Daphne unlocked the door to her home, a charming craftsman-style house with a wraparound porch and hanging baskets overflowing with sweet potato vines and deep purple wave petunias. Lilacs, azalea bushes and dogwood trees decorated the front yard with dollops of cheery color, and a flagstone path led from the curb to the front door, curving around a small pond filled with koi.

“I like your pad, Moretti,” Lance said, looking around. “Looks like it should be on the cover of Better Homes and Gardens.”

“What can I say? I’m a Lowe’s addict and a nester. As Nate Berkus always says, I like my house to rise up to greet me when I come home.” She pushed open the heavy front door with its etched glass panes and stepped inside. “Make yourself comfy while I go look for that passport.” She crossed the living room and disappeared down a hallway.

Lance didn’t want to snoop, but he couldn’t help but examine all the personal touches Daphne had added to make the house her own. The watercolors on the wall were pretty, although he couldn’t identify the artist. She didn’t have the massive leather-bound library that he did, although she did have a nice collection of classics with a few romances and thrillers mixed in. He started to run his hand over a soft turquoise afghan when he felt a tug at the hem of his trousers. Lance looked down to see a little white dog growling playfully, its teeth sunk into the fabric. “Well, hello, little fella,” he said, kneeling down and scooping up the dog into his arms. The animal was soft but strong and couldn’t have weighed more than ten or fifteen pounds. He stroked the dog behind the ears and received a sloppy kiss on his cheek in return.

“I see you met Colonel,” Daphne said from the doorway, grinning.

“Yeah, he’s a scrappy little guy. What kind of dog is he?”

“A Westie. I rescued him a few months back. Looks like he likes you,” she said, watching the dog nuzzle against Lance’s cheek.

“Oh? A point in my favor?” Lance looked up at her with questioning eyes.

“I didn’t realize we were keeping score,” she said. “Besides, don’t read too much into it. He likes everybody.” She crossed the room and took the dog out of Lance’s arms. “I might as well let him out while I’m here,” she said, then walked into the kitchen and let Colonel out into the back yard to relieve himself.

“You have a great place.”

Daphne shrugged, watching Colonel through the window. “It’s nothing like your apartment.”

Lance shook his head. “Just can’t take a compliment, can you Moretti?”

“Well, it’s not.”

He pulled out a chair at the kitchen table. It was in the small high-top style usually found in pubs, with four comfy leather chairs around its circumference. “Don’t compare,” he said softly. “I’m not. I’m just saying I like it. It’s very much you.”

“It’s just that when I walked into your apartment the other night, it was like a showplace.”

Lance smiled. “It’s what I grew up with. But compared to this, my place seems rather…”

“Magnificent?”

Lance rolled his eyes. “I was thinking sterile. Your home is cozy, welcoming. It makes me want to curl up by the fireplace with a good book. By the way, do you knit? I noticed the afghan on the armchair in the living room.”

“Sometimes, my grandmother taught me. But I bought that one at Macy’s.”

“Is the artwork from Macy’s too?”

Daphne shook her head. “No, I painted those. I could never find what I was looking for, so I created my own.”

“Really? You’ve been holding out on me. What else do you know how to do?”

Daphne grinned finally. “Oh, the usual. Plumbing, drywall, carpentry, landscaping, a little electrical. For the most part, I’ve done everything here myself.”

“I’m impressed. I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“I used to hang out in my grandfather’s workshop a lot. He taught me things, and what he couldn’t teach me, I learned at those free clinics at the hardware store. And if things get too complicated, I call George Piotrowski. He’s a contractor these days.”

“That’s not really a surprise. He was always good with his hands in high school. In fact, I remember he was the only one in shop class who seemed to know what he was doing from the very first day,” Lance said.

“You took shop?”

“Yep. I know, I know, shocker. But it was either that or home economics, and I didn’t really think the guys would let me get away with learning how to sew an apron,” he said as he spotted the passport in her hand. “So not to change the subject or anything, but what’s the verdict? Are you free to travel?”

“Well, about that,” Daphne began.

♦

Wade sat inside Conjured Coffees, savoring his latte and scrolling through job listings on his phone. He was waiting for his two best friends, Drake and Leo, to arrive. The three of them became BFFs during their freshman year in high school when Coach Kaminski recruited them to try out for the basketball team, mostly because they were all well over six feet tall by the time they were fourteen and not because any of them had a modicum of athletic ability. Still, they gave it their all and tried hard not to disappoint Coach. After all, he took a true interest in them and was more of a father figure than any of their own fathers had ever been. Wade’s dad had died the year he was born, and Drake and Leo’s fathers vanished after their parents divorced. So anytime they needed some fatherly advice, Kaminski stepped up and offered it, although there was usually a sports metaphor or two thrown into the conversation for good measure. In the end, however, Kaminski’s determination paid off and he had made decent players out of them. Then, much to their own surprise, Coach got them to play basketball and wrestle from their sophomore year until graduation. As a result, they became as close as brothers and even went to the same college together on wrestling scholarships, although they all gave up basketball for rowing.

Wade sighed. He had to get another job. He was great with computers, and typically didn’t mind doing IT support. But the large healthcare company he worked for was killing his soul, and his new supervisor, Guy Du Bois, was a total control freak. Wade had been nice to Guy since he took over, but for some reason he seemed to have taken a dislike to Wade right off the bat. It had turned a great gig into a toxic work environment, and Wade knew he had to get something else soon.

“What’s got you looking so glum, Champ?”

Wade’s head shot up at the unexpected sound of Kaminski’s voice. “Coach!” He leapt up and embraced the man without hesitation. When the two men pulled apart, Wade was all smiles. “It’s so good to see you! What are you doing on this side of town?”

“I was checking out an apartment nearby.”

“Really? Why? What happened to your house?” Wade, Drake and Leo had hung out with Coach and his wife Gloria many times over the years, and it had always been a sanctuary for them. Since the Kaminskis had never had children of their own, they had always been happy to give plenty of attention to Coach’s athletes.

Coach cleared his throat and avoided eye contact for a moment before answering. “I’m not sure how to tell you this, Wade. But,” he sighed, “she’s gone to a better place.”

“What? Oh no,” Wade exclaimed. “Coach, I swear, if I’d known, I’d have been there for you! Drake and Leo too!” Wade grabbed Coach again and hugged him tightly before releasing him. “I’m so sorry. Did it happen quick?”

Kaminski chuckled mirthlessly. “Pretty quick, yeah.”

“What was it? Cancer?” Wade’s green eyes stared directly into his Coach’s.

“No, it was Alan Segev.”

Wade stepped back, confusion rampant on his face. “Alansegev,” he asked, repeating what Coach had said as if it was one word. “I’ve never heard of that before. It must be aggressive.”

“Alan Segev is another guy, Wade. That’s his name. He was her trainer, and now he’s her boyfriend. She told me she wants a divorce.” His shoulder’s slumped momentarily, but then he stood up straight again and smiled. “Life sucks sometimes. I just never saw it coming. I guess she just wanted to trade me in for a younger model.”

“And she kicked you out on top of it all?”

“No, I moved into a hotel. I just couldn’t stay while she carried on with a guy your age. It was embarrassing. Besides, she decorated the house, I just paid for it.” Coach looked to the plush furniture beside them. “Mind if we sit down?”

“Oh yeah, of course. Sure.” Once they were seated, Wade watched Coach sip his coffee and mulled over his mentor’s situation. “You’re going to fight this, right?”

“The divorce? No. I have more respect than to stay somewhere I’m not wanted. But I am going to try to get out of paying any alimony, and if she wants to stay in the house with Alan, she can buy it from me. It is in my name, after all. Even if she decides to live somewhere else, though, I want to sell. Too many memories.”

A frown crossed Wade’s lips before he took a sip of his coffee. He didn’t know just how much to say, and wanted to be supportive, not question Coach’s decisions. It was his life, after all.

“I can tell your wheels are turning. Out with it, Olson. What were you going to say?” Coach grinned as he watched his former student.

“It’s nothing really. I know you have memories there, but so do I, and mine are good ones. But now’s not the time to be selfish. I just want you to be happy. Unless you like walked in on them or something.”

Kaminski turned his head and looked out the window, but the flash of pain was evident regardless.

“Oh my God, you did!”

Coach shrugged. “No hiding anything from you, kid. I’d rather not go into that right now though, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course! I didn’t mean to intrude.”

“Funny, that’s what I said,” Coach muttered under his breath. He stood then and stretched, leaving his coffee on the table beside their chairs. “I’ll be right back. Need to see a man about a horse,” he said, repeating the euphonism he had said for years anytime he needed to use the restroom.

Wade watched him walk down the hall before leaning back in his seat, one leg crossed over his knee, his hands gently gripping his mug of coffee in his hands as he pondered Coach’s predicament. Ever since high school, he thought he knew everything about the man, and yet there were obviously parts of his personal life that he kept to himself and didn’t share with his athletes, no matter how long they worked together. Wade hated knowing Gloria had not only left Coach, but betrayed him too, and he suddenly wondered just how well any person can know another. He definitely would have never guessed that she would be the kind of woman to leave her husband on a whim. Then again, perhaps it hadn’t been. Maybe their marriage had been lacking something for a while and both had just been too busy to notice.

He was still deep in thought when Drake and Leo walked in. Although all three men were the same height, Drake was strong but lean, with a long, graceful neck, a runner’s body, and a mass of dark curly hair on top of his head. He was one of those men who always turned heads with his dark features, high cheekbones, long lashes, and full, sensuous mouth. He could almost be described as pretty, except for his long aristocratic nose that made his face more interesting than perfect, and yet no less alluring. He could also wear practically anything and it look good on him, so when he started dabbling in the modeling world, it came as no surprise to anyone that knew him. Nevertheless, it wasn’t his looks that kept people in his orbit. Rather, it was his huge heart, and the fact that he rarely took himself seriously.

“Hey Poindexter,” Drake said as he dropped down onto the sofa beside Wade like a collapsed marionette, his leg swinging across the arm like a metronome. “You ordered me a coffee,” he asked, noticing the extra mug on the table.

“But you didn’t get me one? What gives,” Leo asked, sitting on the pouf beside the table, his long legs splayed out in either direction. Unlike Drake, Leo lacked any air of mystery. He looked like the all-American boy next door with his sandy hair and broad shoulders. When they had all started wrestling, he had gained the most muscle and always complained how unfair it was that he could rarely find clothes that fit his frame. As a result, he either wore jerseys, t-shirts, or untucked flannel shirts that made him look like a lumberjack. Still, his square jaw and blue eyes, paired with his ever-mischievous grin, melted hearts.

Wade chuckled. “I didn’t get anyone a coffee. That belongs to Coach.”

“He’s here,” they both asked in unison.

“Yeah. He surprised me too.” Checking to make sure that Coach was still out of earshot, he quickly gave them both the four-one-one on the man’s new status update.

“That really blows,” Leo said, his cheeks flushed with anger.

Drake tapped his chin for a moment, then asked, “So what can we do to help him?”

“I don’t know that there is anything we can do for him at the moment, other than just be there for him. We could all check in on him more than we do,” Wade said.

Both Leo and Drake nodded in agreement. Then Leo got that familiar smile they both knew too well. “Say, we could definitely do that if he was closer. Don’t you have a spare room in your apartment,” he asked, looking directly at Wade.

“Yeah, but that’s small and cramped, and he wouldn’t want to stay there,” Wade said, dismissing the idea immediately.

“You could always ask Coach,” Drake replied. “See what he says.”

“Ask me what?” Coach’s voice startled them all. As always, he had the stealth of a cat and none of them had heard him approach from behind.

Before Wade could say another word, Leo just tossed the idea out there for Coach’s consideration. “Wade wants to know if you’d like to be his new roomie.”

Wade was surprised at the broad smile that blossomed on Coach’s face. “I think that’s a terrific idea! But if we do that, you’re going to have to start calling me James. It’s been a long time coming anyway. I haven’t actually been your coach in years.”

“It’s going to feel weird for a while,” Wade said. “I’ll try and get used to the idea though.”

“How long until you think you’ll move in, Coach… er, James,” Drake asked.

“Well, if it’s not too much short notice,” Kaminski said, “My stuff is in the car.”

Click here to read part seven of There Comes a Time or click here to go back to the very beginning.