As she people watched, a couple around her age walked by holding hands. Tara swallowed, watching the man lean down to listen to what his wife had to say. He either held her hand or touched the small of her back as they made their way to a vendor’s stall. She watched them, a catch in her throat, until they disappeared into the crowd.
Later that afternoon, full of lunch and ice cream, Tara and Will wandered in and out of the shops that had opened, enjoying the sunny day.
Sean, the owner of Sweet Magnolia, met up with Ally after lunch. He was taking her to see a farm a few towns over to meet a couple who had dedicated space on their farm to grow flowers.
Down the street, a bright green and white awning fluttered in the breeze. The shop was at the end of the street on the corner; the mountains wreathed in clouds in the distance. The bell above the door tinkled as they went inside.
“This is beautiful. Look at the craftsmanship.”
Tara ran her fingers over the surface of the wood table.
“Oh, no.”
“What?” Will came up beside her.
“It’s already sold.”
Tara showed him the tag.
“This is exactly what I’ve been looking for to replace the kitchen table.”
One leg had fallen off the old rickety table two weeks ago, and Tara hadn’t found anything she loved until today.
Will’s ears turned red. A sign she’d remembered meant he was embarrassed about something.
“What?”
He touched the round white table. “It’s one of my pieces. Iris sells them for me.”
She ran her hand down the back of one of the white chairs.
“I should have known they were yours. The table and chairs are lovely, something to pass down to my children.” A small laugh escaped. “Or I should I say, to Ally. There’s no way she’d let her brother or sister have them.”
They meandered through the store until they came to a display with rocking chairs, tables, and two porch swings. She knew right away she was looking at more of Will’s craftsmanship.
“Yours?”
He nodded, telling her about the wood he’d used as Tara tried to make up her mind.
Finally she decided on the porch swing, four rocking chairs, and six side tables so everyone would have a place for a drink and a book. She’d already sold the old rocking chairs that had been on the front porch, and Ally had taken the old wicker furniture from the porch and placed it on the patio she’d made from bricks she found around the property. The small patio in front of the greenhouse looked like it had been there forever.
“I’ll deliver the pieces myself.”
He smiled at her.
“Though the small company that was making the cushions and pillows for the porch swings has gone out of business.”
He made a show of looking around.
“If only I knew someone who could make cushions and pillows.”
Will’s eyes sparkled.
“What do you say? Want to add porch cushions and pillows to your clothing business?”
Tara blinked. She knew how to make the boxed cushions, but had never thought about trying to sell them. Why not?
“I’d love to.”
They talked about how many orders she might expect each season, and how many fabric choices she might offer. Tara thought Ally would want to help. They’d split the earnings.
When Will named the price he’d pay her, Tara arched a brow, wondering if he was paying her more because they were friends? When he assured her he wasn’t, she accepted.
“When people come to the mountains, they want something to remember the experience. We ship the swings all over the country. A lot of folks that vacation around here have more money than they know what to do with.”
He laughed.
“They think if they don’t pay an arm and a leg then they aren’t getting quality.”
He leaned in close to her, grinning.
“Being the gentleman that I am, of course I oblige them.”
Tara looked up at him, laughing. “I want a discount on my furniture.”
On the way to the register, Tara caught sight of a display that made her stop in her tracks. The vendor had homemade wood bowls for sale. Tara thought they’d be perfect for leaving on the counter and filling with apples or other produce. As they made their way to the front to pay, Will cleared his throat.
“I don’t know your situation, but I heard you talking about selling clothes at the Sip and Shop. And now you’ll be working on the porch swing cushions and pillows.”
He hesitated, then continued.
“Mrs. Olsen, she taught life classes, or what used to be called home economics classes.”
Tara was thoughtful as they left the store, making their way back to the park.
“She retired and moved to Florida to be close to her kids. Larry is in charge of Continuing Education around here. He’s looking for a replacement. You interested?”
“Life skills. That’s a good name for home economics.”
He nodded.
“A bunch of kids saw some actress knitting and making her own curtains, so they pestered Larry until he agreed. It’s a bunch of stuff. How to manage money, do laundry, cook, sew, garden, canning fruit and vegetables.”
Tara cleaned her sunglasses on her shirt. Will carried the bowls she’d purchased in the store.
“I have a college degree, but I never used it. I got married right after graduation.” She swallowed. “I’m not sure I have the qualifications to teach.”
“You’ve been doing this stuff for years. Anyway, this isn’t a big city, we’re a small town. You don’t need a degree for everything. I bet you know a lot more than you give yourself credit for.” He grinned as he opened the truck door for her.
“From what you’ve told me, I’d say you’re eminently qualified.”
Chapter 10
Careful not to let the screen door slam behind her, Ally caught it with her hip as she called out.
“I’m back.”
The painting was awkward, but not heavy. She propped it up against the wall in the living room, stepping back to look at it, wishing she could step inside the piece.
Her mom hugged her. “Did you buy that from one of the vendors?”
“Not exactly.”
She couldn’t stop looking at the scene. The painting was big, around three feet by four feet. A woman stood barefoot in the garden, a basket of vegetables hanging off one arm. She was wearing a sundress, her hair long and loose down her back. Ally had fallen in love with the piece as soon as she saw it.
“You’ll never guess who I met.”
She went to the kitchen to pour a glass of water.
Her mom looked at the painting, a smile on her face. It was good to see her looking happy again.
“Tell me.”
“Let’s sit outside. I bought a watermelon, we can have a slice while I tell you the story.”
“I’ll get the napkins.”
Ally carried their drinks and the watermelon out to the patio. Today the water was like a mirror reflecting the sky and the clouds after the thunderstorm this morning.
When her mom brought the paper plates and napkins out, she couldn’t wait any longer.
“You know those old houses on that street with the funny name?”
Ally took a bite of watermelon. It was so sweet and juicy, one of her favorite fruits.
Her mom tilted her head, thinking.
“Hog Neck Road?”
“Yes, that’s it.” Ally wondered if a long time ago there used to be a hog farm in place of the homes and that’s how the road got its name?
“It’s an awful name for such a pretty street.”
“No kidding.” Ally couldn’t agree more. It made her picture hogs with long necks trotting up and down the street.
“Anyway, I was looking at all those old houses, and a woman stepped out on the porch.”
Ally wiped her mouth. “Remember that gorgeous white house with the b
ig porch and columns?”
Her mom nodded. “The one with all those hydrangeas out front?”
“That’s the one.” She took a sip of water. Whew, it was hot today.
“She said she knew your Aunt Frida.”
Ally paused, remembering what the woman had said.
“She said they were friends and used to paint and play bridge.”
Ally grinned.
“Did you know they used to make moonshine and sell it?”
Her mom shook her head, grinning.
“Somehow that doesn’t surprise me. What was her name?”
“Mrs. Cavill. She’s lived in the same house all her life.” Ally handed her mom the photograph Mrs. Cahill had given her.
“This is her and your aunt. Look how young they were.”
Her mom traced the photo with a finger.
“Aunt Frida must have been in her early twenties. They look like they were up to no good.” She looked at Ally. “You look like her.”
Ally leaned over to look at the photo again.
“I didn’t notice.” When she looked more closely at the image, she had to agree.
“I think we have the same mouth.”
She put her phone on top of the photo so it wouldn’t blow away.
“She invited me inside. The house is just as beautiful inside. A little old-fashioned, but wow, all the antiques.”
Ally sneezed. She waited a minute, then sneezed again.
“There’s a room with floor-to-ceiling windows that look out over the garden. They used to paint there when it was too cold outside.”
Ally sighed.
“Mrs. Cavill has the most amazing garden. After we walked through the garden, she brought me upstairs.”
Her mom leaned forward, listening. “And?”
“The room was full of paintings. They covered every inch of wall space, and there were more stacked up against the walls.”
Ally still couldn’t believe all the art.
“She told me to pick one.”
Ally looked out at the mountains in the distance. They looked purple today.
“It was hard to decide, but I finally decided on the woman in the garden. It was a friend of theirs. The woman passed away years ago. When she told me that, I said I couldn’t take it, but she insisted.”
Ally finished the last bite of watermelon and wiped her mouth.
“She invited me to come back and paint with her.”
Ally looked at her mom.
“I don’t know how to paint.”
“That doesn’t matter. Have fun.”
Her mom patted her hand.
“You’re talented. I know you can paint.”
Her throat closed up. Ally jumped up and hugged her mom, who yelped with surprise.
“I love you, mom. Thanks for always supporting me and being there for me.”
Ally wiped her eyes.
“I’m really happy here.” She took a breath. “I don’t want to be in the way, so if you’re tired of me being here, just say the word.”
Her mom wiped her eyes.
“I love you, too. You are welcome as long as you want to stay. I like having you here.”
Her mom tapped her chin.
“Where should we hang that fabulous painting?”
Ally thought about it for a moment.
“In the living room so both of us can enjoy it.”
Her mom sat at the table in the kitchen while Ally made salad and soup for dinner. She told her mom all about visiting the flower farm, how the couple who owned the place set aside a small portion of land to grow flowers on their farm, and sold them to local florists. They said the demand was there, but they didn’t want to stretch themselves too thin, so they weren’t going to continue with the flowers.
“So what do you think? Would you mind if I tried my hand at growing flowers to sell? I thought I’d spend the rest of the week cleaning up the greenhouse.”
Her mom finished the bowl of French onion soup.
“Your soup was delicious.”
She wiped her mouth with a cloth napkin.
“I think the flowers are a great idea.”
As Ally laid out her plans, her mom cleared the table and did the dishes. They’d decided whoever cooked the other one would clean up, and they’d take turns going to the grocery.
To wake up every morning and see fields full of flowers made Ally’s heart sing. Next time she went to town for groceries, she’d stop by and talk to Mary over at Spilled Milk, see if she would be interested in any of the flowers.
The owner of Sweet Magnolia had already told her he’d buy from her. There would need to be enough flowers for her and her mom as well.
Grateful to her mom for raising her to save money, Ally was glad she’d been careful enough that she could take the time to see if the idea would work.
When she offered to pay rent, her mom had brushed her off, saying she was happy she was there, to save it for whatever she wanted to do with her life.
When she lived alone Ally rarely cooked, but now? It was fun trying new recipes, even if some of them had been utter disasters.
Tara stood with her hands on her hips, a huge smile on her face.
“The chairs look amazing.”
It was hot today, the sky a brilliant blue, the water a deep indigo. The mountains in the distance made her feel grounded. With sweat trickling down her back, Tara was glad she’d dressed in shorts and a tee shirt. Her daughter looked as hot and sweaty as she felt.
“The floral cushions really pop.” Ally wiped her face with a towel. “I’m going to make skillet pizza for lunch.”
Her daughter grinned. “You stay out here and admire our work.”
“I will.”
Tara sat on the chaise lounge chair and breathed deeply, the scent of the lake, the trees, and someone grilling, filling her nose.
They’d repainted the wrought iron furniture for the patio, the Adirondack chairs on the deck, and the rest of the wicker. In addition, they’d finished all the curtains for the house, along with bright summery throw pillows. But not those little square pillows people ended up tossing to the side when they sat down, no these were big, almost standard bed pillow size. Perfect for naps on the sofa, or out on the porch swing or patio.
Her daughter had the idea to set up part of the screened-in porch out back as a napping porch. They’d set up an old daybed that was in the attic with a sheet, quilt, and several big pillows. Ally had called first dibs, said she was sleeping out on the porch tonight. With the breeze off the water, it would be almost chilly.
Besides the bed, they’d found an old metal table and a couple of metal spring chairs. They’d painted them red and white. After years of neglect, the house was now sparkling clean from top to bottom. There had been so much stuff to deal with, Tara was thankful her aunt had passed in the first year after she’d started hoarding.
As much as they had to clean out, Tara couldn’t imagine how bad it would have been after twenty years. Extra linens, furniture, and small kitchen appliances were donated, a great deal of stuff went to the dump. Between the two of them, they’d made so many trips to the dump and donation center, that the man and woman who ran them knew them both by name.
“Ally told me you were out here.”
Tara sat up, shading her eyes.
“Will. How nice to see you.”
He took off his sunglasses while he talked to her, something she appreciated. Harry used to leave his on, and something about not being able to see his eyes when he talked always bothered her. Now she knew it was because deep down she’d doubted the truth of what he said.
“Remember that distressed white round kitchen table you liked?”
“How could I forget? It was beautiful.”
Will grinned, showing off perfectly straight white teeth.
“You’re in luck. The client’s husband got a job in New York, so she backed out.”
Tara jumped up.
“Is it here? Tell me it’s mine
.”
He laughed.
“You’re more excited than a kid on Christmas morning.”
“Sometimes you see a piece and know it’s meant to be yours.”
She practically ran inside to the kitchen.
“It’s beautiful.”
Tara turned to her daughter. “Doesn’t it look perfect?”
“I told Will you’d go nuts over it.” Ally turned to him. “The table is fabulous.”
“I figured six chairs would be plenty.” Will ran a hand across the back of the simple white chair.
“Six is perfect.”
Tara loved the furniture. It looked like it belonged in the kitchen, as if it had been there forever.
“We’re having skillet pizza for lunch. Join us?”
“It’s almost ready.” Ally peeked in the oven. “We have plenty.”
“In that case, I’d love to.” Will smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corner.
“How about I make myself useful and set the table?”
Ally clapped a hand to her chest. “Mom. A man who offers to set the table? Marry him now.”
Heat crept up her face as Tara looked between Will and Ally.
“He is rather useful.” She stroked her chin, purposely looking him up and down until he burst out laughing.
She went to the cabinet and opened it.
“The dishes are here. I’ll grab the napkins and silverware.”
“Deal.” Will looked at the table, then outside. “How about we eat out on the patio?”
“Yes.” Tara and Ally said at the same time.
As she moved around the kitchen, Tara couldn’t help but notice how different things were with Will. Everything was easy. Comfortable. But was it because they were just friends?
She and Harry never really argued, but they’d never been this comfortable around each other, either. He was always playing golf or off meeting clients. At dinners, there were other people around, so she had never really spent time doing simple things, or just hanging out with Harry. He rarely even used their swimming pool, preferring to play golf and advance his career.
Tara wasn’t ready for a relationship, they’d have to take things nice and slow so she could really get to know him again.
If Will ended up fitting in her life, great. If not, that was fine too. Never again would she change herself to fit into a man’s life.
Blueberry Hill, #1 Page 10