Page 19 of Home Sweet Home

“Not so fast. TheLA Timesare going to be here,” Rich interjected. “Interview first. Game plan second.”

“Whatever you say, boss. Eyes up.”

Evie looked up just in time to see something fly through the air. On instinct, she caught it, the clipboard landing in her hands with a thwack.

West winked. “Nice catch, Peach. Didn’t even flinch.”

CHAPTERSEVEN

When sign-ups started,Evie knew two things with absolute certainty.

One, the people of Creek Water did not share the supposed opinion of the masses that West had fallen from grace after taking steroids. They still looked at him with wide eyes and adoring smiles, as though he were a god walking among them.

Two, even though it wasn’t public knowledge, word had spread, and everyone in town most definitely knew West was coaching the Cougars. Evie wasn’t sure who had found out, but in Creek Water, all it took was one person for everyone to know.

That was the only explanation for the turnout—a winding line of boys stretched from the table near the fence to the parking lot, which was packed with what seemed like every car in the county. The league was sponsored by the county, no tryouts necessary, but given the turnout, Evie was worried they couldn’t accommodate everyone. But as the line moved, she realized most of it was made up of people who’d tagged along in the hopes of getting a moment with West.

“Hey, Freddy,” Evie said as Freddy Patecki stepped up to the table. His family came to Joe’s every Sunday after church, and the entire clan had showed up today. Freddy’s little brother was clutching a balled-up jersey to his chest like it was a precious jewel.

“So nice to meet you, Mr. Hawthorne,” Polly Patecki said as Evie helped Freddy fill out the sign-up sheet. Polly looked like she’d just come from the salon in Bend. Her hair was blown out so high, it defied gravity, and her cleavage strained against her V-neck shirt as she leaned forward. “Our Freddy’s an excellent pitcher.”

“We’re thrilled he’s gonna be working with you this summer,” Marvin Patecki said, and he either didn’t care about or notice the intense eye contact Polly was making with West. “Just thrilled.”

“Did you really date Miranda Ashley?” Freddy asked, a smirk pulling at his lips as he signed his name on the sheet.

There was a crack in Polly’s perfect white smile. “Freddy!”

“What? She’s hot.”

“Sorry about that, Mr. Hawthorne,” Polly said, draping her arm around Freddy’s. “Teenage boys.”

“Don’t worry about it.” West laughed, shaking his head. “Looking forward to seeing that arm, Freddy.” He turned to Freddy’s little brother. “Want me to sign that, buddy?”

As West crouched to sign the jersey, Evie heard a camera click, and she looked up to see a young woman with long red hair taking photos. Evie raised her hand to hide her face, but the woman only seemed interested in West.

“How’s that?” West patted Freddy’s brother on the back before standing back up to greet the rest of the line. Rich whispered something to West, so quietly Evie couldn’t hear, and West nodded and returned to the line without missing a beat.

After a while, they fell into a rhythm and moved the line along. Some people tried to linger at the table well after they’d filled out the sign-up sheet, but it generally only took a withering look from Evie to get them moving along.

“Like I said”—West bent down so his mouth was just an inch or so from Evie’s ear—“if anyone can keep people in line, it’s you.”

Evie’s face burned hot, and she wasn’t quite sure the afternoon sun was causing it. The best she could hope for was that no one had noticed, and she turned her attention back to where it should have been—her job manning the table. As the next boy’s father pushed him forward, Evie’s face lit up.

“Oliver,” Evie said with a smile.

Oliver’s glasses slid down his nose, and his belly stretched underneath his T-shirt. Beneath the cartoon on it were words written in some language she didn’t understand. Japanese, maybe. He had a rotating supply of these shirts, and once, she’d asked him where they were from. He’d told her, and it was some show she’d never heard of. “Been a while. You here to sign up?”

“That’s right,” Robert Martin said, his chest puffed out, his hands clamped down on Oliver’s shoulders, thick hairy fingers digging into his T-shirt. His grip looked uncomfortable and unnecessarily tight.

Evie ignored Robert and tried to catch Oliver’s eye, but Oliver’s attention was focused on the ground like there was something interesting buried in the dirt. “I didn’t know you played.”

Robert let out a short guffaw as he bent down to the sign-up sheet. “Oh, he doesn’t. But I don’t want him sitting on his fat ass all summer, playing video games.”

Robert tried to smile at Evie like they were in on some secret together, but Evie didn’t return his gaze, fury erupting inside her like a volcano at Robert’s words. Despite how close Josh and Oliver were, or used to be, Evie had done her best to avoid Robert Martin. The year before, he’d reshingled the roof of the diner, and for months each day Evie showed up at work, he was there hammering away, always greeting her with a crude joke. Once, he’d asked her out, despite the fact that he was at least twenty years older than her, and she’d pretended not to hear it.

“All set, Oliver.” Evie gave Oliver a smile as he wrinkled his nose, his glasses inching up the bridge. “We’ll send a practice schedule later. See you real soon, okay?”

“Nice to have you on the team, Oliver.” West clapped his hand on Oliver’s shoulder as he walked away.

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