Season of Joy

by Annie Rains

  “You’ve already fallen once today on my account,” he said. “Let’s not make it twice.”

  Joy laughed softly.

  Then Granger took a step back, giving her the distance she seemed to be seeking. Giving himself the distance too. Increasing the space between them didn’t lessen the charge in the air though. It only lessened the probability that he would act on it.

  * * *

  Joy walked over to the hallway to peer into the darkness. “Girls? Everything okay back there?” She wasn’t too worried about that. She’d just needed some excuse to distance herself from Granger. For a moment, she could’ve sworn he was flirting with her.

  She liked to be flirted with, she did. But Granger had been taking the girls to her classes off and on for months. And she loved the girls. Any kind of involvement between them would only make things weird. She didn’t like the awkward tension that was always left behind after a failed romance.

  Willow and Abby came out of her room with large smiles on their faces. “We found her!” Willow said.

  “But don’t worry, we were gentle with your cat,” Abby added.

  Joy nodded. “I’m sure you were. Your dad is off the phone. There might be a little more trick-or-treating to be had.” She glanced over her shoulder to look at Granger. She suspected that he might be done with the Halloween festivities but the lure of candy would have the girls scampering to leave sooner.

  “Yes!” Willow said. “There are a few more houses on this street that we haven’t hit yet. Let’s go, Daddy. Let’s go!”

  Granger sighed. “Okay, but only three more houses. You have more than enough candy, and it’s getting late. We need to get back home.”

  “So we can eat all the candy!” Willow declared, running to the front door.

  “Have fun, guys.” Joy shared one last look with Granger that left her unsettled. She couldn’t quite pinpoint the dominant emotion in the glance. Was it disappointment? Worry? Attraction?

  She only knew what she felt at this moment. Relief…and maybe a little bit of regret too. She loved those girls, and caring for them would’ve been a great side job. But she’d started this year by promising herself that she would be a full-time working artist, supporting herself by only taking art-related jobs. And in doing so, she’d made a goal to open her own art gallery. Caring for Granger’s girls would only distract her from her goals. And seeing Granger daily would be another unwanted distraction.

  * * *

  On Monday, Joy grabbed her belongings and headed out the door. Once again, she was walking to her destination but not for long. Today, she was getting her car back. Then she’d run some errands before heading over to Sugar Pines Community Center to teach an art class early this afternoon. They didn’t pay her but Joy often got hired to do private lessons. She handed out business cards, and sometimes folks went to her website and purchased a piece of her art.

  Joy walked fast as she made her way to the auto mechanic’s shop. The temperature outside was frigid, and a body in motion was warm. She let her gaze wander over the distant tree lines and the mountains beyond. Living in Sweetwater Springs was an artist’s dream. She could pull inspiration from everywhere she turned.

  She reached the mechanic’s shop and pulled open the door.

  “Hey, Joy,” Steve Capps said as she entered the shop. “I had a feeling you’d be in this morning.”

  “I miss driving,” Joy said. And she was tired of walking. She stepped up to the counter and pulled her wallet out of her purse.

  Steve rolled his chair up to the computer on the other side of the counter and tapped the keys. “Okay, let’s see here. You needed new spark plugs, brake pads and fluids, and a new alternator. You were overdue for an oil change and tire rotation as well.”

  Joy nodded as he rattled off a half dozen more items. She’d agreed to all those things. The engine of her car was starting to protest even turning over because she’d neglected it for too long, and she knew it would have a harder time when the first big freeze arrived.

  “So the total for all of that comes to two thousand three hundred and eighty-seven dollars.”

  Joy’s knees nearly buckled. “What? That’s more than you quoted.”

  Steve’s brow furrowed as he looked at her. “The initial quote was just for the new alternator and spark plugs. Then we spoke on the phone again, and I told you about the other items that needed to be done. You agreed to everything.”

  Joy felt sick. She had agreed; she just hadn’t realized exactly how much more it would cost her. This would wipe out every penny of what she’d been saving to open her art gallery.

  “We can set up a twelve-month payment plan, if you need it,” he said.

  Even over twelve months, that was a large chunk of change. What choice did Joy have though? She couldn’t make money without a vehicle to get her to her jobs. And in another month, there could be snow on the ground. Walking in three to five inches of the white stuff wasn’t practical.

  Joy looked at Steve and forced a fleeting smile. “Thank you for working on my car. A payment plan would be great.”

  He nodded. “You got it.”

  She made the first of twelve payments, got her keys, and plopped down in the driver’s seat a few minutes later, feeling deflated.

  Then she drove toward Sugar Pines Community Center, taking the long way down Main Street so that she could drive by the empty storefront she’d spotted yesterday. A FOR LEASE sign was still in the window.

  Joy swallowed. Then she pulled to the curb and jotted down the number on the lease sign. She’d call this evening and schedule a viewing. She’d never been one to give up on a dream. The bill for her vehicle was a little bump in the road but she would sell more of her art pieces and teach more classes. She would do whatever it took while also keeping to her resolution that she would only take art-related jobs.

  Which was why she couldn’t say yes to Granger’s offer to nanny his girls. Even if some small part of her had wanted to.

  Chapter Three

  Granger reached for a third bite-size piece of chocolate and peeled the wrapper off.

  “Don’t touch that.” His mom walked into the kitchen and shook her head. “That’s the girls’ hard-earned candy.”

  Granger always obeyed his mom, always had, but she wasn’t being serious, and he knew it. He popped the chocolate into his mouth and chewed. “I’m the one who took the girls out. Trick-or-treating isn’t easy, you know. I earned it too. Besides, Willow spent the weekend bouncing off the walls. I’m doing her and her teacher a favor.”

  His mom laughed and turned on the stove’s overhead light.

  Granger watched her. “What are you doing?”

  She glanced over her shoulder. “Making breakfast. The girls have school today, and they can’t focus without a proper meal in their bellies.”

  “You don’t think I’m capable?” Granger asked.

  She turned to face him and put her hands on her hips. “Of course I do. You’ve been providing for them on your own all these years.”

  “Not exactly on my own. I’ve had you and Dad. And Mrs. Townsend.” He met his mom’s gaze and sighed.

  She walked to the fridge and grabbed a carton of eggs. “It was time for her to retire anyway. We all knew it.”

  “I just don’t know what I’m going to do.” He’d spent all Sunday mulling over his choices. He didn’t have any. Everybody he knew had a job. And if they didn’t, there was a good reason that would keep them from caring for his girls. He knew a lot of teenagers in the area but, call him overprotective, he wanted someone experienced. He didn’t want to have to worry that Willow would wander off.

  “You know I’ll help as much as I can,” his mom said, “but this is the time of year when the farm needs me most.”

  Granger nodded. “I know.” His mom always turned a profit at the farm by selling cider from the orchards. She ran the books and tracked everything that went in and out. She was as integral to the farm as he and his dad were. “I
just wish Mrs. Townsend could’ve waited to tell me she wasn’t coming back until after the holidays.”

  Abby stepped into the room. “Mrs. Townsend is gone? What happened to her?”

  Granger’s heart plummeted into the bottom of his stomach as he turned to Abby. “She’s fine. Nothing happened to her.” He put on a smile, hoping to convince her. “She’s focusing on her health and has decided to retire.”

  Abby stepped closer. “Just like that? She’s not coming back?”

  “I’m sure she’ll come to visit.” At least he hoped so for the girls’ sakes. “But she won’t be your nanny anymore,” he said softly. “I was going to tell you later. Maybe after school.”

  As if understanding exactly what he meant, Abby nodded. “I won’t tell Willow. She’ll be upset, and that’s not good before school.”

  Granger swallowed. “It’s not good for you either. I’m sorry, Abs.”

  She shrugged, the corners of her mouth lifting along with her tiny shoulders. “I’m older. I can handle it.” He guessed this was nothing after having her mom turn her back on her, walk away, and never return.

  “It’s okay if you’re sad. We can call Mrs. Townsend so you can talk to her.” After what his children had been through, this would be tough for them. Maybe he needed to get them back in with the counselor Abby had seen when she’d realized that she was the only one of her friends that didn’t have a mother around.

  Granger turned as his mom put a hand on his shoulder. She must have sensed the heaviness of his thoughts.

  She smiled at him and then looked at Abby. “I’m making scrambled eggs and bacon, your favorite. Do you mind telling Willow that it’s breakfast time? We need to get you both fed and to the bus.”

  “Okay.” Abby turned and dutifully walked back down the hall.

  Granger exhaled. “Well, I blew that.”

  “You did no such thing,” his mom said. “She’ll be fine. She’s young and resilient. It’s you I’m worried about.”

  Granger looked up. “Me?”

  She returned her attention to the stove. “You’re old and not so resilient.”

  “Thirty-one isn’t that old, Mom.”

  “When you have two children to care for, it is.” She pointed her spatula at him. “I can see that guard of yours thickening. You’re disappointed with the way Mrs. Townsend handled the situation. You feel let down.”

  “I know her health has to come first. And I’m happy for her. Mrs. Townsend deserves to retire and take care of herself…But yeah, I do feel a little let down.”

  “What you need to understand is that everyone will let you down. I’m your mother, and I’ve let you down a million times.”

  Granger watched her work at the stove. “I can’t remember you ever letting me down.”

  “Because hopefully the times I’ve been there for you outweigh the times I wasn’t. That’s what matters.” She scooped some eggs onto a plate and slid it in front of him. Then she prepared plates for Abby and Willow too.

  The girls headed into the kitchen a moment later. As usual, Willow was excited about the day ahead. Granger met Abby’s gaze across the table though. The light in her eyes was dim behind her pink-rimmed glasses. He hoped one day she could say the times he’d been there for her outweighed the times he’d royally screwed up too. Because she certainly wouldn’t be able to say that about her mother.

  Granger’s cell phone rang in his pocket. He pulled it out quickly and checked the caller ID. “Mom, do you mind finishing up breakfast? I need to take this.”

  She shooed him away. Granger stepped outside and connected the call. “Hello.”

  “Granger. This is Bill Mack. I’m afraid I have bad news,” Bill said, cutting to the chase.

  Granger leaned against the side of the house. “Oh yeah?”

  “We were hoping to be able to ship you those evergreens to help you out with all the trees you lost earlier this year. But we’re running short ourselves. The weather hasn’t cooperated, and the summer drought really affected a percentage of our farm.”

  “I’m sorry to hear that,” Granger said numbly, sensing the bad news ahead. The farm in Virginia had all but promised to ship trees to Merry Mountain Farms. Talk about everyone disappointing him and letting him down.

  “Sorry, buddy, but I can’t make that shipment for you. I wish I could help.”

  “I understand,” Granger said. After a few more polite exchanges, he disconnected the call but didn’t move. Not until his girls dashed out the door with their book bags dangling off their shoulders. Then he smiled and kissed their foreheads. They’d gotten through a lot tougher times than this. They’d be okay, one way or another.

  * * *

  Joy’s car had been humming around town all day as she completed errands that she hadn’t gotten to do when it was in the shop. Now the back seat was full of art supplies, and she was finally on her way to Sugar Pines Community Center.

  She pulled into the parking lot and climbed out. She unloaded her wheeled cart full of brushes and paints, paper, ribbon, Popsicle sticks—everything she could think of—and headed inside.

  “Hey, Joy,” the director, Donovan Tate, said as she entered the building. Joy wasn’t exactly sure what he did. She guessed maybe he was akin to being the principal of a school. He walked around, joked, and looked stern when someone didn’t clean up their messes. “Looks like you got your car back. The folks here are going to be so happy to have you coming in again.” He gestured to the wall. “Look. I hung the group project you all completed in August.”

  Joy acknowledged the large abstract piece. It was now framed and centered on the wall to her right. “Looks great.” About eleven senior citizens had participated on that one, each adding a little to it when she slid it in front of them. “I’m going to go ahead and set up, if that’s okay.”

  Donovan nodded. “Your aunt Darby is already in there waiting for you. She caught a ride from my dad.”

  Darby rarely ever missed one of Joy’s classes. She couldn’t drive but she always found a way to get here. Joy usually picked her up herself but lately Darby was waving her off, preferring different company, she guessed. Darby herself was an artist and had been one of Joy’s greatest inspirations growing up. She was also Joy’s greatest supporter.

  “Thanks.” Joy pulled her cart of supplies and headed into the large, open room. The unmistakable sound of Darby’s laughter filled the air, and Joy spotted Darby sitting in the back corner with Ray Tate, Donovan’s father. Ray was old now but Joy remembered when he’d been middle-aged, flirting with every woman who’d looked in his direction.

  Joy also remembered that he’d always flirted with Darby when her aunt had taken her out and about. Back then, Darby hadn’t given Ray the time of day. Over the last year, however, Joy had seen Darby and Ray spending a lot of time together.

  Joy cleared her throat, the sound echoing softly in the room. “Hi, Aunt Darby…Ray.”

  They both turned to look at her. Then Darby hurried over to give Joy a huge hug. “Joy! I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been so lonely without your visits.” She pulled back and looked at Joy.

  “I can see that,” Joy said, side-eying Ray.

  He smiled broadly. The smile was too perfect not to be caps. His hair and complexion were flawless too. She could see why her aunt was attracted to him. Joy just wanted Darby to be careful.

  Darby looked at the rolling cart beside Joy. “Looks like we’re being artists today.” She turned back to Ray. “You promised, when Joy came back to teach, that you’d take a class with me.”

  He sighed and looked at Darby for a long moment. “You make me do things I’d never in a million years do on my own.”

  “I think that’s called bringing out the best in you,” Darby supplied with a giddy smile. Her cheeks darkened a shade as they exchanged a meaningful glance.

  Joy blinked. What is happening here? If she didn’t know better, her aunt was suddenly in a relationship with Ray. Joy’s car had only been in the
shop for a week and a half. But apparently, a lot could change in that amount of time.

  * * *

  An hour later, the community room at Sugar Pines was splattered with paint of all colors and torn strips of old newspaper. Nine people between the ages of fifty and one hundred had participated, which wasn’t many but they’d all enjoyed themselves making a mixed-media masterpiece on small ten-by-ten canvases.

  “I can hang this in my living room,” Ray said. “It’ll impress my family when they visit. Bet they never knew I was an artist.” He looked over at Darby, who was sitting beside him.

  Joy wasn’t trying to eavesdrop but she couldn’t help herself. She was fascinated by this new development. If she didn’t know Ray’s history, she might even be excited for Darby.

  “Joy’s the only family I have that cares enough to come by,” she told him. Then she looked at Joy, who pretended to be sorting the paint back into its carrier.

  “Have you found a place to open your art gallery yet?” Darby asked.

  Joy glanced in her direction. “Maybe. There’s a FOR LEASE sign in the window of a place on Main Street. The old clockmaker’s shop.”

  “Oh, that’s a lovely location. I was thinking, when you get that store, you could sell our artwork for us. Not for much, of course. Maybe just for donations to the Sugar Pines Community Center,” Darby suggested.

  Joy grinned. “That is a wonderful idea.”

  Darby shifted in her seat and reached into her pocket, pulling out a crisp one-hundred-dollar bill. “Here. Put this toward your gallery.”

  Joy hesitated. “I can’t take your money, Aunt Darby.”

  “You can, and you should. I wish I could give you more.”

  Joy didn’t want a free ride though. She’d always earned her way on her own.

  “It’s an investment,” Darby said. “This town needs more culture.”