by Liz Flaherty
“What a loss it was.” Arlie’s voice, always husky, thickened. “Do you think about the wreck a lot, Cass?” It was the closest anyone had come to asking why she’d left the way she had. “Do you wish you’d stayed here?”
She didn’t even consider lying or avoiding the questions. “Every day. Every single day.”
*
“OKAY, I THINK maybe I was—” Luke looked out over the grapevines behind Zoey’s house because it was the easiest way to avoid Cass’s eyes, and went on “—wrong.”
“Yowzer!” Seth’s voice came from behind him. “Hey, Roycie, my big brother just admitted he was wrong. Somebody needs to call the radio station and—oomph.” He doubled over when Luke smacked him flat-handed across his hard-earned washboard abs.
Cass tried not to laugh, but failed miserably. “Did you seriously think he wouldn’t grab that and run with it?”
“No, I seriously thought there was no one around to hear me except you. What was I thinking? This is Grand Central Station Orchard, is it not?” Luke was laughing, too, although the color in his cheeks revealed his embarrassment. He gestured at where his brother and her sister were strolling toward the apple barn. “Truly, I thought they were on the wagon headed back to unload.”
“Well, do go on,” she invited, joining him to walk toward the store and turning halfway around to wave at Zoey where she was planting chrysanthemums around the back porch. “I’m always interested in hearing when a man is wrong. It so seldom happens, you know.”
“Well, yeah, I do know, because I’m not sure it’s ever happened to me before.” He grinned at her and flipped the bill of the visor she wore at the orchard.
“Well, that sounds more like it.” It was so much fun talking to him like this, feeling comfortable and easy despite their disagreement on—so far—virtually everything. She wasn’t sure she’d felt this level of camaraderie with Tony in nearly fifteen years of marriage.
He sighed heavily. “As I was saying before my brother interrupted and I’m sure your sister encouraged him, I’m still not sure a coffee shop is going to be a successful venture. But if we’re going to try it, I have no business steamrolling you to do things my way in the process. We’ll put it where you think it should go, furnish it how you like. I will undoubtedly give my opinion, whether you want to hear it or not, but you should feel free to ignore me or even tell me to go do something terrible to myself if you feel pushed. I tend to micromanage and often such intervention is neither wanted nor needed.”
“Are you sure?” If he was going to be gracious, she could be, too. “I know the orchard was running just fine before I came along.” She hadn’t seen or heard any evidence of him micromanaging it, either, but she wasn’t going to tell him that right now.
“I’m sure.”
“Then, would you like to go shopping with me?”
“Shopping? I have sisters. And a mother. So, no, I never want to go shopping.”
“This means then that whatever Zoey and I come back with, you’re not going to complain?”
“I didn’t say that exactly.”
“Okay. Planning session, then. Do you want to do that?”
“That I’m good with.” He looked at his watch. “Seth and Royce are going somewhere tonight, so we have no custodial responsibilities between six and ten. If you’ll come over, I’ll cook steaks on the grill and we can make some plans. What do you say?”
“What should I bring?”
“Salad from the deli at the bulk foods store?”
“I can do that.”
They arrived at the door to the store. Luke left her to go to the barn and she went inside to replace the woman behind the counter, drawing in a deep breath to enjoy the scents of apples and spices that filled the room.
She loved the orchard. And Aunt Zoey.
And she was liking Luke Rossiter a little more than she thought was probably good for her.
*
“IT’S NOT AS if you’ve never dated. What is your problem?” Seth moved over to share the bathroom mirror, looking pained.
“I don’t do relationships, and that’s what dinner at the house feels like.” Luke frowned, pushing Seth. “My biggest problem is sharing a bathroom that’s only big enough for one really skinny person.”
“That’s your fault. You need to finish the one in the hallway.”
That was true, and as soon as he had time, he would. For now, Luke and Seth were sharing the master suite’s bathroom. While it did boast two sinks, the room wasn’t big enough for two oversized men.
He concentrated on combing his hair, reminding himself of his little brother with that very concentration. Usually, he brushed it back and put on a cap. Speaking of Seth, he needed to make something clear. Perfectly so. “It’s not a date. It’s a business meeting. And if you tell Mom I’m dating someone and get her hopes up, you’re going back to Detroit forever.”
His brother snorted derisively. “You don’t do business meetings outside of business hours, and you have them at the orchard back in the coffee corner or in your office if you can find a clean spot for someone to sit.”
“Usually. This is…different.” So different he’d stopped by It’s De-Lovely after work and gotten his hair cut. He’d put on clean jeans and a blue button-up shirt he wore with the tails out.
He’d even left the orchard early, putting Lovena in charge until closing time. She’d smiled and agreed, her eyes twinkling, and he’d felt the color rise in his face. He’d always read in books that blushing was a girl thing. It didn’t seem especially fair that he did it all the time and Rachel wouldn’t know a blush if someone poured it down her cheeks. One more thing to hold against her.
When Cass arrived, waving Seth off when she got out of her SUV, Luke thought he wasn’t the only one who’d dressed up a little. She was wearing a sundress—not unusual on the lake, but uncommon for her. She always wore capris or, on cool days, what his sisters called yoga pants. They just looked like close-fitting sweats to him and they looked sleek on Cass.
The dress, though, accessorized with strappy red sandals and some sparkly jewelry he’d have bet the farm Royce had forced on her, looked even better than sleek. Her hair had grown in the two weeks she’d been here, and she’d added some blond streaks—or the sun had—that gave her an added glow. She was still slim, but she looked strong. He thought she was.
They talked while they ate, filling in blanks about each other. She was surprised he’d not only played football in high school and college, he’d also been in drama and had played the guitar most of his life.
“That’s amazing.” Her eyes were wide. “I wanted to be in drama, but when I couldn’t even memorize Bible verses in Sunday school, I kind of knew there was no hope. I did help with makeup, though.”
“I was Atticus Finch in To Kill a Mockingbird,” he said. “I wore the glasses and the suit, but we didn’t color my hair. Even though it was a great part and the play went well, I kept thinking about Gregory Peck the whole time and knowing I was profaning perfection.”
She laughed. “I loved that movie. And the book, too. Our class read it the year I was here.”
“What were you in? Besides volleyball, where I heard you set a record for kills that still stands. Seth said your picture was in the athletic hall at school.”
“Besides doing makeup for drama and playing the clarinet—really badly—in the marching band, I was in a writers’ group.”
“Write Now?”
“Yes. Is it still there?” She looked surprised, but pleased.
“Yeah. Seth is in it. Holly helps with it sometimes.”
“How many kids are involved?”
“You’d have to ask Seth. Quite a few, I think, for as small a high school as Miniagua is.”
“I helped start it.”
“Really?” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you still write?”
It was her turn to blush. “Sometimes,” she said briefly, and turned her attention back to her food. “So, do you want to help
look for tables and chairs? Oh, and kitchen equipment. An espresso machine is a huge part of the investment.”
He blinked, not sure how or why the subject change had happened so abruptly. “No, actually, that’s a place you probably don’t need my opinion. Won’t you just get stuff from a supply house?”
“Nope. Auctions and attics. And antiques stores.”
“Lots of them around.”
“I’ll go to Indy to get the coffee machines. Everything other than that can be either bought or constructed locally. I think Aunt Zoey will like helping to put it together, don’t you?”
“I think she’ll love it.”
They ate in silence for a few minutes, more comfortable than he would have expected, then she asked, “When did you and Jill get married?”
“While we were in our first year of college. We were going to wait, but when we found out it was pretty much a sure thing we weren’t going to have a long life together, we went ahead. We were lucky that our parents supported the decision because we were so broke meals and gas for the car were sometimes out of reach. Jill quit school so she could spend what time she had doing what she wanted, but I kept going.” He stopped, remembering, and smiled. “I saw a movie once—I think it was about Lou Gehrig—where his wife said she wouldn’t give up a minute of either the bad or the good, although that’s not how she said it. I wouldn’t, either.”
“Is that why you’re still single?”
“I’m still single because I haven’t met anyone else I want to spend my life with.” And I don’t intend to, ever again.
Sitting across the table from Cass, feeling that same connection he’d felt from the moment they’d met, it didn’t seem impossible anymore that it would happen again. She was nothing like Jill, but he was pretty sure his wife would have liked her.
He knew he did.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“I THOUGHT YOU didn’t want them to match.” Zoey looked at the tables and chairs in the back room of the antiques store in downtown Peru. “You have eight tables and twenty-four chairs here, and they’re all exactly the same style and color. I’ll bet they even have matching wads of gum stuck to their undersides.”
“I know.” Cass leaned in to whisper the price in her aunt’s ear.
“Oh.” Zoey straightened. “Well, then, exactly alike is good, isn’t it?”
“Certainly is.” Cass counted in her head. “The cabinetry is being put in today and tomorrow, the electricity and plumbing are already done. I am so excited!”
“How many names are entered?”
Cass and Luke had hung a poster in the orchard store, offering a prize to the person who named the coffee shop. They were having an employee luncheon the next day at Just One of Those Things and choosing the winner from the top three names picked by Zoey, Luke and Cass.
“Thirtysome. There were over fifty entries, but there were a bunch of repeats.”
Zoey leaned in to whisper again. “What’s your favorite? I won’t tell.”
“You won’t tell because you won’t know.” Cass bumped shoulders with her. “What’s yours?”
“Hmph. None of your business.”
They laughed together and went into the front room of the store to arrange delivery.
Cass was amazed by how quickly the coffee shop had come together. The carpenters they’d hired had worked long hours on sanding and finishing the plank floor and making countertops to fit the random cabinetry she’d found in shops offering scratch-and-dent cupboards. Electricians had gotten them up to code and gained them plenty of outlets and switches in a single day. A one-day painting party complete with pizza had gotten the walls painted in the purple-and-sage color scheme that had horrified Luke into silence until he saw the final result. After that, he’d told everyone it was all his idea.
“You’re having fun, aren’t you?” asked Zoey, when they were heading back to the lake.
Cass didn’t hesitate. “I am, the most fun I’ve had since I was here in high school. And Royce is ecstatic.” She dipped her head, keeping her eyes on the road. “When I think about it, though, I keep waiting for something to come along and stop the whole project in its tracks.”
“I know the feeling.” Zoey sipped from her coffee from the shop they’d just gone to. “When it does, honey, just start up again and keep on going.” She frowned. “I hope you ordered better go-cups than this.”
“I did.”
It was hard to think about the shoe dropping. Cass and Royce had both settled into the farmhouse as if they’d always lived there. Zoey was delighted with the company and they were just as happy to help maintain the big house. Royce had even mastered the riding lawnmower and the Weedwacker. Cass, being mechanically challenged in all avenues of her life, had avoided them both.
In the two weeks since they’d moved, Zoey, Cass and Luke had met nearly every morning after Seth and Royce left for school. They made business plans and parceled out the labor.
There were, of course, a few things that worried Cass. She was happy, but she’d learned never to trust fate to hands other than her own.
Royce and Seth had become troublingly close, and even though Cass reiterated the necessary talks Royce had already had with Damaris, she still worried about her little sister. She had married Tony when she was eighteen—it wasn’t something she wanted Royce to consider, no matter how nice a kid Seth was. Tony had been a nice kid, too.
Luke was wonderful. He was handsome and fun and Cass had never in her life enjoyed talking to someone as much as she liked spending conversation time with him. But they’d gone from just conversation to real dating. Sort of. Or as close to it as two people who weren’t interested in dating could become.
Then there was the Damaris thing. “Don’t worry,” she’d told both Cass and Royce, “if you don’t always hear from me. Things are weird here.”
The sisters were both military brats—they knew about weird things. They both worried.
It had been nearly a week since they’d heard from her.
Cass also worried because it was becoming increasingly hard to keep her alter ego a secret. She wasn’t even sure, if she were pinned down to telling the absolute truth, why it was still a secret, but it was. She guessed she needed for Cassandra G. Porter to be safe at all costs, because she was the only thing in Cass’s life she’d never lost.
Then again, she knew that Zoey hadn’t gone anywhere. She’d never lost Royce, either, because she’d never really had her. Now that her little sister had appropriated such a huge chunk of her heart, she couldn’t bear the idea of not having her in her life.
Sometimes at night, when she’d stopped thinking about Luke, she’d have pipe dreams about Damaris joining them at the lake. There were still two empty bedrooms upstairs at the farmhouse. That way, Cass wouldn’t have to give Royce up when the girl’s mother came home.
Not only was secrecy becoming difficult, but the two thousand words Cass-as-Cassandra demanded from herself every day had become less than half that. She’d never missed a deadline in her life, but the one looming was…well, looming.
“What is it with me?” she muttered to herself that night, when the house was silent save for the clicking of her computer keys. “Can I only write when I’m miserable? Come back to me, Lucy. There’s a perfectly good murder just waiting for you to jump in and solve it.”
But her trusted protagonist was silent, sitting thoughtfully in the vintage MG convertible she’d driven from the first page of the series. Thinking about cancer recurrences and harm coming to loved ones and being alone. And about a handsome man with thick brown hair and chocolate brown eyes.
Where had that come from?
But she knew where it had come from, and with a sigh and a soft whiff of laughter, Lucy Garten’s creator gave in to the inevitable and provided her heroine with a hero.
*
“ZOEY’S CHOICE, Pour Barn Brewing Company. Name entered by Arlie Llewellyn and Charlie Llewellyn,” Luke read from the paper in front of him. “I t
hink it was a family thing, although Jack suggested Coffee Shop. Needless to say, that didn’t make the final cut.”
The suggestion—or maybe it was Jack’s—was met with both cheers and boos. Luke grinned around at the twentysome orchard employees attending the luncheon at Just One of Those Things. “I know. I don’t like it, either.”
“Well, some of us like it,” said Zoey with a sniff.
“So, what’s your choice, Luke?” asked Isaac.
“Keep Hot Coffee Room, suggested by Mollie Bender. I thought this was perfect. However, before you cast your vote for this inspired choice, I have to admit that Cass reminded me we’re not trying to compete with the tearoom and the ‘room’ part of that name does sound a little confrontational in that regard.”
Neely, the owner of the tearoom, made a sweeping bow as she walked around the long table refilling cups. “We appreciate that. Thanks for keeping him in line, Cass.”
Cass waved at her. “It’s a hard job—”
“—but somebody’s gotta do it,” the occupants of the table finished.
Luke tried to look offended. “Okay, final choice, the one Cass picked out. Ground in the Round, in reference to the round barn that houses the shop. This one was entered by Bill Shafer. Neely’s going to pass the ballots around. Check your choice and toss them in the basket. She’ll count, since Seth suggested I might cheat.” He glowered at his brother. “Which explains why you didn’t have a vote in choosing the finalists.”
Papers rustled and employees talked among themselves. One asked if he would be fired if he voted against Luke’s choice.
“Not fired,” said Luke. “Laid off, maybe.”
“And brought back with a raise in pay,” Cass offered from the other end of the table.
Her comment was met with laughter, Luke’s included. His gaze held hers, and it nearly took his breath away. Everyone else kept talking, eating, laughing, but it all went past him without notice—all of his attention was focused on the blue-green eyes smiling into his. He remembered, with a bone-deep ache, being alone with Jill in a room filled with people.