“And why is that so important?” Strickland asked.
“In today’
s world, university enrollments are market-driven. That’s just a reality—all academic institutions have to face it. If we want to attract the best students, we have to be able to compete with the best schools. And image, unfortunately, still remains more important than it should. All the big schools have their signature buildings. Their library or auditorium that proclaims innovation, success, money.” Will fished his ball out of the hole. “Montford needs to look just as good.”
“So why not build a new library or auditorium?” Strickland asked, picking up his bag as he followed Will to the twelfth tee.
“Because we have a beautiful old library that will still be standing long after we’re dust. The auditorium is only ten years old. And we need more classrooms.”
Strickland nodded, glanced up the comparatively short fairway. “What do you think, a seven iron?”
“Sure.” Will nodded, then pulled out a five for himself. Let John try to make it with a seven.
Watching him, John Strickland let his seven iron fall back into his leather golf bag, taking out a five, instead.
Eighteen holes of golf, a round with one stroke between the winner and the loser, and Dr. Will Parsons figured he might just have found himself a new friend. Which was kind of a rare occurrence in a town the size of Shelter Valley.
He noticed the wedding band on the other man’s hand as John raised a juicy steakburger to his mouth in the club’s popular grill. “What’s your wife think of you traveling so much?” he asked, curious. John designed buildings all over the country. He’d been places Will hadn’t even heard of.
Other than vacations with Becca, Will had spent his entire life in Shelter Valley.
And was happy to have it that way.
“She’d hate it if she were still alive,” John said. His eyes clouded briefly, then quickly cleared. “She was killed in a car accident three years ago.”
“I’m sorry.” There was nothing more Will could say.
But he meant it in the deepest sense. He couldn’t imagine a life without Becca. Turned cold just trying to do so.
And John was a genuinely decent guy. He deserved to be happy.
“You have any kids?” Will’s question dropped quietly into the silence that had fallen. Both men were holding their half-eaten burgers. Neither was eating.
John shook his head. “We were both too busy with our careers,” he said softly, looking out the wall of windows to the golf course beyond. Following his gaze, Will couldn’t help but think that Arizona’s perennially blue skies and bright sunshine suddenly seemed out of place.
“Meredith was a stockbroker.”
“Commercial or independent?” Will asked.
“Independent.” John smiled. “She was damned good, too.”
Even after such a short acquaintance with John, Will would have figured that much.
“We were waiting until we were more established before starting a family. Meredith wanted to be a stay-at-home mom, working out of our house, and she needed enough steady clients to be able to do that.” John paused, his gaze returning to the bright green lawns, surrounded by desert. “We waited too long.”
John’s heartache, his regret, was almost tangible. “Life loses something without kids,” Will said, commiserating with the other man. He still had a hard time accepting that he was going to grow old without ever having known the joys—and trials—of parenthood.
“You don’t have any children, either?” John asked, glancing over in surprise. “Considering your education background, I figured you had a houseful of them. Seems to be the thing to do here in Shelter Valley.”
If the reminder wasn’t still a painful one, Will would have smiled at how quickly John had picked up on Shelter Valley culture. Of course, Will had sent him a demographic study of the town when he’d first approached him for a bid on the Montford project. And then there was their breakfast conversation with the expansion committee this morning, which had revealed that three of the four other members came from large families and had gone on to have their own.
“Becca and I spent twenty years trying. Just never succeeded,” Will admitted. It was something he rarely talked about.
Something he tried not even to think about any more. At least not any more than he could help.
IN THE FIVE DAYS since she’d taken the pregnancy test, Becca had managed to get herself firmly in hand. Anxiety attacks were unacceptable. Worrying, while unavoidable in the dark of the night, could be curtailed by keeping shorter nights and longer days. She worked like a madwoman, researching funding alternatives for her Save the Youth program. Spent so many hours at the library she’d missed the pastor-parish-relations committee meeting at church.
But she didn’t miss her weekly lunch at the Valley Diner with her sisters—Sari, Betty and Janice—and her mother. She might have herself under control, but she still hadn’t wanted to risk their barrage of questions if she missed Wednesday’s lunch. Sari, her younger sister by a year, would worry. Betty, the oldest sister and organized to the point of driving them all insane, would insist on either an explanation that suited her or an overhaul of Becca’s schedule—which would no doubt include more pressure on Becca to quit her volunteer work at the day-care center. Janice, the second-oldest sister, would be avidly curious. Only their mother would have let Becca get away with it. Rose Naylor was so scatterbrained the girls sometimes wondered if she even noticed that the house had been minus Mr. Naylor—who’d died suddenly of a heart attack—for almost ten years.