“That’s a great shot,” Linden says next as we breeze by it. “Was that last season?”
“Yep. Right after the Falcons beat the Panthers.”
“He’s going to be missed,” Linden says.
“He left the team in great hands.” For the past three years, Dad’s been grooming the assistant coach for the job, plus he set up the special teams with a totally revamped program and raised enough money to hire another full time trainer.
We pass through the big ballroom to where the accordion walls have been opened to the patio. Already, guests are mingling, the golden evening light bathing everything in a warm glow. To the right, the ballroom is ready for the dinner service, the white linens and gold rimmed china looking sharp and classy on the thick white tablecloths. And Darienne thought the blue hyacinths and gold glitter centerpieces would make it look too “country.” Wait until she sees it.
Everything looks so good. Even better than I pictured.
“Did you put all those pictures together?” Linden asks, nodding at the left wall lined with shots of Dad. Guests are strolling slowly while taking in the photos, laughing, sharing their stories, their happy faces the best reward. It’s exactly what I’d envisioned. Like a memory wall that displays Dad’s dedication, hard work, and success.
I dab the corner of my eye and gulp a big breath. “Yep.”
Linden leads me to the starting point and leans closer to the big black -and-white image of Dad with a football tucked under his arm in a full-on sprint for the end zone.
“He played for the army, huh?” Linden asks, moving to the next series. “Hey, that’s you.” I’m the little girl in pigtails sitting on the bench in the background.
“That was his first real coaching job. Assistant defensive coach for the Falcons.”
Linden goes still beside me as we step to the next picture. “That’s your mom?”
I swallow the lump in my throat and reach for the pendant at my neck, grounding myself in the cool weight of it between my fingers. “Yeah.”
In the picture, Mom is facing Dad, a giant grin on her face while he leans toward her for a kiss. It was the first state championship the Falcons won under his leadership.
Darienne told me not to include it because she thought it was inappropriate. But no way could I leave Mom out of Dad’s legacy tonight. Even though she’s not here to celebrate. She helped him get to the finish line.
“She was a football fan, huh?”
“Oh yes,” I say with a smile that hurts a little. “She might have been the Falconsbiggestfan.” Enthusiasm she poured into her role as cheer coach.
The couple ahead of us turn back, and the guy gives me a bright grin. “I remember her. She’d sneak over from the cheer line to watch the action and root for us.”
“Sounds like Mom,” I say while a sharp longing twists inside my chest.
The guy extends his hand. “I’m Jed Maples. This is my wife, Carla.”
“Great to meet you both,” I say, shaking their hands. “This is Linden.” I glance up at him and we exchange a quick butunmistakable connection.Our first fake introduction!I have to bite back my laugh.
“What position did you play?” I ask Jed.
“Center,” he replies.
“Do you still play?” I ask.
He glances at his wife, and his eyes fill with such intense devotion that my heart does a cartwheel inside my chest.
“For fun or when I’m coaching our boys, yeah.” He gives me another easy grin. “Nice meeting you.” He slides his arm over his wife’s shoulder and they saunter ahead.
We continue, mingling a little as we go. I recognize faces I haven’t seen in ages—former coaching staff, a few of the players Dad has kept in touch with, a trainer I remember. Introducing Linden gets easier.
Two guys with the same deep blue eyes and identical athletic build give Linden a bright smile. I recognize the older one—he’s the Finn River Sheriff’s deputy I talked to after the incident with Russel—Zach Hayes.
“Rumsey, what the hell are you doing here?” Zach asks, nodding at Linden.
“I was invited,” Linden replies with a cock of his head.
