Chasing Perfect (Fool's Gold #1)(38)

“The town,” Pia told him triumphantly. “I’ve done some checking on the costs and expectations and I know we can pull this off. We’ll move the entire bike race to Fool’s Gold. It’s a quiet weekend for us, so there are plenty of hotel rooms. I’ve already put a tentative hold on every empty room between here and Sacramento. Heads in beds. You know how we love that.”

Marsha studied him. He read the concern in her gaze and knew she was worried about him.

“The town can’t cover all the costs,” he began.

“I know, but I’m already talking to a few companies,” Pia told him, slapping a folder on his desk. “If they’ll cough up the prize money, we’re good to go. The rest of the work can be done by volunteers. You know how this town loves a good project. Especially when that project supports you.”

Here it comes, he thought grimly. “How does it support me?”

“It’s bike racing, Josh,” Pia told him. “Your thing. I was thinking we’d have a little parade and you can be the grand marshal. Then you can give the prizes at the finish. You know, the old guard, the new guard.”

Right. Because the highlight of his day would be handing out prize money to guys he used to race with. Guys who could still compete.

“Or you could even race,” she added with a wink. “Announce your comeback. It would mean a huge boost in publicity. The charity is for sick kids, Josh.”

“It always is.”

Marsha leaned toward Pia. “I think you’ve hit him with the highlights. Why don’t you give him a couple of days to think about all of this?”

“Okay, but we don’t have long. I would hate to see some other town snap up this opportunity.”

“That would be bad,” Josh said as Pia stood and left. He turned his attention to Marsha. “What do you think?”

“Pia’s a smart girl. This would be good for the town. Put us on the map.”

“I thought we already were.”

“It would bring a lot of attention to Fool’s Gold. Positive attention. Something other than a chapter in a thesis where the reality of who we are is reduced to statistics.”

He leaned back in his chair. “You want the race.”

Marsha studied him. “I want you to be comfortable with the decision we make. It’s a great opportunity, but there will be others.”

When he’d been a kid and his mother had dumped him in town and taken off, he’d been more alone and scared than any ten-year-old should be. Denise Hendrix had taken him in. Ethan had become his best friend. He’d been one of seven kids in a loud, happy, loving family. But there had been times when he’d never felt as if he truly fit in.

Whenever life at the Hendrix house had overwhelmed him, Marsha seemed to know. She would drop by during the late afternoon and take him out for dinner. In the quiet of a local restaurant, he felt comfortable talking about whatever was bothering him. She listened more than offered advice and most of the time, that was enough.

They’d never talked about what had happened during that last race. When he’d returned to Fool’s Gold, she’d told him that she was feeling old and frail and had insisted he spend the first week in her guest-room. He hadn’t been fooled. There was nothing frail about Marsha. She hadn’t wanted him to be alone and he’d been willing to pretend it was about her.

They’d never talked about Frank’s death or his fear, but he suspected she’d figured it all out. A theory she confirmed when she said, “You have a choice. Face the demons or keep running from them.”

“It’s not that easy.”

“Why not? Ethan was hurt and you moved on.”

“I felt guilty.” But she was right. He’d moved on. But that had been different. Ethan’s accident had been one of those things. Frank’s death seemed more like his fault. “There’s no way to face them without everyone knowing.”

“What do you think will happen if everyone finds out the truth about you?”

A thousand things he didn’t want to consider.

“You should trust us more,” she said, rising. “Trust those of us who love you. You’re more than your fame, Josh. You always have been.”

Maybe, but was he enough without it?

“Running hasn’t worked so far,” she said as she walked to the door. “Maybe it’s time for a new plan.”

ROBERT INVITED CHARITY over to his place for dinner. He promised a grilled steak and the best salads the corner deli had to offer. Charity hoped that if they could hang out together, talking without any pressure or her being able to see Josh across the restaurant, that she would become more interested in Robert.

His house was within walking distance of the hotel, hardly a surprise, in a quiet residential neighborhood on a golf course. The homes were mostly two stories tall with big windows and well-groomed front yards. Robert’s was no exception, although it looked a little newer and better kept than the others on the block.

“Hi,” she said when Robert opened the front door. “I brought wine.”

“Something I really like in a woman,” he said, taking her hand and drawing her in, then lightly kissing her cheek. “You look great.”

“Thanks.”

She’d worn a short denim skirt with high-heeled sandals and a pale peach silky wrap shirt. Another new purchase designed to show the world, and herself, that she wasn’t always conservative. Buying the clothes had started an interesting ripple effect. When she’d started paying attention to what she wore, she’d found herself thinking about things like highlights and pedicures. She had an appointment for the former next week and would find out if the salon had a nail person while she was there.