Page 34 of Betting on the Bad Boy
Clutching the steering wheel,my knuckles were as white as the sheet of snow blowing over the road in front of me. What was I thinking, trying to get out on a day like today?
It seemed like a good idea at the time. I needed something to distract me from the spiral of despair that had taken over since I found that stupid piece of paper. For the past week, I'd racked my brain, trying to figure out how someone could have gotten access to that page. Thanksgiving break couldn’t have come at a better time. Most of the students had left campus for the holiday, and I didn’t feel so threatened.
Dante had been right about not finding another place in town to complete my volunteer hours for the month. Desperate to make my quota, I’d called the Hinkley Senior Center and committed to an afternoon of serving turkey to seniors. Mom and I had always volunteered at a soup kitchen or homeless shelter on Thanksgiving. We cooked and served others, then went home for a feast of our own.
I'd been on the road for three hours and had no idea how much farther I had to go. I glanced over just in time to catch a sign, half-covered in snow. Great, five more miles. I let out a giant sigh and tried to lighten up on my white-knuckled grip on the wheel. I’d be there soon.
Twenty minutes later, I pulled into the parking lot of the Hinkley Senior Center. Not too many brave souls out tonight.A handful of other cars occupied a few spaces in the lot. If I’d driven all this way for nothing, I was going to be pretty disappointed.
I trudged through the knee-high drifts to the front door and pushed it open. A gust of wind sent it crashing into the wall and blew me, and a good amount of snow, into the room.
My hands scrambled to push the wet, icy hair out of my face. The door slammed shut behind me, and I looked out onto about two dozen of Hinkley’s seniors, some of them frozen, forks in mid-air, in the middle of their Thanksgiving dinner. All conversation had come to a grinding halt. They stared at me, and I stared right back.
Movement in the kitchen caught my eye. Sailing through the swinging double doors, a red and white checkered apron tied around his waist, with his hands encased in oven mitts and carrying a giant pot, came Dante.
CHAPTER 19
Faith
“Here come more potatoes.”Dante stopped, set the pan down on the buffet, and squinted across the room. “Faith?”
Reassured I wasn’t some turkey thief out to steal their meal, the seniors resumed eating and talking. A smiling older woman joined Dante, and they came toward me together.
“Faith, what the hell—” He looked at the older woman. “I mean, what in the world are you doing here?”
“You said they needed volunteers. I called and checked and told them I’d be happy to help.”
“We sure didn’t think you’d show up with this storm. Come on, sugar, you must be colder than a well digger’s belt buckle. Let’s get you some cocoa.” The woman took me by the arm and propelled me toward the electric fireplace plugged into the wall. “Here you go. Sit a spell and let your toes thaw out.”
Someone pressed a warm mug of cocoa into my hands as I sat down at a long table by the fake fire.
Dante had followed us and walked around to face me. “You should have told me you were coming.”
“Are you going to introduce me to your lady friend?” the older woman asked.
Before I had the chance to turn that phrase over in my head, Dante put a hand to his brow and shook his head.
“Faith, I’d like to introduce you to my grandmother, Dolores Bishop.”
My eyes widened in surprise. “Your grandmother?”
“The one and only.” Dante wrapped his arm around the older woman’s shoulders.
“I’m his Meemaw. Now tell me, how do you two know each other?”
My face flushed, and it didn’t have anything to do with the heat from the fire.
“We, uh, we work on campus together,” Dante said.
A smile crinkled the corners of Meemaw’s eyes, and she patted my arm. “Dinner’s about done now, sugar, but we’ll fix you a plate and get something warm in your stomach.”
“I’m sorry it took me so long to get here. You don’t need to feed me. I came to helpyou.”
“Don’t you worry. There will be plenty to do.” Meemaw touched Dante’s arm. “Now go fix Faith and yourself a plate of food before Bugsy Divots eats all the potatoes.” She put a hand up to her mouth and confided to me in a loud whisper, “He’s got a thing for my taters.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Dante said.
“Dante will take good care of you, sugar. I’ll be back in a flash, just need to go check on the next batch of rolls.” Meemaw patted me on the shoulder then took off toward the kitchen.
