Until We Touch. Susan MalleryЧитать онлайн книгу.
felt himself tense. He consciously relaxed and waited for her to continue.
“With the organ transplants,” she added.
Because that was his cause, he thought. Being a star with the NFL came with plenty of perks and some obligations. One was the expectation that he would take on a cause. Finding his had been easy and over his career he’d often spoken out about the importance of organ donation and transplants.
“I’m happy to help where I can,” he said easily, knowing it was true. Larissa handled the logistics and he showed up every now and then. She was able to serve a cause, which she loved, and he got to pretend he was involved. A situation that worked for both of them.
“The family connection must make it even more meaningful,” the mayor said.
Jack had known that was coming so he was able to nod. “Of course.”
“You lost a brother,” the mayor said. “Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“A twin?”
“Yes.”
An identical twin, Jack added silently. Only somewhere in utero, Lucas’s heart hadn’t formed right. Cells had misstepped or stopped dividing or something. The doctors had never been able to explain it well enough for him to understand. Or maybe they just didn’t know, he thought grimly. So one brother had been born perfectly healthy and the other...hadn’t.
Jack didn’t want to go there. He didn’t want to remember what it was like to grow up always worrying about his twin. He didn’t want to feel the guilt that came with being the one who never got sick, never felt weak, never wondered if he was going to make it to his fifth birthday or his tenth.
Jack knew where this was going now. Mayor Marsha wanted his help. Or more specifically, the money his presence would bring. She knew a family who needed help paying for surgery or finding temporary housing while their child went through a grueling but lifesaving surgery.
Easy as pie, he thought. Or in his case, as easy as telling Larissa what needed to be done.
“Who’s the family?” he asked.
The older woman smiled. “Oh, I don’t need your help with a transplant patient, Jack. It’s something else entirely. Are you aware that we have a four-year college here in town?”
The change in topic surprised him. “Uh, sure. UC Fool’s Gold.”
“Cal U Fool’s Gold, actually, but yes. They have an excellent academic reputation and they’re doing some work with UC Davis to expand the enology department.”
“The what?”
“The study of wine. Our vineyards are doing very well here and we’re starting to be known as a small but prestigious region. We’re petitioning the Alcohol and Tobacco Tax and Trade Bureau to make Fool’s Gold an AVA.” She paused. “American Viticulture Area. For example, the Napa Valley is an AVA here in California. There’s also Red Mountain in Washington State. We want a Fool’s Gold AVA.”
“Okay,” Jack said slowly. “I don’t know anything about growing wine or AVAs.” Although he did enjoy a nice merlot.
“Of course you don’t,” Mayor Marsha told him. “I invited you here to discuss football.”
Jack’s head hurt from the lightning fast change in topics. The old girl sure knew how to keep a guy confused.
“You want help with your fantasy team?” he asked cautiously.
The mayor laughed. “No, but thank you for that offer. My problem is more real world than that. Cal U Fool’s Gold needs a new football coach. Well, more than that. The school needs a whole program.”
Coaching? A program? “Not my area of expertise. The athletic director handles that sort of thing, in conjunction with the chancellor and the president of the college. There are also headhunters who specialize in finding coaches.”
“All of which is being explored. However, there is a citizen advisory position on the search committee. That’s where you come in, Jack. I want you to be our citizen adviser. You’re an experienced player, you know what makes a good coach and knowing you’re helping will inspire the group. You are uniquely qualified for this. You’ve made Fool’s Gold your home. I hope you’ll be willing to give back to the community that has taken you in and made you feel welcome.”
He grinned. “You’re not even subtle with the guilt,” he said.
“I don’t see any point. We both know you’re going to agree. Sooner rather than later suits me best, but if you need to be persuaded, I can do that, too.”
“Somehow I know that would involve Taryn.”
“She is only one of many options I have at my disposal.”
“I appreciate the honesty.”
She smiled, but didn’t speak.
Jack shook his head and knew there was no point in avoiding the inevitable. “I’m sure you have better things to do with your day than manipulate me. Sure, I’ll serve on your committee. Give them my contact information.”
Mayor Marsha rose and held out her hand. “I already have. Thank you, Jack. I appreciate your volunteering.”
He shook hands with her. “You’re a scary broad, you know that, right?”
Her smile turned mischievous. “I count on it.”
* * *
LARISSA DIDN’T LIKE feeling unsettled. It wasn’t her way. When there was a problem, she dived in headfirst. If something needed saving—she was there. But as far as she knew, no mammals, birds or reptiles needed her help. Not that she was allowed to help reptiles anymore. There had been an unfortunate incident a couple of months ago involving venomous snakes and Taryn’s fiancé, Angel. Larissa still felt really bad about that.
She walked around in her too-large office. It was attached to Jack’s. She had a computer where she managed his calendar and some file cabinets that were mostly empty. She wasn’t really a filer. She preferred to pile and when the piles got too tall, she shoved them into a cabinet. Maybe a messy system, but it worked for her.
This office was something she accepted but didn’t really like. Her tiny kingdom was the massage room at the other end of the building. There the space was exactly how she wanted it. From the color of the walls to the sound system to the massage table she’d had customized to fit her specifications. The linens were soft yet absorbent. She special ordered oils with an increased capacity to reduce inflammation and deaden pain while keeping the guys from smelling like flowers. For Taryn, she had a collection of organic oils. She had music playlists customized to each of her clients and had personally chosen all the robes and towels used in the massage room, showers and saunas.
In that place, she was comfortable. Calm. In control. But in the rest of her life, well, it was always a crapshoot.
Larissa shut off her computer and walked down the hall to Taryn’s office. Her friend was on the phone, but waved her in. Larissa crossed the thickly carpeted floor. The plushness was required because Taryn had a habit of kicking off her shoes the second she got to work. She spent most of her day barefoot—something Larissa had never understood. Why buy shoes that were too uncomfortable to wear? But then she didn’t get any part of Taryn’s wardrobe.
Today her boss had on a black-and-white color-block sleeveless dress. There was a jacket slung over the visitor chair and some lethal-looking shoes by the desk. The shoes were also black and white. Some kind of fur, with wide stripes and a scary four-or five-inch geometric, sculpted heel.
While Taryn wrapped up her call, Larissa kicked off her own comfy flats and carefully stepped into Taryn’s ridiculous shoes. The additional five inches made her totter precariously and she had to hang on to the desk to stay upright. Once she was fairly confident of her balance, she shrugged into the jacket