Carpool Diem Read online

  “No,” Vicki said when she saw where his eyes had landed. “You can’t cut the cop’s kid. Brian King is why we don’t get tickets when we park on the field.”

  The maddeningly gentle breeze tickled the back of Winslow’s neck. “You forget. Heather has a younger brother. As long as Officer King has a young son’s athletic career to think about, we’re fine.”

  A ball rocketed past them, inches from the sideline.

  “Hello,” Winslow said. “Who was that?”

  “Charlotte Fleming,” Vicki said. “The town league girl.”

  A second later, with Evelyn bearing down toward her, Charlotte wavered, and backed away.

  “Why is that mother still there?” Vicki asked.

  Winslow glanced across the field at Town League Girl’s mother. Her body language told him the whole story. Arms tightly crossed, face stiff and grim. Nothing but trouble there.

  It didn’t concern him. He marked a tiny B next to Charlotte Fleming’s name and reviewed the list, scanning for weakness. Dinah? No. His daughter was not a possibility.

  Vicki watched as Charlotte took back the ball and booted it. “I don’t know, Winslow. You might want to take another look at that girl. She’s got a really strong left foot.”

  But Winslow didn’t respond. He was thinking about Bobbi, the goalkeeper, and how she got injured in almost every game.

  He walked over to Parker. They huddled close for several moments before Parker stepped away and went off to make the necessary changes.

  That night, Vicki sat on Dinah’s bed brushing her fine red hair and reassuring her that yes, she’d been great at tryouts and no, her father would never cut her from the team.

  Winslow sat in his study, eyes closed, planning.

  He had to find some free time so he could get some books written. A series would be ideal, with a set of DVDs to follow. There would be speaking engagements, of course, and newspaper articles. But what he really needed was to do the talk show circuit. That was how to make things happen. He could really expand the program if he could get on a few talk shows.

  He pictured himself sitting across from Larry King, leaning back in his chair and smiling before answering the question that would be on every interviewer’s mind. Because in the end, they all would want to know the same thing: How had he done it? How had he taken a team of inexperienced six-year-old girls and trained them so well that every single one of them went on to medal in the Olympics?

  He opened his eyes and stared at the roster, wishing it told a different story. It was even worse than he’d remembered. He’d have to drop at least four of last season’s weak links if he wanted a winning team.

  He closed his eyes and dreamed of glory.

  Five

  I saw you get the evil eye from Vicki today,” the woman said to Annie in the grocery store parking lot. “Are you okay?”

  Annie didn’t want to admit she had no idea who Vicki was, that she hadn’t noticed anyone giving her the evil eye, and other than feeling a little weird that a total stranger was talking to her as if they were next-door neighbors, she was fine.

  “You don’t know who I am, do you?” the woman said.

  Annie smiled and studied the woman’s face, hoping for a bolt of recognition. She got nothing. Was she a former Proxo person? There had been so many people coming and going at Proxo, it was hard to keep track of them all.

  The woman laughed at her confused look. “I’m Bonnie Gelb,” she said. “Your next-door neighbor.”

  “Oh.” Annie said. “Of course. I knew you looked familiar. You’re the new people who moved next door.”

  “Two years ago,” Bonnie said. “We’ll be in the house two years next month. Can you believe we haven’t met? Honestly, I was beginning to wonder if you even existed.”

  “Well, I do,” said Annie. “I most certainly do exist.”

  “I know Tim, of course,” Bonnie went on. “And Charlotte. I love Charlotte. Hi, Charlotte!” She waved.

  Charlotte, who was leaning against the car, annoyed at having to make an unscheduled grocery store stop, brightened long enough to say hello to Mrs. Gelb, and then withdrew back into her mood.

  “It’s tough trying out for travel soccer for the first time at her age,” Bonnie confided.

  “She’s only twelve,” Annie said.

  “Hildy told me she’s very talented at soccer. I love Hildy,” Bonnie added. “All the moms on the block love Hildy.” She leaned closer so Charlotte wouldn’t hear the next.

  “Look, I’m sure Winslow won’t hold it against you that you stayed to watch at her first tryouts. But if Charlotte comes back tomorrow for second tryouts, you might want to just drop her off and go.” Bonnie waved at Charlotte. “Good luck, honey,” she called as she got in her car and drove off.

  “See?” Annie told Charlotte. “Even going to the grocery store I learned something. I didn’t know there were two days of tryouts. Isn’t that great? If you didn’t play your best today, you get another chance tomorrow.”

  “I’m not trying out again,” Charlotte said.

  “Is it because I stayed?” Annie asked. “Because I can call and apologize. I don’t mind. It’s not a problem. I find dealing with things straight-on is always the best approach.”

  “It won’t make a difference,” Charlotte said as they got into the car. “The girls on the A team are better than me. The team isn’t even considered an A team anymore. It’s a Super A team. I think it’s even higher than a Super A. If I get on a team at all, it will be a B team. And that’s fine. B is where I belong.”

  Annie struggled to keep up with the flow of information. The A team was really a Super A or higher. What did that mean? What did Charlotte mean about belonging on B? Did they give letter grades for tryouts?

  “You might have gotten an A,” Annie said, to be encouraging.

  Charlotte shook her head in dismay.

  “I did notice that a lot of the girls were wearing the same striped socks,” Annie added. “Do you think you got points off for not having the right socks?” She should have networked it. But who was she kidding? She didn’t even recognize her next- door neighbor, let alone have a network.

  She could have asked her sister-in-law, Trissy. Trissy lived on the other side of town, with Tim’s brother, Hank, in a perfect, big house with four perfect, big boys. Some of them used to play soccer. Trissy definitely would have known what to wear.

  Except she hated asking Trissy for advice. Trissy was so perfect that some days her very presence made Annie feel like a failure. And now that Tim had joined Hank’s company, Annie felt even more awkward. Trissy didn’t technically work at Hot Holidays, but Annie suspected nothing happened at the office that Trissy didn’t know about first.

  No. Going to Trissy for advice was best left to emergency-only situations.

  But maybe this was an emergency.

  “I should have asked Aunt Trissy where to get those socks,” Annie muttered out loud as she pulled into the driveway. They got out of the car and Annie unlocked the front door.

  “If I find a pair of those socks for you tonight, would you wear them to tryouts tomorrow?”

  “I’m not trying out tomorrow,” Charlotte said. “I’m done trying out. And you can’t buy those socks. The girls got them because they’re on a select team.”

  “Is there a store for select clothes nearby?”

  “You don’t know anything,” Charlotte grumbled.

  Annie couldn’t argue with that. She followed her daughter inside. “I should have researched it. I know how these things go. You never want to wear a pink suit to a navy meeting. I wish I’d known about those socks.”

  “I’m not going to make that team,” Charlotte said.

  “Charlotte,” Annie said. “What happened to your can-do attitude? Did you leave it in the car?”

  “That’s not funny,” Charlotte said, her face grim. She turned and started up the stairs.

  “You forgot to take off your cleats,” Annie called afte
r her.

  But Charlotte was stomping too loud to hear. Annie watched as clumps of dirt were released deep into the cream-colored carpet.

  Stomp, stomp. Two steps covered. Stomp, stomp. Four steps covered.

  They’d lived in this house for eight years and Annie had never once thought about the carpet color. Whose idea had it been to put in cream-colored carpet? Was it Tim’s? Had it been there when they moved in? Why didn’t she know?

  And when had the house gotten so dingy? It felt like only yesterday that they’d painted the walls eggshell white. When did the walls turn gray? When did that paint start peeling at the molding? When did the ceiling get that network of cracks that was spreading like mold? Why were there dead bugs in the bottom of the light fixtures and cobwebs dangling from the bulbs?

  And why was Charlotte continuing her slow stomp up the stairs, leaving behind a climbing trail of dense black dirt dislodged from her cleats? Was she doing it on purpose?

  “Why are you walking like that?” Annie yelled and immediately regretted it. It was her first full day home. She didn’t want to have a fight on her first day home.

  Charlotte stopped. Her soccer uniform was pasted to her back. Her braids were unraveling; tiny bits of Heidi hair were sticking out in all directions. She slowly lifted up her right shoe, then her left shoe, examining the bottoms.

  She turned around and said, “They’re clean,” which was now true. Then she stomped off to her room and slammed the door.

  It’s okay, Annie told herself. The carpet could be cleaned. The walls could be painted. Striped socks could be bought. She’d get to know Bonnie next door. She’d find a new job. She’d improve her relationship with Charlotte. She’d always done that in making her lists—saved the hardest, the most important, for last.

  “Charlotte?” she called up the empty stairs. “Are you hungry? Do you want a snack?”

  She got nothing. Annie was at a loss. What was she supposed to do? What was the routine? What did Hildy do? Why wasn’t Hildy here?

  The phone rang. It was Tim.

  “Hey,” he said, and she knew by his voice that he wasn’t having a very good day either.

  “Did Charlotte make the team?” he asked.

  “She says she didn’t make the good team,” Annie told him. “She’s very negative. Have you noticed that?”

  “Give her a chance,” Tim said. “Give yourself a chance. Maybe it’s just a gloomy day.”

  “Is it gloomy where you are? Because it’s a beautiful day here,” Annie said.

  “It’s not the end of the world if she doesn’t play on the best team.”

  Annie felt herself stiffen. That didn’t sound like Tim.

  “Don’t you think we should be encouraging Charlotte to be the best she can be?” Annie asked. “And doesn’t that mean playing on the best team she can be on? Don’t you want the best for Charlotte? Because you used to.”

  “That’s not fair,” Tim said. “Of course I do. Look, we’re just overwhelmed. That’s all.”

  “What are we overwhelmed about?” Annie asked. “I’m not overwhelmed. I’ve already written my Plan for the Day for tomorrow and for the day after that. I’ve put in calls to three headhunters. I’ve got a long list of former clients I’m going to contact for consulting work, and Linda called me with a great lead. Do I sound overwhelmed?”

  “Yes,” Tim said.

  Annie sat on the steps. “I don’t want to be overwhelmed.”

  “I know,” Tim said.

  “I’m not an overwhelmed-type person,” Annie said.

  “I know,” Tim agreed.

  “Neither are you,” she added. “Which is why we’ve been able to make everything work for all this time. We don’t get overwhelmed.”

  “Maybe everyone gets a little overwhelmed now and then,” Tim said.

  “We don’t,” Annie insisted. “We push on. That’s what we do. No looking back for us. We work hard, and if that doesn’t do it, we work harder. It’s who we are.”

  “I don’t know,” Tim said.

  Annie sat up straighter. Tim always knew. Tim was clear, steady, sure.

  “Tim,” she said gingerly, because she was about to ask a question to which she really didn’t want the answer. “Are you all right?”

  The pause that followed told her everything.

  “Of course,” he said, too late. “I’m fine.”

  It was unconvincing and would have broken her heart, if she hadn’t got distracted by the twitch in her right eye.

  “Damn,” she said. “It’s both eyes now.”

  “What?” Tim asked.

  “The twitch. It’s happening in both my eyes. I know,” she added. “You can’t see anything.”

  They laughed, and, eager to take advantage of the chance to end on a positive note, they got off the phone.

  Six

  Hildy walked in the house only moments after Annie found the pile of To Do lists on the bottom shelf of the dining room corner cabinet. There were twenty in all, dated, and in sealed envelopes. Annie knew they were To Do lists because she had written them. It was part of her Sunday routine.

  The lists included errands, appointments, information about upcoming family events, and suggestions for fun activities. Each one ended with a compliment. She agonized over those, careful to construct her sentences so they sounded heartfelt and sincere.

  She typed each list in draft form first, then read it aloud to make sure she liked the way it sounded. The tone needed to be right. After all, she saw Hildy as a partner in her life and felt it was important to do everything she could think of to be sure Hildy felt appreciated.

  “If you weren’t going to read them, why did you bother to save them?” Annie said, confronting Hildy. “Why didn’t you just throw them away?”

  Hildy got defensive. “How do you know I didn’t read them?”

  “They’re sealed,” Annie said. She tossed them on the dining room table where they scattered softly. “See for yourself. They’ve never been opened.”

  “Maybe the moisture in the house made them reseal,” Hildy suggested. “It could happen, right? Excuse me, but I have to make dinner for Charlotte.”

  Annie followed Hildy into the kitchen.

  “Did I offend you with one of the lists?” Annie asked. “Were they too long? If you have a problem with them, you can talk to me. Whatever the problem is, it’s important that we talk.”

  Hildy grabbed a pot, filled it with water, and placed it on the stove.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” Annie said, because no good would come of their fighting.

  “That’s okay,” Hildy said, softening. She pulled out a box of macaroni and cheese from the pantry, ripped off the top and dumped the elbows in the water.

  “The water’s not boiling yet,” Annie pointed out.

  “This is how I always make it,” Hildy said. “Charlotte doesn’t complain, so it must be okay.” She walked to the hallway and called up the stairs.

  “Charlotte! Our favorite show is on.”

  Charlotte blasted out of her room and ran down to the kitchen. She hopped onto a stool at the counter, picked up the remote control, and clicked on the TV.

  “You guys,” Annie said, keeping her tone friendly. “Did you forget it’s Wednesday?”

  “No,” Hildy said.

  “Is there something special on today?” Charlotte asked.

  “I was talking about the rule,” Annie said. “No TV during the week. Wednesday is definitely during the week, right? Or am I crazy?”

  “I think maybe crazy,” Hildy said.

  Charlotte laughed.

  “Can I speak with you for a moment in the other room?” Annie said. She did not want to have this conversation in front of Charlotte.

  “Okay.” Hildy followed her to the front hall.

  “First of all, please don’t call me crazy in front of Charlotte.”

  “You asked me,” Hildy said. “I just agreed.”

  Annie decided not to argue the point. “
Second of all, I know we’ve spoken about the TV rule. I’m not that crazy.”

  “We did,” Hildy said. “I remember. It was right before Charlotte started kindergarten. Charlotte’s going into seventh grade soon. You didn’t mean she shouldn’t watch TV all the way to seventh grade, did you? Because that wouldn’t be normal.”

  “When did it become abnormal to have a rule of no TV during the week?” Annie asked. “Lots of families have that rule.” She had researched this. She had interviewed everyone at work who had kids. She read dozens of articles on the subject. She knew she was on firm ground.

  “Okay. Whatever you say.” Hildy marched into the kitchen and turned off the TV.

  Charlotte hopped off the stool. “I’m going out back.”

  Hildy slowly stirred the milky water above the giant lump of macaroni.

  “Look,” Annie said. “We’re getting off on the wrong foot here. I don’t know how long I’m going to be working from home.”

  “What do you mean?” Hildy asked. “I thought you took the day off.”

  “No,” Annie said. “I’m not working where I was working anymore.” She didn’t want to have to explain this to Hildy right now. “I’m going to get a new job. But I don’t know for sure how long it will take before I do, or even what it will be.”

  Hildy put the spoon on the counter. “Are you letting me go?”

  “Of course not,” Annie reassured her. “I just wanted to let you know I may be around for a while.”

  “What will you be doing?” Hildy asked. “What do you mean by ‘a while’?”

  “I’m going to make the small room on the third floor into an office. I’ll be consulting until I find a new position. Or maybe I’ll just stick with consulting. I haven’t worked out all the details yet.”

  “My floor?” Hildy asked.

  “Yes,” Annie said. “I’ll be using the room across from yours. But I won’t bother you. You don’t have to worry about that.”

  Hildy turned off the flame under the pasta water, which had never reached a boil. She dumped the blob of macaroni into a colander and slid it back into the pot.