Beneath the Patchwork Moon (A Hope Springs Novel Book 2)

by Alison Kent

  Kaylie reached out and took hold of Luna’s hands with her own, squeezing. “You want to talk about it over an early lunch?”

  Another nod. A reciprocal, desperate squeeze. “A long lunch. With a whole pitcher of margaritas.”

  Forty minutes later they were seated at the Gristmill Restaurant, where Luna had waited tables while in high school. Kaylie’s father, Mitch, had worked in the kitchen at the time and helped Luna get the job. He worked here still, but he’d soon be splitting his time between Gruene, where the Gristmill was located, and Hope Springs, where he, along with Dolly Breeze, would be working magic in Kaylie’s Two Owls Café.

  Kaylie had waited so long to see her dream come true. Luna was thrilled it was finally happening. She was also thrilled her good friend had found such happiness with Ten. Kaylie deserved the life she was living more than anyone Luna knew. Not everyone left for twenty-three years believing she was alone in the world would’ve become the wonderfully selfless person Kaylie was. And now that Kaylie had found both her father and the love of her life, well, Luna couldn’t deny her envy.

  A happy envy. A good envy. But still. Envy. “So? When’s the wedding?”

  The huge diamond solitaire on Kaylie’s ring finger sparkled in the light shining over the Guadalupe River and onto the Gristmill’s patio, causing Luna to go still. White. Sunshine yellow. A bouquet of purple-cream calla lilies with golden tongues. The green of stems and leaves.

  “Uh, hello? Earth to Luna.”

  “Sorry, I was just—”

  “Designing a scarf. I know. I’ve been through this with you a dozen times now.” Kaylie reached for her tea, held the straw for sipping. “Did you need to stop and type yourself a reminder?”

  “You do know me well.” Luna dug her phone from her pocket and added the details of the colors and design to her note-taking program. “I mean, I usually remember these things after I see them, but as the story develops, it’s nice to have everything in one place.”

  “And what story is this?”

  “I’m not quite sure, but you flashing that rock of yours is what inspired it.”

  “I do not flash my rock,” Kaylie said, flashing it. “At least not often. And only in front of good friends who understand how happy I am. Rock or not. Because it’s definitely not about the rock.”

  Luna grinned as she picked up her fork to dig into her salad. “Though the rock doesn’t hurt.”

  “Ten is my true rock. The only one I care about.” Kaylie looked down at her hand, splayed her fingers. Then laughed. “You’re right. The rock doesn’t hurt at all.”

  They spent the rest of the meal discussing the progress on Kaylie’s café…

  “I can’t decide if opening before Thanksgiving is a good idea or not. People will be so busy with holiday planning.”

  “And that makes it the perfect time. They’ll need a break from shopping. Or a place to sit and enjoy a meal and swap recipes with friends. Or have a cookie exchange. Or just do nothing for an hour but eat brownies.”

  “I hope you’re right. Two Owls will definitely be ideal for any of that.”

  “Speaking of brownies, how did your recipe inspired by Ten turn out?” Luna asked. “The one with the coconut and dulce de leche and cayenne?”

  “You never got to taste them? I’m going to have to bake you a batch. They are amazing.”

  … and the plans for Luna’s arts center…

  “We have a mascot, did I tell you? A dog named Francisco.”

  “A dog named Francisco. Because you weren’t busy enough already?”

  “Well, it wasn’t planned. I found him in the barn. And if someone claims him, I’ll of course give him up. But he’s not chipped, and hadn’t been cared for in a very long time, so he’s mine, and the center’s, until that happens. He’s at the vet now. I’m picking him up after we leave here.”

  “What does Angelo think about that?”

  “He says he doesn’t like dogs.”

  “But he’s putting up with this one for you.”

  Luna smiled. Said nothing.

  … and Kaylie’s very tentative wedding plans…

  “We want to wait until we see what’s going to happen with the café. I’m barely keeping my head above water as it is with those details. Can you imagine adding flowers and cakes and dresses, not to mention the venue and invitations…”

  “They actually do have wedding planners for that, you know.”

  “Me? Use a wedding planner? Huh. I’m beginning to think you don’t know me at all.”

  … and Luna’s fear that she would never measure up as a sister.

  “Why in the world would you think such a thing?” Kaylie asked, flabbergasted. “You’re exactly who I would want for a sister. I think of you as a sister. You’re caring and supportive and you make me laugh, and you let me know when I’m being stupid.”

  “You’re never stupid.”

  “Only because you stop me in time.”

  Luna laughed. “Well, if that’s all it takes to be a sister…”

  “You’ll be fine. Seriously. I lived in enough foster homes and had enough foster siblings to know.” And then she frowned. “Weren’t we supposed to order margaritas for some reason?”

  The way the other woman asked made Luna wonder whether it was the offhand reference to her childhood that had Kaylie signaling for their server and placing the order.

  Feeling they both needed a change of subject, Luna stabbed her fork into her salad and asked, “What do you have going on this evening?”

  “Nothing that I know of. Dinner. Playing with Magoo. Playing with Ten when he finally gets home,” she added, and waggled both brows.

  “You want to come to Austin with me? I need someone to hold my hand.”

  “Hold your—” Kaylie stilled, her eyes widening. “Luna, what’s wrong?”

  “Oh, nothing. Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound so dramatic.” She looked down, smiled at the thought of what she’d decided to do, how right it felt, the anticipation. How Angelo’s comments had played into her decision, though she probably shouldn’t have let them. “I have an appointment with my hairstylist.”

  Grabbing for her drink before their server had even set the glass on the table, Kaylie asked, “The same one you see every month?”

  “Yeah, but this time I’m having him do more than trim the ends.”

  Kaylie’s eyes widened. “What?”

  “I’m ready for something new.”

  “Uh-uh. You don’t just decide you’re ready for something new. Not with that hair.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s… I don’t know, iconic, I guess. I can’t imagine you without it.”

  “You’ve only known me six months.”

  “And it feels like longer. But that’s not the point. The point is—”

  “It’s just hair. It’s the hair I’ve had all my life. It’s been this long for the past ten years, and it’s time for a fresh start,” Luna said, and reached for her drink.

  Kaylie sipped again, then put down the glass. “Does this have anything to do with Angelo?”

  “No,” she said, his question about her hair on her mind. “It has to do with everything in my life being new.” And free of burdens. No more weight of any kind dragging her down. “A new baby sister, a new home of my own, a new career managing a nonprofit, though I’ll have to keep the old career to make ends meet. I’m shedding my past. Adding a new hairstyle to the mix seems appropriate.”

  “And drastically insane, but if you’re sure.”

  Luna nodded. “I am, but I have no idea what to do with it. I booked plenty of time with Caldwell and told him to start thinking, but I’m really not sure how short I want to go.”

  Kaylie’s eyes were bright with ideas when she reached again for her drink. “We can come up with something, and on the drive, you can tell me more about Angelo.”

  “I’m not even sure I know where to begin.”

  “The beginning is always a good place. Esp
ecially since you wanted to punch his lights out the first time you met him.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Thursday afternoon, having picked up Francisco from the vet’s groomer on her way back from Gruene, Luna turned onto Three Wishes Road, only to find a half dozen vehicles parked in front of her house. Vehicles belonging to volunteers who’d come to clean up the center’s five-acre lot. There were riding mowers and weed eaters and tree trimmers and rakes.

  The road was narrow, and she drove slowly, turning between two pickups into the driveway to park behind Angelo’s rental. He stood on the front porch, talking to Will Bowman and Ten Keller, the three men deep in discussion and paying her arrival no mind.

  She opened her door, and Francisco bolted before she could stop him, heading for the steps and jumping into Angelo’s arms. The man who didn’t like dogs had stolen this one’s heart overnight, and had his heart captured in return. He tucked the wiry terrier beneath one arm as he continued to talk to Will, not even acknowledging Luna, still sitting in her car. She took advantage of his being distracted to appreciate him.

  He wore his regular outfit of T-shirt and jeans, both worn and faded, both indecently clingy. Or maybe that was just how she saw him, his muscled thighs and tight rear end, his biceps stretching the shirt’s cotton, as did his chest. He’d bound his hair at his nape with what looked like a leather shoelace, and his work boots showed years of abuse. Furniture oils and paints and scratches, the same sorts of scratches healed into scars on his hands.

  She wondered whether he’d ever hurt himself badly enough to need stitches. She wondered if she’d ever find out on her own.

  It amazed her how consumed she was with wanting to do that, wanting to touch him, learn him, share more with him than kisses. That kiss had been hungry, and needy, but she wasn’t sure of the reasons behind the heat. Reasons beyond the physical, because that was obvious; she was a grown woman, after all. And the man Angelo Caffey had become left her breathless.

  Filled with him, she stepped from her car, pressing her nails into her palms to remind herself of the present. Of this Angelo, but it was so hard to look across the yard and not see him climbing from his ride and trudging toward the house after football practice, or to see him jogging toward the street where a car of giggling girls idled. Oh, but the girls had giggled. And loved him. No doubt they still did, she mused, lifting her hand to return Wade Parker’s greeting as he and his mower headed for the fence and the most unkempt section of the yard.

  Across the street, taking it all in, was Hiram Glass, a table of honey from his bees for sale. Legs crossed, he sat in a webbed lawn chair with a hardcover book in his lap, something bulky, the size of Moby-Dick or War and Peace. Hiram was as much of a classic as the literature he loved. He wore a ball cap pulled low and tight, and tufts of white hair sprouted over his ears and up around the brim. He always needed a haircut. He’d needed one since the death of his wife five years ago. Since his hair had looked the same all that time, Luna supposed he chopped at it himself.

  Her heart broke a bit, picturing him doing so, imagining him standing in his tiny house’s tiny bathroom, staring into a silvered mirror above a pedestal sink, clipping away without really paying much attention to what he was doing. She’d seen him often at the Caffey house in the past. He’d been good friends with Mike, his wife, Dorie, good friends with Carlita. His honey had always been on the breakfast table, his tomatoes served with summer suppers.

  He looked up then and she waved, wondering whether he remembered her, how he felt about her, whether he realized as he took her in that she was the girl who’d survived her own accident on the very tail of the one that had taken away the daughter of his friend. He seemed to frown, his gaze falling back to his book. Luna lowered her hand, wishing the snub hadn’t crushed her, but just as she started to turn, his head came up and he waved. A big sweep of his arm, as if he had remembered and was glad.

  If only everyone shared his delight at having placed her. Though, really, it had been a long time since she’d felt like a pariah. And it had been only the Caffey family’s shunning that made her feel that way. Sierra’s parents had treated her like one of their own, until they hadn’t. She’d loved them, and they’d abandoned her, looked through her, refused her apologies, ignored her efforts to make things right.

  She glanced toward the porch again. Angelo stood there still holding Francisco, Will and Ten having left him alone. He met her gaze, frowning as if asking her what she was doing, but she couldn’t move, the hustle and bustle of so many volunteers rooting her to the spot. It took her breath away, the support for the arts center, the love for the Caffey family who would never know, the joy at being able to honor two young people who’d been stolen from the community too soon.

  Just as she pocketed her keys, shaking off the moment’s melancholy, another car arrived, one she easily recognized, having seen it too often lately. One whose driver wasn’t here to lend a hand but to ruin the rest of her day. For no reason she understood, she hadn’t destroyed Oliver Gatlin’s check. She should have shredded it. Or torn it into pieces and thrown it back at him when he’d laid down his conditions.

  She hadn’t deposited it either, obviously, because she had no intention of agreeing to his terms. But the truth would come out soon enough, and then she would call him. But she didn’t want to see him today. Shaking her head, she caught Angelo’s gaze and headed that way, waiting for him to notice Oliver’s presence. He did, his face going dark as he clambered down the porch and into the yard to cut the other man off at the pass.

  Angelo stopped only long enough to hand off Frank to Luna. “Go on in. I’ll get rid of him.”

  “It’s my fight,” she said, taking the dog. “You don’t have to—”

  “Yeah. I do,” he said, and meant it. And then he raised a brow, watching her dip her head, watching her smile, watching her turn to do what he’d told her to. A primitive sense of possession puffed inside him, but he didn’t have time to decide whether he liked it before he heard Oliver’s car door slam.

  He shut out all the activity around him. Nothing existed save for the man circling the end of his car as Angelo made for the driveway, beating Oliver to it, blocking the path beyond Luna’s car, staking his claim. “What do you want?”

  “I’m here to see Luna.”

  “I can pass along anything you think you need to say to her.”

  “If I were here about the center. But I’m not.” He lifted his gaze beyond Angelo’s shoulder, searching out Luna, no doubt. Then, without looking at Angelo again, he pushed forward, saying, “Excuse me—”

  That was all he got out before Angelo stopped him, physically, his open hand making contact with the center of Oliver’s chest. “You leave her the hell alone.” And as the words hung between them, the fight went out of the battle between his head and his heart. Nothing mattered here but Luna.

  Oliver’s gaze crept back to his, but he didn’t buck against Angelo’s hand, or his threat. “Then you tell her to leave my family the hell alone.”

  Angelo figured he was talking about Luna’s visit to Oscar, and let the other man go. “You’re telling me Luna Meadows is bothering you?”

  Oliver’s jaw clenched hard. “She was in my brother’s room when my mother went to visit. She has no business seeing my brother.”

  “I’m pretty sure she was your brother’s friend.”

  “The same way she was your sister’s friend? You saying you don’t think it’s strange that she’s the only one of the three to walk away that day?”

  “She didn’t walk away,” Angelo reminded the other man. “She was in her own car. And her car didn’t go down the ravine.”

  “Damn lucky. Damn convenient, too.”

  Okay. This was getting out of hand. “You got something to say, Gatlin, then say it. Otherwise, get the hell off my property,” he said, though it no longer was. “And leave Luna alone.”

  But Oliver only huffed. “So it’s like that, is it? You’re forgetting what
she did to your sister because you like having her in your bed?”

  “I’m not forgetting a damn thing,” he said, flexing his hands at his sides, his anger boiling. “Including the fact that it was your brother driving. Your brother who couldn’t control his car and didn’t care enough for my sister, my sister, to make sure she was safe. That’s what I think is strange. That’s what you and your family should be worried about.”

  “Worried? I dunno.” Oliver shrugged, as if responding was a bother. “Since your family was the one to leave town, they must be the ones with something to worry about.”

  “You mean more harassment from your mother? More undercutting and sabotaging their work? It wasn’t enough to see them deplete their savings? To make sure they had no choice but to go?”

  “Yeah. Choice. They’re the ones who made it.”

  Angelo was fuming, afraid that if the other man didn’t leave, his fury would turn physical. He’d tamped all of this down for so long, all this bitterness and blame for what was nothing but an accident. An accident that could so easily be laid at Oscar Gatlin’s feet.

  “You need to go,” he said to Oliver, before he did something he would regret. He was that close to striking out, and this wasn’t the time or the place, what with the audience of volunteers and Luna watching. “You need to go.”

  Oliver cast one last look over Angelo’s shoulder, then backed a step away, another, another. He was shaking his head when he turned, frowning, as if he was more unsettled by what Angelo had said than being unable to talk to Luna.

  Still holding Frank, she walked up beside Angelo. “Thank you for getting rid of him.”

  He would rather have used his fists. And his emotions running hot had him turning on Luna. “What did you think seeing Oscar Gatlin was going to accomplish?”

  “I wasn’t trying to accomplish anything,” she said, flinching. “I wanted to talk to him.”

  “He can’t hear you, Luna.”

  “You don’t know that,” she said, holding Frank tighter. “The doctors don’t know that.”