Posted at May 23, 2022 1:01 am
It’s release day for EDGE OF FRIENDSHIP – Book 2 in The MacBain’s series. But don’t worry, if you haven’t read book 1, this reads as a stand alone book!
Early readers are saying —
“5 phenomenal stars! The series gets better and better!”
“A thought provoking and touching story that will stay with this reader for a while.”
NOW AVAILABLE
Here’s the first scene –
CHAPTER ONE
Michael hung back from the crowd of people streaming into the Minnesota Twins stadium. It was noon on Friday. Maybe he should have stayed at the office or headed home. He didn’t want to be part of this group. He didn’t want to hear everyone laughing because he knew they would be laughing at him.
But both his therapist and AA sponsor had advised Michael against withdrawing.
Today was MacBain Enterprises’ family day at Target Field. Every employee and their loved ones wore Twins caps and golf shirts with the company logo. As CFO, he should know what this party was costing, but he’d been indisposed when Mom and Dad planned the event.
Indisposed. In treatment. Drying out. Fucked up.
Kate, his sister, slowed and waited for him on the sidewalk. “How’re you doing?”
He hated that question. At least one family member asked him that each day.
“I should be asking you that question.” Kate was pregnant. She hadn’t told him until he’d gotten through treatment.
She stroked her belly, even though she wasn’t showing. “We’re good.”
Alex, her fiancé, set his hand on her shoulder. “Should I see if there’s some kind of cart for you?”
Kate laughed. “I can walk.”
Alex sighed.
Michael looked away. It was hard to be around Kate and Alex. He couldn’t believe his career-minded sister had fallen in love so hard and fast. Just watching them made him miss Sarah. If life had been fair, she would be by his side today.
Kate hooked her arm through Michael’s and then Alex’s. “Come on.”
“I don’t know why Mom and Dad insisted the whole company attend the game,” Michael said.
“Because it’s good for morale.” Kate tugged him a little faster toward the queue of people at security having their bags checked. “It’s a beautiful day, and we want our employees to know how much MacBain appreciates them.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Sometimes he didn’t feel like part of the family company. Ever since he’d come back from Hazelton, he felt even more removed.
“Then how about this for a reason?” Kate stuck a bony elbow in his side. “Mom and Dad want to celebrate her oncologist’s clean report.”
“What? Why didn’t I know this?” Michael held out his ticket for scanning.
“Sucks to be you,” Kate whispered.
Alex raised one eyebrow. “I didn’t know either.”
At least he wasn’t the only person out of the loop.
They followed the MacBain group to the concierge level.
Dad and Mom flanked the steps into their section, greeting all the people. Everyone was smiling.
His mother looked—healthy, not like she’d just finished her cancer battle. Thank God.
He bent and hugged her. “How come I have to hear from Kate that you got a clean bill of health from your doctor?”
He tried to keep it light, but hurt seeped into his voice. Hell, weren’t there any privileges with being the firstborn?
“She was in my office when I got the call. I’d planned on giving an update either good or bad at dinner on Sunday.” Her hazel eyes, so like his, glittered in the sunlight. “Cat’s out of the bag.”
His dad joined them and gave him a one-armed hug. “Great news, isn’t it?”
“The best.”
“Have fun today, Michael.” Mom squeezed his arm, concern on her face. “Try and enjoy yourself.”
Fun? He couldn’t remember having much fun in the last four years. Not since Sarah found out she had inoperable brain cancer.
As he stood in the concourse, he swore everyone held a beer. His palms perspired, and a line of sweat slid down his back. He swallowed, almost able to taste the cold, hoppy brew.
“Michael, there you are.” Becca, his assistant, came up to him. “I’d like you meet my fiancé.”
Another woman who’d gotten engaged while he’d been away in treatment. “Congratulations.”
The guy stuck out his hand. “Dave Benthal.”
“Michael MacBain.” Michael shook his hand, trying to come up with small talk. “What do you do, Dave?”
Becca shifted her feet.
“I’m a liquor distributor.” He gave a crooked smile. “It’s a family business, like yours. Genetic luck, I’d guess you’d say.”
Becca’s eyes were almost as large as saucers.
Michael set a hand on her arm. “I’m not going to roll him and steal any booze he’s carrying.”
Dave frowned.
“I don’t … I wouldn’t …” Becca stuttered. Apparently his assistant hadn’t given away his secrets.
“I just got out of treatment, well, two months ago,” Michael said.
“Alcohol?” Dave asked.
Michael nodded, hating this. “I’ve been sober for thirteen weeks.”
“I’m sorry.” Dave swallowed. “Is it tough to talk about?”
“No,” he lied. “Today will be a test, being around other people drinking.”
A whiskey to steady his nerves might help him get through the afternoon. But he was done with that.
“Congratulations on your sobriety,” Dave said. “We’re in the business, but we’ve had our share of alcoholics. I’ve seen what you’re going through and I wish you luck. One day at a time.”
“Thanks.” More like one hour at a time. “You two have fun. Looks like the game’s about to start.”
“It’s so great that your parents decided to do this,” Becca said as she and Dave headed down the steps.
Becca was right. His parents were great. He moved down the stairs and found some empty seats, taking the one on the aisle and tugged his cap lower. He was like—oh what was that book called—Stranger in a Strange Land? He didn’t feel part of any of this.
A server stopped next to him. “What would you like to order? Everything’s on the MacBains today.”
He wanted a Jameson on the rocks. “Ginger ale.”
“You got it.” She entered the order in a handheld computer. “Let me know if you need anything else.” She flipped her blonde ponytail over her shoulder before moving to take another order.
“She’s cute.” His brother, Timothy, slid into the chair behind him.
“All yours.” No one could replace Sarah. “How come you’re late?”
“Stephen and I waited for the Moonlight Square inspector. The guy was two hours late.”
“That’s terrible.”
The Twins were taking the field, the Milwaukee Brewers at bat. A fierce rivalry existed between Wisconsin and Minnesota. Even now, he could see the stands had more than the average number of opposing team fan gear.
“We got the certificate of occupancy—finally.” Timothy clapped as the Twin’s pitcher threw the first strike.
Michael tried to remember what had hung the CO up. “You and Stephen convinced the inspector the fire exits were up to code?”
“The guy was jerking us around. We didn’t have any issues this time, and we didn’t change anything.”
The Brewer at the plate swung and missed. The crowd cheered.
“Is that seat taken?” Liz Carlson stood in the aisle pointing at the seat next to him.
Her company shirt was tucked into a pair of khaki shorts, and the ball cap stuck out of her purse. Michael gazed into familiar deep blue eyes, the most unusual eyes he’d ever seen. When she’d first joined MacBain, Kate had warned him and his brothers to stay away from her.
“Of course. Hi, Liz.” He slid his legs sideways and she squeezed past.
Once Liz settled next to him, she turned to Timothy and said, “I hear Moonlight Square is a go.”
“It is,” Timothy said.
“I just found out.” Michael frowned. “Why am I the last to get information?”
“Stephen called when he got the go ahead. I notified the signed tenants that they can finalize their move-in dates.” She nodded to him. “Now that we have an occupancy date, I’ll re-run the financial models.”
“Yeah, good.” Michael should be thinking of those things first. But it took so much energy.
While Liz and Timothy discussed the newly built strip mall he tuned them out, watching the crowd and the action on the field. That was another thing that had changed while he’d been gone. Liz wasn’t Kate’s assistant any more. She was now the leasing manager.
The company had gotten along fine without him. Probably better than when he’d stumbled around trying to figure out his place in the family dynasty.
His ginger ale arrived. Wonderful. Now everyone would wonder what he was drinking. As he set the cup in the holder, even his brother stared.
Liz glanced at him and ordered an iced tea.
“You don’t have to abstain because of me,” he whispered.
“It’s a little early for alcohol.”
Michael waved his hand at the group. “You’re about the only one.”
“I’m good.” She clapped as the pitcher threw a strike. In a low voice, she said, “If you need to talk to anyone, you can … talk to me. If you … need a friend.”
“Thanks,” he said. With her reluctance, it hadn’t sounded like she wanted to make the offer. “I appreciate that. Not many people know how to act around me right now.”
“I get that. I’ve … attended some co-dependency classes.” She tipped her head. “I know how hard this can be.”
“Thank you.” Exhaustion stopped him from asking why she’d been at classes.
How could she understand what he was going through? To never have another drink? That was why they talked about one day at time. Forever was exhausting.
By giving up drinking, he’d lost contact with Sarah. He’d never told anyone why he drank. Never told them about Sarah.
He pretended to focus on the game but felt out of sync. He hadn’t paid much attention to the Twins this season.
“Do you play sports?” Liz asked as the teams changed sides.
“Basketball. Football.” Or he had. His therapist had told him to get physically active. He just didn’t have much desire.
He did play pick-up b-ball games with the family. And he didn’t do that very well. Everyone hated having him on their team. Or they had when he was drinking. Maybe that was a bright spot in being sober. He wouldn’t be picked last anymore.
Liz had asked a question. He supposed he should reciprocate. “Do you play sports?”
“I wanted to dance, but farm life …” She paused. “I played basketball and ran cross country in high school and college.”
Because she wanted to talk, he asked, “Do you still run?”
“Treadmill. Elliptical when I can.” She smiled. “My neighborhood’s not the best to run in, so I use the company gym a few times a week.”
“Good. I’m glad people are using it.”
He didn’t ask the natural question—Where do you live? The noise of the game filled the silence between them. He’d depleted his daily conversation quota.
Timothy punched him in the shoulder. “You heard Mom’s good news, right?”
“When did you hear?” Michael half-turned in his chair.
“Just now.” When he leaned forward, Michael smelled the beer on his brother’s breath. He inhaled the scent.
“Is your mother okay?” Liz asked.
She’d turned toward them, bringing their three faces way too close.
“All clear from the doc.” Timothy pretended to wipe sweat from his brow.
“That’s wonderful!” Liz’s smile lit up her whole face.
“It’s great,” Michael agreed.
“I’m glad for your family and your mom.” Liz broke eye contact. “Will she spend more time at the office now?”
“Don’t know. Guess we’ll find out on Sunday.” Timothy clapped. “Double play. Go Twins!”
It went on like that. Short conversations during each inning. Timothy left, his brother, Stephen, took his seat. Michael went up and chatted with his family and some of his staff. They’d seen him at the office enough that they didn’t stare at him like he was dying.
But other employees avoided him like he had a fatal disease. Death by drunkenness. He went to the bathroom, and someone turned with a full beer in his hand and spilled it on his shirt.
“Fuck.”
“Sorry. Sorry.” The guy was half-lit.
Michael tried to wash out the spill, but the smell stuck with him. He couldn’t wear this all day. He headed for a shirt concession and bought a jersey. In the bathroom he changed and shoved his beer soaked shirt into the bag, rolling it down so he wouldn’t smell the appealing aroma of hops.
“You weren’t wearing a jersey when you left,” Liz said with a smile, a dimple at the corner of her mouth.
“Just my luck, an idiot spilled his beer on me.”
Liz faced him. “Your luck’s not too good today.”
Stephen poked him in the back. “You’re on the kiss-cam, man.”
“What?” Michael asked.
He glanced over Liz’s shoulder and their faces filled the video screen. The camera looked like it was eavesdropping on an intimate moment between him and Liz.
The MacBain section clapped and chanted, “Kiss, kiss, kiss.”
He raised his eyebrows.
She shrugged.
This was stupid.
They leaned in.
Their lips met.
In the background applause broke out through the stadium.
He put his arms around her and tipped her lower, playing up the drama.
She laughed and tapped his back.
He pulled her up and set her back in her seat.
Her eyes flashed open and she looked up at the screen and laughed.
On the screen another couple in their sixties were on camera.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled. His fingers were tangled in her hair. Her clip was half off. “I’m really sorry.”
She faced the field. “It’s fine. Just part of the … game atmosphere.”
She dug in her bag and retrieved a small brush. Then she pulled out her clip and ran the brush through her hair. Her fingers flew as she whipped her hair back into the claw.
Hair in place, she looked at him. Her apricot-flavored mouth creased into a smile.
“You two looked good up there.” Stephen’s knee nudged his back.
Michael ignored his brother and stared at the field as the players returned to the field. That was a mistake.
2 Comments
Posted at Apr 23, 2022 8:49 pm
There’s only two more days until MAID FOR SUCCESS launches. I thought I would give you a small teaser from the book.
Our heroine’s parents want her to learn more about the components of their business, from the ground level–by housecleaning. This guy may have the best coffee in town — but what a slob!
Click on the cover for buy links.
MAID FOR SUCCESS
The man was a pig. Kate threw another pile of laundry into the hamper. Didn’t he pick up after himself?
She stripped the sheets off his bed. He probably hadn’t changed the bed since Martha retired. She wished she’d kept the rubber gloves on.
The hamper overflowed as she carted it downstairs. He must work out a lot. Most of the dirty clothes were T-shirts and sweatpants. She pushed opened the laundry room door and snapped her head back. A foul odor wafted from the space, like something had died. God, what was it?
It had to be the smell she’d caught while in the kitchen.
Another pile of clothes overflowed the table next to the washer. That couldn’t be the source, could it?
One of her high school chores had been doing her family’s laundry. Her brothers’ sports clothes had been the worst, especially Stephen’s hockey uniforms, but never this bad. She gulped in a breath and the smell stung the back of her throat.
Rolling her eyes, she pulled her gloves back on and sorted his clothes. There must be a thousand athletic socks.
Family sock-matching Sunday nights had been the worst. She and her brothers had to finish before they could watch TV. Most of the socks had been her brothers, but she’d been forced to match too. Life as the only girl in the MacBain family had been unfair. Who in their right mind wanted kids?
Apparently Adamski liked silk boxers. Mostly black, very nice, but she ran across a series of holiday boxers. Santa Clauses, pumpkins, four-leaf clovers and hearts, numerous heart-covered boxers. Girlfriend?
At least she hadn’t found any women’s underwear. And she hadn’t found evidence of a woman living in the house. No clothes in the closet, no makeup in the bathroom. No condom wrappers in the garbage. Yuck.
With the clothes sorted, she opened the washer. “God!”
Kate jerked her head away, but not before her eyes watered from the stench. The lid slammed shut with a clang.
Shit. Had something died in there? She tried to breathe through her mouth, but the taste had the coffee she’d drunk threatening to come up.
Her brief glimpse into the depths of the washer had shown sheets, towels and moldy socks. Cringing, she backed out of the door and down the hallway into the kitchen.
This was the seventh level of hell!
Kate slapped her hands on the counter and pulled in deep breaths. The smell wouldn’t go away. Spores of death probably filled her nose. She would end up with consumption, coughing and weak in bed. Her family would cry by her bedside, sorry for the way they’d treated her. Sorry they hadn’t cherished the too few moments they’d had with her before she died.
“I want my office. My clean office. Where someone else removes the garbage and vacuums the floors.” She wanted to work at a job that mattered. “I hate this.”
She snatched her coffee mug off the counter and sniffed. Even the heady, rich aroma couldn’t clear away the stink.
What she wouldn’t give to pull the whole mess out of the washer, find where Adamski was hiding, and throw everything in his lap. If it had been her brothers’ mess, she would have done just that.
Grabbing a garbage bag and wishing she had a facemask, she returned to the laundry. With a deep breath, she rushed in.
Throwing open the washing machine’s lid, she frantically stuffed the contents of the machine into the bag. The fabric squished and slid through her gloved hands, covered with slime. Something green came up with the clothes. It looked like a piece of meat. She gagged.
Hurry. Hurry.
She leaned over and chased the last mildew-speckled sock around the inside of the machine. The smell. Oh God.
She stuffed the final sock in the bag and yanked the draw strings shut. She refused to breathe until she reached the kitchen.
Gasping, she rushed to the back door off the kitchen. Wrenching it open, she stuck her head out and drew in deep gulps of fresh cool air. Even with the bag closed, the stench escaped.
“What the hell?” Adamski’s deep voice made the door clutched in her fingers vibrate. “What is that smell?”
She gasped in fresh air again. Would she ever get rid of the taste in her mouth?
“What’s wrong?”
He was so close, her eardrums hurt from his shouting.
“I …”
“Sweet Jesus, what is that?”
Fingers bit into her arm. He pulled her into the room and the door closed.
She fought back with an elbow to his stomach. She needed fresh air. “Don’t!”
She shrugged him away and bumped open the door. She gulped in air laced with the scent of flowering trees.
“Did something die?” he asked.
“Your laundry.” She grabbed the bag and then heaved it onto the kitchen deck. She hoped the crawling mess didn’t eat its way out of the plastic bag and through the decking. Maybe the military needed to know about this possible new chemical weapon.
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