“I’m surprised you haven’t sold the store. It’s a wonderland in here with rainbows bouncing everywhere.” Jill glanced around. “Makes me smile. Not much does anymore.” She cleared her throat before going on. “Seems to be a great opportunity. Unless you’re losing money.”
“No, we’re quite successful. People come from all over to purchase our glass collections.” Anne ignored her son who stepped away from them, still holding the darling Lhasa Apso.
Karen grabbed hold of both of Jill’s hands and spun her around, like they were children. “Why don’t you buy Crystal Rainbows?” Her pitch rose with the enthusiasm of a reformed smoker. “You’ve been wondering what you’d do here. This would be perfect.”
“What?” Jerrod pivoted toward them. His expression and tone told Jill what he thought of the proposal. He appeared horrified.
“An excellent idea, Karen, but let’s not rush Jill. She needs time before making such a decision. However, I can make you a very good deal, my dear.” Anne’s eyes sparkled like those of a mischievous small boy who’d discovered a treasure. Jill’s gaze flicked around the store, drawn to the reflections from the sun hitting the beautiful cut glass.
She didn’t say no outright, and she should have. Liking crystal and glass didn’t provide credentials for buying and running a store. The word stuck in the back of her throat. A rainbow lighted on her outstretched palm. Almost like a butterfly. Against all rational thought and for whatever reason, Karen’s idea resonated within Jill.
“Mother, you can’t be serious.” Jerrod took his mother’s arm and tugged her aside. He lowered his voice, but Jill could make out his words.
Anne pulled free. “I’m fairly certain of this, Jerrod. Woodstock can tolerate two Texans living in our small community. Jill’s not deciding today. And you don’t want the store, so you can’t complain about whom I sell it to, can you?”
“Don’t do anything rash until we talk more.” His mouth flattened into a straight line, defying argument.
“You’ll scare her off. Go work on your contract.”
One sharp shake of his head and Jerrod leaned down to kiss his mother on the cheek before plopping the dog in her arms.
“Thanks for rescuing her again, son.”
Jerrod nodded to Karen and Jill. “Ladies.” His deepened pitch sent butterflies twirling in Jill’s stomach.
Anne smiled with obvious love at her son but shooed him out anyway. The door again offered its calming ring. “I apologize if Jerrod was less than hospitable.” She walked toward Jill. Waves of energy radiated from the woman. The sun shone on her white hair, contrasting with the warm watermelon shade of her mid-calf linen skirt and matching shirt. Her enthusiasm was infectious. The idea of buying the shop teased Jill. “He’s an outstanding lawyer, and I brought him up to be more polite than he displayed just now.” Ann ran a hand under her dog’s chin. “My letting Princess get out has left Jerrod a little miffed.”
“Why isn’t he in Montpelier?” Karen turned to Jill. “He’s a state legislator. Here, we call them assemblymen.”
“I see.” He wouldn’t have the job long if he weren’t friendlier to his constituents.
“He drove down to help a client.” Anne’s broad smile spoke of pride in her son.
Evidence of this kindness to his client and his efforts to save Princess contrasted with his treatment of Jill. She’d heard the natives tended to be insular, and that probably accounted for his standoffish behavior.
Well, she didn’t need, nor did she want, any more politicians in her life, despite the silly tingle. She rubbed her palm on her pant leg.
“Jill, why don’t you come to dinner at my house this evening? Karen, you and Tim, too. We’ll get to know each other better, maybe discuss a possible sale. You’re interested, aren’t you, dear?”
Jill’s gaze traveled again across the sparkling glass counters. The rainbow reflections soothed her. After taking a deep breath, she released it slowly. She’d have to remember to ask what gave the store the delightful aroma.
Karen and Anne both stared at Jill, their eyebrows raised. Question marks floated above their heads.
“Thank you for the invitation to supper, Anne. I accept.”
“Great.” Karen clapped both hands together.
“Very good, my dear.” Anne’s tone and nod suggested her satisfaction with Jill’s agreement.
“Maybe we’ll talk business, maybe not. My accountant and attorney will have my head for even considering a deal when I’ve only just arrived.” Jill spread her arms and shrugged her shoulders. “I can’t explain, but I confess the possibility is intriguing.”
Was she nuts to want to make this town her new home? Maybe, but she did want that. She sought the healing she’d gained in her short visit after her husband’s death. Her throat tightened. Of course, then her father was alive. Maybe after two losses, she’d never gain any peace.
“Oh, my gosh.” Karen squealed, grabbed Jill around the waist, and then spun them in circles. “You’re really staying.”
Jill nodded, and Karen squealed even louder. Jill’s insides warmed at the giggles pouring out of the three of them.
Their delightful company was opposite to the earlier frostiness of the bearded Jerrod Phillips, however ruggedly handsome he was with that square, whiskered jaw. She’d ignore the little sexual spark his touch and voice aroused in her. She’d not experienced the exciting rush since her husband’s death.
Regardless, Anne’s son came across as unfriendly and rude, even for a Yankee.
JERROD NODDED TO PEOPLE he passed while he made his way from his mother’s store to his home office. The slam of the door behind him worked off some of his frustration.
“What the hell is Mother thinking to consider selling the store to someone she’s just met?” His family had been hurt enough by a Texan. Yeah, yeah, this one was a friend of Karen’s, who’d turned out to be a great wife to Tim. She was the exception that proved the rule.
Jerrod walked directly to the kitchen, opened the coffee can, and prepared a second pot. Who was this friend anyway? Small. No more than five-feet-two inches. A stiff wind would blow her away.
He flipped through the newspaper while he waited for the coffee to perk. After filling a cup, he sipped at the steaming, dark brew.
The newcomer popped back into his mind. Did she know anything about running a business? His mother would regret selling to someone who might ruin the store’s reputation. He’d check out this woman and make sure his smart, but sometimes emotional, mother didn’t make a mistake. Carrying a refilled cup, Jerrod walked into his study. He dismissed the visitor and his mother’s store from his mind and focused on a contract he was working on.
In the middle of the afternoon, he took a break and hit the streets of Woodstock, speaking to acquaintances.
“Hey, Harold. How’s the ice cream business going?” He stopped by a tiny store with a service window facing the sidewalk.
“Great, Jerrod. Got your favorite chocolate almond on special today. Can I tempt you?”
“You know you can. One scoop in—”
“A sugar cone.” The older man’s crinkled lines spoke of the many times he smiled during his life.
“That’s why you do so well, Harold. Customer service.”
The storeowner handed Jerrod his order. After licking around the edge to keep the ice cream from dripping down his cone, Jerrod gulped two healthy tongues-full. “Wow. Ate too fast.” He rubbed the bridge above his nose. “Brain freeze.”
“You always do that.” A customer said in a gravelly voice.
“What?” Jerrod turned, not surprised to see who crowded close.
“Hurry and pay. You’re making me wait.” Jack Hardwick slapped Jerrod on the shoulder and leaned an elbow on the counter.
“Sorry. Here you go, Harold.” Jerrod handed over a couple of dollars.
“Hey, Sheriff, what’ll you have?”
“Peppermint, Harold, two scoops in a waffle cone. Skipping out on the
assembly, Jerrod?”
“Just today. Writing a contract for Hawkins on that property north of town. You keeping things safe for everyone, Jack?”
“Doing our best.”
“Mother’s considering selling her store to a Texan.” The thing upper-most on his mind burst from his mouth.
“Is he going to live in town or be an absentee property owner?” Jack asked around bites of his cone.
“Not sure. I’d give odds the buyer, a woman, won’t get through the first winter.”
His ex, Janice, had stayed only because of the babies. Ultimately, they weren’t enough to make her fight the cold. It drove her away. Perhaps, honesty compelled him to admit, he’d played a part, because his work made him an absent husband and father.
He’d let one blonde bimbo sucker him. After that experience, he’d sworn off Texas women, and he’d never dated another blonde either. Not that he planned to date his mother’s potential buyer. He sure as hell didn’t.
“I better get back to the office,” Jerrod interrupted Jack and Harold’s argument over the merits of a sugar versus the waffle cone and threw his napkin in the trash. “Great ice cream, Harold. Jack, watch those two scoops. They’ll show up over your buckle.”
The sheriff laughed. “They do now.” He patted the gentle protrusion over his belt.
By late afternoon Jerrod completed his work for Hawkins. On his way from the courthouse where he’d filed the papers, he passed his mother’s store and considered her plan to sell the business. His hands clenched in frustration at what he couldn’t control. If his jerk of a brother kept a job and stopped gambling his money away, Mitch could afford to buy the fool store.
Well, not a fool store. His mother had turned it into a nationally recognized establishment specializing in Vermont-made crystal. What she’d accomplished made him walk taller. He’d stop by her house this evening to make amends for his admittedly less than cordial exchange with Karen’s friend. He’d take his mother out to dinner and talk her out of this insane idea of working with the Texan.
His mother should sell to someone who’d value a state-made product. Who better than a Vermonter? Not the woman from Texas.
At six-thirty, with a light breeze at his back, Jerrod strolled up the sidewalk toward the red brick Georgian with its black shutters and door. A small, white picket fence outlined the structure. Plenty of good memories resided in this house of his youth.
Colorful flowers filled the white window boxes he and his father had built together. Twenty years, and he still missed the man. Jerrod swallowed hard against the loss.
He swung open the gate and paused. Veterinarian Tim Livingston’s car was parked in front of the house. If anything were wrong with Princess, his mother would be upset. She adored the white piece of fluff, despite the dog’s bad habit of escaping.
Princess might be her name, but Jerrod always thought of her as Dust Mop. She greeted him with her usual yips when he unlocked the front door. Jerrod leaned over, rubbed her behind the ears before he scooped her up for the obligatory kisses.
“Mother,” he raised his voice. “What’s Tim doing here? Dust Mop seems fine.” Where was she? “I want to take you to the Woodstock Inn for dinner.”
He followed sounds coming from the rear of the house. Was Tim back there? Jerrod’s mouth watered at the wonderful aroma of food. “We can eat here if you’ve already cooked something. What do you—?” His gaze bounced around the people gathered in the den.
Not only Tim and Karen, but also the friend. The Texan. His stomach clenched.
Normally great with names, Jerrod blanked for a moment. Oh, yeah. Barlow.
“You’re welcome to join us here, Jerrod, if you promise to be on your best behavior.” His mother rose and kissed him on the cheek, her tone leaving no doubt of her intent.
Damn, caught now. Hard to beg off with another engagement when he’d made it clear he planned to spend time with her. Well, this couldn’t be any more difficult than working with a jury already convinced your client had broken a contract. Everyone’s gaze targeted him.
Jerrod pulled out his best “trust me” smile he used for contrary juries and set Dust Mop on the floor. The pooch made a beeline for her mistress.
“Of course, Mother.” He turned to the new woman. Pretty, he noted. “I hope our visitor will accept my apologies.” He glanced at the vet, who’d been his best friend since their days playing high school basketball. “Tim, tell her I’ve been out of line a time or two in my life. I acted like a jerk.”
Tim rose and rested a hand on Jerrod’s shoulder. “You got that right, pal.”
“No problem,” Jill strung out the words using a conciliatory tone. A tone Jerrod had used a time or two when he wanted to keep the peace.
The woman’s smile quirked up the corners of her mouth and displayed a dimple on one side. His stomach dropped. “Everyone’s entitled to a bad day. You should know, I don’t intend remaining a visitor. I’m staying in Woodstock.”
Double damn. Her warm brown eyes held a steel rod of determination, a trace of interest, and a ton of sadness. What caused that? His gaze scanned the Texan. He couldn’t deny she was more than pretty. Little lines fanned out from the corners of her eyes but were almost non-existent around her mouth and gave no hint of her age.
“What’s the matter, Jerrod? Can’t think of anything to say?” His mother settled on the sofa next to the newcomer.
“No, just wondering is all. Uh, how’d you happen to pick Woodstock? I mean I love this town, but people from other parts of the country don’t move here without a good reason.”
“I visited—”
“We’re too rural for those who are used to big cities.” He’d cut her off but wanted to make his point. “The weather is a killer for many others. Oh, summer is fine but short.”
“Hey,” Tim jabbed Jerrod in his arm. “Speaking for the Town Council, we’d appreciate you not bashing Woodstock.”
Jerrod ignored the interruption. “Fall is spectacular. But the dark winter days often linger into May. Those who haven’t grown up with the climate usually can’t hack the hardships brought by the long cold.” He stopped. What would she have to say now?
“During the fall a couple of years ago, I came to visit Karen and fell in love with the town.” Jill turned to his mother. “Are you sure I can’t help with the meal?”
“Thank you, dear, no. Everything’s in one large cast iron pot. Roasted chicken with wine sauce, onions, new potatoes, and carrots from one of the local farms.”
“We have Ben and Chuck’s ice cream to go on top of the apple pie. I checked.” Tim’s grin spread across his face in obvious anticipation of another of the thousands of world-class meals he’d eaten in the Phillips’ home.
All the talk of food and the aroma wafting in from the kitchen made Jerrod’s stomach growl. Laughter filled the room and smoothed over the earlier awkwardness his sudden arrival caused.
“Speaking of ice cream, that’s all I had for lunch today, so I’m hungry.”
“Did you finish the project for Hawkins?” Tim asked.
Jerrod nodded.
“Good dear. I know he was pleased. You’re returning to Montpelier tomorrow?” his mother asked.
“Yes, early in the morning. I don’t want to miss a vote we have on a piece of legislation on gun registration.”
“What’s up?” Tim reached toward a bowl of almonds on the coffee table and popped a few in his mouth before he slumped into a leather chair.
“Some bleeding-heart liberal wants us to get a permit to purchase our shotguns and rifles. Surprised the hell out of me when the bill got through the committee, but it won’t pass the whole body.”
“You don’t have a background check when someone buys a gun in Vermont?” Jill asked.
Her brows had drawn together, carving small creases between her eyes. Her tone, one of disapproval. Her Texas drawl wasn’t strident like his former wife’s had been, but still Jerrod was surprised it didn’t grate on his ne
rves.
“We follow the federal law which requires those checks for any gun if you’re purchasing from a licensed dealer. That doesn’t apply to private sales. What’s the matter, Ms. Barlow, not a gun lover? And you a Texan?”
“I don’t like what guns do, Mr. Phillips.”
She spoke each word distinctly, hammering her point home like nails into a two-by-four. Her back straightened like an oak log ran up her spine.
What was behind her dislike of firearms? Well, it didn’t matter. She wouldn’t be around long enough for him to find out.
His mother stood. “Jerrod, come help me with the wine.” She snapped out the words and started for the kitchen but paused for him to precede her out of the room. Didn’t she trust he’d follow?
“What’s the matter with you, Jerrod Phillips?” Her tone dripped with censure. “The woman’s a guest in my home. I can’t see a reason for your antagonism.”
“I’m sorry, Mother. I’ll get the wine.”
He thumped down the stairs to the cellar. The musty smell tweaked his nose. The odor had always done that when he was a kid.
He must get a handle on his reaction to Barlow. Grown or not, his mother would kick him out if she considered him impolite to a guest. He hadn’t meant to be rude. Something about the woman brought out his worst side.
Jerrod grabbed two bottles of his mother’s favorite Merlot, went upstairs, and followed her into the dining room.
“Pour the wine, Jerrod, and Tim, will you light the candles, please? My husband said having them lit always added to his enjoyment of a meal.” She glanced at Jerrod, and he nodded.
Her lips twitched as though she suppressed pain. “I’ll be right back.”
Not surprising his mother and he became emotional tonight over the loss of his father. Anniversaries were tough. She returned with a basket filled with homemade rolls. The aroma teased Jerrod.
The candle flames reflected in the crystal glasses before he filled them.
“The perfect touch. Let’s be seated. Thank you,” she said to Tim who turned to seat Karen.
No choice but to seat the pretty Texan. Damn. He needed to stop thinking of her that way. Her scent, a light floral mixed with vanilla, drifted upwards, stirring a longing he hadn’t expected. What the hell?
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