In His Good Hands. Joan Kilby
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removed a freshly laminated copy. “Was the loans officer impressed with your business plan?”
“She was in awe.” Brett was careful to temper his sarcasm.
Janet grabbed the catalog of exercise equipment Brett had been poring over earlier like a kid with a Christmas toy flyer. “Let’s start picking out your new goodies.”
“Uh, I’ll get to that later.”
She regarded him with a frown. “Is everything okay? Yesterday we couldn’t tear you away from this brochure.”
“Everything’s fine. I just have to drop Tegan off at my parents’ house for dinner.” He reached for his keys and called over his shoulder, “Are you ready, Tegan?”
“Coming.” She ambled toward him, the straps of her unbuckled shoes flapping, her school bag slung over her shoulder.
Brett turned back to Janet. “If my six o’clock arrives before I get back, have her warm up on the treadmill. I won’t be long.”
In his silver E320 Mercedes, Brett cruised down the leafy main street of the village. Tegan chatted about school. Now and then he murmured “yes” or “uh-huh.”
“Cool!” Tegan said after one such response. “Thanks, Dad!”
“You’re welcome, sweetheart,” he replied automatically, then sent her a swift glance. “What did I just say yes to?”
Her eyes widened, all innocence. “Me getting a new dress for the dance.”
“You’ve got dozens of dresses in your closet. Why don’t you wear one of those? It’s not like anyone in Summerside will have seen them before.”
“I only have two party dresses and I’ve grown out of both of them. Besides, I’m older now.”
He swiveled to look at her, noticing her developing figure and the way, sitting side by side, her head now reached his shoulder. “I guess you’re right.”
The older the girl, the more expensive the dress. He’d learned that during his marriage.
Slowing to a halt for the single stoplight in town, he spied the Community Bank on the corner and frowned. Charm had always been his biggest asset, but it hadn’t worked with Renita. His efforts to renew their friendship had fallen flat. If that’s the way she wanted it, he would stick to business in the future. But he needed his loans manager to be onside to make the gym a success.
His eye fell on a poster erected on the grass verge, advertising the Diabetes Week Fun Run. Renita had been touchy about her father’s condition. She was likely worried and feeling helpless, wishing she could do something to fix the problem.
“That’s it,” Brett muttered. “Two birds with one stone.”
He got out his phone and punched in her number at the bank. Her office was the last one on the end, he realized.
“Renita Thatcher.” She sounded preoccupied.
“I just wanted to let you know about a special deal the gym is offering,” he said, making it up on the spot.
“Brett? Is that you?”
“Two-for-one memberships. I’ll throw in five free personal training sessions if you sign up before the end of the week,” he added recklessly. She’d said she wasn’t into exercise, but when people caught the bug they usually came to love the feel-good high of being fit.
“And you think I’m interested because…?”
“Your father is diabetic. I’ll bet his doctor has told him to exercise. Does he already belong to a gym in Mornington or Frankston?”
“No,” she said. “But he walks his dog, Smedley.”
“You and Steve can get fit together. You’ve got six weeks before the Fun Run—”
“No, no, no,” Renita protested. “I told you, I’m not entering the run.”
Undeterred, Brett pushed on. “Your dad would be more likely to work out if he had a partner to encourage him, wouldn’t he?”
“Brett—” She broke off.
In the silence that followed he could feel her frustration. He thought he understood her reluctance. “Having a personal trainer, you won’t have to keep up with all the gym bunnies in a class,” he said. “You work at your own pace, with a program tailored to your needs.”
“Pushing a little hard, aren’t you, Dad?” Tegan murmured from the passenger seat.
Brett motioned to his daughter to be quiet. There was another long pause. Had he pushed too hard? Embarrassed Renita? He didn’t want to do that.
“It would be good for Dad,” she conceded finally. “I’ll think about it.”
Satisfied, Brett put down his phone and moved through the green light. “She said she’d think about it,” he said to Tegan. But she was really saying yes.
“I’M MISSING THE cricket match on TV,” Steve grumbled as Renita dragged him through the doors of the fitness center.
“This won’t take long.” She hoped not, at least. Gyms were alien territory, bristling with strange machines and hard bodies. And spandex. Oh, God, she could just imagine what she would look like with every blubbery bulge outlined by spandex.
But she had to admit Brett was right—her father needed a concrete goal in his quest to improve his health. “If the place looks good you can become a member and sign up for the Fun Run.”
Steve balked on the black mat just inside the foyer, blinking at the bright lights and loud music. “I’m no runner.”
“You don’t want another hospital episode.”
“I don’t want a stroke, either.” His slacks sagged at the back and his shirt buttons strained over his barrel-shaped belly. Behind his steel-framed glasses, his brown eyes revealed his reluctance.
“That’s why you’re going to get fit before the event,” Renita coaxed. “When I was a kid, who told me I could do anything I set my mind to? Now I’m telling you you can do it. I know you can.”
“There’s no one here,” Steve said, glancing at the reception desk, with its scuffed lime-green paint. “Let’s go.”
“Shh, listen.” Renita could hear Brett talking on the phone in an office behind the desk. “Let’s wait a minute.”
The faint odors of perspiration and rubber floor mats conjured up the discomfort and small humiliations of high school gym class. Chafing thighs, sweaty clothes, being picked last for every team…
Renita moved farther into the building, taking in the gym’s poor state of repair. Paint was chipped on the corners of the pillars, the linoleum flooring was worn, and Out of Order signs hung from several of the exercise machines. Brett would have his work cut out for him, turning the facility into the fitness center of his dreams.
“This is a dive,” Steve muttered, echoing her thoughts. “Why’d you bring me here?”
“Because my bank is lending money to the new owner.” Knowing her dad kept a keen eye out for a bargain, she added cannily, “Plus there’s a sale on memberships.”
“I get enough exercise walking Smedley.” Steve removed his glasses and polished them on the hem of his shirt, drawing Renita’s attention to his round stomach.
“You’ve been walking for weeks now and haven’t lost an inch off that gut of yours,” Renita said. “That trip to the hospital was a wake-up call. You need to change your habits.”
In the multipurpose exercise room to their left a female fitness instructor was barking out encouragement to a perspiring middle-aged man doing sumo squats. “See, Dad, that could be you.”
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