Page 67 of Mom Ball

“An apple a day keeps the doctor away,” we say in unison.

“Well, I know where to find some apples if I ever need them.” I smile wider and nod at the orchard beside us.

“Help yourself anytime.” Her eyes widen. “Paul does.”

“Still, after all these years?” I chuckle.

“Yeah. If anything, he’s gotten worse. Now that he’s dating Ms. Dot, he takes her to get pies for dates.”

I turn to Brooke and laugh. “I thought they were a little attached lately.”

“It started not long after her husband passed.”

I shake my head. “Small-town romance. Always a scandal.”

She laughs nervously, and I drop my eyes to my plate. Maybe now isn’t the best time to suggest we pick up where we left off.

I continue eating and allow her to carry the conversation. Discussing Aniston’s ideas for music at the games and the new coffee maker in the hospital isn’t ideal, especially when I’d rather talk about us. But for now I’ll take sitting on the porch together.

“Mama,” Timothy’s voice calls from behind us.

We both turn to him grinning excitedly.

“What is it?”

“We’re going to have a dance contest, and Miss Aniston says you have to come. She said you’re a good dancer.”

“Did she now?” Brooke sucks in a breath.

I’m guessing she doesn’t dance in front of Timothy. His eyes move toward me as if asking for my help.

“Your mom is a good dancer.”

A grin crosses his face, but Brooke shoots eye daggers at me.

“What? You are, or were.”

“Were?”

She moves her plate to the side and jumps from the swing. My insides heat up at the old Brooke coming back to life.

“You want to prove it?” I stand to challenge her.

Without another word, she hurries down the front porch and rounds the house. Timothy grins wider as I follow and motion for him to come with us.

Aniston has a speaker hooked to her phone’s music. She raises her eyebrows when we come around.

“I’m trying to sell the kids on our songs for the games. They said they need something danceable.” She narrows her eyes on Brooke. “That’s where you come in, prom queen.”

Brooke huffs. “It’s been a while.”

“You were prom queen?” Timothy asks.

“It’s been a while,” she says to him this time.

“Who was prom king?”

Without answering that, I grab her hand. As if right on cue, “Shut Up and Dance” blares across the speaker and I sing with it.

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