“I didn’t go inside the classroom.”

“Follow me,” she said. “You have to see this.”

She led him into the science lab to a small desk in the back corner where a quartet of white mice decked out in full hockey gear stood upright on an ice rink model. “Okay, I get a hunter wanting to mount his ten-point elk so he can hang it on the wall of his man cave, and I admit I think mounted fish are cool,” said Lucca. “If I ever was lucky enough to catch a marlin, I’d consider having him stuffed. But hockey mice? That is weird.”

“The really weird stuff is in storage. He did some animal creation—wings of a hawk on the body of a rabbit. It’s disturbing.” Hope glanced up at the clock on the wall and said, “I need to finish my rounds if I’m going to get back in time for the big competition. Do you still plan to enter?”

“Oh, yes. I’ll definitely be there.”

“See you shortly, then.”

Lucca watched her leave, admiring the way her black slacks hugged that spectacular ass of hers. He liked Hope Montgomery. Sure, he found her physically appealing, but it was more than that. Her attitude was attractive, too. She was friendly and confident. She made the day a little brighter for everyone around her. She wasn’t indifferent to him, either.

Maybe he didn’t need to be so guarded where she was concerned. So what if she was friends with Mom and Gabi? She was a single adult. He was a single adult. If they wanted to explore the attraction between them, well, that was their business, wasn’t it? He’d be honest up front and make it clear he wasn’t looking for anything long-term. Maybe she’d shoot him down. Or, maybe that arrangement would suit her just fine.

He wouldn’t know unless he asked.

Lucca shoved his hands into his pockets, shook his head one more time at the hockey-playing mice, and exited the science lab. His gaze drifted toward the gymnasium doorway and for a long moment, he hesitated. Then he blew out a heavy breath and muttered, “Screw it.”

Dad would have kicked his ass if he’d been around to see Lucca afraid to step foot on the hardwood.

He strode toward the gym and straight through the open doors. His sister stood near the basket holding the ball tucked beneath her arm as she spoke to the boy. She casually glanced up and when she identified him, her eyes rounded in surprise.

Lucca grinned and slapped the ball loose, caught it on the bounce, then drove toward the basket and went up for a dunk.

When his heels hit the floor, he smiled, winked at his sister, then walked back out of the gym calling, “It’s your day to lose, Gabriella.”

He headed for the kindergarten class, his step lighter than it had been in months. Having scored a bucket on one of his demons, he was ready for a game of musical chairs.

During her first month of teaching in Eternity Springs, Hope had scored an ancient phonograph and collection of children’s records at the Saint Stephen’s church rummage sale. The songs were familiar, tinny recordings of such classic, beloved tunes as “Old MacDonald” and “I’ve Been Working on the Railroad.” Hope had installed the machine in her classroom and once a week, usually after science lab, the kindergartners had an old-fashioned sing-along.

Her students loved it. Ninety percent of the children who entered her classroom had never seen a record player or vinyl records. To them it was just as magical—maybe even more—than the electronic tablets they began learning on long before they were ready to read. From Big Chief tablets to iPads—education had certainly changed.

And yet, some things never changed. Kids liked to sing along with “Old MacDonald,” whether the song came from a piano or a record player or an MP3 player.

And their parents, especially their dads, continued to cringe from repetitive renditions of “With an oink, oink here and an oink, oink there …”

She couldn’t explain why, but the idea of having the big, tough men of Eternity Springs playing musical chairs to “Old MacDonald” made her want to giggle.

“Now that’s a positively evil smile, Hope,” Maggie Romano said as she sailed up beside her. “What are you thinking?”

“I’m thinking about this contest. I take it you’ve heard what’s happening?”

“Yes.” Amusement gleamed in her eyes and a satisfied smile stretched across her face. “Those children of mine. They’re simply ridiculous sometimes. I admit the cake is good, but in my family it took on ridiculous significance—mainly because my mother-in-law made it that way. Care to guess how I finally got the recipe? She passed it along in her will.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. My children loved their Nana, but I have to tell you, she was a pain in the patootie as far as mothers-in-law go. Rumor has it there might be as many as ten entrants. Can you believe that? A thousand dollars for one cake!”

“Not to mention a hundred volunteer hours for the school.”

“The need to compete is hardwired into some people, isn’t it? So, what can I do to help get things ready?”

“You’ve already done the important part,” Hope said, nodding toward the prize tables, now empty but for the Tupperware carrier holding Maggie’s cake. “There’s not much else to do. Jack and Gabe are bringing adult-sized chairs from the cafeteria.”

“Don’t you think it would be much more fun to use kindergarten chairs?”

“I think this might be physical enough as it is,” Hope replied ruefully. She walked to her desk and pulled a blue bank bag from a drawer. “Would you like to collect our entry fee from our participants?”

“I’d be delighted to do that. I get particular joy accepting money from my children, considering it’s so often been the other way around.” Maggie accepted the bank bag, then asked, “So, what music have you chosen for this battle to come? The theme from Rocky?”

“Closer to Rocky and Bullwinkle.”

“Excuse me?”

“Rocky the Squirrel. Or maybe Alvin and the Chipmunks?”

Maggie clasped a hand to her chest. “Not the Chipmunks. Please, not that.”

“What about ‘It’s a Small World’? ‘The Barney Song’?”

The horror on Maggie’s face coaxed another laugh out of Hope. “Don’t worry. I haven’t decided just how annoying I want to be. Considering it’s a thousand bucks, perhaps I should be nice.”

At that point, Gabe, Jack, and Colt arrived with chairs. The rest of the players soon followed, one of them a newcomer to town, Richard Steele. As Maggie introduced her contractor to Hope and the others whom he’d yet to meet, Hope heard Gabi tease, “Mom, you must be overpaying him if he’s going to pop a hundred bucks to lose a cake.”

He flashed Gabi a challenging grin and said, “I smelled this cake baking all day. I’m motivated. Prepare to lose, Gabriella.”

Gabi sniffed with disdain, then handed over her ticket fee—an IOU since she never carried much cash—to her mother and took a place in front of a chair. Once the field was positioned, she remained the only woman.

Celeste Blessing, who had slipped into the room with some of the players’ wives, observed, “Be still my heart. What a breathtaking collection of men.”

“A lot of good it does me,” Gabi said. “They’re all either married or related to me.”

“Richard isn’t married,” Maggie said.

Something in her tone caught Hope’s ear, but she didn’t have time to figure out what it was because after taking a look at the men who were busy ribbing and challenging one another, she decided to change her music selection. She handed a piece of paper to Celeste and asked, “Celeste, would you read the rules for us while I cue the music?”

“Rules?” Colt Rafferty asked. “There are rules? What fun is that?”

“This is a kindergarten class,” Celeste responded. “Of course there are rules. I’ll have you know that I competed in the Musical Chairs World Championship two years ago.”

“The what?” Lucca asked.

“Shut up and listen,” Zach shot back. “I want to win my cake and take it home. I’m hungry.”

Celeste read the rules, which included such items as “There shall be no use of hands, arms or shoulders to forcefully obtain a chair, save a chair, or force another player out of a chair,” and “Only one person per chair,” and since this was, after all, a kindergarten class, “No biting.”

Once Celeste finished, Hope said, “Is everybody ready?”

The contestants nodded.

Hope smiled, “Begin walking once the music starts to play. May the best man—or woman—win.”

She clicked the Play button on her classroom sound system and the first measures of the Weather Girls’ “It’s Raining Men” blasted from the speakers.

As one, the men in the room groaned. The women laughed and cheered.

What followed was the closest thing to a brawl that Hope’s classroom had ever seen, but even as the men pushed, jostled, elbowed, and shoved, they laughed—and told their women to stop the blasted singing. The Romano siblings fought a good fight. Gabi lasted several rounds, primarily because nonfamily members hesitated when it came to shoving her around, and she took advantage of it. Her brothers weren’t that nice, and a hip shove from Zach put her out of the game.

Eventually, motivation, a little luck, and quick-as-a-minute reflexes produced a winner. To the victor, Richard Steele, went the Italian crème cake.

Afterward, Hope found Maggie Romano crying in the ladies’ room. “Maggie? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing’s wrong. I just … oh my.” Maggie tugged a paper towel from the dispenser and wiped her eyes. “Lucca laughed. Really laughed. Did you see that?”

“I did.” Hope had been hard-pressed to drag her gaze away from him.

“It’s been so long. I’m glad … so glad … that my family discovered Eternity Springs.”