by Irene Hannon
“Is this a party?” Molly stretched her neck to see as Toby let out excited yips and hopped around on the back seat.
“Kind of.” Savory aromas drifted in his window, along with the sound of laughter and lively music. “Want to go?” He didn’t have anything else on his Friday evening agenda—except searching for more daycare options.
An unappealing prospect if ever there was one.
“’Kay.”
Her standard, pithy answer.
“Let’s see if I can find a parking place.” He followed the line of cars down a side street.
Three blocks later, when he spotted a guy circling the hood of a car toward the driver’s side, he mashed down the brake and flicked on his blinker.
Based on the horn blast from behind him, the driver on his tail hadn’t appreciated his abrupt stop.
But with parking at a premium, he wasn’t giving up this spot.
The man took his sweet time pulling out—but once he did, Logan executed a fast and flawless parallel parking maneuver . . . a skill acquired during his tenure in San Francisco.
He slid out of the car and opened the back door. Molly held tight to her picture as he unhooked her restraints, helped her out, and snagged Toby’s leash.
“Let’s go to the taco stand first and see if Charley’s open for business.”
Five minutes later, he had his answer. Charley was cooking—but the line stretched down the sidewalk.
It was going to be a long wait—and patience wasn’t a five-year-old’s strong suit.
Ten minutes in, when Molly began to fidget, Logan expelled a breath. His heart—and stomach—were set on Charley’s fare, but he might have to can the taco dinner and buy some food at one of the booths in the market.
While he debated his options, two seagulls waddled toward them.
Uh-oh.
Logan tightened his grip on Toby’s leash. The beagle was always up for a new adventure.
For some reason, though, the dog didn’t go berserk as the birds approached. Instead, he plopped onto his haunches and watched them in silence.
Weird.
“Is that Floyd and Gladys?” Molly studied the gulls.
“Could be.” All the birds looked alike to him, but if it made her happy to think these were Charley’s friends, why not play along?
Wherever the gulls had come from, they kept Molly entertained with their antics, making the long line more palatable.
“Welcome back.” Charley flashed his megawatt smile as they at last stepped up to the window. “I’m always happy to see repeat customers.” He leaned down, resting his forearms on the counter as he’d done during their first visit. “Hi there, Molly.”
“Hi. I drawed you a picture.” She held it up.
He took it and gave the rendering a thorough scrutiny. “This is wonderful. I bet you worked hard on it.”
“I did.”
“I see you drew that friend you mentioned.” He pointed to the dark-haired figure.
“Yes.” She sighed. “But I haven’t found her yet.”
“Well, we haven’t put this on my wall yet.” He rearranged a few of the pictures already on display, pinned Molly’s front and center, and turned back to her. “We have to give it a chance to work. You keep wishing too.”
“Okay.”
“Two orders of tacos?” The man aimed the question at him.
“Yes.” Logan pulled out his wallet and counted his money as Charley worked the grill and kept up a steady stream of conversation.
“Here you go.” He slid a brown bag across the counter. “Have you been to the farmer’s market yet?”
“No. We had dinner on our mind.” Logan picked up the bag.
“I hear you. But after you eat, you should stroll through the market. We have it every Friday from four to eight during the summer months, and you’ll find all kinds of goodies. You could even pick up some lavender shortbread for dessert.”
Logan’s spirits took a decided uptick. “Jeannette’s here?”
“Every week. Her booth is always popular.” Charley motioned toward the sole empty bench on the wharf, where two seagulls were perched. “Floyd and Gladys saved you the best seat in the house for dinner. Enjoy.”
“Thanks.” Logan took Molly’s hand and eyed the bench. Given the number of people milling about, there wasn’t much chance it would stay empty until they got there.
But Molly tugged him that direction, and he followed. If someone claimed the bench first, they could always take the tacos home and forget the farmer’s market.
Except that would also mean foregoing a visit with Jeannette.
Not happening if he could help it.
Logan lengthened his stride until Molly had to trot to keep up with him.
Happily, the bench remained empty, and as they drew close, the two gulls vacated the seat.
Like they’d been saving it for them, as Charley had said.
Which was crazy.
Whatever the reason they’d lucked out, though, he wasn’t going to complain. Eating fabulous fish tacos on a bench with an incredible view was sweet.
And for dessert?
They’d drop by Jeannette’s booth, as Charley had suggested.
Also sweet.
He doled out the tacos and bit into his, scanning the festive scene behind him.
Which booth was Jeannette’s—and would she be glad to see them?
Hard to say.
In all his comings and goings over the past week, he hadn’t caught a glimpse of his elusive neighbor. She must prefer to keep to herself, as Charley had implied.
Nor had he had much chance to think about her since Molly’s meltdown at the preschool.
But once the daycare situation was resolved, Jeannette would be back on his mind. Guaranteed. She was an intriguing woman—and easy on the eyes too.
In fact . . . after life settled into more of a routine, maybe he’d give her the nudge Charley had said she might need to coax her out of her self-imposed isolation. See where that led.
And in the meantime, it couldn’t hurt to lay a little groundwork.
11
Only an hour and a half into opening day of the farmer’s market, and her booth was almost sold out.
She’d vastly underestimated the demand for her products.
Jeannette did a rapid calculation of her remaining inventory as her latest customers walked away with the items they’d purchased.
Sixteen sachets, two lavender grapevine wreaths left over from last season, five lavender scones, and three six-packs of lavender shortbread hearts.
In another half hour—or less—she’d be reduced to handing out flyers about her weekend teas.
Taking a long swig from her water bottle, she surveyed the milling crowd.
Who knew the whole town would turn out for this season’s kickoff? At her first opening day last year, there’d been far fewer people, and her sales had been much more modest.
Of course, it had rained that day, while this year’s ideal weather had probably brought area residents out in droves.
Lesson learned for next year.
As she spread out her remaining items to make the offerings appear less sparse, she caught sight of a family group approaching.
The Shabos had ventured to the market?
Good for them.
Smiling, she motioned them over. “Hello.”
Mariam returned the greeting as they drew near. “Pretty.” She swept a hand over the filmy lavender draping and large photos of the farm and her teas that decorated the booth.
“Thank you.” She picked up a pack of the remaining shortbread, leaned down to Elisa, who was clutching her Raggedy Ann doll, and held it out.
The girl’s eyes lit up. “Thank you.”
Thomma started to pull out his wallet, but Jeannette shook her head. “Gift.” She put her fingertips on her chest, then extended her hands, palm up, toward the family.
He hesitated, but after Mariam elbowed him he put his money away.
“Thank you.”
“Monday?” Mariam raised her eyebrows.
“Yes.”
“Time . . . four?”
Someone had been practicing the material she’d left yesterday.
“Yes.”
In her peripheral vision, a familiar male face and another little girl appeared.
Logan and Molly had come to the market too.
Her pulse accelerated, and she frowned.
For heaven’s sake, Jeannette, get a grip. You may not be able to dictate the content of your dreams, but you ought to be able to keep your waking emotions under control.
The duo strolled over to the booth, and she gripped the edge of the counter, hiking up the corners of her mouth. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
“We didn’t expect to be here.” Logan’s return smile warmed her like a balmy tropical breeze—and she had to fight the urge to fan herself. “We came to town for tacos and found out there was a party.”
The Shabos took a step back, and she turned to them and held up a finger before addressing Logan. Focus, Jeannette. “Let me introduce you to the newest arrivals in town—even newer than you.” She gave him a brief explanation about their background.
“I saw a reference to them in the Grace Christian bulletin.” He nodded to the family.
Logan had attended church?
Another check mark in his plus column.
He must have gone to the later service, though, or she’d have seen him.
“They know very little English, so don’t expect a conversation.”
“Got it.”
She drew the family forward, indicating each one as she said their names, then did the same with Logan and Molly.
Logan extended his hand to Thomma. “Welcome.”
The man clearly didn’t understand, but he returned the shake. “Hello.”
Logan also shook hands with Mariam, who bobbed her head in acknowledgment.
Molly edged close to Elisa, fairly quivering with excitement. “Hi.”
“She doesn’t speak our language, sweetie.” Logan rested his hand on Molly’s shoulder. “Elisa is from a different country. She won’t understand what you say.”
Molly ignored him and spoke to the girl, never breaking eye contact with her. “Elisa is a pretty name.”
Thomma’s daughter offered her a shy smile. “Thank you.”
Molly sent Logan a boy-were-you-wrong-about-that look and refocused on the other girl.
While the two children concentrated on each other, Father Murphy strolled by and stopped to pantomime a conversation with Mariam and Thomma.
“You seem chummy with the family.” Logan tipped his head toward the two adult Shabos as they tried to communicate with the priest.
“I’ve gotten to know them a little. I volunteered to help them learn English.”
Now why had she brought that up?
His eyebrows arched. “I saw the appeal in the bulletin on Sunday. That’s a big undertaking.”
“Um . . . I have some spare time.”
“Have you ever done anything like that?”
“Tutored English? Yes. A number of years ago. And as you can see, the need is great.” She shrugged and changed the subject. “How’s everything going on your end? Have you been settling in?”
“Trying to. The electric fence has been installed, and I’m getting ready to train our friend here.” He dipped his chin toward the dog, who was bouncing around as he watched all the activity. Then he lowered his voice. “I’m having a bit of difficulty with the preschool arrangements, though. Molly didn’t last in the Coos Bay facility even to the end of the orientation day—and I’ve got forty-eight hours left to find a new one.”
“Ouch.”
“Tell me about it.”
“What was the problem—if you don’t mind me asking?”
“The director’s take was that Molly’s had to cope with too many changes too fast and suggested I set up more one-on-one daycare, in our house if possible. I’ve spent the past four days trying to come up with an arrangement that will work.”
Jeannette listened while Logan explained about the woman Reverend Baker had found, as well as his reservations.
She couldn’t argue with his concerns, based on the background she’d read in Marci’s Herald article. Molly had endured more than her share of trauma, and if she bonded with the woman the pastor had proposed, it could exacerbate her issues when Logan found a more permanent arrangement.
“I wish I could offer some suggestions, but I don’t know that many people here either.”
“It’s not your worry—and I didn’t mean to dump it on you. I’ll work it out.” Logan angled away to greet Father Murphy as the man spoke to him, and Jeannette checked on the two girls, who’d drawn away from the adults. They were both animated, and despite the language barrier it didn’t appear they were having any trouble communicating.
“Elisa.” Mariam waited until the girl responded before continuing in Arabic.
The child’s face fell.
So did Molly’s, after Thomma took Elisa’s hand, said good-bye, and led the girl away.
Elisa kept looking back, though.
And Molly watched her until they disappeared into the crowd.
Some other customers approached the booth, and while they examined the sachets, Logan pulled out his wallet. “Charley suggested we get some shortbread for dessert, and Molly and I thought that was a fine idea. Didn’t we, sweetie?” He glanced down at her, but she continued to peer into the throng, hopping up and down to see better.
“I think someone’s made a friend.” Jeannette watched her antics as she passed Logan a pack of the cookies.
“Yeah?” Logan handed her a few bills and squinted toward Charley’s truck, his expression pensive. “She did have ponytails.” Toby began to bark and pull on his leash, giving Jeannette no chance to follow up on his odd comment. “Our cue to exit. Come on, Molly. Let’s go home and eat some cookies.”
The girl at last gave up trying to catch another glimpse of her new friend, but she ignored the hand Logan extended and bent to pet Toby instead.
It seemed she was bonding better with her dog than with her uncle.
A tough situation to be in, based on the muscle that clenched in Logan’s jaw and the faint furrows that scored his brow.
But when he turned back to her, he managed to lighten his demeanor. “Tell me I won’t be the only man at the tea tomorrow.”
Jeannette’s lips twitched at the typical male reaction. “I can’t promise that. Most of my customers are women—but once in a while I do get a couple, if it’s a special occasion.”
“That’s what I figured.” He sighed. “I assume tea parties are dressy affairs.”
“Most people wear nicer clothes—but you don’t have to dust off your tux.”
“Could Molly wear her Easter dress and hat?”
Logan had bought his niece an Easter outfit?
Not many single guys thrust into fatherhood would have thought of that.
One more tick mark in his plus column—not that she was keeping score.
“That would be perfect for a tea party. Tell me about your hat, Molly.”
The girl gave Toby one last pat and stood. “It’s white and has flowers and pink ribbons.”
“I can’t wait to see it. It sounds beautiful.”
“I liked the Easter hat Nana got me better.”
Out of the corner of her eye, Jeannette saw Logan’s face fall.
Her heart contracted.
The man was obviously trying hard to connect with his niece, but as far as she could see, he was batting zero.
“But a new hat is always a treat—especially one with pink ribbons.”
“I like purple better. Like the one on your cookies.”
Shoot.
Another kick in the shin to Logan.
“Well . . . I’ll enjoy seeing your hat anyway.”
Logan took her hand, his features taut despite the pleasant
façade he was trying to project. “Say good-bye, Molly. We have to let Jeannette get back to work.”
Molly waved. “Bye.”
“Enjoy your cookies—and I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She watched them stroll away, Toby darting left and right to take everything in as Logan shortened his stride to accommodate his niece.
Despite the strain between them, they made an appealing, if untraditional, family group—as did the Shabos.
In fact, the two families had several things in common. They were both adjusting to life in a new place, neither had many friends, and the two men were starting new jobs. Both girls also had an air of melancholy that plucked at the heartstrings.
Except . . . neither child had seemed sad today. Just the opposite. For the few brief minutes they’d spent together, both had come alive.
As she chatted with customers, sold out her remaining inventory, and began to shut down for the night, an idea began to percolate in her mind.
Nothing might come of it—but if it worked out, maybe it would be the answer to a number of prayers.
“You are going to church with us this Sunday, yes?” Mariam touched Thomma’s arm as he moved past her in the hall to turn in for the night, keeping her voice low so as not to disturb Elisa. “We have much to thank God for.”
“I will go because the people and the priest have been kind and I don’t wish to offend them.”
Not the answer she wanted to hear—but at least he was going.
And perhaps, if he continued to spend an hour a week with the Lord, he would find his way back to God in time.
“Good.”
“It is nothing like St. Peter’s, though.”
No, it wasn’t. The Mass here was much more informal, with fewer rituals and none of the chanting that were the hallmarks of the Chaldean rite she’d attended for more than half a century.
But everyone had been welcoming—and they’d been able to worship openly, without fear of bombs or other violence.
That was a huge blessing.
“We will adjust.”
Thomma snorted. “You say that about everything.”
“Because it is true.” She touched his arm. “You haven’t talked much about your job. It is okay?”
“For now.”
“Your boss—he is fair?”
“Yes.”