Her cell phone sang a Diana Ross tune, and a chill passed over her. “Hi, Mom.”
“Bethie, I’m in an awful fix.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. How many times had she heard those same words? “Who was he this time?”
“I didn’t know he was married. Honest.” Her mom sighed. “And now he fired me.”
Of course. They always did. “Mom, I can’t talk right now. I’m working.”
“I only need a couple of hundred this time.” Her mom’s voice became whiny, which was not a good sign. “My rent is overdue, and my cupboards are bare. Please, Bethie. You remember what this is like.”
The goose bumps intensified on Elizabeth’s arms, and she shivered. She couldn’t forget, even in her nightmares. “Have you been looking for a job?”
“I’ve applied at a few restaurants, but you know how this economy is.” Her mom started crying. “Who’s gonna hire a washed-up waitress when they could hire any of a dozen half my age? What am I gonna do?”
Elizabeth swallowed and closed her eyes, massaging her forehead in circles as if the motion would turn back time. Give her a different mother. A different childhood. “Tell me where to send it. I’ll have it there by tomorrow morning.”
“You’re the best daughter, Bethie.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
“I love you.”
Her phone beeped, and she glanced at the incoming phone number. The head of development at the studio. “Mom, I’ve got another phone call coming in. Text me with the details later, okay?”
She switched to the other line. “Elizabeth Maier.”
“Did he sign the contracts yet?”
She wasn’t ready to deal with pressure from the studio. Couldn’t he give her a few days at least? “You’re always to the point, Devon.”
“That’s why they pay me the big bucks.” He chuckled on the other end. “I don’t need to remind you what’s at stake. We want Rick.”
That had been made abundantly clear. “Yes, sir.”
“You got this job because you promised results. Don’t let us down.”
“I always deliver.” Always had. Always would. She straightened her blouse and sat up straighter. “That’s why you promoted me.”
“Didn’t hurt that your boss was having an inappropriate relationship with one of the bachelorettes, either.” Devon paused. “The story’s been leaked on the internet and hits the newsstands tomorrow.”
Just what she didn’t need. This could make her job even harder. “So much for sitting on the scandal.”
“We need a home run for this show or the studio’s pulling the plug, Elizabeth.” He let that sink in. “And you promised that Rick would be ratings gold.”
“He was last time.”
“So get him to sign. Or...”
The threat hung unspoken between them. Elizabeth cleared her throat. “It’s like I told you. I always deliver. He’ll do it.”
Devon hung up the phone on his end. Elizabeth stared at her cell before quietly turning it off and placing it in her bag. So it was Rick and her job or nothing.
A sudden chill made her shiver again, and she rubbed her arms. She couldn’t go back to the ways of her childhood. To not knowing where she would live or what she would eat. She’d scratched and clawed her way out of poverty and would never return.
Never.
She needed a new plan. Because more than Rick’s future was on the line.
* * *
WHEN RICKENTEREDthe diner full of folks in bright green uniforms, applause broke out. He held up his hands to summon quiet for a moment. “This is definitely a night to celebrate. And luckily, we know exactly how to do that at the diner.”
Cheers sounded around the dining room. Rick walked behind the counter, found an apron and put it on over his softball uniform. His employees looked as if they’d already been taking drink orders, so Rick started at one end of the diner and took food orders. The bell above the front door jingled. Lizzie nodded at him before taking a seat at a table with Jeffy and his mother.
Once everyone had given their orders and food was delivered, Rick drifted over to stand by Jeffy, who smiled around a big bite of his bacon double cheeseburger. Lizzie picked at her chef’s salad, dressing on the side, but stared at Jeffy’s burger. Some people and their dinner choices. “You doing okay here?”
Jeffy’s mom finished her strawberry shake. “Couldn’t be better. Could we, Jeffy?”
Jeffy nodded and gave him a thumbs-up. Rick grinned back. “You folks enjoy your dinner. It’s on me tonight. Gotta keep my champ happy so he’ll play for me next year.”
He walked to each table, stopping to chat for a while with team members and their families. That was why the diner sponsored a team every year. Sure, the trophy this year would look great proudly displayed by the cash register. But it was about the friendships that survived off the field year after year. Rick’s family was more than just his mom and brother. This team was as close to him as blood. Family forged by sweat.
By the time the last fry had been eaten and the last plate cleared from each table, Rick was ready to collapse on his sofa and call it a night. Unfortunately, an hour remained until closing, and the dirty dishes soaking in the sink called his name. He groaned and rolled his shoulders to loosen them. A clap of thunder caught his attention. His eyes fastened on Lizzie, whose own eyes opened wide in fear.
She rose on one knee and glanced out the window to watch torrents of rain. “My leather seats!”
Gotta love Michigan weather.
Not that he hadn’t warned her. The problem was that she had no clue about how his life really worked. And maybe that was his solution to getting rid of her. He supposed if he couldn’t get rid of her, maybe he could convince her to do the show his way, in his hometown. If he could gain some control that way, he might agree to it. He approached her table and watched the summer rain pound the parking lot. “That’s why you have insurance.”
She turned and shrugged at him, but her lower lip still jutted out farther than her top lip. Not that he should be looking at her mouth. Instead, he let his gaze settle on the unshed tears in her grass-green eyes. Man, he couldn’t stand to see a woman cry. “Listen, I have an idea.”
She brightened slightly. “You’ll do the show.”
He sighed. Relentless. “I can’t leave my life for three months while you and the other execs mess with it.”
Her eyes narrowed. “You’re suggesting a compromise?”
He put one hand on the table and the other on the back of the booth. Leaned in close enough to catch a whiff of her perfume. “I’m suggesting that you spend a week getting to know me. The real me. How my life really works now. And not that Hollywood version you created.” He sighed and shook his head. “How can I expect to find my true love if she doesn’t meet me where I live?”
Lizzie shook her head and glanced around the diner. Sure, it could use a gallon of paint and even more of elbow grease, but this was home to him. When she turned to face him again, she was still shaking her head. “People want fantasy in their reality TV shows. Ironic but true.”
“There is an appeal to small-town living. The pull to lead a simpler life.” He leaned in even closer to her. “Give me the chance to prove it to you.”
Her eyes sparked with interest. “I give you a week to convince me, and what do you give me?”
He sighed.