behind them and move on with their lives, though of course it had been difficult for her mother.
That life could be hard and often unfair was something Nic had learned a long time ago. She had decided to concentrate as much as possible on the positives, a philosophy she knew she shared with Joel. So why did his old friends seem determined to focus on his tragedies rather than his accomplishments? Or was that situation mostly in his own imagination?
She supposed she would be finding out soon enough. They would be meeting his old classmates in less than three hours. Swallowing hard, she looked away from the photograph of beautiful Heather Brannon and followed Joel into the guest room.
“Joel told us you’re a police officer, Nicole. That must be a challenging career for a petite young woman like yourself.”
It was one of the first comments orthodontist Lou Brannon made after being introduced to Nic. She recognized his tone. He was one of those people who was equally fascinated and dismayed by her career choice. His only knowledge of the job probably came from television and crime novels, and he couldn’t imagine why anyone, especially a woman, would want to spend every day pursuing criminals and other lowlife.
“I enjoy it,” she said, as she always did to such comments. “And it pays my bills.”
They were standing in the den, chatting for a few minutes with Lou and Elaine before Joel and Nic had to leave for the pregame gathering of his classmates.
“It’s such a dangerous and unsavory job,” Elaine fretted. “I can’t imagine why any young woman would want to do it.”
An awkward moment of silence followed that comment. Nic finally responded with a simple, “I like it.”
“And she does it very well,” Joel said in an attempt to smooth over the slight tension his mother’s remarks had left between them. “She’s received several commendations just in the relatively short time she’s been on the force.”
Being no more comfortable with Joel’s compliments than his mother’s criticisms, Nic abruptly changed the subject. “What time are we supposed to leave for the reception?”
He checked his watch. “Pretty soon. We’re meeting at Chucky’s Bar and Grill at six for drinks before the seven-thirty kickoff. Chucky’s is less than a mile from the football field, so everyone’s going to caravan over after drinks.”
“How many were in your class?”
“Just under a hundred. Not exactly a big school, so we all pretty much knew each other.”
Elaine smiled mistily—something which must have taken quite a bit of practice, Nic decided with a dose of cynicism. “Joel and Heather were so popular and outgoing that their classmates all knew them and loved them. Especially Heather. I don’t believe she ever said an unkind word about anyone in her entire life.”
Nic could hardly make the same claim. She pushed her hands into the pockets of the black twill slacks she wore with a black-and-purple color-block turtleneck sweater and waited silently for Joel to announce that it was time to leave. She was greatly relieved when he did so almost immediately.
“Sorry about my mother,” Joel said as he guided his father’s borrowed car away from his parents’ home. “Sometimes she speaks without really thinking about how it sounds.”
“Your mother has been perfectly nice to me,” Nic assured him blandly.
He shot a skeptical glance her way. “I saw the way you looked when she talked about your job. You were biting your tongue until it almost bled when she said she couldn’t imagine why you’d want to do it.”
“Why any ‘young woman’ would want to do it,” Nic corrected him, giving up the pretense that it hadn’t bothered her. “Insert well-bred in front of young, of course, because that’s what she really meant.”
“Mom’s just kind of traditional, that’s all. She’s modern enough to defend your right to pursue any career you want and your capability to perform the job well—but she’s old-fashioned enough to think of being a cop as a man’s work. She would probably have reacted the same way if you’d said you were a firefighter.”
Gazing out the side window at the small-town scenery passing by, Nic twisted her fingers in her lap. “You said your wife went to graduate school. What did she do?”
“She earned a Ph.D. in psychology. She was a family counselor.”
“I suppose your mother approved of that career for a woman.”
“You really did take offense, didn’t you? I’m sorry, Nic, but I hope you don’t believe she meant to insult you.”
Nic shook her head and forced a smile. “Forget it. I wasn’t really offended. It isn’t the first time anyone’s suggested I was crazy for wanting to be a cop.”
Which was the truth, of course. Her own parents hadn’t exactly cheered when she’d announced her intention to enter the police academy. Her overprotective big brother had been even less enthusiastic, worrying aloud that her small size would put her at risk.
She had long since convinced her family that she was doing exactly what she wanted to do—and doing it well. Other people had mocked or criticized her job, and she rarely took offense. So why had it been different with Joel’s parents?
“My mom doesn’t think you’re crazy, okay? She just doesn’t know you yet.”
And wasn’t sure she wanted to, Nic added silently. Elaine had obviously been trying to decide just how far Joel’s friendship with Nic went. And she hadn’t been at all certain she wanted her son the doctor to be involved with a cop.
It was clear that Nic and Joel were going to have to remind his family, especially his mother, that they were only friends.
Chucky’s Bar and Grill might have sounded like a dark, smoky dive, but the place was well lit, decorated in cheery, bright colors and openly welcoming when Joel escorted Nic inside. Country music played in the background, almost drowned out by the sounds of laughter and conversation, and beer foamed in thick glass mugs being distributed by black-aproned waitresses of assorted ages.
Approximately forty people had gathered for the reunion, mostly in their early thirties, of course. Nic saw at once that this was no highbrow country-club crowd, for the most part, at least. Most of them looked working-class, a few sporting the mullets and tattoos one might expect in a small Southern town. Almost everyone wore red, an observation that made her realize abruptly that Joel wore a bright red long-sleeve polo shirt with khaki slacks.
“Let me guess,” she said. “Your team color was red.”
“Red and white.” He shrugged a bit sheepishly. “I suppose I forgot to mention it. It’s just habit for me to stick on a red shirt when I watch the Cardinals play.”
“The Danston Cardinals?”
He grinned. “The lifeblood of this town. Danston’s social and cultural life revolves around the school—athletics, music, drama, dances. And tonight’s game is against our archrival, another small town that feels exactly the same way about their team, the Penderville Pirates.”
Nic could certainly understand a
