“Oh, boy.” Caroline glanced at Will. “This is going to be hard.”

“Blackie is really nice,” Addie said. “But so is Brownie.”

Flick nodded. “We can’t choose.”

Shit, thought Caroline. Two dogs?

“We have to pick one,” she said. She, too, was completely torn. Both dogs were lovely and either one would make the kids happy.

“I have an idea,” Will said. He hunkered down and the chocolate lab mix scurried over, trying to climb his chest and lick his face. “I need a dog, too,” Will continued. “Suppose I take this one home and you guys take the other.”

“Yay!” Addie jumped in the air. “We can visit him, right?”

“Sure you can. Any time you want.”

“Will, that’s incredible,” Caroline said. She felt the sweetest sense of relief. “Are you sure?”

“It’s fine.” He rubbed the ecstatic dog behind the ears. “I’ve been wanting a dog for a long time. Sierra never did, though. So I figure there’s no reason to put it off any longer.”

Chapter 24

“Why’s it called ‘homecoming’ if we’re already home?” asked Flick, craning his neck to check out the scene.

“Everybody comes together to welcome back people who went to high school here.”

“Is Sierra coming back?”

The town always went all out for homecoming. Corsages of giant mums, a special performance with alumni band members, and of course the all-important homecoming court—king, queen, and courtiers. Sierra had been homecoming queen their senior year. She’d been paired with Bucky O’Malley, the head cheerleader, because he was the only one who came close to her in good looks. Caroline had never been a member of the court, but she’d made Sierra’s faux-ermine cloak for the halftime show.

“Sierra won’t be back this year. You’ve probably never gone to a homecoming game,” Caroline said. “It’s like a regular football game, only with lots more people.”

There was a rally in the parking lot of the stadium, crowded with people in letterman jackets and school colors. The smell of rain was heavy in the air, but everyone seemed to be ignoring it. Star of the Sea had a booth, and they stopped by for a snack—gourmet corn dogs and cookies with the Peninsula Mariners team logo. The sounds and smells stirred waves of nostalgia—the rivalries, the romances, the regrets. The ridiculously big dreams that too often came crashing down with the onset of adulthood. Caroline spotted people she hadn’t seen since high school, greeting several of them and garnering raised eyebrows of inquiry as they noticed her kids.

One of the inquisitive looks came from Zane Hardy, her onetime lab partner. He looked the same—cool glasses, shaggy hair parted on the side, skinny jeans, vintage tee layered under a buffalo plaid shirt. Only now he had a little boy in tow who looked so much like Zane it was almost comical. She smiled at him but kept going. Sometimes the best part of nostalgia was wondering what if . . .

She and the children found seats in the bleachers, and they were soon swept up in the excitement, stomping their feet as the alumni band blared an opening number and watching the cheerleaders in utter fascination. “Caroline, they do cartwheels almost as good as you,” Addie said.

Caroline gave her a hug. “Right, kiddo.”

With much fanfare, the players burst through the paper banner at the locker-room tunnel.

“I see Will!” Flick jumped up and down, pointing. “Hey, Will! Can we go say hi?”

“Not right now,” Caroline said, although privately, she had the same thought. It was great seeing him in his element, in charge of a team bent on winning. He was an energetic presence, talking earnestly to his assistant and players. After the kickoff, he seemed wound tight as a drum as he paced the sidelines, clipboard in hand. He was chewing gum, which caused his jaw to bulge rhythmically.

“. . . still dating half the town,” said a woman’s voice a couple of rows back.

Caroline whipped a glance behind her. She recognized Lanie Cannon, an attractive, available single mom. Lanie worked at the local grocery. Single women seemed to be everywhere these days. And they were all after Will Jensen.

“. . . should just ask him out.”

“I couldn’t.”

“Didn’t he help your older boy get into college last year?”

Caroline leaned back to eavesdrop.

“Totally,” said Lanie. “Beau got an athletic scholarship to UW thanks to Will. I won’t have to go to the poorhouse paying for tuition. A couple of years ago, I couldn’t afford Beau’s athletic fees, and someone mysteriously paid them. I think it was Will.”

Of course it was Will, Caroline thought.

“Well, there you have it. Tell him you want to make him dinner as a proper thank-you.”

“So obvious.”

“He’s a guy. You need to be obvious.”

“I wouldn’t mind if he was more obvious,” Lanie said. “I’ve heard he never goes past first base. Or maybe the first down, in football speak.”

“He’s the local coach. Probably trying to avoid gossip. Or—hey—waiting for the right girl to come along. Maybe you should—”

“Can I get a foam finger?” asked Addie, pointing to a concessionaire hawking swag.

Caroline tried ignoring her. One thing she’d learned about kids—they all liked everything for about five minutes. After that, the thing was forgotten and, worse, discarded and left for her to pick up. She couldn’t help mulling over what she’d heard the women discussing. And she couldn’t help thinking back to a secret she’d held enshrined in her heart for far too long—the night she’d lost herself, for only a single illicit moment, in Will Jensen’s arms.

“Can I?” Addie persisted. “Please?”

“No,” Caroline said. The overheard conversation had irritated her. “Finish your hot dog.”

“Aww . . .”

When the halftime show started, so did the rain. Umbrellas sprouted like mushrooms in the gloom. “Gear up, you guys,” Caroline said.

The kids pulled their rain flies out of the pockets of their popover jackets and put them on. Caroline donned a prototype of her latest design for C-Shell Rainwear—the stadium coat. Her seat cushion transformed into a lightweight raincoat in a cool print. She shook it out and put it on, and when she looked down at the field, she spotted Will looking directly at her.

Their gazes held for a moment; then he lifted his arm and beckoned her.

“Hey, is he waving at you?” asked the woman behind her. “I think he is!”

“Let’s go find Will,” Caroline said, taking Addie’s hand. “Watch your step.”

They were halfway down the narrow concrete steps when someone tapped Caroline on the shoulder. “Excuse me.” It was Lanie Cannon, brushing the rain from her eyes.

Good lord, was she looking for a catfight?

“Yes?” Caroline was not going to let her by.

“I was just noticing . . . Did you just turn your seat cushion into a raincoat?”

Oh.

“I did, actually,” said Caroline.