Chapter 5 Maxford
MAXFORD
“Maxford, a pirate, really?” Stella scrunches her nose and lifts her chin. “So unoriginal. And that insufferable Hollywood one, too, no less.”
Opal, my grandmother’s best friend for fifty years and fellow care center resident, gives me a wink and sassy smile before saying, “I think you look handsome.”
“Thank you,” I say, stroking my glued-on beard braids.
“I don’t know why you wore it here, though. You’re drawing attention to our table.” Stella sighs dramatically, glancing around the nearly empty room.
I stifle a sneeze when the faux mustache tickles me.
“Yes, and you hate to have all the attention on you, I know.” Opal and I share a knowing look.
“Stella, you knew I wouldn’t have time to change between dinner and the carnival, so this is what you get.
It’s almost Halloween—this kind of look is allowed in public. ”
Our little trio sits in the dining room at the assisted living center for a very early dinner.
Stella prefers to take the meal at five o’clock on the dot, and I have respected that time slot every Monday and Wednesday for the past year; however, tonight is the Harvest Carnival, and I’m expected to be at the school by five.
When I’d called to explain we’d need to eat at four this one time, she said she’d allow it as long as I came on Saturday to play Bingo with her crew, and there was no way I could tell her no.
Partially because she’s done so much for me over the course of my life and it’s part of my duties while I’m the grandchild to help care for her, but also because I secretly enjoy the assortment of characters she refers to as her ‘crew.’
She sits tall in her upholstered chair, clad in her self-designated uniform consisting of a bright floral muumuu and simple Birkenstocks.
Her short hair is set thanks to her biweekly beauty appointment in the salon downstairs.
For dinner tonight, she’s added her favorite Tiffany’s she’s lucid and happy.
Her request for my sisters and me to refer to her by her first name is unconventional, but we’ve done it our whole lives and it brings me a sense of peace now that things are changing for her.
I appreciate the arrogant, sassy nights like tonight and find myself getting a little choked up when thinking about what’s coming down the line.
I take a drink of my lemon water and pretend to focus on a text to cover up the lump forming in my throat.
“Maxford, you know the rules. No phones at the table.” Then, turning her attention to her friend, she says, “Opal, is this really the best way for your daughter to run her school? She has my grandson dressing as a pirate and is allowing children the chance to possibly drown him? Lisa should be ashamed. Education is not what it used to be. In our day, we just cut the school a check.”
I look up from my phone and raise a brow.
Stella’s spoken highly of Opal’s daughter for as long as I can remember.
She was so grateful Opal was willing to vouch for me when the P.E.
position opened at the school. If she’s going to be judgy about anything, it should be the way Nola treated me yesterday.
When I spoke to her on the phone earlier and told her about that run-in with Emma’s mom, she laughed merrily and changed the subject.
Opal sets down her club sandwich and straightens her shoulders. “Times have changed, Stella. Lisa is running a perfectly fine school and you know it. The carnival is a chance to let loose and help raise money for . . . what’d she say the money is going to, Max dear?”
“Playground equipment,” I say around a bite of sandwich.
“The school bought the empty field next door a year ago. That gave us a dirt track and some grass but the younger kids need to get energy out at recess with slides and swings.” They are crazed feral cats and those twenty-five minutes in the middle of the day are the longest of my life.
Stella harrumphs like this is the last thing anybody should spend money on when Opal touches my arm and says, “Rumor has it the mom you’re working with tonight is very cute and very single.”
Nearly choking on my water, I manage to sputter out, “I’m sorry, what?”
“Lisa visited last night and told me all about the carnival, and she said you’d be working alongside a woman at the dunk tank.
I asked if the woman was married and she said no.
Then I asked if she was pretty. Lisa thought about it a second and said I didn’t need to stick my nose where it doesn’t belong.
” She leans in toward Stella and says out of the side of her mouth, “That’s code for yes. So is she, Max?”
“Opal,” Stella interrupts as she butters a roll. “For heaven’s sake. We don’t even know if they’ve met yet. Maxford, you don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to.”
“Oh we’ve met,” I hide a smile behind a bite of sandwich.
When Nola showed up in the gym, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me.
My first thought was, ‘It’s too bad she’s turned out to be a deranged stalker.
’ I figured she’d gotten information out of Tom, like who I was and where I worked.
That went downhill fast when she got needlessly upset at Emma’s grade.
I don’t believe in fate, but what are the odds that of all the women in the world, the one who kissed me at a bar is also the mom of one of my students?
And if I thought she was pretty the night we met, dressed up in a costume more stupid than the one I am currently wearing, I was wrong.
She’s nothing short of a knockout. At school the other day, with her hair down and wearing a suit that hugged her curves just right, she put everybody to shame.
When she furrowed her brow at me as she advocated for her kid, she got under my skin in a way no woman has before.
I felt this mix of fury at being called out with a side of her leaving me wanting more.
She didn’t react to me the way I’ve grown accustomed to over my career.
Instead, she let me realize she wasn’t playing games to get my attention—and I liked it.
Was I only too pleased to find out we’d been put together by Jen for the carnival?
Absolutely. Nola’s reaction was to tell Jen, “Yeah, not happening,” and then mention something about being late for a meeting.
But she’ll show tonight. After seeing the lengths she went to for her sister’s bachelorette party, Nola doesn’t strike me as one to not follow through with what she’s been asked to do.
“And?” Stella invested in this now. “Is she pretty?”
I look at my grandmother and try to commit her to memory.
This version of her, tonight. The large windows in the dining room soak in the setting sun, highlighting the silver of her hair.
Every flick of her wrist releases a sparkle from the diamonds on her bracelet.
She’s penciled in her eyebrows and put on lipstick for dinner.
She impatiently arches an eyebrow when I’ve taken too long to answer.
Lying would be the easier route except Stella’s always known when I’m not telling the truth. Madelyn and Violet can lie to her until the cows come home, but if I so much as attempt to fudge reality in the slightest, she can sniff it out like a drug dog.
I sigh and let out a low growl. This is not something I’m discussing with two women who have nothing better to do than dissect my statement all day behind my back.
“Wonderful!” Stella pats her lips on the linen tablecloth and smiles. “Make sure you bring her to Bingo on Saturday.”
Every red light I’m stopped at earns me laughs and thumbs up from people in the cars next to me. They think I’m some fun guy off to a raging Halloween party; if only they knew where my evening was headed.
Aaron Parker’s name pops up on my phone and I pause. We worked together my whole career. It was strictly a professional friendship, and I haven’t heard from him since I was let go from my contract and the league.
I swallow my nerves and accept the call. “Aaron! What's going on?” That’s good. I sound carefree and happy to hear from him, not eager and curious.
“Hutch! It’s been too long, my man.” His commanding voice fills the Land Cruiser. “I just had dinner with a group of guys we both know—can’t name any names—but there was an interesting conversation I thought you’d like to hear about. Your name came up.”