth would bring in the male demographic,” Avery said with an encouraging wink.
“People always tell me that they’d love to see more notable artists come,” Grace added. “If we played this off like more of a craft beer and art festival and less like a small-town fair, I know of several artists who would show up.”
Shelia frowned. “But we are a small town. That’s what makes us special!”
“What makes us special is our community.” Liv looked at the group, and a small spark lit in her belly. It wasn’t just hope, it was a challenge. And Liv loved a good challenge. “There isn’t a resident in town that one of us isn’t connected with. Why not ask them and then plan a day that speaks to everyone?”
“I think we just got ourselves a new entertainment chair,” Mavis said, and the circle of smiles was enough to make Liv feel as if she’d gained a gold star of approval, but that didn’t mean the commitment was any less terrifying.
“Finding help in this town is easy,” Irene said. “Especially with those mommy friends of yours.”
“Mommy friends?”
Liv didn’t have many mommy friends. Most of the moms in town with kids Paxton’s age were CMOs. Career mommy officers who played Supermom by day and Wonder Wife by night. Liv was a single working parent who pulled split shifts to pay the mortgage and fed her kid cheesy noodles and nuggets because she forgot to go shopping.
CMOs and SWPs didn’t live in the same space-time continuum, which was why Liv’s two closest friends were career women.
“If we have any hope of relating to the next generation of young families, we need to hear what they have to say,” Mavis explained. “And who better to do that than one of their own?”
“And that would be me?”
Liv was still thinking about what Avery had said when she pulled up to the park. One glance out the window told her that she’d need more than a binder and a little magic if Paxton was ever going to find his permanent smile.
In the distance, she spotted a group of kids in blinking tennis shoes and brightly colored capes racing around in circles playing a complicated version of freeze tag with lightsabers and balloons. Their laughter carried throughout the park and penetrated Liv’s chest, swelling up until she wanted to cry.
Oh, Pax, she thought helplessly, watching her little boy in his red Superboy cape and brave smile, pacing the perimeter of the park—all alone.
Where was his team? And where were the counselors? And why weren’t the other mothers getting involved?
If that hadn’t been her son wandering alone, Liv would have pulled Paxton aside and told him to invite the new kid into the group. But the CMOs just stood at the other side of the parking lot in coordinated sports tops, grouped around their hubby-maintained SUVs, talking about the latest trick to get kids to eat broccoli.
Liv wanted to call bullshit.
The superhero camp brochure promised positive social interaction, team building, and fun. Lots of fun for all. Even the shy ones. The only thing Liv saw was one big suckfest!
Unfortunately, Paxton agreed. His posture said it all as his blinking shoes scuffed the ground, while he held Superdog Stan to his chest as if it was his only friend in the whole world. It wouldn’t be so bad if Paxton preferred to be the lone wolf, but he didn’t. Her son was bright and beautiful and craved connection.
He just didn’t know how to go about it.
The camp counselor, Captain Jason, a local firefighter dressed in a costume that was somewhere between Hercules and George Jetson, called them in, and the kids went rushing to the picnic area, which was decorated to look like the Hall of Justice. Captain Jason handed out red and blue handkerchiefs, dividing the group into two.
One by one the kids took a side until there was only Paxton left. His eyes were big with want, but when Captain Jason held up the two handkerchiefs, Paxton froze.
“You got it, baby. Just point to the red one.” Liv knew he wanted the red one—red was Superdog’s color—but he didn’t even move when Jason waved it his way.
Liv opened the door, ready to scream that he wanted red, when she paused.
One of the other boys, Tommy, a neighborhood kid with whom Paxton sometimes shared comic books, grabbed the red handkerchief and waved him over. Liv held her breath as Paxton picked up the pace and raced across the field. But instead of standing next to Tommy, her son took the material and then stood a few feet behind. Holding himself apart from the group.
Liv glanced at the moms on the other side of the parking lot, and a wealth of guilt welled up, filling her chest until all the denial and anger and helplessness she’d clung to spilled out, leaving nothing but acceptance.
And the reality that maybe the girls were right. She’d been so busy watching out for Paxton, she hadn’t realized that Paxton had been watching her.
Liv had moved him here so her son could grow up in the town his father loved. In a place that valued family and friendship. Yet neither of them had allowed themselves to enjoy everything Sequoia Lake had to offer. They’d been too busy trying to survive to have fun.
And they both desperately needed to stretch their wings and find some fun.
Liv glanced in the rearview mirror and cringed at the woman she saw looking back. The messy bun, the tired eyes, the hollow smile. And the wrinkles.
She leaned forward to inspect her forehead. When had those appeared?
Fingers on her temples, she tugged and tugged until they flattened out, and then she smiled her brightest smile.
“Now you just look scared.” She let go and watched them bounce back into place, cursing gravity.
Riffling through her purse, she applied a layer of lip gloss, then let her hair free from the messy bun and narrowed her eyes—getting up close and personal with herself. “Your son needs to be a warrior, so time to get busy fixing that.”
Liv gave her hair a little fluff and put a welcoming smile on her face. She was done hoping and praying for tomorrow to be better, so she was going to bring the better.
Feeling stronger, she hopped out of the car, and when her foot hit the asphalt, she felt something deep inside shift. And when she took that first step, it wasn’t just a step, it was a strut.
A Mama’s almost got her groove back strut that took her across the parking lot and straight for her biggest insecurity. The career moms who did it all and did it well. She was zeroing in, ready to put it all on the line, even if it meant hosting Scrapbook Saturdays, when a big man wearing a bright orange SAR shirt and department-issued ball cap pulled up in a Jeep.
“You look determined,” came the masculine voice from within the car. “Where are you running to?”
Harris peeked his head out the window, and Liv’s heart gave a disappointed thump.
“I was going to go talk with the other moms while I waited for camp to let out,” she said. Harris looked at the other moms, then back to her, and raised an amused brow. “You know, in case they’re looking for a backup cutter for Scrapbooking Saturday.”
He hopped out of the Jeep, and woo wee, was the man big. Funny, built, and did amazing things to his uniform. Half the town was in love with him, and the other half were men.
“Scrapbooking Saturday has been moved to Tuesday nights at my place because it conflicted with summer T-ball practice,” he said, resting a hip against the grill, dead serious. “You’re always welcome to join in. You can even bring Paxton. The kids all play in the backyard.”
Oh yeah, when he wasn’t flying his chopper and saving lives, he was the single parent to an adorable little girl, making him the complete package. Only, for whatever reason, his package didn’t do anything for her.
“I’m not really into scrapbooking, but I’m branching out.”
“I have more stickers and paper than I could ever use.” He winked. “And I make a great cosmo—just ask the ladies.”
“I bet.” Liv laughed easily. She knew Harris well enough from the kids’ preschool, but he was also related to Avery’s husband, so they socialized from time to time. “Is Emma enrolled in superhero camp?”
“Yeah, and Friday is my day to bring Popsicles, but we won’t be here. I was hoping to see if someone would swap days with me.”
Liv put on her best one with the community smile. “Well, I don’t have a Popsicle day. I could fill in.”
“No Popsicle day?” he asked in mock horror.
“I was late in signing Paxton up for the camp, so I didn’t make it to the parent meeting. Actually, I was surprised when they called and said they had an open spot, all paid for. I heard that this camp had a waitlist that’s like a year long.”
“It does,” Harris said in a tone that she couldn’t decipher. “Moms start registering their kids before their second ultrasound. I guess you just got lucky.”
“I know,” Liv said. “So since I didn’t get an official day, I’ll just take yours, if you’ll do me a favor.” Harris lifted a brow. “I’m helping out with Wagon Days, creating a new and improved family fun zone, and I need help with permits and crowd control. Irene’s binder said that was all handled by Sequoia Elite. Will you help me with all the paperwork?”
His lips tilted up at the corners. “As long as you don’t yell at me like you did when I tried to carry your trash cans up your driveway.”
“I didn’t yell,” she said. “I was just letting you know that I was getting to them and they were on the list.”
“It was almost time for the next garbage pickup.” She didn’t even bother to argue, and that seemed to appease him. “Come to the station on Friday, and I’ll help you file everything that needs filing.”
“And I’ll bring Popsicles,” she said, patting herself on the back and telling herself that wasn’t so hard.
“Oh, you can’t just take my day. No, no, no. That’s not how’s it done. It all needs to be cleared through the TSP.” When Liv just looked at him, he laughed. “The Stroller Patrol. It’s on par with the president’s cabinet, only instead of running the country, they run our kids’ social lives. It’s fascinating. You haven’t lived until you’ve gone to a TSP meeting.”
“I’m not really a committee person.” Even though she’d just joined one. “I was just going to introduce myself.”
“Good luck with that.” Before she could ask what that meant, he threw an arm around her shoulder. “Afterward, we’ll talk about your shirt.”
Liv looked down. “What’s wrong with my shirt?”
Harris didn’t answer, just dragged her toward the group of moms, who all perked up the second he came into view. The closer they got, the more animated the mothers became.
“Hey, guys,” Harris said by way of greeting. “This is Paxton’s mom, Olivia Preston. She’s offered to cover my Popsicle day for me.”
Liv waited for the polite nods, when instead, the head mom, an elegant brunette with perfect hair and a yoga butt, clasped her hands in delight. “Thanks, the kids really look forward to Popsicle day. I’m Kimberly, by the way, Will’s mom, and this is Lara.”
One by one, Kimberly named off every mother and respective child, then turned back to Liv.
“Nice to meet you all,” she said, looking up at Harris as if saying, Well, that was easy.
She went to move toward the field so she could see Paxton when Harris anchored her in place. “Liv is also in charge of entertainment for Wagon Days this year.”
“Thank God they have one of us on the committee,” Kimberly said as if Martha Stewart herself had appeared.
Liv looked at Harris. “One of us?”
“The TSP,” he told her. “I guess you’re an official member.”
Liv almost asked if she was going to be pinned with a bright red TSP button, but she held her tongue.
“My boys want to skip it this year to go to the carnival in Carson City. They can’t stop talking about the fire truck–shaped bounce house with shooting water hoses. But that drive with three little ones?” Lara shivered. “I’d rather give birth to the twins again.”
“And she’s talking natural birthing,” Kimberly added.
Liv pulled out her cell, swiped to her notebook, and started a fresh list. “What would get your boys excited to go to Wagon Days?”
Kimberly looked at the other ladies and then let out an excited breath. “Fire.”
Liv choked. “What?”
“Every year, on the weekend before school starts, we set up a huge tent on the lake so the kids can all play together one last time—you know, cement the summer bonds to make the first day less intimidating.”
“That’s a great idea,” Liv said, thinking about last year’s epic fail with preschool and how different it would have been if he’d had a buddy or two to walk into class with.
“Our moms did this for us, and we’ve kept up the tradition,” Lara said. “We barbeque, do crafts, play in the lake, and then Harris does an evening bonfire.”
“Don’t make me sound like such a bro. I’m an expert at bead jewelry and bring a gourmet s’mores bar for the adults,” Harris added.
“We’ve been trying to get something like this done on a bigger scale for Wagon Days,” Kimberly said. “Maybe a make-your-own-superhero-cape booth or some kind of bounce house or maze.”
“Bounce house and craft booth,” Liv said as she jotted it down. “Would you guys be interested in helping run the booth?”
The women all shared an excited look.
“Olivia,” Kimberly began, “you just tell us what you need and where you need it, and we will make it happen.”
“Okay, then, why don’t you start putting together your ideas.” And then before she gave in to the urge to hide back in her car, she stuck out her hand. “And by the way, my friends call me Liv.”