Page 4 of Love in Tandem
“Of course I remember. Sophia nearly dug up our parents’ entire backyard, convinced the funny shaped tree in his clue was our tree because of the giant knot that always reminded her of our great-uncle Benny’s nose.”
“Exactly. Well, the treasure part. I’m not familiar with your great-uncle Benny’s nose.”
“Let’s just say she wasn’t wrong. So what’s the special challenge this time?” Wait. She clasped her hands together as if in prayer. “Oh, please tell me it’s another pie-eating contest, like when he put in the sand volleyball courts. I came so close to winning that one, and I was only eight at the time. You know how much pie I could put down now that my job’s on the line?”
Ty pointed his finger at her. “Yes. See? That’s what I’m talking about. That’s the fire we need. The eye of the tiger.”
“Before you go into one of your Sylvester Stallone impressions, would you please just tell me what the challenge is? Is it pie?”
“Probably not pie. To be honest, Hopkins didn’t offer many details. He just said the challenge would be something physical and require a lot of time outdoors.” He gave her two thumbs up. “Right up your alley though, eh?”
Charlotte stared at him for a beat, then scooped up the box. He flinched as if she were going to fling it at his head. Which she probably would if she thought she could afford to lose any more instruments. “Skydiving into snake-infested jungles so some recluse lunatic who probably isn’t even dying can get a laugh watching me torture myself like I’m in one of those dreadful Saw movies is not up my alley.”
“That’s what you got from the words physical and time outdoors?”
“Out of my way.” Charlotte elbowed him in the gut on her way past. If she wasn’t in a hurry to meet her parents for half-price margaritas, she’d kick him in the shins for getting her hopes up.
“Wait,” he called after her. “Don’t you even want to hear what the prize is?”
Charlotte clipped down the hallway, tossing her words over her shoulder. “Why does it matter if I’m not going to do it? Besides, you know I hate competitions. Unless it involves pie. Maybe cheesecake,” she added under her breath.
“Twenty-five thousand dollars.”
Her feet stuttered. Paused. Slowly turned. “How much did you say?”
He dug his hands into his pockets, leaning forward with that secretive tone again. “You heard me. And you wouldn’t be competing with anyone. Hopkins said this time he’s only choosing one couple to participate. All they have to do is complete the challenge on time, and he’ll give them a prize of twenty-five thousand dollars. He said it should be enough to cover the cost of a nice wedding.”
“Hold on. Back up. Wedding? Couple?”
Ty cleared his throat. “Yeah, so apparently the whole point of this challenge—other than winning oodles of money—is to put some couple through better or worse and see how it affects their relationship. On a side note, you haven’t started dating anybody recently, have you? Because that would certainly make this backup plan a lot more feasible. If Krista and I weren’t leaving for vacation next week, I’d try entering us.”
Charlotte adjusted the box, half-wondering if she could hit him from this distance with the recorder. What was wrong with him? Nothing about this challenge should make anyone think of Charlotte Carter. Nothing.
“Look, Ty, I know you mean well—” truly the only reason she wasn’t throwing the recorder at him right now— “but I’m sure I can figure out ways to raise money for the music program that don’t involve dismembered limbs or death. Or being in a relationship.”
She resumed her march for the exit. “I’ll stick to the usual fundraisers, thank you. Maybe this year we can even do one of those kiss-the-pig contests. Which shade of lipstick do you prefer?”
“I’d buy tickets for that,” Mrs. Scott shouted from her second-grade classroom.
“Charlotte—” Ty’s voice snagged her a few steps from the door. “I don’t think fundraisers are going to keep you afloat this time. I think . . . I think you need to start considering other options.”
The weight of her box doubled. Other options? In a town the size of a guitar pick, how many options did he think she had when it came to teaching music and staying close to her family? There weren’t other options. Especially for a single gal nowhere close to being one half of a couple.
She adjusted her grip on the box. Bailey Springs, Illinois, might not seem like much to outsiders—or insiders if she was being honest. But Bailey Springs was her home. Her life. Her future. Why would she have this burning desire to get a music program running in this town if she wasn’t meant to see it through? Somehow, someway, she would make it happen. Take that, Benjamin Bryant.
Forcing a smile, she pressed her back against the door. “I get your concern, but I’m sure it’s going to be okay.”
“How can you say that?”
“Because sometimes you don’t need a giant budget. Sometimes you just need a little faith.” She shoved through the door and spun before Ty saw her smile falter. Before he saw that after years of struggling to catch a break in her hometown, her faith was beginning to develop more cracks and potholes than the school parking lot.
Especially when the voice of doubt grew louder in her ear. A voice that sounded an awful lot like Benjamin Bryant. Take that, Charlotte Carter.
Charlotte spotted her parents’ silver Dodge pickup in Mucho Mucho Queso’s parking lot. Hopefully, singing the chorus to George Michael’s “Faith” the entire four-minute ride over had erased all evidence of weeping and wailing the previous ten minutes. And if it hadn’t, she’d blame Nash’s basketball.
With a deep breath, Charlotte climbed out of her car, then double-checked her purse for the envelope she’d made sure to place there this morning. Today might officially go down on her calendar as the stupidest, most disappointing-est day of the year, but at least she could still make this a great day for her parents.
A lively song with Spanish lyrics and the warm scent of Mexican spices greeted Charlotte at the entrance. The owner, Nita, waved and pointed to where her parents were already seated in a booth beneath a painted canvas of a giant bull squaring off with a matador.
