Hope Springs on Main Street

by Olivia Miles

  “Stands open at ten sharp,” Mrs. Griffin continued.

  “Good to note.” So I can be sure to miss it. Henry climbed one step higher, eager to get away and be alone.

  “Be sure to arrive early for the fresh donuts! And the cider!”

  Ah yes. The cider. Mom’s favorite, especially with a splash of brandy. By her second she was relaxed; her third, downright happy; by the fourth, he would stop worrying about Ivy and start worrying about her; and by the fifth… People started to talk.

  She never did stay happy for long. No matter how hard they tried to keep it that way.

  “Yes, well. I’ve got a few calls to make.” He smiled politely and hurried up the stairs to his room on the second floor, locking the door behind him. He marched to the television and flicked it on, hoping it would drive out the noise in his head.

  He tossed himself down on the bed, closed his eyes, and listened to the laugh track of the cheesy family sitcom until the noise was finally silenced.

  Two hours later, Henry tossed on a sweater and headed back into town. The wind had picked up in the short time since he’d last been out, and the maple leaves rustled above him and crunched under his feet as he turned off Seventh and onto Main Street. It wasn’t even four o’clock, but already the glow from the iron lamps lit the street, and children scurried down the sidewalk bundled in peacoats and wool hats. One little girl just ahead stopped every few feet to pick up a leaf, adding it to a growing bouquet she clutched in her small hand.

  Henry smiled sadly. It was something Ivy used to do, once the flowers were gone for the season. He quickened his pace to hold on to the image a moment longer, his attention locked on the child with the long brown hair and small, happy voice, until he noticed the woman beside her.

  “Jane.”

  She turned to him, a pleasant smile on her face fading into one of surprise when she saw him. “Henry. Hello again.”

  He glanced down at the little girl, studying her more closely. “You must be Sophie.” He grinned, and was rewarded with a shy smile in return. The little girl reached up and took her mother’s hand, her other maintaining a firm grip on the leaf bouquet at her side. “I was just admiring your pretty leaves. You picked all the best ones.”

  Sophie beamed. “I like the red ones best. But sometimes orange. And the yellow are pretty.”

  Jane gave a soft laugh and arched a friendly brow. “We’re making a centerpiece,” she explained.

  “Having a dinner party?”

  “A pajama party!” Sophie exclaimed, giggling.

  Jane’s face flushed pink, and she stammered with her words when he looked at her quizzically. “It’s um… something I promised Sophie we would do tonight.”

  “We do it every night, silly! As soon as school’s over!” Sophie cajoled, and Jane flashed her a stern look.

  “Not every night.” Jane rolled her eyes at him. “Children. They love to exaggerate.”

  “But—”

  Jane said over Sophie’s protest, “So, um… What are you up to now? I mean, we’re—well, we’re heading to the studio. We have a dance class. I teach. But then, I told you that already.” She laughed. Color spread up her cheeks when she met his gaze. “Sorry. I’m a little out of practice talking to men.” Her eyes widened in alarm. “I mean, not that you’re a man. Well, you are, but…”

  He slid her an easy grin. “I know what you mean. I spend a fair bit of time on my own these days, too.”

  She gave him a grateful smile. “My sisters tell me I need to get out more. I’m working on it.”

  “I’ll walk a bit with you if you don’t mind,” he said. “I’m on my way to see Ivy.”

  Jane seemed to perk up at this, he noted. Probably because he’d established he wasn’t headed to see her ex-husband instead. He fell into step beside her, wishing their walk was a bit longer.

  “I walked by the flower shop on my way to collect Sophie from school and saw your sister through the window. She was hanging some new wreaths. I bought one last month, actually. She’s really talented.”

  “She is,” Henry agreed. Turning to Sophie he said, “When my sister was little she was always making bouquets. Just like yours.”

  Sophie held her bunch of leaves a little tighter to her chest. “Maybe one day I’ll be a flower girl, like Ivy!”

  Jane glanced at him from the corner of her eye. “That’s what she calls Ivy. A flower girl.”

  “I’m already going to be a flower girl,” Sophie continued happily, and Henry noticed she was actually skipping, her shoes hitting the sidewalk with all her force. Jane kept a tight grip on her and seemed unfazed. “I get to be a flower girl two times,” Sophie added in a mock whisper, her eyes dancing.

  Jane’s expression immediately tensed as the little girl rambled about dress color and flowers, and Kristy and Adam.

  She motioned to the next street, and they all turned right. “So, how’s your deadline coming along?”

  “I sent it to my editor this morning. There will probably be a few changes, but other than that, the assignment’s finished.”

  “I suppose I won’t be seeing you and your laptop at the bookstore as much, then,” Jane said, and Henry thought he detected a hint of disappointment in her tone. Or maybe he was just wishing he did.

  He liked talking with Jane. Liked the ease of her manner, the way she didn’t pry. The way she could so easily shift topics when things got awkward. He glanced over at her, detecting a twinge of sadness in her eyes. She was a strong woman, holding things in for the sake of her daughter, no doubt, but she also had a wall up. He knew the feeling.

  “You’re not getting off that easy,” he bantered. “I’m still dreaming about that blueberry muffin. Those are worth writing about.”

  “Maybe you should, then,” she surprised him by saying.

  They stopped walking so Sophie could collect a few oak leaves. “Write about Briar Creek?” Henry wondered if his lip had actually curled.

  “Why not?” Jane’s smile grew with her enthusiasm. “You’re a travel writer, and you said you completed your last assignment. It will give you something to do while you’re in town.”

  He was shaking his head. “Nah.”

  “We have the Harvest Fest coming up.”

  As if he needed another reminder. “It’s a nice suggestion, but… I don’t think my editor would go for it.”

  Jane was on a roll now, motioning to this place or that as they walked. “You said you like getting a feel of the way of life, highlighting spots only locals usually frequent. This town would be perfect for that! You’d have a real insider perspective.”

  “Exactly,” he said, seeing his opportunity to shut this conversation down. “I write about places I’ve never been to, not ones I’ve lived in. I know it too well. I’m not a tourist.”

  “Oh, but Briar Creek has changed so much. Main Street Books is a great example.”

  True, and tourists loved independent bookshops, he’d noticed. Still, it wasn’t an option. “I just don’t think I’m the right person—”

  “And then there’s Rosemary and Thyme. Piccolino’s,” she said, referring to a long-standing Italian restaurant. “The B&B. I’ve heard it’s nice. There’s a cute little stationery store over on Chestnut, and a new clothing boutique, too.”

  As much as he disagreed with her, he couldn’t help but grin at her passion. She loved this town, felt a connection to it he never would, even if a part of him wished he could… that his time here had been different.

  “And then of course Petals on Main. Ivy sells beautiful soaps and candles there, all locally made. It might really help her shop if you featured it!”

  He frowned at this. The magazine he worked for had the highest subscription rate in the industry, and Jane was right—his readers wanted a little local flair, and the gift items Ivy sold along with her flowers would be just the sort of souvenir they’d take home.

  His stomach burned when he thought of his sister, struggling to pay her bills, refusing
to cash the check for their mother’s burial, claiming he’d done enough and it was her turn now. Thinking it would help her grieve, he’d let it go, but now, knowing the sacrifice she’d made, he wished he hadn’t. He should have gotten on that plane the day she’d called. But he couldn’t. He just… couldn’t.

  He’d do anything to make sure that Ivy was taken care of, provided for—but Briar Creek? He didn’t write fiction, and nothing he had to say about this town would compel tourists to visit.

  “I think I’ll leave it to someone else,” he said tightly. “Besides, I probably won’t be in town long enough to do it justice.”

  “Oh.” Jane blinked a few times. “I… didn’t realize your stay was so brief.”

  They had come to the front of the dance studio. Small girls in pink tights wove past them and in the door. Sophie began tugging Jane’s hand, insisting they were going to be late.

  “I’ll let you go. It was very nice meeting you, Sophie,” he said. She looked so much like Jane, with those big eyes and sweet smile. He glanced up at Jane, holding her gaze steadily. His mouth felt dry, and he had to force himself from suggesting dinner or finding some other excuse to stay with her a few more minutes.

  Jane needed someone stable, someone who could give her everything Adam couldn’t. He wasn’t that guy.

  “So, I’ll see you around.”

  “The Harvest Fest?” She smiled brightly.

  He nodded slowly before turning off and sunk his hands into his pockets. He’d been planning on avoiding the town’s big event, but now that he knew Jane would be there, suddenly the thought of it was almost appealing.

  CHAPTER

  8

  Ready, girls? Glissade, arabesque, pas de chat.” Jane nodded as the last of the girls crossed the room, managing not to wince as a few of her less graceful students nearly shook the walls upon coming down from what should have been a small, delicate jump. “Very nice, girls. Now, for next class, let’s work on quiet feet. Quiet as a mouse.” She held a finger to her lips and demonstrated a soft, silent landing.

  The girls stood in a row, nodding enthusiastically, and then thundered out of the room. Jane sighed. She did her best, and the girls had fun. She supposed that was the most she could expect from a group of seven-year-olds.

  “Any rising stars?” Rosemary asked, sailing into the room with her dance skirt swishing at her bare ankles. The opposite of the majority of their students, she moved so lightly that Jane often jumped when she realized her boss had entered the room.

  “Maybe in Wednesday’s class,” Jane mused.

  “About that, Jane, I still feel bad about our conversation last week. I want to believe enrollment will pick up for the next session, but…” She lifted her palms. “There’s no guarantee. Enrollment has steadily declined over the past few years. Maybe girls don’t like to dance anymore.”

  “Grace mentioned that Luke commented on the amount of homework going around.”

  Rosemary folded her arms and assessed Jane over the slope of her nose. “Did she now? Well, I might have to have a talk with my son, then! Children need balanced lives. Have you noticed this with Sophie?”

  “She’s in kindergarten,” Jane replied. When Rosemary’s eyes simply widened further, Jane explained, “She doesn’t get homework.”

  Rosemary seemed disappointed at this. “Our five-and six-year-old classes have the lowest enrollment since I opened the studio twenty years ago. There must be another reason for it, then.”

  “There’s that new gymnastics facility in Forest Ridge,” Jane said with a shrug. “And I know Sophie’s been talking about ice skating lessons.” Not that she could afford that right now, even with child support.

  She fought through the guilt. Sophie was a happy little girl, amazingly so given all the changes that had happened in the last year. Jane’s stomach twisted when she thought of how many more were ahead. Before long, Sophie was going to have a little sister or brother, an entire new family that Jane wouldn’t be a part of. For years she had longed to give Sophie a sibling. As much as part of her was happy Sophie would have this new person in her life, the other part of her ached that she couldn’t be the one to offer it.

  “Are you going to the Harvest Fest this weekend?” Rosemary asked as Jane shrugged on her coat. Already the air was crisp, and there was talk of a potential snowfall next week. Normally Jane liked this time of year best, but snow made her think of the holidays, and this year, the holidays would be different.

  She swallowed the lump that had formed in her throat. It was one thing to be divided from the person you’d vowed to love for the rest of your life, but to have your child taken from you half the time? That was the worst of it.

  “We love the Harvest Fest!” Sophie exclaimed excitedly. “Mommy and I are entering the punkin’ carving contest this year. I draw the face and Mommy carves. And you know what they have there?” She cupped one hand to the side of her cheek and leaned in close to Rosemary. “Caramel apples!” She practically sang the words, and even Jane had to laugh. Cheap thrills, she always said. She was happy such simple things still brought her daughter such joy.

  She could learn from that.

  “I was thinking I might set up a stand this year,” Rosemary said. “It might draw some attention and remind people about the classes we offer. I’ll hand out fliers for the Nutcracker auditions, too.”

  “Good idea,” Jane said. “Maybe we should display some of the costumes from last year’s show. Most kids are enticed by a sparkly tutu.”

  “We can certainly try. It the meantime, I’m still coming to terms with renting out the space to those artists. The income would certainly help bridge the gap for now, but when I think of the mess they might make. Paint, Jane! That stains, you know.” She shuddered.

  Jane was well aware. She still had one of Sophie’s murals on her laundry room wall to prove it. She’d been furious when it had happened, but now, three years later, she couldn’t bring herself to paint over it. It was just another memory that made her house a home.

  “I was wondering… What will we do about The Nutcracker if the cast is small?” It was Rosemary’s big event, bigger than even the Spring Gala, which was held every year on a makeshift stage in the center of the town square. While Jane’s mother defined the holidays through the annual Holiday House decorating contest, The Nutcracker was Rosemary’s pride and joy and, for most of Briar Creek, a family tradition. Held on the twenty-third of December each year, Jane could still remember bundling into the backseat with her sisters, the radiator heat on high, watching the lights twinkle through the foggy windows as the family drove through the snow-covered town. Her dad couldn’t have enjoyed it as much as his wife and three daughters did, but he always encouraged Jane with her dancing, and he never would have admitted to being bored.

  Jane smiled softly. She’d like to think her dad was looking down on her, happy to see that she’d followed her love for ballet in the end.

  “The Nutcracker is important to people in this town,” Jane insisted. “They’ll be as let down as we would be if we can’t pull it together.”

  “I can’t think about that just yet,” Rosemary said quietly.

  “Well.” Jane tied her scarf around her neck and took Sophie’s hand. “One bridge at a time, as they say.” It was how she’d lived her life for the past eighteen months, since her father died and then her marriage crumbled. One day at a time.

  She managed to smile until they were out of the building, but she was all but grinding her teeth when they got to the car. Jane had left it parked in front of Main Street Books, and for once, the thought of going home and slipping into flannel pajamas felt like anything but an escape.

  “Hey, how about we go to Hastings for dinner tonight?” she suggested.

  Sophie started jumping up and down. “Can I have a milkshake?”

  Jane laughed. “How about we split one?” Drowning herself in ice cream felt like just the solution right now.

  They walked up Main Street and
pushed through the door of the old establishment across from the town square. There were a few customers at the counter chatting with Sharon Hastings, but other than that, the diner was empty. Jane slid into a red-vinyl booth near the window. She leaned across the Formica table to help Sophie with her coat, but her daughter swatted her away.

  “I can do it myself,” Sophie insisted, yanking at the fabric.

  Jane sat back, smiling even though her heart began to tug as Sophie fumbled with the buttons, her brow pinched in deep concentration. Her little girl was growing up. Already it was becoming an effort to pick her up, but more and more, Jane wanted to. She wanted to hold her, rock her to sleep, breathe into that sweet-smelling hair. Soon, that phase would be over. No more little ones to hold, no more lullabies to sing.

  Oh, she knew what Grace and Anna would say—that Jane had only just turned twenty-six and that her entire life was ahead of her. She wished she could share in her sisters’ optimism, but a string of bad dates last spring had made her feel hopeless. She hadn’t even found herself attracted to another man until this past week—Her stomach tightened at the image of Henry.

  Nonsense. He was just passing through town. And he wasn’t marriage material.

  She placed their order, deciding at the last second to splurge and order two shakes, and then settled into the booth. A few minutes later, Ivy came through the door. Jane waved and called her over.

  “I don’t see you in here often,” Ivy said with a look of surprise. She sat down next to Sophie and loosened the zipper of her down coat. “I probably come here more than I should. Bad habit.”

  “It’s convenient,” Jane commented. Petals on Main was just a few blocks down the road, and Hastings was the closest thing to fast food in Briar Creek now, especially as Anna had turned Fireside Café into Rosemary and Thyme, an upscale full-service restaurant.