Mr. Maybe

by M. Kate Quinn

  “I can’t thank you enough for steering me to Sycamore River. I’m honored to be here.”

  “Hey, you did it all on your own by acing the civil exam. All I did was let you know we had an opening here in town. We’re a good bunch. You’ll fit right in.”

  “Thank you, Hop.” He surprised himself at the way emotion caught in his throat. He coughed. The last thing he needed was for one of his new bosses to think he was a wuss.

  “The eight weeks you’re in the academy, you’ll be spending time here at the station with the guys, learning the ropes. Going on calls as a volunteer and logging in some hours. You’ll assist the men and just help out when they need you. Be prepared, though, because you’re going to be doing grunt work. Then on August first when all goes well with the academy, you’re here full time. Sound good?”

  “Sounds great.”

  Hop patted his swollen belly. “And you’ll do some good eating, kid. Trust me. Some of the men can really cook.” He let out a low whistle. “Vinny makes carbonara sauce as good as my mother’s, God rest her soul. We’re a family around here.”

  Shane’s throat clogged again. How long had it been since he had food cooked by his mother or sat down to a meal with family, and what on earth made him think of that now? Mom had died more than twenty years ago. He’d managed to put thoughts of that time into a separate compartment in his head that usually stayed put. But just the mention of home cooking and being with his father’s old friend set it free.

  After Mom died, Shane and his kid brother, Nick, along with their father had had to fend for themselves. Mealtime had been a joke. They were no cooks, by any means, but somehow they’d managed. Thank God for stovetop macaroni and cheese and hotdogs. English- muffin pizzas had been his specialty.

  Just when it felt as if his life was forming a new rhythm, a heart attack took his father a year later, and Shane, at eighteen, had a thirteen-year-old brother to deal with.

  “How’s your kid brother? He must be almost thirty. Am I right?”

  “Twenty-eight. Nick’s doing great. He’s a CPA, married and living in Boston.”

  “You get to see him much?”

  “Not really, but he’s happy and settled, and that’s what matters.”

  Hop gave his shoulder a squeeze. “You did good by him, Irish.”

  Shane swallowed the lump that had landed in his throat. He’d had some tough times, but this was his opportunity to fulfill his dream. The idea of being a fireman in a house where all the members got along and where somebody named Vinny made them a sauce—and right now he didn’t even know what carbonara was—was pretty damned appealing.

  He just wished he could get Dana to be happy for him. In the months they’d been dating, every time he brought up becoming a paid fireman, she did that wrinkle thing with her nose. She orbited within the corporate world. That just wasn’t Shane. Every time she suggested he go back and finish college, it was his turn to wrinkle his nose. This was what he wanted.

  “How’re you doing with the move to town?”

  “Good news and not-so-good news. The new apartment building on the green is going to be ready for occupancy in three months. They’re already taking applications. I got approved for a one-bedroom. Deposit down and everything.”

  “Congratulations. That’s good, but I guess that leaves you high and dry for three months. You need a bona-fide town address before you start the academy, which is coming up soon.”

  “Yeah, I start next Monday. Today’s already Wednesday. Any chance they’d let me show proof that I’ll have a place as of September first and let me slide for a while? I can bunk at my girlfriend’s place in Mountain Lakes until then. She’s in Europe on business for an extended time.”

  Hop’s mouth twisted into a bunch. “In a perfect world that might work, but not in a small town with a board that loves nothing more than to exert its power. You need a documented address now, a temporary lease agreement you can attach to your paperwork for the place on the green you’ll move into come September.”

  Shane blew out a hiss of air. What the hell was he going to do if he couldn’t find a temporary place to live? He’d worked his butt off preparing for the civil service testing, had come in at the top of the candidates. He’d be damned if he’d let a glitch stop him. He was thirty-four years old. He’d been on his own for a long time, had worked in a nowhere job for too long. This was his chance. And, dammit, nothing was going to get in his way.

  “I have to find something like today, don’t I? I’m desperate.”

  Hop tilted his head, gave a nod. “Irish, if I could, I’d let you bunk at my house until the apartment is available. But you know how that would look. They don’t go for special treatment around here. Especially since I found out the next guy in line after you is a nephew of one of the town muckety-mucks. He would be happy as hell to find a reason to have you bumped out of contention. Government. All rules, no heart.”

  “Don’t even know where to go from here. Knock on doors? Maybe I’ll look on Craig’s List. There’s got to be somebody looking to rent out a room.”

  Hop’s mustache twitched, and his mouth turned into a half smile. “Craig’s list. You know something? That’s not a bad idea, Irish. Not a bad idea at all.”

  Chapter Two

  Kit was late getting to Rosie’s Bridals. The storm had moved past town with the rumble of retreating thunder, as if it were shouting out a goodbye. Yeah, thanks for nothing.

  She went into the shop through the front door. A year ago Rosie’s Bridals would have had a few brides-to-be perusing the dress selections on a Wednesday afternoon, young ladies accompanied by a friend or their mother in search for their dream wedding gowns.

  But a lot had happened in a year’s time. The shop had suffered a decline in business despite Rylee and Darius’ efforts to build clientele. The townies thought the new upscale turnover was ruining everything. It was no secret. All she had to do was look at the storefronts on the square. Gentrification had barreled through Sycamore River’s downtown like a steamroller.

  Rylee sat at the table, pouring through sample catalogues for the upcoming season. Kit’s heart did a flip at her friend’s dogged hope. She loved Rylee like a sister, and it hurt that her livelihood was hanging by a thread.

  Rylee let go of the book in front of her and came around to greet Kit. “I can’t believe what happened with that old tree crushing your car. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

  “Thanks, girl, but yeah, the car is ruined. But thank God for my neighbor Hop. He’s a lifesaver.”

  “How’d you get here?”

  “I ran. The rain stopped, and I needed to blow off some steam. Oh, and it’s the price I pay for a winter of gluttony.” She gave her midsection a slap.

  Rylee’s mouth turned into a wry smile. “You’re too hard on yourself, my friend.”

  Kit took a seat at the table. “With no car, I better get used to hoofing it. Seriously, though, I might have to find a part-time job or something to get some extra money for a car.”

  “I’m sorry I can’t offer you more hours. Not these days.”

  She blew out a whoosh of air. Rylee had her own things to worry about, and she would never want to make her feel bad. “Something will crop up, I’m sure. So what did you want to talk with me about?” Kit’s insides squeezed. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it together.

  “Kit, wipe that look off your face. Rosie’s Bridals is not done yet. Granted things are far from wonderful, but we’ve still got some business coming in. Especially because of your reputation in alterations. Word’s out that you work magic.”

  “I don’t know how magical it is, but thank you.”

  “So here it is. I had to let Freda and Mary Ann go. It killed me to do it. They’ve been with the store since my grandmother owned the place.”

  “That’s too bad. I’m sorry.” Kit did her best to keep her face neutral so as not to betray her concern and disappointment. Freda had been her alterations assistant for the whole time K
it had been on board, and Mary Ann had done sales for years. She’d miss them both.

  “So, my friend, for now it’s you and me around here.” Rylee shook her head. “Think we can do it?”

  “I know we can.” I hope we can. She reached over and squeezed Rylee’s hand. “Nothing can stop us. And thank you for telling me in person.”

  “There’s something else.”

  She didn’t like the look on Rylee’s face. “Okay. Whatever it is, it’ll be fine. Just tell me.”

  “It’s about a phone call I received from a bride-to-be. She wants us to alter a gown that’s a family heirloom.”

  “I can do that.” She didn’t have a lot of experience with vintage dresses, but she was a quick study. She wouldn’t let Rylee sense an iota of hesitation.

  “Well, the soon-to-be bride did ask for you specifically, even though I was hedging.”

  “Hedging? Why? Maybe this could be a whole new angle for the shop. Vintage is on trend. We can advertise that we do custom makeovers of old gowns. I mean, I’ve only done it a time or two, but the results were wonderful. I’d give it my all. Trust me.”

  “That could be an idea,” Rylee said. “But…”

  “But what? Maybe this is a gift dropped into our laps, Ry. This bride and her antique dress could serve as a catalyst for a whole new uptick in business. I hope you told her yes.”

  “Not yet. I wanted to make sure you were okay with it.”

  “Of course I’m okay with it.”

  “But—”

  “Stop saying but. But what?”

  “The bride is your cousin Co-Co.”

  “What?” Kit’s insides cinched like a tourniquet, cutting off her air. She coughed. “Co-Co and Brian are getting married?” Kit had gone out with the guy for nearly a year, and not once would he have even discussed the idea of getting married. One time he didn’t call for two days after she’d randomly mentioned her ideas about a country-themed wedding.

  Rylee gave her head one quick nod. “I’m going to tell her no.”

  “The dress!” Kit stood up from the bench. “Is it my grandmother’s wedding gown she wants altered?”

  “She didn’t say.”

  “It is. It has to be.” Kit paced back and forth in front of the worktable. “That bitch.” She made a scoffing sound. “I always wanted Gram’s dress. She knew that. I used to talk about it when we were growing up. Co-Co doesn’t have a sentimental bone in her scrawny body. What a snake.”

  “I couldn’t believe it when she called here,” Rylee said. “She’s got nerve. I’ll say that much.”

  “Bitch.”

  Rylee went to the small desk in the corner and picked up the handset of the phone.

  “Wait, what are you doing?” Kit charged over to her. “Put the phone down.”

  “Kit, I’ll just tell her we’re too busy. It’s easier that way.”

  “No. It’s an opportunity for the store, and we can’t let it go.”

  “Don’t be crazy.”

  “I’m serious. This could be the start of a new avenue for us. Remaking vintage gowns. We can do some advertising. Ask Darius. Your dreamboat will know how to spin it.”

  A smile broke out on Rylee’s face. Darius, Rylee’s fiancé, had been involved in media and was now campaigning for a town council position. He loved Sycamore River, and he loved Rylee more. He’d have ideas on how to make a new aspect of Rosie’s Bridals work to their advantage.

  “But I couldn’t ask you to deal with your cousin after what you’ve been through.”

  “We have to think with our heads. I won’t let you turn business away.”

  “She did mention all her bridesmaids will need dresses. And the mothers of the bride and groom will need gowns as well.”

  Kit swallowed hard. “So tell the snake yes.”

  “She and her mother want to come by tomorrow with the dress.” She reached a hand to Kit’s arm and gave it a squeeze. “Are you sure about this?”

  Kit’s mouth was dry. This was up there on a list of bad days. “I might need a chili dog for this, but yeah. I’m sure.”

  Rylee pulled Kit into her arms. “How’d I get so lucky to have you for a friend?”

  “Just do me one favor. When my bitch of a cousin’s here, make sure you supervise my use of sharp objects.”

  Kit’s cell phone rang, and she pulled the device out of her back pocket. “I swear to God if this is Co-Co, I might have to go visit Gio at the hot-dog cart right now.” She connected the call with a zealous swipe without looking at the screen.

  “Hey, kiddo.”

  Her heart warmed as relief washed over her. “Hi, Hop.”

  “The tree guy’s here now, and later the tow truck’s coming to take away the Honda.”

  “I can’t thank you enough, Hop. Seriously, if there’s anything I can do for you, just name it.”

  “Come for dinner at my place tonight. I’ll order in. I’ll get that eggplant parm you like. There is something I want to talk to you about.”

  “Okay, sure. I’ll bring wine. After this crazy day, I’m going to need some.”

  Chapter Three

  Shane popped open a beer and positioned his laptop on a storage box. He had until the weekend to move out of the apartment. He was mostly done packing, and he’d put his limited selection of furniture into a storage unit. He opened the laptop and fired up the video-call function. He had so much to tell Dana.

  “Hey,” he said when her face came into view. She looked good, bright-eyed, happy. His mouth curved into an easy grin.

  “Hey to you, too.” Her voice was light. He loved it when she was upbeat. The lightness wasn’t often apparent anymore, and he wished she’d just let herself be fun and easy. The job had done something to her, particularly this stint in Milan. She had taken to saying ciao instead of goodbye, and she waved with her fingers facing herself, which made no sense.

  “How are you?” he asked.

  “Good. Great, actually. Molto bene.”

  He took a sip of his beer and lifted the bottle in a salute. “I’m celebrating with me, myself, and I tonight. I met with the captain in Sycamore River today now that it’s a lock.”

  She smirked. “Don’t you want to know why I’m great?”

  “Sure, sure, sorry, yes. Tell me.”

  “Bellisima Beauty loves our line. Especially the body sprays that were totally my idea, my baby, if you will.” Her voice rose in excitement. She wiggled in her seat. “And guess what?” She didn’t wait for him to guess. “They want me to consider coming on board. Can you believe that? Me in Milan? I mean, what kind of dream would that be?”

  Shane took another sip and swallowed hard. “What?” A laugh popped out of his mouth. “Wait. Who’s Bellisima Beauty again?”

  “The cosmetics manufacturer. Like the company in Europe. And they’d like nothing more than to steal me away from Sundry Labs. Me!”

  “You’re not considering it, though, are you?”

  Dana’s face fell. Her smile disappeared. “I didn’t say I was taking the job, Shane.”

  “Then what are you saying?”

  She blew out a breath. “Never mind.”

  “No, I want to understand. Obviously, it’s flattering for them to offer. I get that. But what about your job here, your life here?”

  She closed her eyes, then opened them. “I don’t know. There’s a lot to think about. But finish telling me about you. You said you were celebrating.”

  “Well, like I said, I met with the fire captain today to go over things. Remember I told you he was a friend of my father’s? His name is Joe, but they call him Hop because he limps, remember?”

  She wrinkled her nose. “Maybe. But go on.”

  “He’s a great guy.” He couldn’t help the grin that broke out on his face. “He calls me Irish.”

  “Irish the Fireman.” Her voice was deadpan.

  “That’s me.” He smiled, ignoring her obvious lack of enthusiasm. “I start the academy on Monday, and then the real wo
rk begins. I told you I signed the lease for the apartment in the new building on the green, right?”

  “Yes. Do you have a view or anything?”

  “Nah,” he said. “The place is so expensive as it is. I think my place overlooks the parking lot.”

  “Charming,” she said.

  “My dilemma now is to find a temporary place for the three months until I get into the new apartment. Scrambling right now with the way this town is growing and apparently the whole world wants in. Everything depends on me having a Sycamore River address.”

  Dana sighed. “What happens if you don’t find a temporary residence?”

  He shrugged. “I lose.”

  She tilted her head at a contemplative angle. “Leave it in fate’s hands, I guess. If you can’t find a place, maybe it’s not meant to be.”

  He bit the inside of his cheek. His first instinct was to defend his quest. But he didn’t want to get into a debate with her tonight. He didn’t need a reminder that she was less than thrilled he was becoming a paid fireman.

  He spoke his words carefully. “So far fate’s been kind.”

  A wry smile claimed her mouth. “Ever the optimist. Okay, Irish the Fireman, I’m beat. I’ve got a full roster tomorrow. Meeting with packaging geniuses and the promo team.”

  “Okay, yeah, sure. I’m going to check out housing possibilities online.”

  “Good luck.” Dana stifled a yawn. “Happy apartment shopping.”

  The screen went blank, and Shane stared at it for a long moment. The nearly empty apartment that would no longer be his as of Friday sat silent around him, and he was acutely aware of being alone. The sound of his cell phone startled him, the ring echoing off the walls.

  When he saw who it was, he connected the call with a quick swipe of his finger. “Hey, Hop.”

  “Irish, you find an answer to your housing problem yet?”