A Heart to Heal. Allie Pleiter

such thing,” Jeannie said, sliding the canister back into place. “Don’t you ever stop caring too much—it’s what makes you so good at what you do.” Jeannie had a vibrancy about her that Heather loved. And she had a great family despite knowing a lot of trials in her life. Sure, Heather came into Sweet Treats for the chocolate, but she came in just as much for the friendship and support. “I wondered about him when the family moved in over the summer,” Jeannie went on. “Chad says Brian is a terrific father. Really engaged and involved.”

      “He’s devoted to Simon—no doubt about it. Only I think this year is going to be a challenge.”

      “Jason Kikowitz is good at that.” Jeannie polished off the last of her caramel and licked the lingering chocolate off her fingers.

      “More than that, actually.”

      “What do you mean?”

      “Well, you remember how hard it is to loosen up on the reins when your child enters high school.” That was a nicer way of putting it than Max’s he needs to back off. “I think Mr. and Mrs. Williams are going to have a tough time granting Simon the independence to make his own mistakes, especially with the fine start Kikowitz has supplied.” It was hard for most parents to strike that balance—Heather’s voice mail and email filled every September with parents trying too hard to manage their kids’ high school experiences—but doubly so in Simon’s case.

      Jeannie’s face softened. “It’s the hardest thing in the world. Which is why the world needs you. Have you decided how you’re going to help Simon?”

      “Actually, JJ came up with the idea to have Max mentor him.”

      Jeannie raised both her eyebrows. “Chad mentioned JJ told him something about a basketball game?” Her expression appeared hopeful. “That sounds fun.” Yes, well, Jeannie had always been famous for her unflinching optimism.

      “It was...sort of. He and Simon certainly seemed to connect, but let’s just say I have doubts Max will be much of a calming influence.”

      “Calm?” Jeannie laughed. “Max Jones hasn’t been calm a day in his life. Did you see his car? Nick was drooling over the flame paint job the other day.”

      The car. Everyone in Gordon Falls knew that car and had an opinion of both its look-at-me paint and its here-I-come roar. “Yep. Can’t miss it—that’s for sure.”

      Jeannie leaned on the counter with both elbows. “Well, I understand why you’re worried, but you never know. Max might surprise you.”

      “He’s already been a surprise—and not necessarily the good kind.” She hadn’t expected Simon to take to Max so strongly, nor had she expected Max to take a shine to Simon with the strength that he had. Of course, she’d wanted to put a halt to the thing at first, but there was something about the combination of Max and Simon that wouldn’t let her give up on the pair just yet. Maybe it had something to do with the way Simon had laughed in triumph at the end of their basketball game. She got the sense he didn’t laugh like that very often.

      Jeannie came out from behind the counter to sit on one of the sunny yellow window-seat cushions that lined one side of her shop. “I can’t help thinking it takes someone like Max to stand up to someone like Kikowitz.”

      “That’s just it,” Heather agreed.

      “Then again,” Jeannie went on, “if I had to pick someone just as likely to make everything worse, it might be Max.”

      “And that’s just it.” Heather sat down beside Jeannie. “Sure, Simon thinks he’s terrific right now. He looks cool. He talks up a great game. But I don’t really know him—he seems all swagger and no substance. Max could have too much influence—and all the wrong kind—on a kid like that.”

      “Alex puts a lot of faith in him, and I don’t think Alex would do that if he didn’t see something in Max that was more than just a snazzy paint job. He’s willing to help, right? Can’t be all that bad if he’s at least willing to lend a hand.”

      The memory of Max’s thundering muffler as it roared out of the school parking lot gave Heather enough reason to doubt Jeannie’s optimism. “I’m not so sure. Max is very...sure of himself. Actually, he’s arrogant, confrontational and rather tactless.”

      Jeannie wound one piece of hair around a finger, thinking. “Maybe Max is exactly the kind of guy Simon needs. What boy wouldn’t want to know you can be in a wheelchair and still be that cool? I know he’s a bit over-the-top, but Nick thinks he’s ‘sick’—and evidently that’s a compliment.” Jeannie laughed. “He’s not exactly hard to look at, and all those adventures he goes on...”

      “He’s a walking...rolling barrel of ‘look at me.’ He’s so busy shoving his circumstances in your face that he forgets you’re even in the room.” Max wasn’t the first man in her life to be so busy being a cause that he’d forgotten how to be a person. She wasn’t eager to repeat the experience.

      Jeannie pushed off the wall and headed toward the cash register as a knot of giggling girls pushed into the store. “Well, I’ll give him one thing.”

      Heather settled her handbag higher on her shoulder and picked up the massive gift basket. “What?”

      “He knows how to get a rise out of you.”

      * * *

      Tuesday afternoon, Max rolled into Heather’s office in response to a phone-message summons.

      “It’s one-thirty.” She scowled at the big white standard-issue school clock on her wall when he arrived. “I asked you to come by in the morning. It was kind of urgent.”

      “I had an appointment. I got here as soon as I could afterward.” Normally he didn’t mention the dozens of monthly medical visits his condition required, but he wanted her to know life wasn’t all fun and games for him, even if he was in the fun-and-games business. “My neurologist is a nice guy but not nice enough to ditch just because you need backup.”

      She didn’t seem capable of pulling off a mean face. “Who says I need backup?”

      “It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know your voice mail is probably chock-full of worried calls from Brian Williams today. Come on—I saw that one coming a mile off. Has he asked you to keep me away from his precious impressionable son yet?”

      He’d nailed it; he could see it in her eyes. “Do you have to ride the man so hard? He cares about his son.”

      He wheeled farther into her office. She’d moved her guest chair to the side to accommodate his chair. That settled somewhere soft in the back of his brain. “It’s been my experience that there’s a very thin line between care and smother. Especially when you’re fifteen. Did you see Simon’s eyes when his father pulled up after the basketball game? Did you hear how even the school ramp made Pops nervous?”

      Heather leaned one elbow on her desk. “How long, exactly, has it been since you were fifteen?”

      He didn’t want to give her the satisfaction of a number. “A while.”

      “Well, then, think back a while and remember that every student his age—disability or not—is mortified by everything their parents do. It’s practically rule number one in the high schooler’s handbook.”

      “Hey, you just made a joke.” He angled himself around to dig a hand into the bag he kept attached to the back of his chair.

      She narrowed her eyes at him. “Really?” Heather was just so much fun to tick off, Max suspected he was going to get in trouble here far faster than his usual rate—which was pretty fast as it was.

      “Well—” he found what he was looking for and pulled it out of the bag “—it just makes it easier to give you this.” Scooting up to her desk, he planted a bright pink rubber duck made to look like a flamingo on top of her files. It made a ridiculous squeaking sound as he did so, its little