Dateline Matrimony

“Hey, Riley.” The city attorney approached him at the Friday night high school football game, an aggrieved look on his broad, mocha-toned face. “That wasn’t an entirely fair column you ran today. Just because the state Supreme Court overturned one of our city ordinances doesn’t mean I don’t know my job. I honestly thought it would hold up in court.”

“C’mon, Dwayne, every business owner in town has been insisting that ordinance was unconstitutional since the council drafted it almost two years ago. Just because you and the mayor persuaded one lower court judge—a golfing buddy of the mayor’s, no less—to uphold it didn’t make it legal. As the state Supreme Court justices told you quite succinctly, by the way.”

Dwayne’s scowl deepened. “Now that’s just what I was talking about. You can’t accuse a judge of being influenced by a longtime acquaintance with the mayor.”

“Sure I can. Especially when it’s true.”

“Damn it, Riley—”

“Careful, Dwayne.” Riley skillfully sidestepped a mob of kids dashing recklessly toward the concession stand behind them. “There are innocent ears listening.”

He moved on before the mayor’s most devoted minion could get further wound up. Dwayne would get over this offense—until the next time Riley took aim at the local political scene.

“Riley!” A towheaded kid in fashionably oversize clothes skidded to a stop in front of him. A slightly smaller, more feminine figure tagged at the boy’s heels. “Hi. Remember us?”

“Mark,” Riley said, identifying the boy he’d met in the park a few days earlier. “And Maggie,” he added with a smile for the little girl. “Nice to see you again.”

“We’re going to get drinks and popcorn.” Almost shouting to be heard over the noise surrounding them, Mark waved a five-dollar bill in one hand as he pointed toward the nearby concession stand with the other. “Mom’s saving our seats. She said we have to stay close together, hurry back and don’t talk to anyone.”

“You’re talking to me.” Riley couldn’t help pointing it out.

“Well, yeah, but that’s different,” Mark replied with his usual airy disregard for details. “We know you.”

“Still, you’d better buy your snacks and get back to your mom before she starts to worry. I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Okay. See you, Riley.”

“See you, Riley,” Maggie echoed, staying close to her brother as they joined the shortest line at the crowded booth.

Nodding toward the uniformed officer stationed by the concession stand, one of several on duty in the generally problem-free high school stadium, Riley moved toward the bleachers. It was almost time for kickoff. He wasn’t officially covering the game tonight—a high school senior with dreams of becoming a sportswriter had requested that privilege this evening—but Riley liked football and was a loyal supporter of the Edstown Eagles. He rarely missed a home game, even when he wasn’t being paid to attend.

The crowd was already pumped up and ready for the action to begin. The band played—loudly if not flawlessly—and maroon-and-gold clad cheerleaders and pom-pom girls bounced and chanted. An announcer’s voice boomed from scratchy speakers. The smells of fresh popcorn, hot dogs, nachos, coffee and hot chocolate wafted through the cool air. Young kids who couldn’t care less about football played tag on the grassy hill beside the bleachers, and groups of teenagers strutted and giggled while trying to impress the opposite gender.

Some things, he thought, never changed.

Nodding greetings to people he knew, he spotted an empty stretch of bench with a good view of the field. Climbing over a few outstretched legs, he claimed a spot, settling carefully onto the chilly aluminum seat. He glanced idly left, froze for a moment, then slowly smiled.

The woman sitting only a few feet away hadn’t noticed him yet. Her attention was focused on the cheerleaders, who were doing an intricately choreographed dance routine on the sidelines while the band members played enthusiastic accompaniment.

She seemed to be alone in the noisy crowd. Riley had every intention of changing that. He moved closer to her, waiting for her to recognize him.

Pulling her attention away from the field, Teresa glanced at her watch, then craned her head to look toward the concession stand as if looking for someone. Maybe she wasn’t alone. Maybe her date was getting drinks or something. Riley frowned.

And then she spotted him. Her eyebrows lifted in surprise at finding him sitting only a few feet away. He quickly turned his frown into a smile. “Hi.”

“Hello.” She could have been greeting a total stranger even though he knew that she’d recognized him.

She looked very pretty this evening, he mused. The thin red jacket, snug white pullover and faded jeans she wore were flattering to her—but then, most things would be. “So you’re a football fan?”

She shrugged. “I like football, though I prefer watching basketball.”

“Really? I like them both. But then, I like most sports.”

She glanced over her shoulder again and murmured something he didn’t quite catch because of the noise level around them.

He raised his voice a little, making sure she heard him. “Are you waiting for someone to join you?”

Still looking toward the concession stand, she replied, “Yes, as a matter of fact, I am.”

So that was why she hadn’t accepted any of his invitations. She was seeing someone else. He could deal with that, he supposed. But it didn’t mean he had to like it. He’d rather fancied the prospect of getting to know Teresa Scott much better. They could have had a great time—for a while. But they could still be casual friends. He had quite a few of those. “Anyone I know?” he asked, following her glance.

“No. Actually, I—”

“Hey, Riley. Want some popcorn?” Young Mark seemed to appear out of nowhere, stopping in front of Riley and holding out a fragrant, overfilled box of popcorn.

“I didn’t want popcorn. I got candy.” Maggie leaned companionably against Riley’s knee, gazing at him with a slightly flirtatious smile. “You want an M & M, Riley? You can have a blue one—they’re the prettiest.”

“Thanks, Maggie. You, too, Mark. But I’m not really hungry right now. Um—hadn’t you two better get to your seats? The game will start any minute.” He assumed they’d seen him sitting there and had impulsively come over to share their treats with him. Apparently, these two had decided he was their pal—which was all very well, but he doubted their folks would approve of them joining him without permission.

Rather than moving on, Mark settled onto the bench between Riley and Teresa. “I’m going to sit here.”

“But I want to sit by Riley,” Maggie protested.

Wondering where their parents were, Riley glanced at Teresa. She looked thoroughly startled, he thought. He couldn’t blame her, of course. She probably hadn’t expected him to be descended on by a couple of chatty kids.

“How on earth?” she began, only to be interrupted by Mark, who informed his sister that he had already claimed the spot by Riley.

“But I want to sit there!” Maggie glared at her brother, then at Teresa. “Mommy, make him move over.”

While Riley tried to decide if he’d heard Maggie correctly, Mark scooted defiantly closer, leaving no room for his sister. “You sit by Mom,” he insisted. “The guys can sit together, can’t we, Riley?”

“That’s not fair. Mommy!”

Her eyes still locked on Riley’s face, Teresa murmured absently, “Mark. Maggie. That’s enough.”

“You mean you’re—” Riley began.

“How did you—” Teresa started to say at the same time. Each fell silent to allow the other to speak.

Maggie settled the argument with her brother by climbing onto Riley’s knee and snuggling against his chest. “Will you open my candy for me?” she asked, holding the package up to him.

Either Riley had recently developed an irresistible magnetism for children, or these were the friendliest two kids he’d ever encountered. He was pretty sure that the last time he’d had an eight-year-old girl in his lap he’d been the same age. Debbie Glover had plopped herself down on his knee and tried to kiss him.

This scene was almost as disturbing.

Teresa tried again to speak over the pandemonium. “Riley, when did you meet my—”

“Please rise for the national anthem,” the announcer’s voice boomed from overhead.

“Stand up, Mom,” Mark urged, leaping to his feet.

Riley set Maggie on the bench beside him when he stood, keeping a hand on her shoulder to steady her. Teresa leaned closer to Riley as the band launched into the anthem and the crowd surrounding them began to sing. “Where did you meet my kids?”

“At the park the other day. But I didn’t know they were yours. I didn’t even know you had kids.”

“Shh,” Maggie whispered loudly. “You’re not s’posed to talk during the anthem. My teacher says it’s disrespectful.”

Properly chastised, Riley and Teresa fell silent, though they continued to give each other searching looks. Riley was trying to figure out how he could have known Teresa for almost a month without finding out she had two children.

With gossip such a popular pastime in this typical small town, he generally heard everything about everyone eventually. But then, Teresa was new in town and didn’t seem to have gotten involved in the community yet. With the exception of finding her on the side of a road with a flat tire, he’d never seen her anywhere other than the Rainbow Café.

So why hadn’t Marjorie told him about the children? All she had told Riley was that Teresa had met her younger daughter, Serena, in college and had come to her recently looking for a job. Marjorie had teased Riley about his obvious attraction to Teresa—without once mentioning that he’d been flirting with the mother of two. He couldn’t help wondering if that omission had been intentional. Marjorie knew him well enough to be aware of his policy against dating anyone with kids.

He’d been aware, of course, that Marjorie had been not so subtly nudging him toward asking Teresa out. Marjorie was a compulsive matchmaker, and he knew she’d never completely given up on fixing him up with someone despite his repeated admonitions to her that he wasn’t the marrying kind. But he’d never realized that dear, softhearted, well-intentioned lady could be downright devious.

The crowd remained on their feet as the two teams charged onto the field and held the kickoff. The Eagles were the receivers, taking the ball on their own twenty-five-yard line. Only then did Riley sit down. Maggie plopped onto his knee almost before he was fully settled. “I can see better here,” she announced, then popped a handful of candies in her mouth.

“Maggie, Mr. O’Neal wants to watch the game,” Teresa said, looking flustered. “Come sit on my lap.”

“I can see better here.” It seemed inconceivable to the little girl that her presence would not be desired anywhere.

“But—”

“She’s okay, Teresa.” Riley cut in. “I’ll send her to you if my leg goes to sleep.”

Her expression was a mixture of apology and bemusement. Apparently she was still having trouble understanding how Riley and her children had become so chummy.

He was having a little trouble figuring that out himself.

Mark wasn’t content to be ignored for long. He tapped Riley’s arm and pointed toward the field. “Why did the judges throw down those yellow flags? Who did something wrong?”

“They’re called referees,” Riley answered. “And the other team just got a fifteen-yard penalty because one of their players grabbed our receiver’s face mask to pull him down. It’s a stupid mistake—especially this early in the game—and a major violation because it could cause serious injuries. Our team is fifteen yards closer to a touchdown.”

“Now what are they doing?”

Riley patiently answered Mark’s questions and Maggie’s ramblings throughout the first quarter. It was very difficult, he discovered, to concentrate on the game with two kids competing for his attention. There was little chance to talk with Teresa, and he would certainly have felt awkward flirting with her in front of her children, anyway.

He was aware that he was drawing quite a bit of attention from the spectators around them. He had no doubt the word would soon be all over town that he’d attended a football game with Teresa Scott and her two kids. Wouldn’t that cause avid speculation?

He lasted until halftime. Maggie had fallen asleep by then—and so had Riley’s left arm. Growing bored with football, Mark had pulled a Gameboy out of his mother’s purse and was industriously pursuing Pokémon.

“I think I’d better head for the press box now,” Riley said, standing to deposit Maggie into her mother’s arms. “I promised to check in with our high school sports reporter to see if he needs any help.”

Which was at least partially true. Riley had told the young man he would read over the copy—but not necessarily during the game.

“Are you coming back? Can I come with you?” Mark asked eagerly.

Teresa interceded before Riley had to come up with a reply. “No,” she said firmly. “I think it’s time for us to go.”

“Go? But the game isn’t over,” the boy protested.

“Your sister is tired. Our team is ahead by three touchdowns. And you haven’t been watching the game, anyway.”

“Yes, I was.” Mark hastily hid the Gameboy behind his back.

“We’re leaving, Mark. End of discussion,” she added as he opened his mouth to continue the argument.

Riley noticed that the boy subsided immediately. There was no doubt who had the final say in that household.

After taking his leave of them, Riley headed for the press box in a pensive mood. He was stopped a couple of times by acquaintances who teased him about trying to get closer to the pretty waitress by being nice to her kids. Someone else asked him if he fancied himself in the role of step-daddy.

A sweet-faced matron, who was almost as avid a matchmaker as Marjorie and twice the gossip, patted his arm and told him how natural he’d looked holding a sleeping child. “I always thought you’d be a good father,” she added.

Riley made a hasty escape, then changed his course from the press box to the parking lot. The Eagles could carry on without him to cheer them, he decided.

He needed some time alone.

Long after the kids were sleeping in their beds, Teresa sat staring blindly at the flickering television in the living room of the small house she’d been renting since she’d moved to Edstown. She kept remembering the expression on Riley’s face when he’d left her at halftime—bolted, actually. It was a look she’d seen on the faces of other men during the past four and a half years—nearly every time they learned that she was the single mom of two preadolescents.

Something about her appearance obviously gave men the wrong impression about her. She usually kept her hair pulled off her face, wore a minimum of makeup and selected her clothes for comfort and practicality rather than sex appeal—but still men looked at her and saw a slender, blue-eyed blonde rather than a busy mother of two. Once they found out—well, they saw her differently then.

Riley O’Neal, of course, was no exception. Nor had she expected him to be.

She was still reeling from the shock of having her children greet Riley by name and then proceed to climb all over him as if they were longtime friends. Granted, her kids were gregarious—too much so at times. And she knew they were aware of the absence of a man in their lives—especially Mark. But couldn’t they tell when someone wasn’t entirely comfortable with children?

She’d asked Mark on the way home why he’d never mentioned meeting Riley at the park. Looking rather guilty, he’d replied that he hadn’t wanted to get in trouble for talking to strangers again—even though, he had added with a touch of defiance, Riley was a very nice stranger and not a bad one. She hadn’t had the energy to get into another circular discussion with him just then; she would start again on her precautionary lessons tomorrow.

Poor Riley had looked as though he hadn’t a clue what to do when Maggie had crawled into his lap. Teresa had tried to rescue him, but he’d politely allowed Maggie to stay—even though he’d acted as if he were afraid she might grow a second head or something equally bizarre.

He couldn’t seem to get away from them fast enough at halftime. Teresa supposed she couldn’t blame him for that.

It had only been chance that she’d been at the football game with her kids. Mark had heard about the game from some of his friends at school, and he’d asked to go. Because she thought it might be a way to get more involved in the community—a little at a time—and because it was a fairly inexpensive form of family entertainment, she had agreed. She’d certainly never expected to end up sitting next to Riley.

At least one thing had been accomplished tonight, she mused. The man who had told his friend that he wanted nothing to do with children had discovered that Teresa came with two of them. That would probably put an end to him asking her out. Maybe he would even find a new place to have breakfast for a while.

It wasn’t as if she’d expected anything to develop between them—or even wanted it to—but she would miss his flirting. A little. It had been amusing and maybe a little flattering. But she had other things to concentrate on, she thought, glancing at the apologetically worded eviction notice lying on her coffee table. This little rent house had been sold, and the new owners wanted to move in as soon as possible.

Teresa’s first order of business was to find a new place for her and her children to live. She would talk to Marjorie at work in the morning. If there was anyone who knew everything about this town, it was Marjorie Schaffer.

“It’s so nice of you to come with me to look at your friend’s place,” Teresa said to Marjorie Saturday afternoon. They had left the diner, which was open for breakfast and lunch six days a week, and were headed for a nearby neighborhood in which a friend of Marjorie’s had a duplex apartment for rent.

Teresa didn’t work Saturdays, and she had been able to hire Jenny to baby-sit for a few hours that afternoon to give her a chance to do some apartment hunting. At Marjorie’s suggestion, they’d met at the diner at closing time, leaving Marjorie’s car there.

Teresa couldn’t believe this had all happened so quickly. She’d merely mentioned to Marjorie on the phone that morning that she needed to find a place to rent. Within a few minutes, Marjorie called Teresa back with the news that she’d made arrangements for Teresa to look at her friend’s place.

Looking rather smug that she’d set things into motion so quickly, Marjorie replied, “You’re welcome, dear. I hope you like the duplex my friend owns.”

Teresa braked for a red light. “I’m sure I will, if you recommend it. You’ve never guided me wrong before.”

Marjorie cleared her throat. Teresa might have sworn the older woman looked vaguely guilty—but the light changed before she could ask if anything was wrong.

“Take the next left,” Marjorie advised. “It’s the last house on the right in the cul-de-sac.”

“This is a good location,” Teresa mused, admiring the neat lawns of the small houses and duplexes on the street. “Close to the diner and the school, not too much traffic, and the rent you quoted is certainly reasonable. There must be something wrong with the apartment.”

“Nothing at all,” Marjorie answered a little too quickly. “It’s very nice. Small, of course, but big enough to suit your needs for now.”

Following Marjorie’s instructions, Teresa turned into the second driveway in front of the red brick duplex. She took a moment to study the place, approving of what she saw. Two stories. White shutters at the windows. Matching front doors with small covered stoops. Fenced yards with tidy if minimal landscaping. Marjorie explained that a fence divided the backyards, and that each unit featured a small patio.

It looked ideal. Ever the skeptic, Teresa couldn’t help worrying that there would be some major drawback. Maybe it was all facade and the inside was a dump. Or maybe, she thought when the landlord opened the door in response to their knock, the problem wasn’t with the house—but with its owner.

It appeared that this duplex belonged to Riley O’Neal.

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