of them faux whispered loudly, “Look, his mom is teaching him!”
The group burst into juvenile laughter.
His face flushed with embarrassment, Wesley said, “I’m gonna go get some water.”
He jogged off the field and moped to the water fountain. Jessica gathered up their baseball gear, shot a dirty look at the group—who all quieted almost immediately—and started to haul everything toward the car.
On the way, she spotted Mayor Fletcher walking his dog. The friendly older man changed course slightly and came over to Jess. In his sixties and well-liked around town, he was one of Jess’s remaining regulars at the diner. His wife had recently put him on a diet, and he’d sworn to Jess that he would strictly be ordering from the healthiest options on the menu. But he still snuck a sweet treat in after lunch every once in a while. In fact, her baked goods were some of her best sellers lately and something she’d been experimenting with in her ever-growing free time.
“Hey, Jess,” Mayor Fletcher said. “How’s practice going?”
Jessica squinted over at Wes, who had finished dawdling at the water fountain and was now crouched down at the edge of the field, inspecting the toe of his baseball cleats.
“Truthfully, Mayor, not great,” she admitted. “Wesley’s team has a big game coming up soon. But he’s thinking of quitting baseball for good.”
The mayor said, “Well, maybe baseball’s just not Wesley’s sport.”
Jessica sighed. “What other sport is there in this town? Wesley’s dad gave him the baseball bug but not the training.”
He tutted sympathetically. “And how is Wesley’s dad? Davis is off in California, I hear.”
Jessica was practiced at not reacting to the mention of Davis’s name. It was a small town, and folks were notoriously cavalier about what was off-limits—personal business not being on the short list. Mayor Fletcher wasn’t the type to gossip, and Jess fought back the bitter urge to bad-mouth her irresponsible ex, knowing that the mayor was just making conversation.
She could do that, push down the anger—the anger and the pang of hurt that still surprised her whenever anyone mentioned Wes’s dad.
“That was last month,” she replied lightly. “Now his band’s in Nevada, I think.”
Fletcher shook his head. “I don’t know how you do it, Jess. Will we see you tonight at the Spring Fling planning committee?”
Shoot. She’d forgotten about the meeting. Jessica plastered on her best fake smile and said, “You bet, Mayor. I’ll be there.”
Fletcher gave her a warm squeeze on the shoulder and ambled off to finish his walk. Jess didn’t have the luxury of ambling. She hefted the heavy sports bag, balancing several bats in her arms while simultaneously whistling to get Wesley’s attention. Wes jogged up and took the bats from her too-full hands.
“We’ve got to go, bud. You ready?”
Wes nodded. She saw him glance at the kids behind them, who had resumed their game.
“Yeah,” he said. “Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Can we just practice at home from now on?”
Jessica’s heart broke a little. “We’ll see, bud. We’ll see.”
Thankfully, she and Wes made it home in good time. As Wes had gotten his homework finished, Jess even had time to whip up some darned good mac and cheese with bacon and peas—a favorite of Wes’s since he’d been small.
Wes had brushed his teeth and promised to get into his pajamas at bedtime and not fall asleep in his clothes, and he was currently watching television as Jessica studied herself in the mirror, applying her lip gloss in quick strokes. She called over her shoulder to Wesley and waited for him to appear before she nodded to the hangers dangling from the shower rod next to her.
“I can’t decide. Blue dress or black?” Brett was always as polished as new silver, and she didn’t want to appear frumpy next to him.
Wesley leaned in the doorway of the bathroom. “You’re going with Brett, right?”
Jessica said, “Yes.” Wes knew that. She wondered where he was going with this.
Wesley said, “Then orange.”
Jessica, confused, said, “Orange? But you said it makes me look like a pumpkin.”
Wesley smiled innocently and shrugged.
“Honey, stop! Brett’s a nice guy.” She looked thoughtfully over at her mischievous kid. “Come here.” Wes, after a moment of hesitation, shuffled toward her.
“You know I’m not trying to replace your dad, right? I would never do that.”
Wes’s gaze dropped down to the worn tile, and Jessica pulled him close to her. She kissed the top of his head, marveling at how she barely had to bend over these days to do it. He was growing up so fast. She gave him a big hug. He squeezed back. It had been tough on them in the years since Davis had split, but they always got through—together.
“I love you,” she said.
She retreated to get ready, choosing the black dress and fixing up her hair. Just as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed, there was a knock at the door.
As Jess hustled to the front door, she cautioned Wes. “Be nice. I’m off to the Spring Fling planning meeting.” She gave him a smile as she rattled off a final instruction. “Have fun with Bonnie while I’m gone.”
Jessica opened the door to see Brett, every dark hair in place, his clothes impeccable, standing on her stoop. Brett whipped a box of candy out from behind his back.
Jessica said, “Right on time, Brett. You’re never a minute early or a minute late.” Or very exciting from minute to minute. She brushed off the catty thought.
Brett shrugged nonchalantly, but his expression said that he took her comment as a compliment. “Hey, I’m like a clock. And I knew you’d still be getting ready, so I sat out front in my car for the last ten minutes. I didn’t want to mess with your routine.” He stepped inside and then looked at Wesley. “Wes, ya like magic?”
Jessica shifted uncomfortably. Wes had yet to warm up to Brett, no matter how hard—or awkwardly—Brett tried.
Wesley, none-too-enthusiastically, said, “Sure.”
Brett pulled three small cups and a ball from his pocket and arranged them on the entryway table, sliding them around, classic shell-game style.
“You think you know where the ball is, don’t you?” Brett asked.
Wesley didn’t look impressed, and he didn’t answer.
Brett prompted, “But do you? Presto!” Brett waved his hands dramatically over the set
