“Well, she’s not married yet. So let’s assume that the thread” —he nearly laughed just saying it— “isn’t going to make a difference. And if you’re so worried it will, then just don’t use it.”
Katie sat in silence. He leaned forward. “Katie—”
“I should get your tool belt before I forget.” She pushed out of her chair, startling Scout, who hadn’t anticipated she’d bolt from the rocker.
She took the front stairs with quick steps, and as she approached her Volkswagen, the motion light clicked on, illuminating the driveway. As she approached with the tool belt, he came to the stairs and took it from her with both hands.
“Look, Katie, I don’t mean to make fun of your beliefs. Truly.”
“Hey, it’s fine. I know you don’t.”
Her smile was perfectly composed, as if the thirty-second jaunt to the car was enough for her to regain her equilibrium. “I told you, it wasn’t something I believed in myself, not until I started digging deeper. And I still find it incredible. I can’t expect you to just jump up and say, ‘Of course, Katie! Of course you have magic thread! Thanks for the heads-up.’”
But he could tell she did expect it. Despite her smile and her words, her eyes remained flat. He set the tool belt on the swing, waving for her to join him. “Is this why you feel we can’t go forward with whatever it is that’s happening between us? Because you feel you might somehow hurt my daughter—and me—by making her a dress?”
She nodded. “I know it sounds crazy, but yeah. That’s part of it.”
He waited, wondering what other part there could be, but she didn’t say.
“Well, it’s late,” she said, gesturing toward the sky. “Mandy’s going to be home soon, and it’s probably best if I’m not here.”
“She won’t be home for another hour, more like two.”
“Better safe than sorry.” Katie took a step backward, toward the stairs. She gave Scout one last scratch between the ears, then eased down the stairs. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”
He wrapped his fingers around the smooth wood of the porch railing and nodded. “I should finish my part of the job tomorrow. Then my countertop supplier will come to install that, and you’ll be done. You’ll have your shop back to normal Friday afternoon, ready for customers.”
“Great. Thanks again.”
She turned and walked to the car as if she thought Mandy would show up any second. Or as if she desperately needed to get away from him.
What was it? Something—something other than her harebrained magic-thread idea—bothered her. He’d assumed it was his background—his lack of higher education, the fact he’d never left Bowen—but he was beginning to suspect that wasn’t it at all.
He wondered if he’d ever find out. Or if they’d ever get to Celestino’s on Friday night.
“It’ll work out one way or another, Porter,” he grumbled to himself as he smiled and waved at Katie’s Volkswagen while she made a three-point turn, then spun the steering wheel to navigate the long driveway and hit the road to Bowen.
Turning to Scout and herding the German shepherd into the house, he said, “Whaddya think, old boy? Is this the universe’s way of telling me I’m in no position to have a decent, normal relationship? That I’m destined to make a mess of things?”
He closed the front door, then strode to the kitchen and grabbed the box of filters to start another pot of coffee.
He swore to himself, then shoved the filters back into the cabinet. Coffee wasn’t what he craved.
Whether he was in a position to pursue a relationship or not, his heart was already a mile down that road, and he wasn’t sure he could turn it around.
Chapter 8
Katie punched the accelerator to the floor once she passed the final row of the Eberhardt family’s cornfields, leaving the dirt road to Jared’s house behind as she turned onto the highway.
Magic thread. She’d told him she believed in Oma’s magic thread. So much for all the years she’d spent worrying about others’ opinions and expectations.
“It’s official, citizens of Bowen. I’m a loon,’’ she muttered as she sped past the dark alfalfa fields and toward the cluster of lights indicating that she was only a few miles from downtown Bowen. Heck, she was even talking to herself. No one in their right mind would believe in magic thread. At least, no one in their right mind who did believe in it would actually voice that opinion aloud.
But as much as she tried to tell herself the concept was ridiculous, she believed it. Arguing about it with Jared made her realize the strength of her belief. The fact that Jared didn’t believe—though she really couldn’t expect any rational adult to buy into it—bothered her. Deeply. It smacked of her problems with Brett, and she had no desire to tread those particular boards again. It had been painful enough the first time around to date a man, give him your heart and then find he didn’t believe in you.
“Jared’s perfectly normal,” she told herself aloud. “He’s not Brett.”
Brett definitely wouldn’t have believed in magic thread. Heck, Brett hadn’t believed in her when she told him at graduation that she had no intention of getting a job in journalism. He’d thought she was foolish to pursue a career in design, making costumes for the stage in Boston. Even when she’d worked on Miss Saigon and The Lion King, creating some of the most elaborate costumes on stage, he’d sandwiched derogatory remarks between his compliments, telling her she’d need to get a real job, one with steady hours, a steady paycheck, and a list of benefits he considered essential for, in his words, “anyone who cares about their future.”
At first she’d chalked it up to Brett’s big city corporate mentality. Working as an attorney at a large firm in downtown Boston certainly colored his views, not to mention that his father, a well-to-do investment banker, and his mother, a respected physician, ran in professional circles where everyone had a 401(k) and a good sense of their long-term career arc. So she’d tried to prove herself, working harder at her job, getting Brett great seats to performances, showing off her designs with pride. But in time, she’d wondered if the fact he viewed her career as nothing more than an interesting hobby indicated he would hesitate to support her in other areas. If he saw her as second class.
She hadn’t given him the opportunity to voice his opinion when her contract ended following a production of Anything Goes, for which she’d created 1930s-style suits for many of the males and her favorite costume of all, the wedding gown for the character of Hope Harcourt. The actress playing the role had asked Katie for her contact information, and whether she’d be interested in making a gown for her wedding the following year. Though Katie wasn’t sure she could do it, she’d given the actress her number. The exchange had made her think.
Then, the week before the show closed, her father mentioned in an email that Mitch Harding wasn’t planning to renew the lease on the Main Street shop. Katie had taken the T home from the theater that night, flopped onto the futon in her expensive, tiny South End apartment, and imagined herself running her own business in the space. It started out as a fantasy, but the more she thought about it, the more certain she was that she wanted to spend her time working with brides, creating custom wedding gowns. As exciting and fast-paced and flat-out fun as theater life could be, she missed Bowen. She missed home.
When she finally considered how Brett would react, she knew he wouldn’t take her seriously. He’d likely make a sarcastic comment about Katie believing she could find happiness living in a flyover state, or about the excitement of watching corn and soybeans grow, then he’d offer to make a few calls so she could network for “a real job” rather than return to Nebraska.
That cemented it.
She set her backbone, then met him for dinner to tell him that their relationship was over. Before she could explain why, he’d patted her hand and told her she didn’t mean it, that she was having an “emotional theater moment,” because the show had finished its run, and told her to go home and sleep on it.
He’d been shocked when she’d told him no, that she planned to go home and spend the night packing so she could give notice to the landlord because she was moving to a better apartment.
She didn’t bother to tell him where that apartment might be, given that Brett’s response was a raised eyebrow and a smug expression that said, you’ll be back with me in a week.
She’d deleted his contact information from her phone that night.
Oma would have been proud of her, both for honoring her family traditions and for being strong enough to do what was in her best interest and walk away from a man who doubted her.
As Katie passed the city limit sign for Bowen, which was immediately followed by a sign indicating that the flowers along Main Street were courtesy of the Bowen Garden Club, Danker’s Grocery, and Porter Construction, Katie whacked her hand against the wheel, aggravated with herself for being…well, aggravated.
Maybe it was that Jared didn’t believe in her, even if what she was asking of him was more than anyone could reasonably be expected to believe. But maybe it wasn’t. After all, she couldn’t see him trying to dissuade her from whatever path she might want to pursue in life. He wasn’t the judgmental type, who believed there were proper and not-so-proper jobs.
So maybe it was fear for Mandy that had Katie so riled. If Mandy and Kevin did marry and it all went south, what then? Would Jared believe in the magic? Would he blame Katie for screwing up his daughter’s life, after he’d spent years making sure Mandy wouldn’t be trapped by her choices the way he had.
She ran a hand over her head, then braked as she approached the center of town and the speed limit dropped.
Maybe her unsettled state was due to fear, period. She’d finally opened her mouth and said something unexpected, and look what happened.
She turned into the narrow alley leading to the string of parking areas behind Main Street, then guided her Volkswagen past the lot for Montfort’s Deli and into her private parking space behind The Bowen Bride, then cut the engine.
She loved living in the apartment above her shop. Loved the convenient access to work, the view of Main Street through her front windows, and the ease with which she could jog down the stairs, grab whatever she needed at the pharmacy or the grocery store, and be home again in less than ten minutes. Loved that it provided warm faces and friendly people during the day, even if, like Fred, they could be busybodies. Yet was a quiet, safe place to lay her head at night. She could call a friend anytime and walk to a café or to Montfort’s to meet them. Her time was her own here.
Best of all, living right on Main Street afforded her enough of a town feel to remind her of Boston, but without the noise and chaos. The worst it ever got was the day of the Fourth of July parade, and that was a fun kind of chaos. Plus she had a prime viewing spot from her second-floor windows.
Her life was damned near perfect just as it was.
She closed her eyes for a moment, reminded herself of all that was good in the world, then climbed out of the car and slipped her key into the lock at the back entrance. Maybe she was simply afraid that if she allowed a relationship with Jared to flourish, she would no longer be her own person. She’d be his girlfriend, or she’d be the focus of Mandy’s desire for a mother figure.
And maybe, as had happened with Brett, she would feel compelled to try to live up to their expectations. She’d ruin the good life she’d built.
After locking the door behind her, she started up the stairs to her apartment. Halfway up she paused, turned, and made her way to the workshop and flipped on the light. On the far side of the table rested the two boxes with Oma’s paperwork, while closer to her, the design books lay exactly as Mandy had left them that afternoon.
After returning the boxes to the closet to make room on the table—and to keep them where she couldn’t see them and think about the contents—she opened the design book to the gown Mandy had selected, then went to her file cabinet to pull out the corresponding pattern.
Maybe the best way to get Jared and Mandy out of her mind was to make Mandy’s wedding gown and be done with it. True, she’d told Mandy there was no rush, to wait a few months and see if she changed her mind, but it didn’t matter any longer. If Mandy decided against the gown, Katie could suck up the cost of the materials. Playing with patterns and cutting fabric had always been her preferred emotional therapy. It beat consuming massive amounts of chocolate or ice cream, and tonight she needed some serious therapy.
And if things weren’t going to work out with Jared...well then, she’d best get clear of the whole situation fast.
A sigh escaped her as she plunked her purse on a chair. No matter what her sense of self-preservation told her, she wanted things to work with Jared. It had taken every ounce of her will to break their kiss tonight, and she couldn’t imagine never kissing him again.
As she strode through the workroom searching for the bolt of fabric she had in mind, her gaze fell upon the pegboard and the one spool of thread that looked out of place. Even from several feet away, she could detect its frayed edges and the off-color that came with age. It didn’t look like golden thread spun by Sleeping Beauty on her enchanted spinning wheel.
She glanced toward the bolt of fabric she intended to use, then back to the thread. Jared had suggested she simply not use the thread, hadn’t he?
She’d make that decision later. For now she would focus on the task at hand.
At the sound of jingling bells, Katie grabbed her legal pad and strode to the front of the shop. Jared’s subcontractor had installed the countertop this morning, and she’d booked three brides for fittings this afternoon.
She went through the motions of the first appointment on autopilot, shuffling the petite brunette into a curtained dressing area to try on her nearly-completed gown while the young woman gushed about her upcoming wedding in Omaha. Katie could barely follow the bride’s detailed plans for the reception at the Scoular Building ballroom.
Instead of engaging in the usual chatter, Katie kept quiet, only nodding and murmuring the occasional “wow” or “how wonderful” as the bride bubbled over with excitement, giving her Katie a full-blown description of the balcony she wanted to use for her photos.
As she measured and pinned the hem on the gown, her mind remained firmly on Jared. And on the fact today was Friday.
The door jangled again as Katie double-checked her work. She looked up expecting to see the next bride on her schedule, but nearly swallowed a pin when Jared strode in wearing jeans, a black T-shirt bearing the Porter Construction logo, and heavy work boots.
Why did the man have to fill out his shirt so well?
And what was it about a man who knew how to wield a power tool?
“Hello, Liz. Beautiful gown.”
“Thank you! Only three weeks to go,” she said, beaming at the compliment. She looked to where Katie crouched near her feet, holding the fabric at the bottom of her gown. “Mr. Porter built the most beautiful wall unit for my parents. They have a smokin’ entertainment system now.”
Katie couldn’t stop the grin that came to her face. “He just finished building my front cabinet.”
“I noticed it was new since last time.” She turned her face to Jared, careful to keep her body still as Katie smoothed the pinned hem. “It’s very nice.”
“Thank you.” He stood silent for a moment, as if unsure whether to stay or go. Katie helped Liz from the platform, started the zipper at the back of the dress, then helped her into the dressing room. Once the bride was out of sight, she approached Jared.
“I wanted to see if you’re still up for Celestino’s,” he said, keeping his voice low, though the bride could certainly overhear.
“That’s fine.”
Katie couldn’t possibly say no, not when he looked at her with those electric blue eyes, not when he stood so close she could smooth her fingers over his shirt or to brush the stray fleck of sawdust off his cheek. Not when she’d been looking forward to spending an evening surrounded
by the scent of Celestino’s homemade parmesan crust and fresh tomato sauce, chatting with Jared about anything and everything that came to mind. She wanted to know more about him. What made him so passionate about his work. What he did for fun. What filled his dreams. What made him laugh.
Even so, part of her worried about whether she and Jared could ever work if he didn’t believe in her, even if that belief was about something as far-fetched as magic thread. Then there was the fact he’d said he wasn’t sure he was ready for a relationship.
Jared frowned, and she wondered if her response came off as indifferent. After a beat, he asked, “Is seven okay? I have to run to Blair to look at a potential job, so I won’t be back in town until at least six.”
“Seven’s great,” she replied, hoping she sounded more enthusiastic. He nodded, then turned on the heel of his boot and left.
“That man is freaking gorgeous,” Liz commented as she exited the dressing room, the gown folded carefully over one arm. Katie took the gown and arranged it on a hanger.
“If I wasn’t about to marry Rick…well, I’d aim a hard look in that direction.” Liz raised an eyebrow and cocked her head toward the door. Outside, Jared was climbing into his blue pickup. “Of course, he’s older than he looks,” Liz added. “He probably couldn’t keep up with me for long, if you know what I mean.”
Katie responded with a polite smile, though suddenly she wanted to smack Liz. Jared definitely wasn’t old. And if Liz knew what it was like to have Jared pin her to a worktable, his mouth moving along the skin of her throat, she’d have no doubts about his ability to keep up with anyone.
“I’ll have your gown finished next week,” Katie said, trying to shake the thought of Jared’s slow, long kisses. “Is there a day that’s easiest for you to pick it up?”
She hardly heard the brunette’s babbling as she griped about her busy schedule and the need to drive to Omaha for a cake tasting, pick up ribbon for the flower arrangements, and arrange for party favors to be delivered to the reception site. When Liz finally said, “I think Thursday would work, but only if it’s between two and four,” Katie’s attention snapped into place and she penned the time into her calendar before the bride-to-be flitted to her next urgent appointment.
The Bowen Bride Page 11