The Homecoming Hero Returns. Joan Elliott Pickart
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Harrison guy is asking for. If this was a movie I’d have the creeps by now.”
Sandra laughed. “There’s nothing sinister about it, Cindy, it’s just unusual. Strange. Well, borderline weird.”
Cindy sighed. “Well, all you can do is show up and find out what the scoop is. Plus, you get some delicious private time with that sexy husband of yours. The last time I suggested such a thing to Paul he said it sounded great, just be sure and call ahead to make sure the hotel I booked was near an eighteen-hole golf course. He’s as romantic as a rock.”
“But you love him,” Sandra said, smiling.
“Yeah. He’s a jerk, but he’s my jerk. I may even forgive him for giving me a Crock-Pot for Christmas last year.” Cindy paused. “Back to the mystery. You don’t know the names of the other people Professor Harrison wants to see. Right?”
“Right.”
“Darn. There might have been a clue there.” Cindy tapped one fingertip against her chin. “You know, like they all played baseball and he’s getting nostalgic in his old age and wants to see the team he helped coach. You know, like A League of Their Own.”
“Yes,” Sandra said, nodding slowly. “It’s probably something that simple. If he would have said get together instead of reunion I probably wouldn’t have gotten into such a dither. It’s just that, like you said, a reunion usually means a whole bunch of people and this is a chosen bunch of people and…We’ve been over all this. I’ll give you a full report when we get back.”
“Including details about your private time with sexy David?” Cindy said, wiggling her eyebrows.
“No!”
“Mom,” Michael said, coming to the front of the table carrying a plate. “Can we buy these?”
“Michael,” Sandra said, “I made those cupcakes. There are still some left at home.”
“Not many and they’re good.”
“Well, thank you, sir,” she said, laughing, “but go pick something someone else baked so we can have a surprise.”
“What if it’s gross?”
“Then we’ll all die of food poisoning, or some dread disease,” she said. “Live wild, Michael.”
“Lame,” he said, stomping away.
“He’s so cute,” Cindy said.
“Easy for you to say,” Sandra said, “your bundle of joy is still in diapers and can’t talk. Ten is a gruesome age. To Michael, everything is lame. Molly? Her word for the year is ‘boring,’ which even includes breakfast, I’ll have you know.”
“Actually,” Cindy said, staring into space, “breakfast is a bit boring if you think about it.”
“Not my blueberry pancakes made into animal shapes,” David said, seeming to have appeared out of nowhere.
“Hi, David,” Cindy said, smiling. “Sandra and I have been trying to solve the mystery of the so-called reunion, but Agatha Christies we are not. I’m going to be very disappointed if it’s something as boring—to quote your daughter—as a gathering of the ancient baseball team.”
“Ancient?” David said, his eyes widening. “How do you feel about country and western music, Ms. Morrison? I do believe you and Paul took line-dancing lessons last year if my memory serves. According to Molly that automatically qualifies you for Medicare.”
“I used to like your kids,” Cindy said, laughing, “but erase that. Jeez.”
“Sandra,” David said, turning to his wife, “are you ready for this? I was just talking to Clem Hunter. He and Madge are leaving for Europe next week.” He jiggled some keys at eye level. “He loaned us his car for the trip to Boston. A car that has air-conditioning that actually works every time you turn it on. How about that?”
“David,” Sandra said, her eyes as big as saucers, “Clem drives a Lexus. We can’t borrow a Lexus and take it into city traffic. What if it gets bumped or bent or something gruesome?”
“Whoa,” Cindy said. “Remember what you told your son, Sandra. Live wild. Take the Lexus.”
“Amen,” David said, nodding decisively. “We’re going in the Lexus. The station wagon has air that works when it’s in the mood and my clunker pickup doesn’t have air, or heat for that matter. Oh, by the way, I put my name on some goodies for dessert from this vast array of delicacies.”
“You did?” Sandra said. “Michael is picking out something even as we speak. What did you buy?”
“Some of your cupcakes.”
Cindy dissolved in a fit of laughter.
On the Friday afternoon before they left for Saunders, Sandra hired a teenage neighbor to take the twins to the city pool.
She was going to have one new dress, she decided. She couldn’t remember when she’d been so self-indulgent, but by the same token she couldn’t remember when she’d had David all to herself.
Whatever Professor Harrison wanted of David, it wouldn’t take up his time for twenty-four hours a day. And when bedtime came it would be just the two of them in the luscious hotel where David had made the reservations.
Her first thought had been to buy a seductive nightie, but she’d shifted mental gears and decided she’d rather have a special dress to wear to one of the romantic and just-the-two-of-them dinners they would share.
As Sandra browsed through a medium-priced store, she frowned.
She was counting so much on this trip putting the spark back into her and David’s marriage. She wanted him to look at her and realize he still loved her, tell her so with that love glowing in his eyes, erase from his mind the idea of leaving her when the twins were grown. She wanted him to make sweet, sweet love to her for hours, declaring his love and devotion over and over. She wanted to come home knowing they still had a forever together.
Sandra sighed as she took a hanger from a rack and held the dress at arm’s length to scrutinize it.
Or was it too late for any of that? she thought miserably. Would being back on the Saunders University campus just emphasize to David how close he had come to achieving his dreams of being a professional ball player and all that status would bring to his world? Dreams that had been shattered by her tearful announcement that she was pregnant. Would this trip do more damage to their marriage than good? God, what a depressing thought.
Sandra returned home without a new dress, her enthusiasm for the purchase completely erased by her chilling thoughts. She had a long, loud cry in the shower.
Even though the incredible Lexus now sat in their driveway, Sandra put her foot down about making the trip to Connecticut in the expensive car to meet her parents, who were going to take care of the twins during their week at sport camp.
“Absolutely not, David,” she said, planting her hands on her hips. “The kids think they’re starving two seconds after they fasten their seat belts. I’ll be a nervous wreck the whole time because I’ll be afraid they’ll spill something or get that butter-soft leather sticky or… No. No, no, no. We’re going in the wagon.”
“But…”
“No!”
David nodded. “I have a great idea. Let’s drive to Connecticut in the station wagon.”
“You’re a wise man, Mr. Westport.”
On Sunday they drove to the agreed-upon meeting place in Bridgeport, Connecticut, where they enjoyed lunch with Sandra’s parents.
“This whole reunion mystery is fascinating,” her mother said in the restaurant.
“Only because this Professor Harrison used the word reunion,”