by Denise Carbo
Sighing, I gaze at the coffee table. How horrified would she be if I rested my ankle on it?
It’s probably not worth the risk to find out.
“Francine.”
Her voice rises a notch with a strident edge. Oh yes, she thinks the conversation is about me and I must be in trouble. When have I ever gotten in trouble? Other than accidents or mishaps that is.
“No, I’m not in any trouble and it’s not about me.”
A perplexed expression crosses her face. “Then what is this about? Is it about her divorce? Is Mark causing problems?”
I snort. Not the kind you’re thinking of.
One manicured eyebrow raises.
Clearing my throat, I glance at the door again.
Finally, Lucinda and my father walk out of the kitchen. My sister glances from me to my mother.
Yes, you left me alone with her. The inquisition has started.
My father ambles over to kiss me on the cheek. “What’s this?” He jerks his chin to the cane.
“I twisted my ankle and Luce thought it would help.”
“Lucinda. Use her full name. Nicknames are common and cheapen the name.”
My sister sits next to me. “I like it.”
We share a small smile.
“What is this about, Lucinda?”
My father sits next to my mother and smiles at the two of us. Luce takes a deep breath.
“I quit my job and want to move back here, to Granite Cove.”
The silence thickens and lengthens. I insisted on being a silent supporter, but as my gaze ping pongs between the pinched look on my mother’s face and the concerned one on my father’s, I grasp for something to say.
“Isn’t that wonderful? She’s moving home!”
Lucinda squeezes my hand resting between us. Her palm is a little damp and I marvel over the fact she is so nervous. I mean, of course, she is, but I thought I was the only one to suffer from anxiety and terror facing my mother.
Our father smiles. “You always have a home here with us. It’ll be nice to have all my girls under my roof again.”
“Have you contacted a law firm in New Hampshire? What about your license?” Mother’s head swivels to pin her stare on my father. “What about contacting your old firm? You were a partner. Surely that carries weight enough to get your daughter a position?”
My father is more than a decade older than my mother. They met at a fundraiser and he likes to say he swept her off her feet, but I can’t imagine that happening. I think my mother set her cap for the handsome distinguished lawyer and let him believe he did the pursuing.
“I’m not planning to practice law.”
“What do you mean? What do you plan to do?” My mother glares at me like I have something to do with this.
“I don’t know yet.”
Mother’s polished nails drum on her leg. Father clears his throat and glances at my mother.
“I want to take a little time to figure out what I want to do.”
“Nonsense, you’re not throwing away years of education and experience.”
“Now, now, dear, that’s not what she’s saying.” My father pats my mother’s leg and smiles at my sister. “Take the summer to work through the divorce. I’m sure once that is handled everything will fall back into place.”
Lucinda’s hand is digging into mine. I peek at her. Her face is frozen with no emotion on it whatsoever.
I clear my throat. “Now is the perfect time for her to figure out what she wants to do. The divorce has upended her plans. She needs time to work through that and being single again.”
The glacial stare aimed my way from my mother has me fingering my cross like I’m trying to ward off evil or something. My grandmother Emmy gave it to me when I was a little girl. She gave one to Luce too, but I’m the one who never takes it off.
“Frivolous behavior will not do her any favors. She needs to move on, not wallow.”
“She’s getting divorced. I think that warrants a little wallowing.”
“How would you know? You’ve never even been engaged.”
Does that mean I’m not allowed to have an opinion?
Of course it does.
I open my mouth to respond, but Lucinda leans forward. “I understand you’re disappointed, but this is my life and my decision.”
Hallelujah! You go sis!
Her voice trembles a little and cracks in places, but I’m beaming for her.
Mother tries staring her down, but Lucinda returns her gaze and doesn’t falter. I squeeze her hand.
My father’s gaze darts back and forth between them. “Your mother is only concerned for you. We don’t want you to make any hasty decisions you might regret.”
“You should have come to us before you resigned. You’re being impulsive.”
Again, she shoots a glare in my direction then her attention returns to Lucinda. I’m sure she believes somehow this is my fault.
“If I decide to return to practicing law, I’m sure I will have no trouble doing so, but right now I have no idea what I want except to be with my family.”
My father taps his reading glasses against his leg. “Like I said, take the summer, and then decide. Everything will work out for the best.”
My mother glares at my father this time and then she raises her chin and gazes at Lucinda.
“Fine, what’s done is done. Take the summer to get your life back in order.”
Lucinda’s shoulder sags against mine.
“Thank you.”
My mother suddenly brightens. “We’ll call it a sabbatical. Your return home can be the theme of our Fourth of July party.”
Isn’t Independence Day the theme of the party?
“In fact, perhaps this is fortuitous. An extended stay at home will allow Lucinda’s and Mitch’s budding relationship to flourish.”
I sink into the back cushion. Lucinda is looking at me. I glance at her and she is imploring me with her eyes.
What?
“I am not interested in Mitch.” She looks at me again.
Oh no, don’t you dare say I am. I give a quick shake to my head and squeeze her hand.
“Don’t be ridiculous. Of course you are.”
“No, I’m not. I just filed for divorce. I’m not interested in anyone.”
“The best thing to do is move on to someone new. It will speed up your recovery.”
As if she had a broken bone instead of a broken heart.
“Mother, it’s not going to happen.”
“With the right strategy anything can happen. I’ve been careful with the guest list and eliminated most of the attractive young women. We can’t not invite them all because that would be too obvious, however I’m only inviting those that have fatal flaws that will overshadow their beauty. You will have no competition.”
She should have been a politician or a crime boss.
Lucinda rubs her forehead. My father stands and kisses each of us on the cheek.
“I’ll leave the party planning to you girls.” He leaves the room and I wish I could follow.
“You’ll wear blue, it will bring out your eyes. I’ll make an appointment with my stylist for your hair.”
What would my mother say if I enlisted her help with Mitch?
She’d laugh in my face most likely.
“No.” Lucinda stands and strides out of the room.
She’s left me alone in the room with my mother, again.
Chapter Twenty-seven
The white pillars supporting the entrance to the library are as thick as my hips. I hobble to the steps as fast as my ankle allows before I can change my mind.
I committed myself to attending the small business meeting and I should for many reasons, the most important being for the benefit of my bakery.
It’s also proof I’m done with hiding.
Right, so get your butt in there.
I’m not exactly dressed in business attire. Sneakers adorn my feet because of my ankle, so I put on a pa
ir of navy Capris and a burgundy blouse. It’s the best I could manage.
Balancing the box of assorted muffins, cookies, and pastries I brought from the bakery, I open the large wooden door and peek inside. I haven’t set foot in here since high school.
The wooden tables and chairs on either side are the same; so are the row after row of bookshelves lining the perimeter of the room. There’s a circular metal desk in the center of the space I don’t recall.
The door opens behind me and I glance over my shoulder.
Rebecca waltzes in wearing a slim black skirt and a purple blouse with black heels. She grins when she spots me.
“You made it.”
“I did, but I’m not sure where to go.”
She loops her arm through one of mine. “Downstairs in the meeting room.”
We walk to the back-left corner where a set of stairs leads up and down.
I follow her down the stairs to a wide hallway with doors on each side and an open area in the front which looks like a kid’s reading area with bean bag chairs and half shelves. Rebecca opens the first door on the right. Five people are milling about near a coffee pot set up on a small table. A long table and chairs dominate the room.
“Hi everyone. This is Franny Dawson, for those of you who aren’t aware. She owns The Sweet Spot.”
Mr. Hanson, who owns the grocery store, waves. “Hi Franny.”
A short woman with long brown hair walks over and introduces herself. “Hi, I’m Paula Moskvitch. I own the Rosewood Bed & Breakfast.”
A tall thin man in jeans and a plaid button-down shirt leans over the table to shake my hand. “Miles Shaw. I own The Village Liquor Shop.”
“Ian Flannigan, Flannigan’s Pub.” The man waves from the corner.
“Hi there. I’m Derek and I own Petopia.”
“I’ve wondered about your place. Is it a pet store?”
“We sell pet toys and care products, but we also have a grooming salon and a daycare area too. Do you have a pet?”
“No, I’m afraid not.”
Rebecca takes the box from me and peeks inside. “Will you marry me?”
I laugh. “Are you that easy?”
“Yes.”
“What have you got there? Don’t go hogging the goodies, Rebecca.” Ian shoulders his way across to peer over her shoulder and grabs one side of the box.
Rebecca swats at his hand and glares at him. “Back off Flannigan. I get first dibs since she’s my friend and I invited her.”
He holds his palms up in the air. “Easy there, killer.”
She brings the box to the table with the coffee maker and opens it up as everyone circles around her except me.
“What’s all the excitement?”
A woman with light brown hair ending at her shoulders stops next to me.
“Bakery goods.”
“Oh, you must be Franny. I’m Evie Brown. I own Pretty Bits, the souvenir shop.”
“Yes, hi, it’s nice to meet you.”
People take their treats and coffee and sit at the table. Evie strolls over to peek in the box and Rebecca sets her items down on the table next to me and pulls out a chair.
“Sit. It looks like it will be a light meeting tonight. Usually there’s around a dozen of us. Vanessa, our self-appointed leader, is usually here. She’s a local realtor, you know her?”
I freeze pulling out the chair next to her.
It never occurred to me she might be here.
Plopping down in the chair, I sigh. “Yes, I know her.”
“Problem?”
“We both grew up here in town. She was popular. I was not. We’ve never been friendly.”
More like mortal enemies. At least that is how she has always treated me. I just try to avoid her whenever possible.
“Ah, you have a history. I get it. I have my own.”
After everyone takes a seat, Rebecca clears her throat. “Okay everyone, if we hope to have the local business fair by the end of the summer, we need to make a bunch of decisions. Namely, when and where and who will organize what.”
She leans towards me. “We want to set up booths so every business owner can not only advertise their products or service but introduce the community to what they offer and show why shopping local benefits everyone.”
A nice idea.
“I nominate Rebecca to organize it.” Ian gives her a wide grin.
“I’d be happy to.”
“Good, that’s decided.” Mr. Hanson looks around the room. “Unless anyone has any objections?”
Everyone declines and Rebecca pulls out a tablet from her purse. “Okay then, date and venue. Anyone have any suggestions?”
“Sorry I’m late.” Kelly, the dog owner from the park rushes into the room. She drops into a chair at the end of the table and scans the room.
Rebecca glances up from her tablet. “Hi Kelly, this is Franny.”
Kelly smiles and nods at Rebecca. “We’ve met. Hi Franny. What business do you own?”
“The Sweet Spot.”
“Ooh, I love that place.” Her gaze lands on the box I brought and she pops to a stand. “Will you be my new best friend?”
Rebecca laughs. “I’ve already proposed to her so I guess you can take the friend spot.”
Kelly grins and then peers into the box with her hands behind her back.
“She owns the new dress shop in town, Dress to Impress.”
I noticed the sign driving through town before, but I’ve never been inside. I’ll have to take a look.
Kelly licks the frosting from her thumb and waltzes back to her seat with a cupcake and napkin in one hand and a coffee in the other. An emerald green dress skims her figure and cinches at the waist. Does she design the dresses or buy them from someone who does? Is it one of her designs?
“Where were we? Oh yes, locations. Anyone have a suggestion?”
“The high school? We could have it in one sport fields or if it rains in the gym?” Miles says.
Paula raises her hand then lowers it. “The town park next to the lake would be close to the village and get more foot traffic but I’m not sure what we would do if it rains.”
“Those are both good options. I can call the town hall and the school and find out who we need permission from and if it’s even possible.” She types on her tablet. “I guess when will depend on the answers to those questions but I think we have to shoot for the end of August. Anything else is too soon.”
“I can send out mailers to the town once we have the details set.” Evie fiddles with a pen on a pad of paper.
“I’ll contact all the businesses and see who’s interested in having a booth at the fair. The more we have the better the draw.” Derek stands to refill his coffee cup and take another cookie.
Ian drums his fingers on the table. “We need to establish how much a booth will cost. We can’t foot the bill for everyone.”
Rebecca busily types on her tablet. “There will be a nominal fee to have a booth set up to cover the organizational costs.”
Nibbling on my lip, I lean forward. “What about having entertainment and food? Besides those of us who sell food I mean. A bouncy house or something for the kids. Maybe some games with little prizes? I think we have to make it a family friendly event to entice people.”
Rebecca nods at me. “Excellent suggestion.”
“Those things cost money.” Mr. Hanson folds his hands on his belly. “We’ll have to charge more for the booths, but Franny is right about attracting families. The whole point is making the community aware of our businesses and what we offer.”
As the meeting wears on, I gain more confidence and voice my opinion and suggestions. By the time it ends, I volunteer to organize the entertainment.
Ian walks over to fill his coffee cup and leans against the wall. “We need something big to draw in the crowds.”
“How about Mitch Atwater?”
Holy crap! Please tell me I didn’t say that out loud.
All eyes are on me
.
Yup, I did. What the heck was I thinking?
“Would he be willing to make an appearance?” Kelly asks.
“I mean…he might be willing to sign autographs or something.”
Rebecca stands. “Excellent Franny! Okay guys and gals, I will contact the other members who weren’t here and make a volunteer list. We’ll have to meet again, but for now we’ll communicate by email. Any objections?”
A chorus of “no” fills the room.
“Good, then let’s all get the hell out of here and get some rest. Tomorrow is another workday.”
Rebecca strides to the front. “And if anyone wants any more treats, you better speak up now otherwise they are going home with me to feed my sugar addiction.”
“Hand over the box, killer.” Ian approaches her holding out his hand.
She opens the lid. “I’m not handing over anything to you.”
I smile and wave to everyone as I walk to the door. Kelly stares at the couple and then shrugs. “I’m not getting involved in that. Toodles.”
“Wait for me, Franny.”
Rebecca hands out a couple more confections and then closes the lid and grabs her belongings off the table.
We walk out of the building together. “So, what did you think of your first meeting?”
“It was good. I’m glad you invited me. The fair is a promising idea.”
“There’s a lot to do in a brief time, but we’ve got a good group here and can get it done.”
“Is Ian part of that history you mentioned?”
She gives me a sideways glance. “That conversation will require a great deal of alcohol and more sweets. We’ll have to schedule a girl’s night for that one.”
Chapter Twenty-eight
Feet dragging with only the occasional slight hitch in my gate, I unlock the back door of the bakery and trudge inside. My tender ankle had a full day of rest and so have I, hiding in my room for the past day and a half except for the small business meeting last night. Lucinda and I binge watched The Gilmore Girls and indulged in ice cream therapy.
Flicking on the light switches and hobbling around the room preheating the ovens and yanking out ingredients from the refrigerator and cabinets, I ruminate over my failed seduction attempt. I need a fail-safe plan or at least a me safe plan.
Hands covered in flour and bread dough, I freeze when someone comes down the outside stairs. Mitch rarely rises this early. Has someone been in his apartment all night? A woman now making the early morning slink of shame before the town wakes up and witnesses her sneaking out of Mitch’s apartment?