by Wendy Vella
She entered the building where a sign said Administration and walked up to the desk.
“Can I help you?” said the woman sitting there.
“Yes, I’m here for the careers day.”
“You must be Ms. Harper.” The woman got to her feet and held out her hand. Tall and thin, she had a steel gray bob and bright pink lipstick.
“I am.” Willow shook the hand.
“Come with me and I’ll take you to the hall.”
Everything was clean: no graffiti on the walls, just a few scuff marks marring the hallways. When they reached another set of doors, Willow walked through behind the woman and into a hall. The students were all seated, and she guessed by the number that the entire school was present.
Annabelle saw her and waved her forward. “Buster is just wrapping up his talk, then he’ll pick a winner from the coloring competition. Declan and Branna are next, and Ethan will follow them, and then you’re up.”
“Okay, sure.” Willow nodded. She was nervous, but more because of the adults present than the children. Jake, Branna, Ethan, Newman, Annabelle, and Buster were all here, along with D.J. O’Donnell and several other people.
Sitting, she watched Buster as he moved about in front of the children. His voice wasn’t raised, and he wasn’t flapping his arms around, but the children were all focused on him as he talked about his day that always started at 5 a.m. He was wearing jeans and a sweatshirt that had an elf wearing an apron on the front, and he looked mouth-wateringly good. His hair stood up off his head, eyes lit with a smile that only tilted the corners of his mouth. She wanted to sigh, but Annabelle would hear, so she kept it to herself. Last night she’d been wrapped around that man. Shutting out that thought, she concentrated on his talk.
“Okay, so my friends and I have studied the pictures you all drew,” Buster said, producing a few excited murmurs from the kids. “And it wasn’t easy, because the standard this year was high. We wanted to pick them all, but since The Hoot is small, you can’t all decorate it.” The kids laughed at that. “So we choose Mandy Cowen’s drawing of Santa.”
A small squeal erupted from the middle of the room, and a little girl leaped to her feet. “That’s me!”
“I thought it might be,” Buster said. “So how about you and two of your friends come over to The Hoot tomorrow after closing and we can get started decorating?”
The little girl nodded, then sat back down, and Willow watched the girls around her move closer, no doubt hoping they would be invited to go with her.
Next up were D.J. O’Donnell and his daughter Branna, who, much to Willow’s surprise, was Rosanna Howlling, another writer she loved. They talked in their soft Irish brogues about careers in creative writing, both fiction and non-fiction. It was riveting, and Willow didn’t realize that Buster had come to stand beside her until he spoke.
“Don’t tell me you’re a fan, too?”
Willow shivered as he whispered the words in her ear. “I have all their books.”
“You and Ethan should start a club. He’s only just starting to cope with them both living in the same town as him. When he first met them, he couldn’t form a sentence without stuttering.”
Looking at the big handsome Texan, she found that hard to believe. “I squealed when I saw him in The Roar.”
“Now, that does disappoint me, New York. You being a tough big-city chick and all.”
“I was disappointed in myself,” Willow admitted. “It was embarrassing.”
“I bet. You had your hand dressed today?”
“Yes, Buster.”
“Good girl.”
She didn’t look at him; smelling him was bad enough. Essence of Buster. It made her mouth water.
Next up was Ethan. He loped onto the stage in his long, easy gait, smile in place, and seconds later had the entire room, especially the little girls and most of the big ones, eating out of his hand.
“Tell me you didn’t just sigh.”
“He’s handsome, sexy, and speaks in a slow drawl. Are you seriously telling me you didn’t sigh just a little?” Dragging her eyes from Ethan, who was discussing a career in the military, she looked at Buster. “Dear God, he flew a helicopter and was in the military too,” she whispered.
“He leaves his wet towel on the floor and never changes the toilet paper roll, and he squeezes his toothpaste from the top,” Annabelle whispered out the side of her mouth.
“Damn,” Willow sighed, enjoying herself way too much. “So nearly perfect.” It was weird how comfortable this banter felt when she hadn’t talked this way in years, if ever.
Annabelle laughed. “Oh, believe me, he more than makes up for it.”
Willow felt color heat her cheeks. This time it was Buster who laughed, and then she felt his breath whispering in her ear again.
“You a prude, New York?”
Ignoring him, she concentrated on Ethan and not the deep rumble of laughter coming from behind her.
“I didn’t see much evidence of that last night.”
“Stop that,” Willow hissed.
“I spent a painful, lonely night thinking about you, New York. How your hair looked all messed and draped around your lush body. I think it only fair you do a bit of suffering too.”
Willow shivered again as his breath brushed her hair.
“Unless of course you suffered too?”
She ignored that question as thunderous applause greeted the end of the Texan’s talk. It was now her turn, and she was pleased to grab her things and get up on stage away from the disturbing Buster Griffin.
“I’m from New York, and like the Irish and Texan who went before me, I speak funny, so you just put your hands up if you don’t understand, and I’ll talk slower, okay?”
The children all nodded, their sweet little faces looking up at her eagerly, happy to listen to what came next. Drawing in a breath, she shut out the adults and concentrated on telling them about the exciting world of real estate.
Willow started her talk with what education was required to enter the real estate industry, asking several easy questions about things. She then gave away pens and pencils, erasers, and other things to the kids who answered correctly.
Buster could watch her all day. She was dressed in a fitted black suit, a pale blue shirt and her high-heeled boots. He’d touched that body last night, kissed those lips and breasts, tasted the scent of her skin, and he’d be lying to himself if he didn’t admit to wanting more…a great deal more.
“You have a weird look on your face, Aramis.”
“I had to listen to all the women sighing and fanning themselves while you talked. What is it with the Texas accent, anyway? To me, you sound simple, but you make them melt.”
“It’s not just the accent, Aramis. We both know that. But getting back to the look on your face—” Ethan said, looking smug.
“Shut up and listen. You might learn something,” Buster said, watching Willow. She talked about New York and the company she worked for, then wrapped it up with another question. This time the answer would be a drawing that she’d do now, for the child to give his or her parents for Christmas.
“Have you seen her draw?” Ethan said, looking at Buster, who nodded in reply.
After she’d selected a winner, she and the little boy moved to the rear of the room. As Newman was next, and Buster had heard him talk enough to last a lifetime, he went to watch Willow. Soon he had company, and they all stood behind her to watch as she drew the boy in quick, efficient strokes. When the drawing was done, they all clapped, making her look over her shoulder.
“Wow, Willow, you’re amazing.” Annabelle moved closer to study the likeness. “Any chance you can stay around for the carnival and do portraits? You’d make a fortune for the school.”
Willow took the picture carefully off the pad after signing the bottom and handed it to the boy before she answered Annabelle. “I don’t think I’ll be here, Annabelle.” She didn’t like the praise; Buster could see that as she moved th
e chairs back into place and gathered up her things. “I just draw for fun. I don’t think people will actually want to pay for it.”
“Oh, but—”
“Don’t push, Annabelle,” Ethan said, taking his girlfriend’s hand in his.
Where before Annabelle would have exploded that a man was telling her what to do, Buster watched her sigh. “Sorry,” she said. “I do tend to do that from time to time. But if you’re around then, we’d appreciate it.”
“Sure,” Willow smiled.
“And thanks for the talk. They enjoyed it, although why you’re selling real estate when you can draw like, that I have no idea,” Annabelle said before letting Ethan drag her away.
“You have a talent, Ms. Harper.”
Willow looked at Declan wide-eyed. “Thanks, but compared to you and your daughter, I think you’re just being nice.”
“Talent comes in many guises. Take Buster. He’s an artist in the kitchen, and I would pay handsomely for one of his vanilla and coffee bean cakes with buttercream icing, just as I would for a drawing of my daughter and her husband.”
Willow’s fingers started to fan. “Oh, well, if I had the time, of course I’d love to, but—”
“There’s no pressure, but if you’re still here a few days before Christmas perhaps we could discuss the matter further?”
“Of course.” She shook the hand Declan held out to her.
Everyone started to leave then, so Buster collected his things and followed them out. Stopping by the exit, he waited for Willow.
“See you at the café and we’ll look over those papers?”
She nodded. “I’ll come there now.”
He wasn’t sure why, but she seemed almost reluctant to do so, which was weird as that was what she had come to Howling for. Shaking his head because the woman was messing with it, he climbed in beside Newman and let himself be chauffeured back to The Hoot.
“It’s those eyes, especially when she wears her glasses. They get to me.”
“What?” Buster glared at his friend.
“Willow. She has this ‘little girl lost look’ that she tries to hide behind her glasses. It kind of gets to you.” Newman thumped his chest. “Right here.”
“I’m in a punching mood,” Buster said in a soft voice. “So beware.”
“Jessica sure did a number on you, bud.”
Buster didn’t pretend to misunderstand. “Yes, she did, and that kind of shit stays with you. Let it alone for now, please.”
“Well, hell.” Newman blew out a loud breath. “You just said please.”
Buster was standing at the counter when Willow walked in pushing Billy in his stroller. He’d just seen her an hour ago, so why the hell did seeing her with Billy make the pull of need stronger?
“I expected you ages ago, New York. How come you got the munchkin?” He wandered out to greet her.
“Macy saw me park and waved me into her shop to show me around, but Billy was crying, and she had stuff to do, and I…”
“Found yourself walking up the street with him in a stroller, and you have no idea how that happened?”
She nodded, and he could see she was bewildered by what had happened.
“It’s all right, New York. You’ll head home, and things will become normal again, I promise you. Macy’s just one of those people who tug at your heartstrings, so you end up offering to do things for her even though she never asks outright.”
She nodded. “That’s what happened exactly.”
She didn’t ask any more questions, and he’d noticed that about her too. She didn’t dig or gossip, even though he was fairly sure she was curious about people around here.
“I’ll give you two questions.”
Her eyes narrowed, and he knew she was thinking about which ones to ask.
“What happened to Macy’s husband?”
“He’s in prison.”
She processed that. “What does Newman do?”
“He’s a consultant who helps companies that are struggling. Makes changes, formats plans for development, stuff like that. He travels a lot but works from home mostly.”
“This town.” She shook her head. “It has these amazingly talented people living in it.”
“You calling me amazing, New York?”
She smiled, just a small curve of her lovely mouth, but he enjoyed it way more than he should. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
“How about we take a load off, get the little man some food, and you pull out your best sales pitch?” Buster said.
“About the offer—I want you to know that I’m not pressuring you. I’d just like you to look at it.”
“A little thing like you couldn’t pressure me.” She looked relieved at his words, and he wondered what had changed. Yesterday she’d been desperate for him to sign, but today she wasn’t pressuring him. “But I want you to give it your best, okay?”
“I will. In fact, I’ll have your signature on these papers before you realize it.”
“Is that a dare?”
She gave him a steady look, then shook her head. “No, I think it would be easier to manipulate the redwoods than you, Buster Griffin, you don’t exactly strike me as the malleable type.”
“Baby, you can manipulate me anytime.” Buster waggled his eyebrows, making her blush.
“Willow!”
The call came from a table of people who’d just arrived. He and Willow turned to look, and she made a noise that sounded like she was in pain when she saw who had called out to her. The man was older, the woman about Willow’s age. Looking closer, Buster was fairly sure there was a likeness between the woman beside him and the one heading their way. He turned to question Willow, but she was walking backward and taking the stroller with her.
“Watch the step!” Buster tried to grab her, but it was too late; she’d fallen. He reached her seconds later and lifted her back to her feet.
“You okay?” He was about to ask her what was going on when the couple arrived. She was pulled from his arms by the man. Then he and the woman hugged and kissed her soundly.
“Moonbeam!” the man said, holding her close.
He would have intervened, but these two meant her no harm; Buster saw that right off. So he got Billy out of the stroller when he knew that she was in no danger. He grabbed a booster seat while keeping an eye on the reunion, because that’s what it appeared to be, sat the boy down on it, then got him some food and drink. “Chow down on that, bud, while I see what’s what.”
“I don’t understand why you’re here in Howling, Shane. Jade’s last email told me you were all heading somewhere warm for winter.”
“Introduce me to your friends, Willow,” Buster said, moving back to stand beside the group.
“Oh…I…”
“Jade Harper.” The woman held out her hand. “Willow’s twin sister.”
Twin!
“And I’m Shane Harper, father of these two.”
Father!
Buster shook hands as he tried to grapple with the fact that they were Willow’s family. The girl had Willow’s features, but that was where the similarities ended. Her eyes were blue, her hair short black curls and she was wearing red pants and a pale blue sweater. Big silver hoops were hanging from her ears, and she was wearing a multicolored scarf around her neck.
“We’re not identical.” Jade Harper laughed when she saw Buster’s confused expression.
“Where’s Amelia, Shane?” Willow looked anxiously around the café.
“She’ll be here in a minute. She’s just gone to the general store for some supplies.”
Shane? Why didn’t she call her father Dad?
“Some of the others from the commune are here too, Moonbeam. Only a few, but they want to see you again too.”
Moonbeam? Raised in a commune? Her? Buster looked at the neat and uptight Willow Harper and struggled to see anything in her that resembled his idea of a child raised in a commune. Or maybe she was the way she appeared because of how she’d b
een raised.
These two loved her; he could see that right off. Willow’s twin sister had taken her hand and was squeezing her fingers as she spoke, her voice excited, and Buster wondered when Willow had last visited her family.
“Does anyone want more coffee?”
“Peppermint tea would be wonderful, thank you,” Shane Harper said.
“But why are you here in Howling?” Willow asked. She still hadn’t moved.
“When Jade called and spoke to one of your work colleagues, she was told you were heading here, so we decided to join you,” Shane said.
“But I’m here for work, not a holiday, Shane.”
“And we’re here for the carnival. We hoped we could convince you to stay with us for a few days, so we can spend some time together as a family.”
Buster saw more similarities the longer he studied the three Harpers, in a gesture or the shape of a chin or cheek. Willow might not be dressed in the colorful clothes her family were wearing, but she was definitely one of them.
“I-I don’t think I can. I won’t be here long. I have to get back to New York.”
Shane Harper looked sad at his daughter’s words, as did her sister. “Well, then, we’ll take the brief time we have.”
“Willow, take your family and sit,” Buster said, nudging her toward the tables. He then carried Billy’s chair closer, which made the little boy laugh.
“Who does this little man belong to, Moonbeam?”
“Willow, Shane. Please call me that,” she said, throwing Buster a look. So he wasn’t the only one who’d chosen another name because he hadn’t been keen on the one he’d been given at birth.
“A friend I’m staying with.” She took her seat, back rigid, eyes flitting every few seconds to Buster, who was now preparing a pot of peppermint tea.
“I had no idea you had friends here, Willow. That pleases me greatly,” Shane said.