T. McClure - An Allegheny Homecoming

He brought the paper closer and peered at the faces. He still didn’t recognize anyone. He had been gone from home too long. He read the caption: Local Businesses Plan Holiday Party. Holly McAndrews, proprietor of The Wildflower. Now he remembered. She had been a few years ahead of him in school. Three years in a row she and her bay quarter horse had won the barrel racing contest at the county fair. He grinned at the sight of the pregnant belly. Didn’t look like she was doing any barrel racing these days.

Next to Holly was Megan. And next to Megan...he did a double take, before reading the caption beneath. Suzanna Campbell, proprietor of The Cookie Jar. He almost didn’t recognize his own mother. Her formerly bright yellow hair was more of a platinum blond, and she must have lost at least forty pounds. And she was using her maiden name. What was going on?

He took a deep breath and stared into the ashes of the old stone fireplace. He had stayed away, focusing on his own demons. Eight years as a medic, patching up his fellow soldiers, had done little to assuage his guilt about what had happened in Bear Meadows. He’d even finally gotten out of the military, hoping to find the answers elsewhere.

But the picture indicated something else was wrong. Was his mother sick? The weight loss... The white hair...

He was only half joking when he told Matt he didn’t want to be recognized. He had no desire to return to Bear Meadows, especially after his last visit. He had burned that bridge. What he wanted was to be left alone to sort out his thoughts. How did the last eight years figure into the direction of the rest of his life? How would he move on from the incident that kept him away from his hometown?

But something had happened at home. Maybe he wasn’t the only one having trouble figuring out what to do next. His parents had been married twenty-five years. Didn’t they know by now?

Apparently they didn’t. He had to get back to Pennsylvania.

But first he had a date with a plate of lasagna.

CHAPTER TWO

“NONFAT VANILLA LATTE. And make it a double.” She deserved it after the morning she’d had. Standing at The Wildflower counter, Wendy swiped her debit card and studied the woman behind the cash register. “Are you still working out? You don’t look like you’ve gained an ounce.”

Holly Hoffman McAndrews grinned as she pushed Wendy’s latte across the counter. The sweet scent of vanilla wafted from the ceramic cup. “I can do limited exercise. And I walk a lot.” She patted the round protrusion underneath the brown apron. “But I gave up riding horses for a while.” Her smile got wider as the bell jingled over the door. “It’s all his fault.”

“What are you blaming me for now?” Mac McAndrews, the chief of police and Holly’s husband, strode across the floor.

Wendy looked from one to the other. She may as well have been invisible.

She’d never spotted the love affair coming, what with Mac having a little girl from his first marriage and Holly thinking she wasn’t the maternal type. But somehow things had worked out for the couple and, two years after they laid eyes on each other, they were a happy family, with Mac’s seven-year-old daughter, Riley, and a baby on the way.

Wendy carried her cup to the low table in front of the picture window and settled into an overstuffed chair. Brown-and-yellow plaid, the colors of the local high school. Rather than go home to an empty house, Wendy had decided to research job opportunities on her laptop in the comfort of the cozy coffee shop. She would do the noon report from the bridge, with a couple shots of a still unfrozen creek, and then go home.

She sipped her latte as she waited for her laptop to connect. Ever since Holly had opened the coffee shop the previous year, Wendy had been a steady customer. She had watched Mac date a series of women, looking for the perfect partner for himself and mother for his daughter. He had even taken Wendy out to dinner, but they both knew before they finished their salads they were going in completely opposite directions.

Wendy watched the two former military members hold hands across the counter. Holly had been a great choice for Mac and vice versa. It just took them a while to figure that out.

Glancing down at the computer screen, she typed television news jobs in the search bar. How long would it take for her to figure things out? She couldn’t stay at WSHF past January. She had to find something else. A year was long enough to wait for an opportunity. She clicked on the first listing. Broadcast Technician, Shipboard, Worldwide. Get ready for an exciting life at sea!

She skimmed the job requirements—which she met—and then the long list of responsibilities. The any other job-related duties assigned moved her finger to the delete button. She pictured herself swabbing the deck with a smelly mop. She was reading about a TV Spot Producer in Burbank when the bell jingled over the door.

“Hello, all, what a nice day out there with the sun shining. And there’s our own weather girl to give me the latest weather report.” Mrs. Hershberger, first-grade teacher to half the town, beamed her a sunny smile as she closed the door.

Wendy bit the inside of her cheek and gave the teacher a tight grin. Two times in one day. First Walt, now the teacher. The funny thing was, she believed they thought they were paying her a compliment. Local girl makes good, and all.

“Hello, John.” The plump, recently retired teacher was one of the few in town, besides his mother and wife, to refer to the chief of police as John. Dropping her big purse onto the floor, she plopped into the chair opposite Wendy. “I’ll try one of your special lattes, Holly. The one with pumpkin.”

With a last glimpse at the Burbank job, Wendy clicked off the screen and shut her laptop. She would get no more work done with Mrs. Hershberger nearby. “Terrible storm coming in later this week, Mrs. Hershberger.”

“Oh, dear, I was hoping the snow would hold off until Christmas.” The sound of the steamer filled the shop.

“Six weeks?” Wendy glanced at the coffeepot clock over the counter. If she wanted to get the remote to Walt by noon, she had better get moving. “No such luck.” Her phone dinged with a message. A picture popped up on the screen. Central Park. View from Katie’s window! Having a great time! The message was from her father. The photo was taken from high above the park. Obviously, her sister had an expensive apartment. She had made the big time at twenty-five, as her father never ceased to remind her.

“Wendy?”

She looked up to find the teacher staring at her expectantly. “Did you say something?”

The woman’s gaze dropped briefly to the phone in Wendy’s hand.

Wendy slipped the phone into her briefcase. She would save her father’s exclamations of joy at being with his older daughter for later, when she had a full glass of red wine in one hand and a slice of pizza with everything but the kitchen sink on it in the other. Her mouth watered at the thought.

“I asked if Mark Murphy had done the long-range winter forecast yet.”

She shook her head, partly in answer and partly to dispel the pizza image. “He’s skiing in Vermont this week. The winter forecast is scheduled for next Monday’s six o’clock report.” Guilt over ignoring the older woman prompted her to stick with the conversation. “Are you enjoying retirement, Mrs. Hershberger?”

“I suppose.” The wide smile faded. She twisted a band around her left ring finger. A single diamond winked on each rotation. “I miss the kids, and my retirement check doesn’t seem to go as far as I thought it would, so I substitute when they need someone. That’s why I was hoping the bad weather would hold off. My little car doesn’t get around in the snow very well.”