A Time to Fall (Love by the Seasons Book 1)

by Jess Vonn

  Winnie knew from her time working in Chicago that these types of special events were more likely to affect where government employees needed to be more than the hours they worked. These were often roles that were being filled regardless of what events were happening on a given day.

  “Thus,” Mayor Simpson said, “I’d like to propose raising the application fee from $150 to $1,500.”

  Winnie gasped, and she heard Carter whisper the quietest burst of profanity she’d never heard, but the other bodies in the room— the city council members—merely nodded in agreement, clearly having discussed this figure ahead of time.

  That kind of fee inflation was not only unprecedented and unethical, but it would be absolutely devastating for small business owners and non-profit organizers like The Blooming Ladies. Some of their events wouldn’t even bring in $1,500 in profit. They surely couldn’t be expected to pay that kind of money to apply for a special event license just to hold a fundraiser.

  “Given our current fiscal realities, I feel like this is a move in the right direction,” said James Dolittle, the youngest councilperson by at least a decade (which was saying something, since he appeared to be in his sixties).

  “I agree,” the third councilman said quietly. Joe O’Loughlin was by far the eldest council member. Winnie wouldn’t be surprised if had been in office during the JFK administration.

  “It is a time for financial prudence,” Councilwoman McDonald said.

  “I’m sorry, but are you suggesting that this fee money could be used to balance out deficits within the city budget?” Winnie butted in, incredulous. “And aren’t you concerned about how this high fee scale will deter community organizers from hosting local events?”

  “Young lady, this is an official government meeting, and you may not burst out with questions whenever one pops into that pretty head of yours,” Mayor Simpson roared, now standing from his position of power up front. His face reddened with an anger that dissolved the harmless, nutty-professor vibe he gave off up until then. She thought he was mostly daft; her heart sank at the knowledge that he was also a misogynistic jerk.

  Young lady. Her blood boiled.

  “If you have questions about the particulars of our budget, Miss Briggs,” said Councilwoman McDonald, “you can access that information via the city clerk.”

  “That doesn’t answer my question,” Winnie pressed, but the mayor continued on.

  “If we’re all in agreement, let’s set an action item for the next meeting regarding this proposal.”

  “But—” Winnie interjected, but her plea fell on deaf ears. Whether she liked it or not, she didn’t have a vote at the meeting. The council voted unanimously to put a vote on the next agenda.

  She looked incredulously at Carter, who merely closed his eyes, shook his head, and rubbed his fingers across his brow. Winnie knew he couldn’t speak his concern about his boss in this forum, but she took some small comfort in the fact that someone in the room found this new proposal as preposterous as she did.

  “Our final agenda item: as may arise,” the mayor said.

  “Nothing from me,” said Councilman O’Loughlin, followed by identical statements from the other two council members.

  What mindless sheep, Winnie thought grouchily to herself. She couldn’t help but shake the feeling that this entire meeting had been orchestrated carefully before hand, in clear violation of open meetings law.

  “If there is no other topic to discuss, I’d ask for a motion to adjourn.”

  Before Winnie even had a chance to ask another question, the motion had been made and seconded. Like cockroaches when the lights turn on, the mayor and the council members scattered out of the chamber the second that gavel hit to adjourn the meeting. There would be no time for follow-up questions today.

  Her shoulders slumped dejectedly.

  “Cal is going to be so pissed,” Carter quietly observed, pulling out his phone and beginning the text message to his friend.

  “I doubt he’ll be the only one.” Winnie sighed. As helpless as Winnie felt at the lack of transparency and the poorly reasoned decision, she took some comfort in knowing that a story about the fee spike in The Bloom would force the issue. Neither Cal nor Betty Jean would let something like that stand without contention, and Winnie had a feeling that in a small town like Bloomsburo, there were dozens more where they came from.

  ~-~-~-~-~-~-

  It was almost two p.m. before Winnie rushed into Dewey’s Diner, hungry and burnt out from the city council nonsense she’d dealt with that morning, among other things.

  “I knew you were working today, and I had to see you!” Winnie said breathlessly to Evie, plunking down her messenger bag on the stool next to hers at the counter. “And I knew I had to catch you before the dinner rush, so that we might actually have a chance to talk.”

  Evie smiled and Winnie glanced down the counter where she saw a man about her age in a white T-shirt, jeans, and a black apron, flipping through a binder. He was husky and handsome in a 1950s kind of way, with short dirty blond hair, sideburns and strong, wide shoulders.

  “Is that Dewey?” Winnie whispered to Evie, pointing in the man’s direction. Evie’s face flushed ever so slightly as she nodded.

  Interesting.

  “Will I be in trouble for talking to you while you’re working?” she whispered again, but not as discretely as she thought. Dewey looked their way and his full lips slipped into the subtlest of smiles, first at Winnie then at Evie, before returning his attention to the clipboard.

  Evie looked down at Dewey again to see if Winnie’s personal visit was going to be a problem. He said nothing, but waved his hand as if to gesture “go on,” much to both women’s delight.

  “You’re the best, Dewey!” Winnie hollered down the counter, forcing familiarity on him. He said nothing, but shook his head as he continued to look through his paperwork, and she saw his lips quirk ever so slightly at the corner. It was quickly apparent to Winnie that Dewey was not a man of many words.

  She looked back to Evie. “Not to make you wait on me, but can I get a soda, a burger and some fries?”

  Evie laughed. “It’s kind of my job to wait on you.”

  “Right.”

  They talked about their days, about the bizarre city council meeting, and about Evie’s children. Winnie hinted at some juicier stories about the night before that she wanted to share once Evie was off the clock. In the meantime, eventually Winnie mustered up the courage to ask the question that had been eating away at her.

  “Can I ask you to divulge some of your townie knowledge?” Winnie asked, grabbing her soda for a long sip.

  “Sure.”

  “What’s the deal with Cal’s dad? Was he ever in the picture?” The question had been burning in Winnie’s mind since she first met Rhonda. Though her landlady had mentioned in their very first phone call that she was single, she’d never offered up any backstory on the subject of her marriage and Winnie had yet to find an appropriate time to ask.

  She saw Evie’s face fall and Winnie’s heart sank.

  “That’s a sad story,” Evie offered, looking down to her fingers. “Maybe you should talk to Cal or Rhonda about it.”

  A bolt of guilt flashed through Winnie, but she pressed on anyway. She just needed the general outline of the situation, and then she could follow up with Cal or Rhonda about the details. The journalist in her hated little more than unanswered questions.

  “Just the basics?” she pleaded.

  Evie sighed. She didn’t seem to want to tell the story, but she did anyway. “You know how his little sister, Rosie, has MS?”

  Winnie nodded. Rhonda had brought it up more than once talking about her family.

  “Cal was probably a junior in high school when Rosie was diagnosed,” Evie continued. “When they started doing tests and seeking treatment, they found out that his dad, Charlie, was the one who carried the genetic predisposition for the disease. He received his own diagnosis a short time later.”


  Winnie’s heart tumbled in her chest as she tried to imagine what it would be like for a parent to process that kind of information.

  “His dad spiraled right when they needed him the most,” Evie said with a sigh, her voice getting quieter. “First it was drinking too much. Then it was drugs. Then affairs. There were arrests.”

  Winnie’s heart sank. Poor Rhonda. Poor Cal.

  “It ramped up and up until finally he was killed in a drunk driving accident, along with a woman he was sleeping with.”

  Winnie felt tears welling. “Gosh, that’s horrible.”

  “It really was. Thank God no one else was hurt. They just crashed into an underpass. It was a tragedy and a huge town scandal. Cal was several years ahead of me in school, but everyone knew how it affected him. He was mortified, but he stepped up. He took care of his little sisters like it was his job. Which, for better or for worse, it was.”

  She’d already loved the man’s body, but damn it if her heart didn’t crack open for him now, too.

  “Jeeze.”

  “Yeah. He had to grow up really fast.”

  Winnie nodded, poking around at the fries on her plate and no longer finding herself hungry.

  “I was going to ask about Chief Conway’s story, too, but something tells me that one sad story is enough for today.”

  Evie’s shoulders slumped, confirming Winnie’s suspicions.

  “Yeah, if Cal’s backstory is sad, Carter’s story is straight-up tragic,” Evie said with a sigh. “That one requires whiskey as a minimum.”

  Winnie glanced down at the Coke in front of her. “Alright, I’ll take a rain check on that one. But only for now.”

  Evie nodded, taking Winnie’s plate and walking back toward the kitchen. In the meantime, Winnie tried her best to will away the feelings of heartbreak and injustice that bubbled up in her heart for Cal, as well as how to navigate them alongside her physical attraction to him.

  She failed.

  Chapter 19

  It was a good thing she had such a late lunch, Winnie thought to herself, because she’d worked through dinner and the end of her workday wasn’t in sight. She looked at her phone and groaned when she saw it was already after nine. She still had two more pages to finish up before she could let herself quit for the day.

  Just how the publisher expected her to produce these special sections in addition to all the work of creating an entire newspaper twice a week, she didn’t know. But this was the price she paid for taking last night off and playing out in the woods with Cal, and in that way, it was worth it.

  But still, a lady could use some sustenance.

  Just then, as if destined, her phone alerted her to a new text from Cal the Great.

  Tonight is officially not as fun as last night.

  She laughed.

  Agreed. Haven’t even left work yet.

  You’re still at work?

  :(

  Let me guess, Pop-tarts for dinner?

  Not even. Ran out and haven’t had time to go shopping. Did find some animal crackers in my purse though.

  I’ll be there with rations in 15.

  Excitement blossomed in Winnie’s chest, which she tried to appropriately convey in a string of emojis. The adrenaline rush motivated her to fly through the final edits on the page design she was working on. With Cal on the way and only one more page to complete, the night was looking up indeed.

  She heard the bells on the front door of the office ring a short time later before Cal appeared in the doorway of her office, looking handsome in dressy sneakers, camel colored slacks, a red and white flannel shirt, and a navy down vest. She grinned like an idiot at the site of him there, holding a bag of something delicious, but his eyes were serious.

  “It’s nine thirty and you’re working in here alone. Why is that front door unlocked?” he asked, leaning his strong shoulder against the doorframe.

  “So that handsome men can stop by and deliver me food, of course.”

  “Briggs,” he scolded.

  “Sorry,” she said, and she was. Until she heard the bells ring she hadn’t even realized that she failed to lock up behind Gloria like she normally did in these instances. “I usually do. I’m just swamped.”

  He glanced at the piles of edited stories and printed pages covering her desk.

  “You have to take care of yourself,” he said, finally walking toward her and placing his bag on the only clear corner of her desk. Ugh, the man smelled so good it should be illegal. “You have to feed yourself. Even if Winnie food is all you can manage, it’s better than nothing.”

  He reached into the bag and pulled out a thermos of warm chili, a huge hunk of homemade cornbread and a little baggie of chocolate chip cookies.

  “Are you kidding me?” she squealed, walking around the desk to where he set everything out. “You just had all this sitting around the house?”

  “Well, yeah. I had to reheat the chili. I’d already put it away after I finished eating dinner at a reasonable hour. You know, like a normal person,” he teased. “The bread is what I didn’t manage to eat tonight, and I had the cookies in the freezer. When you cook for one, you end up with lots of leftovers.”

  Her need to eat was at the forefront of her mind, but another kind of hunger began to take precedence in her body. With Cal so close now her mind filled with memories of the night before. Of the glorious exploration of hands and mouths and fingers.

  “Do you charge a delivery fee?” she asked, aiming for coyness as she looked up at him sweetly from beneath her lashes.

  “I’m open to negotiating a creative payment,” he said, placing his hand on the small of her back and pressing her tightly against his body. His lips met hers, hot and hungry. As her fingers wound into his hair she felt his hands lower, grasping both sides of her hips and rubbing her harder against his obviously growing need.

  And just like that, it was as if no time had passed between evenings. As if they’d never stopped touching, tasting, taking and giving. She reached around beneath his vest and felt the strong muscles of his back flexing as his hands explored her body. He groaned as she nuzzled into his neck, breathing in his scent and his warmth. Tasting him there.

  Everything felt so good, yet desperation made her fingers twitch. She needed to feel more of his skin. Her hands worked their way around to the front of his shirt and her shaky fingers began the work of undoing the top button of his soft flannel shirt.

  She would have gotten away with it, too, if her stomach hadn’t betrayed her, but the hungry growl it unleashed was enough to snap her scrumptious delivery boy out of his lustful haze and remind him of the whole purpose of his trip.

  “Food first,” he insisted, gently removing her hands from his chest and refastening the button she’d managed to set free. She saw how heavily he was breathing. Had felt the quickened beating of his heart beneath her touch and his growing hardness pressed against her core. She could convince him.

  “Food second,” she insisted, her hands making another attempt at the buttons, but he easily caught her by the wrists before she made any headway.

  “Briggs, I’d like nothing more than to make you my late night snack right here in this office,” he said, his eyes darkened with desire, “but I’m a feeder. I come from a long line of them. You’re going to get something to eat before we continue to negotiate my delivery fee.”

  She sighed, but complied. He pulled the corner chair closer to the desk, which she sat on, not wanting the width of it to separate her from Cal. Her very being just somehow felt more right when he was within an arm’s reach.

  Sitting on the desk proved to be a good choice. As she grabbed the thermos and dug into the amazing chili, he reached out to her calf where it hung near his knee, gently stroking her with his strong fingers through the soft cotton of her ribbed lavender tights.

  “You’re the sweetest person in the world for bringing me this food,” she said, closing her eyes and reveling in the sensations that the man’s food, and
touch, ignited in her.

  “I’m far from sweet, Briggs. It’d be best to remember that,” he said, his fingers following the grooves of her tights up, up, up until they slid under her corduroy skirt. He squeezed her upper thigh, then stroked her with his clever thumb, causing her core to throb in jealousy.

  It was hard to remember anything when he touched her that way. She took another few bites, knowing he wouldn’t let her play until she’d eaten enough.

  He could deny being sweet all day, and rub her in those wicked ways he so excelled at, but deep down she couldn’t shake the feeling that he just might care about her. She chose not to dwell on how much the idea warmed her. She told herself that his thoughtful gestures weren’t really about her. He was just Rhonda Spencer’s son. He was raised to be considerate like that.

  This train of thought brought forward the memory of the story Evie told this afternoon, about Cal’s father, and the circumstances that shaped the man sitting beside her now. Her heart ached. She wanted to know as much as she could about him. She wanted to open him up like a book and read every word of his life story.

  Her gut told her to let it be. He was feeding her. Expertly massaging her very upper thigh. But dang it, she wanted him to know she cared about him, too.

  “So, you’re a feeder, and I know your mom is,” she said tentatively. “Did your dad cook, too?”

  The stroking on her leg stopped and she could sense Cal’s shoulders tense.

  Shoot. Why couldn’t she just leave well enough alone?

  He sat back in his chair, disconnecting their bodies, and met her eyes.

  “No.”

  Okay, then. She took another bite of chili with the hopes of smothering the comment that wanted to escape. The one statement she knew she should just keep to herself. The plan failed, because her mouth tended to disregard her brain’s advice in moments like this. Not to mention that awkward silences had always been her nemesis.