by Pat Dale
Henrietta’s Heart
Previously published as Follow Your Heart
By
Nancy M Bell and Pat Dale
Digital ISBNs
EPUB 9781772990812
Kindle 9781772995381
Web/PDF 9781772990836
Print ISBN 9781772990843
Amazon Print 9781772995398
Copyright 2016 Nancy M Bell and Pat Dale
Cover art by Michelle Lee 2016
All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
Chapter One
Nearly blinded by the afternoon sun, Henrietta aka Hattie perched on the footstool in the store window. The fall display was almost complete, except for one last detail. She stretched precariously to place the last pin when the cowbell clanked as the main door swung open.
“Well hello, Hattie McCall. Long time, no—”
“Ohhh!” Startled. She lost her balance and toppled off the stool. The man who’d spoken caught her and broke her fall with no more effort than if she were a feather.
“Gotcha,” he said, triumphantly.
That voice! Could it be?
Embarrassed beyond belief, Hattie twisted her neck to look up into familiar smiling hazel eyes. Those same eyes that charmed her in high school. Oh no! Not Brad!
The assistant store manager came running, his eyes big as silver dollars. “Miss Hattie, you okay?”
“Sure she’s okay, Gerald,” Brad said, “but I think she’s falling for me. Again.” He winked at the older man.
She gave him a withering scowl. “In your dreams, Brad Trimble. Put me down.”
He placed the petite redhead on her feet and stepped back. “Sorry, Hattie. I didn’t mean to startle you off your perch.”
“Why should a single thing you do startle me?” She stuck her pierced finger in her mouth and glared at him. “I just jabbed myself with a pin. That’s all.”
The smiling man before her was the last person she ever wanted to see in her store. He looked like he’d mellowed some, but he was somehow still as mysterious as he’d always been. On the surface he didn’t really seem to have changed much, but Hattie sensed a quiet difference she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Brad was still tall and trim as ever, his bland expression never letting one know what he was thinking.
“As I was saying, it’s been a long time.” Brad smiled down at her.
“It has, hasn’t it?”
“Over ten years, if memory serves me correctly.” He shuffled his long feet, the odd flicker of his eyes confirming he knew exactly how much time had passed since their failed high school relationship, probably down to the minute. Just as she did.
Hattie muttered, “Has it been that long? My, how time does fly.” She shook her coppery curls out of her face. She certainly didn’t plan to let him know she’d kept painful count of time. “So, what brings you to my store, Brad?”
“Nothing earthshaking. I’m editor of the Express now, and your dad always did his advertising for the business with us. I thought it would be good to go over the account and set up your fall schedule. You know, now you’re in charge of the store.”
“I see.” As the new owner of Leadburg Mercantile, she should have known Brad would show up. Something in the hesitant way he’d finished his statement pulled her gaze back to his face. He was still smiling but something serious lurked behind his pleasant expression. She’d never been able to figure out what he was thinking when he looked like that..
“Hattie, I’m real sorry about Harry’s passing. He was a good man. I should have spoken to you at the funeral, but you were busy, and well it just didn’t seem like the right time.”
Another look at those deceiving eyes and she knew her being busy wasn’t the reason he’d avoided her at the funeral. “You’re right. I knew Dad wasn’t feeling well, but I never dreamed he was that bad. I...” Her voice broke and tears blurred her vision as she took his offered hand.
“Harry was a very special guy,” Brad said softly.
“Um-hum. He was the best, and I miss him so much.”
Only Brad’s movement when he bent to retrieve the briefcase he’d dropped in order to save her from a fall broke the awkward moment.
Brad cleared his throat. “So, you’re the boss of the store now. I understand you were a teacher for awhile.”
“I was. Down at Farmville. English.” Hattie smiled, though she wished he’d stop staring. “Can you believe it? A Leadburg graduate teaching at our arch-rival school?”
“I hope you didn’t tell them some of the things we used to call them up here.”
“You kidding? It was all I could do to hold my tongue when the schools competed.”
“How long were you there?”
“Five years. Ever since I graduated from the Cape.” She used the silence that followed to move out of the blinding rays of the sun. “Let’s go to my office, Brad. It’s cooler up there.”
She led him across the huge century-old store, past dry goods and hardware, and through the grocery section. They angled around the meat counter and up the worn wooden stairs to the room at the top where he followed her into the tiny air-conditioned office.
* * *
Brad’s attention was riveted on the tiny feminine woman he’d just held in his arms. The old Hattie to be sure, but not quite the same girl I knew. Or thought I knew.
While she moved the small stack of journals from the straight-back oak chair, he glanced out the window overlooking the antiquated store. From up here, the occupant could look down on every department below. An imagined picture flashed through his mind of this same scene a century earlier. Other than the clothing and the hair styles, it could well be 1907 rather than 2007.
The big brick building was old but it was still efficient in layout. He turned back to the room as Hattie squeezed between two stacks of boxes and wiggled into the old swivel chair behind the over-loaded desk.
“Okay Brad, show me what you have in mind for the store advertising.”
He blinked back to business and removed a handful of ad copy from his satchel. “These are the last of the summer ads Harry ran. I thought you should look at them and decide if you want to keep the same format. He designed that logo several years ago.”
“I remember how proud he was of the logo. I came home for the holidays just after that. I don’t want to change it ever. The whole town identifies us with it. Let’s just keep Dad’s format for the ads.”
“Good. Well, that makes it all pretty simple doesn’t it? I’ll just run the same basic ads from last fall. With updated prices, of course.”
“Hold on, Brad. I said I want to keep the logo and format. I may want to advertise some different merchandise.”
Her words caught him off guard. “Okay, if that’s what you’d like. Harry ran the same series of ads ever since I’ve been at the Express and I thought—”
“You thought what?” she broke in. “I just—I need to make my own mark on the business. While I want people to continue to be loyal to us, I also need to encourage the buying public to have confidence in me. I can’t have them thinking of me only as Harry’s daughter. You must remember how independent I am.”
“Boy do I.” The sentiment slipped out before he could hold his tongue. “I mean... Uh, sure. I remember. From school.”
His face heated. Memories from the past rose unbidden in his mind.ad Hattie had cut him off without warning, ending their relationship in a very definitive manner. A deca
de had passed and Brad was still waiting for a reasonable explanation. Getting one now didn’t seem likely.
“So, what do you want to highlight for October? Back to school is over, and it’s still a little early for Christmas.” He focused on her face as her expression softened.
“Well, we’re getting some very nice coats and sweaters in. It’s not too early to remind people cold weather’s on the way, you know. And we have lots of boots. What about a Hallowe’en theme?”
* * *
Hattie spent the next quarter hour with Brad going through ad slicks and making needed changes. She tried to stay neutral, though this first meeting after so many years was awkward in a way she hadn’t expected. Her heart raced from the proximity to her former beau. He seemed to have lost his air of nonchalance, too.
After the new ad program was set, he stared at her. “I’ve been wondering about something else.”
She waited, but he remained oddly silent. She cocked her head to the side and regarded him thoughtfully. “Yes, Brad? What else were you wondering?”
“Have you given any thought to Harry’s dream of building a new store up on the heights?” Brad tried to keep the tone casual but the tremor in his voice gave him away.
So that’s the bee in his bonnet. “You know about that?” She couldn’t believe it. Why in the world would Dad share that with Brad?
“Sure, I know about it. So?”
“So, what?” She wasn’t sure she wanted to share business ideas with him. Or anything else, though her fluttering heart belied her. What was it about the man that made her react that way?
“Are you going to desert your friends around the square?”
“Desert my friends?” Her cheeks flamed at his insinuation. “I wouldn’t call it deserting. Even though it’s none of your business, I haven’t decided yet. And for what it’s worth, this old building is going to need some major repair before long. It might be easier to build new up where Dad bought that land. Better location, too.”
“Easier, maybe, and the location’s ideal. But what’ll happen to the downtown if you go? Leadburg Mercantile is the oldest and biggest store in town. And one of the last.”
Why is he challenging me? Why does he care so much? Maybe because his paper is one of the few businesses still operating downtown?
“What’s wrong, Brad? Afraid your paper will go out of business if I move up there?”
“No. We’re not going to fold. I just think you should consider your responsibility to your neighbors down here. What’s wrong with taking responsibility?”
She jumped to her feet. “Nothing’s wrong, as long as you understand I make the decision about what’s best for me and my store.”
“I should have expected this. Exactly what I was afraid of.” His face contorted in anger as he headed for the door.
“What were you afraid of?”
“That you still haven’t grown up,” he shouted as he stepped onto the landing.
“Well, it’s pretty obvious you haven’t. But who are you to judge me?” She raced around the desk, knocking a box of receipts to the floor.
He was already on the last step when she shouted, “Hey there, Mr. Trimble! Don’t set those ads up yet. I just might look for a better way to advertise.”
He didn’t respond but marched stiffly on his long legs past the startled staff through the front door. Hattie stood at the top step, watching him disappear before slamming the office door and retreating into her dad’s old chair.
“I hate you, Brad Trimble!” Fuming, she threw a pencil across the room. Where was the devil-may-care boy she’d idolized once upon a time? She swiped at her tears. I hate me, too.
She still couldn’t control herself around him. The first face to face meeting in forever shook her to the core. Even with the passage of years, the excitement of being near him was still there. She’d hoped to feel nothing when she finally saw him again. No such luck.
The feel of being in Brad’s arms, even momentarily, haunted her. But he apparently was no more aware of those feelings than he’d been back when. At least she’d successfully hidden what she felt. Maybe too well, just like before.
* * *
Having made good his escape, Brad slowed his pace. Forgetting his last sales call for the day, he headed back to the Express. His assistant greeted him when he entered. He nodded to Sheila and stomped into his office, shutting the door behind him.
That wild little redhead did it to me again. He dropped into the chair, mental images of their latest conflict swirling through his mind. Damn it, he still hadn’t gotten over her. Not by a long shot.
She hadn’t spoken to him once until today, over ten years later. He winced when he recalled Harry’s funeral. He’d wanted to comfort her back then, but his pride hadn’t let him.
Sheila stuck her head in the door. “You okay, Brad?”
“Sure. Hattie just decided to make some changes in the Mercantile ad.” He felt a desperate need to avoid more talk about Hattie. “Did Joel get the prelims set up today?”
“Yep, sure did. Said they’re ready. Well, if y’all don’t need anything else tonight, I’m gonna mosey on home.”
“Well, sure—if you need to.” He glanced at the clock. Five already. “Holy cow. I’ve totally lost track of time. See you tomorrow, Sheila.”
He followed her to the door. The tall sensuous blonde strolled gracefully to her car. Sheila was a good assistant, maybe even a great one. He could never have kept the paper going without her, but it bothered him that sometimes she seemed too interested in his personal affairs. The pointed questions made him uncomfortable.
He returned to his desk, plagued by thoughts of Hattie. The modern, up to date image haunted him. Still petite in the extreme, she couldn’t weigh an ounce over a hundred pounds. But those pounds were subtly readjusted.
Maybe not so subtle. Once sticklike skinny, her feminine curves were filled out in all the right places. His hands still tingled from the moment he’s touched her.
Once upon a time his loss of control would have been turned into a joke.
You’re taking this too seriously Trimble. Lighten up. But what will I do if she pulls her account? I need that advertising.
Surely she wouldn’t cancel the only local print access she had to the customer base. Of course keeping her account meant he’d have to swallow his pride and hold his tongue. And he’d also have to work with her, attitude and all. Her Hattitude! He smiled at the word he’d coined for her in a happier time.
And she still she takes my breath away
* * *
The bong of the wall clock broke Hattie’s dreamlike state. As the ancient Ingraham rang out five times, she realized she’d been sitting staring into space for over an hour. For the life of her, she couldn’t remember four o’clock passing.
Or anything else since Brad ran out. She got to her feet and stretched. This was not a good thing. No way was she going to let him get to her again. She grabbed her purse and left the store. The establishment closed at six but she wasn’t needed for that. In fact, there were times she wondered if she was needed for much of anything around the old store.
After climbing into her little blue Caliber, she gazed down the long skinny main street. Lined with the half dozen downtown businesses that still operated, the town had three times as many stores that were deserted. “Progress, huh?”
Of course, the train station was still there, maintained because Leadburg was on the mainline between St. Louis and Dallas. Even it was only a shadow of its former self. The town was a half-hour’s drive south of St. Louis, but seemed light-years away.
Hattie drove slowly north over the tracks and up the steep incline toward the heights her father had been so fond of. She pulled off the road onto the land Harry bought for a song so long ago. Just about dead level, the large plot was the only viable location for a large commercial business up here.
The view was spectacular this time of year with the leaves beginning to turn. Another few weeks and i
t would be a riot of fall color. Cars buzzed along I-55 beyond the trees a quarter-mile away. Looking west, the tops of the hotel and the courthouse poked out of the trees. And there, a little further away, was the flat roof of the Mercantile.
The thought that Harry might have chosen this site for its view and not for its commercial value brought a surge of warmth to her chest, and a lump to her throat. Harry McCall had been a practical man, though. Sentiment alone wouldn’t have caused him to make the sacrifices necessary to acquire this land, reasonable as it had been at the time.
She started across the plot, cleared of heavy growth months earlier, visualizing a large sign at the back of the property. Of sufficient height and proper placement, it could beckon simultaneously to all those highway travelers and to the town below. Harry had been a marketing genius.
Only, my genius father died too soon.
He’d have known how to handle the Brad Trimbles of the world. The Chuck Manleys, too. Leadburg’s mayor had been on her case since she’d resigned her teaching position to come home and take over the store.
Much of what Manley said made sense. Downtown could ill afford to lose another business, especially one as substantial as the Mercantile. But Harry never trusted the gregarious and reputedly lecherous mayor. That, alone, was enough for her not to trust him either. Now Brad seemed to agree with Manley.
Her reverie was broken by a Jeep that pulled off the road and stopped next to the Caliber. She stared in disbelief, Brad leaped out and headed her way, a benign smile on his face.
“Hey, Hattie. Enjoying the view?”
“Until now. Why did you follow me up here?”
He kept the smile, but his expression went brittle. “I wasn’t following you. Really, I’m surprised to find you here.”