Nice to Come Home To

by Liz Flaherty

  She shrugged. “It’s not all of it. Like everyone else, my family has its share of dysfunction, so that’s some of it, too. But feeling responsible for your best friend’s death…” She had to stop and take a deep breath, and when she went on, she looked past Jesse at the painting on the wall behind him. “It takes its toll. I’ve made sure to never be best friends with anyone else. It was years before I’d drive or ride in a car my little sister was in. When I was married, we made the decision not to have kids and it was a relief because I couldn’t stand the idea of being that responsible for someone’s life.”

  She felt tears pushing at the backs of her eyes and had to stop again and focus on the painting. It was of a scene inside a tearoom. Not the one Neely ran, but somehow familiar. Cass would like to go there.

  Jesse turned his head to follow the line of her vision. “That was Seven Pillars,” he said. “Libby owned it for years. The tornado last spring destroyed the building. She reopened it where Just One of Those Things is, then sold the business to Neely.” He chuckled. “She’s going to college now, studying astronomy.”

  “It looks familiar. Probably because Libby designed the layout in both tearooms.”

  He nodded. “It surprised me when she sold it, but she had other dreams to follow, including marrying Tucker.” He smiled, the quiet expression she remembered from high school days. “Don’t change the subject. It sounds to me as if you did stay away for that reason.”

  “Sort of. After the accident and the funerals, I couldn’t face anyone. I couldn’t stand to think about it. I used to go to the cemetery and make sure flowers were always kept there, but one day when I went, Linda’s mom was already there. She was lying on the ground beside the grave crying. I knew I’d done that to her because I changed seats with Linda.” Cass gestured at the clinic surroundings. “You’re here instead of in Paris with Linda. Because I changed seats.” She laughed, the sound ragged. “And you don’t have to tell me that’s extreme. It’s goofy. I know that, but it’s not a feeling that goes away. I went home the next day—back to my mother’s, I mean—and thought I’d make it easier if I just never came back.”

  “Holly and I didn’t start seeing each other until last year,” Jesse said without preamble. “But eighteen years ago I had it all planned out. Linda and I were going fishing the day after the prom and I was going to tell her I liked her a lot, but I wanted to see other people. Actually, the only other person I wanted to see was Holly, but I wasn’t going to say that.” He met Cass’s eyes. “I was so ticked off at Lin the night of the accident. She took the whole prom princess thing so seriously she didn’t even want to slow dance because she didn’t want to mess up her dress, the same reason she wanted that seat in the van.”

  “I remember how much it meant to her.”

  “It did. And I felt guilty about wanting to break up with her. About being mad at her. Guilty enough I wouldn’t ask Holly out no matter how much I wanted to. She asked me instead, finally—well, actually, she told me—and now we’re going to have one of those happily-ever-afters she writes about. And she’s going to make me dress weird in the process—I know dang well she is.”

  “You mean you don’t blame me?”

  He reached across the desk to grasp her hands. “Listen to me. Almost all of us who were in the wreck felt some sense of responsibility for it. A few of us, like Jack and maybe you, were driven by that culpability, no matter how wrong it was. We all carried that adolescent guilt into adulthood with us. I remember Nate Benteen telling Libby that we didn’t take ownership of our lives—we just rented them until they became painful and then we let them go for something else.”

  Cass flinched. That came way too close to the bone for comfort.

  He squeezed her hands. “No, I don’t blame you. I’m sure Linda’s mother doesn’t, either. So, let it go—that’s a mantra several of the survivors have latched on to. Remember something else, too. Linda would never have blamed you. She loved being best friends with you.”

  The tears slipped onto Cass’s cheeks then. “I loved it, too.”

  He let her go and pushed a tissue box toward her. “Are we okay now?”

  She blew her nose and smiled at him. “Yes. Does this mean you’re going to talk to me when we see each other?”

  He laughed, the sound so quiet a person couldn’t have heard it more than three feet away. “Not a lot, but we’re still friends.” He picked Misty up and stroked her head. “Bring her back in next week to be spayed and don’t let her eat from the table.”

  They walked outside together, Misty already snoozing in her carrier by the time Jesse put it in the bicycle basket. Cass was surprised when Jesse pulled her in for a quick hug. “Own your life,” he said, holding her gaze. “It may not be the one you planned, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be good.”

  They both looked up in surprise when the orchard truck pulled up beside them. Luke rolled the window down, looking a little embarrassed. “I was afraid you’d be riding home in the dark.” He waved at Jesse. “I know how this guy can talk your arm off.”

  Jesse grinned at him. “I talk about as much as you climb trees. Want the bike in the back?”

  “I can ride home.” Cass frowned at first one and then the other.

  “You can,” Luke agreed, getting out and walking around to drop the pickup’s tailgate. “But why would you when I’m right here and you can probably talk me into pizza? Everyone else in our respective families is eating somewhere else.”

  “Well, then.” A tremor of glee made the hair on the back of her neck stand up. “I’d be foolish to turn that down, wouldn’t I?”

  As if she’d ever want to.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  “I THINK WE should have a festival.”

  They were in the middle of what Luke and Cass had placed on their new schedule as their Monday morning business meeting, only it was happening on Halloween night after closing at Ground in the Round. They’d somehow missed Monday, and it had been a busy week. Many people, including several who worked for the orchard, equated Halloween with apples, so Keep Cold had held a party in the retail store and opened the parking lot to a Trunk-or-Treat celebration. If Luke never saw another piece of candy corn, it would be way too soon.

  Zoey, Luke and Cass sat at a table with Luke’s yellow legal pad, Zoey’s leather-bound notebook and Cass’s laptop. They were drinking the last of the day’s coffee and talking about winter plans for the retail store.

  They certainly hadn’t been talking about festivals. They hadn’t even cleaned up the Halloween mess yet. Not that there was all that much, but still…

  Luke put down the cup he’d just picked up and stared at Zoey. “You do know this is the wrong end of apple season for that, right? A festival would have been good a month ago or two weeks ago or even right now, but we should have planned it last year or at least this spring. Am I making sense?”

  “Of course you are.” Zoey waved a dismissive hand at him. “What does that have to do with anything?”

  “Zoey, do you know how much work a festival would be?”

  “I do. Do you know we’ve been cutting back hours enough that people would be glad for more of them? Besides, festivals are fun. We have plenty of apples and we’ve been keeping the retail store stocked to stay open all winter. We could have things like face painting and a coloring contest. Maybe even bob for apples the way people used to do all the time—is that even legal anymore? And a wine tasting! I’m sure Sycamore Hill would be glad to set one up and staff it.”

  He hated to curb her enthusiasm, especially since he could see interest brightening Cass’s blue-green eyes, but the idea of creating a festival out of thin air was just crazy. Admittedly, opening a coffee shop had been crazy, too, and it was going great guns, but there just wasn’t time for a festival. Not this late in the season, with Thanksgiving just over the horizon and Christmas a mere heartbeat after that. Tourism died almost completely away from the lake during the cold winter months, so local businesses mad
e the most of the holidays.

  “I don’t think it’s reasonable,” he said firmly. He hated doing that; it reminded Zoey that she was no longer actually a voting member of Keep Cold Orchard even though he and Cass always included her in business discussions. “We’ve had a good financial year, especially with the addition of the coffee shop. Taking a chance on the spur of the moment like this would be too…chancy.”

  Zoey frowned. Cass drained her cup and refilled it. Luke refilled his, too. Misty jumped onto his knee, but only stayed long enough to bite his index finger before leaping lightly into Zoey’s lap and settling in.

  He thought it would be a good idea to make the coffee shop a cat-free environment, but he was almost positive that suggestion wouldn’t go over well. He’d be lucky if Cass didn’t throw in with her aunt on the crazy festival idea.

  “I think we could do it.”

  And maybe he wouldn’t be so lucky.

  Cass’s words were laced with challenge. Her chin had a little extra lift to it, too. He remembered the evening before, when they’d watched movies and eaten popcorn and laughed in his living room. Afterward, they’d put on sweatshirts and gloves and walked the lit path around the perimeter of the lake. There’d been much kissing and conversation involved, and when he’d stood lakeside with her held firmly in his arms, he’d had to remind himself that neither of them was interested in a serious relationship.

  Sometimes, when the challenge in both her voice and her chin presented themselves, he thought a business relationship wasn’t such a great idea, either. Other than the coffee shop thing—which had exceeded even Cass’s expectations. And the fact that he got to see her every day.

  The fact that he never didn’t want to see her planted a little seed of concern in the back of his mind. Just a small one that he was doing just fine at ignoring. Just fine.

  “We don’t have time,” he said again.

  The chin lifted higher. She had the most amazing profile. “You may not. I know you have much to do with winter coming on. But the rest of us can certainly make time. When, Aunt Zoey?”

  “The weekend after the one coming up. That will give us two weeks. What do you think?”

  Cass’s eyes widened and she swallowed, but then she nodded. “Okay.” She turned her head enough to meet his eyes. “Okay?”

  He frowned. First at her, then at Zoey, then at her again. “It’s crazy. Where did it come from and why now? The holidays are coming. Football’s still going on. Whatever you do on that computer of yours takes up a ton of your time. We didn’t allow either hours or money for anything like this when we made up the schedule and the budget. It’s…well, like I said, it’s crazy.”

  “That may be, but it’s personal,” said Zoey. “Damaris and Royce might not be here next year and we want to show them everything about lake life we can. And you know it would be good for business for everyone, not just the orchard. The tourists might stay around for another weekend to see what’s going on.”

  He sighed, got no reaction and sighed again. “Okay. I won’t stand in your way.” He sighed one more time, thinking surely one of them would realize they were being both unprofessional and manipulative, but they just looked at him. “How can I help?”

  “We’ll take care of it,” Zoey assured him. “If you’ll make sure the little field beside the parking lot is mowed so vendors can set up tents, we’ll try to leave you alone.”

  He nodded and smiled. But he didn’t believe a word of it.

  *

  “I THINK MAYBE we unleashed a monster.” Three days later, Cass and Luke walked between the rows of leased vendor tents in the little meadow. They’d rented ten, hoping they’d be able to fill that many, but had ended up getting five more. Three other vendors had rented the empty spaces in the round barn.

  “We?” He raised an eyebrow and moved his shoulders with an exaggerated groan. “She’s been working us both to death.”

  She laughed. “Not only us. It’s everyone she’s come in contact with. She dropped Misty off at the vet clinic to be spayed and ended up talking Jesse into an art show in the barn. He got the Miniagua Arts League involved, so it’ll be a good-sized show. Damaris is pleased because that’s something she can help with even though she’s not very mobile yet.” She beamed at him. “Your sisters rented a tent. I didn’t know they made jewelry.”

  “I hope you charged them extra.”

  She smacked his arm. “I didn’t want to charge them at all, but they were insistent on paying. Said it was a business expense and that you’d pay it for them.”

  He snorted. “Like that’s going to happen. But I’d have charged them more just for the trouble they’ll cause.”

  “That’s what Rachel said.” Cass laughed, remembering the conversation from the day before. “She said some other things, too.”

  “Don’t believe them.”

  “Where do they live?” She’d met his parents when they’d come down to watch Seth play football, but Rachel and Leah hadn’t visited since Cass had come back to the lake.

  “Pennsylvania. The same community where we lived until I was in college and the girls were in high school. They’re both married and have kids. Rachel’s a teacher and Leah’s a pharmacist.”

  “What do your brothers-in-law do?”

  “They’re farmers, plus Abe does financial consulting. Both girls had always said they’d never marry farmers, because spending their teenage years in a rural area convinced them Philadelphia was in their future, but now they live on opposite sides of their husbands’ family farm about three miles from where we grew up and nothing would ever move them.”

  “I can understand wanting something different. Growing up on military installations convinced me I never wanted to do that again.” Tony and his family had always lived in cities, and she’d loved that. It still amazed her that a lake in the middle of Indiana farmland was the place that held her heart. “Do they like it here?”

  He shrugged. “They’ve never spent much time here. Their kids are busy enough, and the farm and the girls’ jobs are demanding enough that they don’t get away all that often. I have no idea what’s bringing them here now.”

  “Rachel said on the phone that they crossed their fingers and the stars aligned.” Cass thought maybe there was some curiosity involved with the visit, too, that the sisters wondered about the unknown females their brothers were spending time with.

  Luke smiled then, his chocolate-colored eyes softening with the expression. “They’re good people,” he said. “I’ll be glad to see them.”

  “I was thinking…” But Cass’s voice faded away when she looked at him. It was there in his face, in the sweetness of his expression, the slashes on either side of his mouth when he smiled. She could see it in his eyes when they met hers—especially right before he kissed her. They changed then. Darkened and lit at the same time as if they were relating the same message as his lips did when they covered hers. This was a man she could love. Or more than love. This was someone she could weave the parts of her life with the way they tangled their fingers when they held hands.

  As if on cue, pain rippled down her arm. She knew it was from lymphedema, a buildup of fluid resulting from her mastectomy, but it reminded her of what had been and might be again. While fear of recurrence didn’t dominate every day of her life, it did influence thoughts of her future.

  She looked at the man walking beside her, who’d already lost one woman he loved to disease. Cass thought his feelings mirrored her own—it showed in those eyes she couldn’t stop looking into—but she was almost certain he wouldn’t be willing to risk loving a cancer survivor. Even if she was his business partner.

  Especially if she was his business partner.

  She rubbed her arm.

  He frowned. “You all right?”

  “Yes.”

  “What were you thinking?”

  She frowned. “About what?”

  He laughed. “I don’t know. You said you were thinking, but then you stopped.
”

  “Oh! Good heavens, where is my mind?” She knew very well where it was, but it wasn’t information she was going to share. “I was thinking about having some music in the coffee shop during the festival. Just for a few hours in the afternoon. What do you think?”

  “Good idea. Music is always popular. It might be hard to find someone this late in the game, though.”

  “Oh well, yeah, that was the rest of what I was thinking.” She ducked her head, feeling more adolescent than she had when she was an adolescent. “And what Royce, Zoey and Damaris were thinking, too. Seth was playing his guitar at the house the other night and we thought you and he might like to play for a while. And sing.”

  For a moment, she wondered if she’d made a mistake. Although she’d seen the four guitars that sat on stands in his living room, he’d never mentioned them, much less picked up an instrument to play. She’d been curious, but was reserved enough to respect the fact that he’d never talked about music. Maybe she should have asked—not everyone had a privacy gene as developed as hers. “Have I crossed a line?”

  “No,” he said quickly. “No. There’s no secret. We could do that if it’s okay with Seth, I guess. We might be on the rusty side. Other than church at Christmas and at family reunions when Rachel gets insistent, we don’t play in public very often. We play every day, but that’s different than practicing for performance.”

  “It is?”

  He laughed. “Sure it is. We don’t use a playlist at home, and if we blow a song, we stop in the middle and go back to its beginning. Ten times, if that’s what it takes, or even more. Seth only changes his guitar strings when his are so dead the music’s all gone from them. We both have stage fright to the extent that we have to play a few instrumentals before trusting our voices to sing.”

  “I had no idea what was involved.” She couldn’t write with music in the background, although having Royce in the house had taught her to block it out. Cass never even turned on the car radio. She’d been pleasantly surprised at Seth’s first football game to discover she still remembered all the words to Miniagua’s school song. “I’m afraid I’m not musical. My tin ear matches my two left feet.” The admission made her feel even more awkward than she actually was.