Hope Springs on Main Street

by Olivia Miles

  “Are you sure you don’t want to give dating another try?” Grace urged.

  Jane stiffened and took a gulp of her coffee. “No, definitely not.” She felt tense at the mere thought of another blind date, the stress of dressing in something slinky and skin-baring, the anxiety of walking into a restaurant and looking around, with no idea what the night had in store. Some women might find that kind of thing exhilarating, but not her. She didn’t want excitement and expectation. She just wanted someone to come home to at the end of a long day. She just wanted laughter, and comfort. She just wanted a friend. A friend who told her she was pretty, or lit up when she was around.

  Her mind shifted to Henry and the brief laugh they’d had his first day here, how quickly he’d picked up on her feelings. He always had a knack for that. Sometimes when she wished he didn’t.

  Then just as quickly, she thought of him sitting at the bar with Adam, no doubt hearing her ex’s side of things, hearing all the reasons their marriage broke down and why Adam felt justified in moving on.

  She took another sip of her coffee. No use thinking about Henry now. But if she could just find another guy like him—one who was not her ex-husband’s oldest and closest friend—then maybe—

  “You’re smiling,” Grace observed.

  “What?” Jane locked her sister’s gaze sternly. “I was just thinking that really, my life is much better like this. I’ve had enough complications. I just want things to be simple.”

  “Love is rarely simple,” Grace pointed out.

  “Exactly.” And that was all the more reason to avoid it. “Besides, we know more or less everyone in town, and I don’t think there’s really anyone here for me or it would have happened before.”

  “Before?” Grace snorted. “When? You dated Adam all through high school and you’ve only been divorced for a matter of months.”

  “You know what I mean,” Jane said. “Any of the single guys left are just friends by now. There’s no… spark.” At least not like the one that ripped down her spine every time she thought of Henry.

  “Do Mom and Anna know yet?” Grace hedged.

  Jane slumped her shoulders. “I know I have to tell them before Sophie blurts it out, but I just haven’t found the time yet. Soon. I don’t want to worry them.” Jane rubbed the spot between her eyebrows. Of course her mother would worry. Her face turned all red and her lips got all pinched every time Adam’s name was even mentioned. It would be no consolation that Jane’s marriage had been destroyed not by a casual fling but by, it would now seem, true love, as Sophie would say. “So, did Luke at least say how long the honeymoon would be?” Jane asked.

  Grace smiled. “Two weeks. That’s all he would give me.”

  “Don’t worry about the shop,” Jane said, seizing her chance. “I can cover for you.”

  “What about your dance classes?” Grace frowned. “I figured I’d hang a sign while I’m away. People would understand.”

  “Nonsense! Besides, I have fewer classes this session.”

  Darn it. Grace immediately looked panicked. “Fewer classes? Why?”

  Jane waved her hand through the air and gave what she hoped to be a reassuring smile. “It’s usually slower at the start of the school year. Things pick up during recital season, which is why Rosemary brought me on last winter. So, I’d be happy to help with the store,” Jane reiterated. “We don’t want to miss out on any holiday shoppers, after all.”

  From the look of realization that swept Grace’s face, Jane knew she’d hit her mark. “The wedding is still almost seven weeks away, but thanks. I appreciate it. Speaking of, you should be getting your formal invitation this week.”

  Jane managed to keep her tone subtle as she pushed her chair back and brought her mug to the sink. “I’m around before then, too. If you get busy with the wedding planning.”

  Grace came around the counter and stood beside her. “I’ll keep that in mind, thanks.”

  Jane tried not to let her frustration show. She had promised Rosemary not to worry Grace or Luke, but her sister was hardly picking up on the hints. “It helps, you know. Keeping busy. It keeps me from thinking about… everything.”

  She hadn’t even realized how true the words were until she’d said them. Her most difficult nights were the ones spent alone, when Sophie was with Adam, and her sisters were off with Luke or Mark. Sometimes she joined Kara or Ivy for dinner or a movie, but it wasn’t the same, and she always felt half-present, wishing for the simple pleasures that domesticity could bring, no matter how nice the restaurant or how gripping the film.

  Grace set a hand on her arm. “You free today, then? I wouldn’t mind a couple hours to place those dress orders.”

  “You haven’t done it yet?” Jane laughed, but the relief she felt overrode her amusement. “I’m free.” Free as a bird. “My first class isn’t until four.”

  My only class, she thought. The hard knot in her stomach returned.

  “How about a six-hour shift then?”

  Jane reached out and gave her sister a hug. “You’re the best.”

  “Just don’t tell Anna that. Don’t want her getting jealous.” Grace winked.

  Jane was still smiling minutes later, after waving her sister off. With a six-hour shift and a class this afternoon, she at least had today squared away. She’d have another chat with Rosemary about her future at the studio, and then make some decisions from there. After all, there was no sense in getting ahead of herself if she didn’t need to. If things at the studio picked up, a few weeks of scrambling wasn’t the end of the world. And if they didn’t…

  She started a fresh pot of coffee. She wasn’t going to worry about that. Not yet, anyway.

  By eleven, the store was filling up, and her smiles were coming more naturally. As much as she liked the comfort of her home, there was something to be said for being out, surrounded by life and engaging in conversation, even just pleasantries.

  She set the last blueberry muffin in the toaster oven to warm and turned to the next person in line. A hot flush spread over her body as her eyes locked with Henry’s. A crooked smile broke his face, and she swallowed hard, willing her heart rate to resume at normal speed, and hoping the heat hadn’t spread to her cheeks. Unfortunately, she knew it had.

  “Hot in here,” she exclaimed through a smile, and made a show of fanning herself. Pull it together, Jane!

  Henry’s brow furrowed at this but his deep-set blue eyes were warm as they held hers. “Not outside. I’d forgotten how brutal the weather can be here.”

  “Just wait until winter,” she bantered, and then stopped herself. Chances were Henry wouldn’t be around come winter. He might not even be around by next week.

  As if she didn’t need another reason to keep her distance.

  “So, what will it be?” She pinched her lips tight and exhaled slowly through her nose. Henry’s brow seemed to furrow, and that smile slipped just enough to reveal the smooth fullness of his lips. His eyes bored through hers. She decided it was a good time to check on that coffee. Wouldn’t want it to overflow or anything.

  “Large coffee. Extra large if you’ve got it.” Before she could inquire, he was sure to add, “For here.”

  She cursed under her breath as her fingers curled around the coffeepot handle. An extra large drip for here meant he didn’t plan on leaving anytime soon.

  No matter, she told herself, filling a white mug stamped with the Main Street Books logo, careful to leave half an inch for cream. She tried to ignore the fact that she now knew how he took it. It was just part of good customer service, really. Definitely nothing more than that. After all, she’d known Henry for years. She handed him the mug, a jolt zipping up her arm as his fingers brushed hers. A dimple quirked when he grinned, and her heart began to pound again. She blinked at the counter, trying to find some semblance of composure. So, it was a dimple. Big deal. Surely he’d always had it. But then, maybe she’d been too focused on Adam to notice before…

  “I’ll take on
e of those cranberry scones today, too.” His eyes were already on her when her gaze flickered to him and darted immediately to the basket of scones. She all but grabbed it and dropped it onto a plate, lest he see the way her hand was suddenly shaking. Honestly, if he would just stop staring at her like that, with that lazy grin pulling at the corner of his mouth and those long curly lashes blinking ever so casually, she wouldn’t have to be so flustered.

  She was just out of practice, holed up in her house most evenings after Sophie had gone to bed. It wasn’t like she was checking out the dads at the school—how pathetic would that be?—and there weren’t exactly any other men around town with a strong square jaw and just the right amount of stubble…

  Now Henry was eyeing the plate she had been holding in her hand for what she feared had been an alarmingly long period of time.

  “Sorry,” she gushed, and blinked at the cash register. She handed him the scone and began punching in his order. “Lost in thought for a moment.”

  Lost in those eyes was more like it. Honestly, this wasn’t like her. She didn’t check men out. She wasn’t looking for a man! But that’s all she was doing. Looking. She was hardly shopping for a new boyfriend. Her dating days were over. So were her married ones.

  “Quiet in here today,” he remarked, slipping a few bills into the tip jar.

  “Mondays are usually slow,” she agreed. Please just go. Take your coffee and your scone and go to your seat, preferably with your back to me so I can’t be tempted by your square jaw and boyish grin. She stared at him, waiting for him to go, but he lingered at the counter. He opened his mouth as if to say something and then stopped. The smile he’d sported when he’d first come in was gone, and there was something wary in his expression, something uncertain, as if he had something he wanted to say. She knew that look all too well. She’d come to dread it.

  Small talk was about to come to an end.

  “I saw you with Adam the other night,” she offered conversationally. Really, there was nothing to be upset over.

  “I didn’t know you’d be there.” His jaw set, and his eyes fixed squarely on hers.

  She shrugged and brushed some crumbs from the counter. “Funny place to meet, my sister’s restaurant.”

  “You’re mad—”

  “Mad? Of course not! You and Adam were best friends. I’d be surprised if you didn’t get together while you’re in town. I just wish you’d gone to Piccolino’s or the pub. I mean, maybe Adam doesn’t know that Anna would like to fillet him… Good thing she wasn’t aware of his presence or he might have gotten a bad piece of fish.” She laughed unhappily as she rang up the order. The door jingled and Jane looked over to see a customer coming around the tables of books. She waved and smiled as one of her students’ mothers approached. Just what she needed: a friendly face to ground her.

  Henry was frowning at her and Jane felt her cheeks grow pink. She’d shown her cards, damn it. She’d tried so hard not to.

  “You know, I think I might bring Ivy some coffee. She’s busy over there and doesn’t break away enough.”

  Jane nodded. “Sure. One coffee to go?”

  “I’ll bring mine, too.”

  A twinge of disappointment tugged at her chest. “Sure. No problem.” She smiled through a shaky sigh and transferred his coffee and scone to a paper cup and bag.

  Her fingers brushed his as he reached out to take Ivy’s coffee cup from her hand, and once again, a tingle shot up her arm. Their eyes locked, and her chest began to pound as his mouth tugged into a bashful grin.

  “Jane, I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m sorry if I did.”

  Oh, jeez, was it that obvious? She’d tried so hard not to show her hurt, to reclaim some sense of pride that Adam tried to steal when he’d made a public fool of her, first cheating on her and then flaunting his mistress all over town. She’d bravely assured concerned neighbors and friends when they inquired about her well-being that she was fine. Just fine. She’d even suffered through kindergarten orientation, all on her own, while Adam and Kristy sat across the room, holding hands. She’d worn her best twinset and an A-line skirt that she’d admittedly spent a good twenty-five hours shopping for online, squared her shoulders, and bared her teeth into a smile that said Humiliated? Shunned? Scorned? Not me! She was better off without him—she knew it—they all knew it! She had nothing to be hurt over, no reason to feel hot in the face and let down when his name came up or she spotted him in, say, her sister’s restaurant. A place he had no business going to. A place he had clearly chosen, once again, without any regard for her…

  “Look.” She closed her eyes and shook her head. “It’s… fine. Really. It’s always a bit of a… shock seeing Adam, that’s all.” That was a mild word for it, she thought. “I’m glad you got together with him, though. You were good friends. I’d be more surprised if you didn’t see him while you’re in town.”

  “You sure?” He looked skeptical, and damn it if that grin didn’t spread a little wider.

  Jane swallowed hard. So he had a nice smile. Lots of men did. Lots of men who didn’t have dinner with her ex-husband. “It’s fine,” she said a little breathlessly.

  Henry took a step backward. “We were all friends, Jane. I’d hate to think me talking with Adam would change anything.”

  Adam. There it was again. Nothing he said or did could undo the one person they had in common, and the one person she needed to forget the most. So what if a lock of that rich brown hair had spilled over his forehead and she had a sudden urge to brush it away from those deep-set eyes? So what if he was not just cute, but also kind? None of it mattered when one fact remained. Where there was Henry, there was Adam, and she couldn’t have that.

  Jane forced a smile. “It doesn’t change a thing.”

  CHAPTER

  7

  Henry emailed his article to his editor and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. He supposed he should be relieved that he’d met his deadline and had nothing new on his plate, but instead he felt agitated. He needed to keep busy. His job was the perfect distraction, and now, for the next few weeks at least, it was gone.

  Henry slid his laptop into its case and slung his bag over his shoulder. Time to call it a day. The B&B was just down the road, and he could unwind there for a few hours, maybe even catch an hour or two of sleep, if he was lucky. Most people he knew struggled to sleep well while traveling, but not him. Hotel beds were meant for sleeping alone. It was only once he was settled, in his stark and spotless apartment, that he noticed something was missing.

  The Main Street B&B would score high on his travel wish list. He’d been expecting loud floral wallpaper, a candlewick coverlet, and dusty pink carpeting, but the room was surprisingly fresh and everything about it indicated a pleasant stay. Everything except—

  “Mr. Birch!” The innkeeper, Mrs. Griffin, smiled as he entered the lobby a few minutes later. Henry stifled an eye roll and forced a tight smile, trying to steel himself against those eager green eyes and that toothy smile. He glanced into the lobby, looking for a reason to break away and change his path. A woman in her late twenties sat in the floral wingback chair, smiling at him over the pages of her magazine. He vaguely returned the gesture. Sometimes—rarely—he mixed business with pleasure, finding that casual flings abroad, with an end date and time stamp, were the only ones that worked. He’d disappointed enough women for one lifetime.

  His gut tightened. He’d be damned if he disappointed his own sister.

  “I take it you’re having a nice stay in Briar Creek?” Mrs. Griffin pressed as he neared.

  Henry did his best to suppress his sigh as he paused at the base of the stairs, his hand tightly gripping the carved banister, left foot already lifted. He was used to the proprietors of local establishments making bold efforts to impress him; it was just part of his job, and often one laced with perks, like room upgrades, or a complimentary bottle of Champagne he’d pass off to a nice-looking couple first chance he had. But his patience was wearing thin today.
The exhaustion was hitting him now, so much so that he might actually succeed in dozing off for a bit without his mind beginning to spin.

  He gave a tired smile. “It’s a very comfortable inn you run.” Then, thinking it best to feed into the nervous tick in her eye: “I especially enjoyed the hot chocolate you sent up last night.”

  She puffed up a bit and patted her hair as a girlish laugh flitted through the lobby. “Nothing says sweet dreams better than homemade cocoa!”

  “Indeed. Well, thank you again.”

  He turned to go, but she stopped him once more. “And have you been able to walk around town during your stay? Such quaint little shops, don’t you think? Many new ones since you’ve been gone. I tell everyone, there’s no state prettier in autumn than Vermont, no sirree, and our little town is just decked in sugar maples. Have you tried the local cider? Made fresh, same day down at the orchard. Briar Creek has so much to offer at this time of year!”

  “Mmm,” he managed, lips pressed tight in a grimace. “Yes, well, I should really—”

  She planted one foot behind his on the stair. “There’s the Harvest Fest coming up, but then of course you must remember that.” She blinked rapidly.

  “When is it?” he asked with dread.

  Mrs. Griffin’s smile burst with pleasure. “Why this weekend, of course! Last Saturday in September, per tradition.”

  He knew all about tradition. On the day of the Harvest Fest, he and Ivy climbed into the back of the old station wagon his mother had bought used, years before either of them had been born, and drove them into town, the radio blaring that oldies station she preferred. Despite how cold Vermont could be that time of year, he’d have to crack a window to escape the waft of the floral perfume she used to disguise the liquor on her breath. By the time they arrived at the town square, almost magically transformed for the event, he dared to feel a little hopeful at the sight of other kids running around, bobbing for apples or decorating pumpkins, but then he’d remember that neither he nor Ivy had any money to participate, and the few times he’d thought ahead and saved up a few bucks from shoveling snow or raking leaves, his mother would find a way to borrow it. She’d nudge him with her elbow, her eyes pleading, and he’d begrudgingly hand it over, hating the way his heart turned over when she ruffled his hair and grinned her thanks. Keeping their mother happy was worth more than any caramel apple.