“Yep.” Darcy nodded. “Even that trio of gnomes I had my eye on. I should have kept them hidden away until I could pay you for them.”
“I can make another batch.” Mrs. Johnson handed her a stack of bills from the lunchbox they were using for the outdoor table’s money box. “I’m excited. I’ve already sold three times the amount I would sell in a month online. And the day isn’t over.” She rearranged a group of dancing raccoons. “June came by and bought five, one of each different forest creature. I knew the hook was set when she began telling them about the shelf that would become their home.”
Darcy laughed. “Yep, June always talks to an item when she’s going to buy it. The other day she purchased a gold-knobbed cane from me. She named it Mr. Squiggles. I have no idea what she wanted it for.”
Mrs. Johnson shrugged. “Who knows why half these people want things? The point is, they want them. Which is good for us.”
A fanfare sounded from the little park down the street, and crowds of people turned and began to mill towards the noise.
“What’s going on?” Darcy asked.
Mrs. Johnson shielded her eyes and squinted over at the park. “Twelve o’ clock. Almost time for the weenie dog race. She glanced at Darcy. “Oh, I forgot you weren’t usually here for Yorefest. Any proud owner of a dachshund—and they are a proud bunch—enters the race. They have bragging rights for the whole year.”
“Must be some race,” Darcy said.
“Yep. You ought to go.” Mrs. Johnson smiled. “Things have died down a bit for lunch, and the race won’t last long. It’s something everyone should experience at least once in a lifetime.”
“Are you sure you don’t mind?” Darcy tilted her head.
“Not at all.” Mrs. Johnson waved her hand. “I’ll tell anyone who wants to go in the shop that you’ll be back in a few minutes.”
Merging with the crowd, Darcy followed the cowboys, pioneer children and saloon girls.
The lawn in front of the little park had been sectioned off with low fencing. Spray-painted stripes adorned the grass, and kennel-like pens had been lined up at the far end, yips and barks betraying their contents. There were over a dozen. Hopeful owners hunched behind the pens, murmuring what Darcy could only imagine what must be speed inducing mantras.
Wow, lots of people own dachshunds here . . . unless some came from out of town. Darcy made her way to the finish line, squeezing in between a sheriff and a teen in full steampunk garb that included aviator goggles.
The judge nodded to the owners and they all stood and leaned forward, hands gripping the doors of the pens.
A familiar cap bobbed up behind number 10, and Darcy gasped. Ramsey? Since when does he own a dachshund?
A bell rang, and everyone flung their pen doors open. Dogs leapt from their confines, ears flapping and tongues hanging from their mouths. Some wore actual hot dog bun costumes, while others sported colorful doggy shirts with the names of local businesses. The animals bounded in all directions. Most scattered to the sides to nose people through the fence. A few ran towards the finish line, where bone-shaped treats awaited. Ramsey’s number 10, a black and tan longhaired pooch, flopped on the ground and began to scratch behind one ear.
“Come on, Millie.” Ramsey clapped his hands. “You’re officially the laziest dog in Wimber!” He smiled, but his eyes were bloodshot and his shoulders sagged.
Does he know I’m here? Darcy pulled back into the crowd. She wasn’t ready to face him after last night. Not yet.
“Hey, Darcy, what’s going on?” Mr. Johnson stood behind her. He was dressed in full civil war regalia, carrying a rifle in one hand. “Do they have a winner yet?”
Darcy stepped back and gestured to dachshund number 3, who had woofed down his treat and was starting on the next dog’s plate. “Don’t think Ramsey’s dog is going to place.”
Mr. Johnson shrugged. “It’s not his dog. Co-worker entered, but his kid got sick at the last minute. Ramsey offered to help out.”
“Well, that was nice of him.” Darcy turned to go.
Mr. Johnson nodded. “Hey, would you like to come to lunch with us? We’re eating at the Mesquite Pit.”
Darcy’s mouth watered. “Oooh, that sounds delicious, but I’ve already been gone too long. The shop’s been hopping and I don’t want to leave your wife alone.”
Mr. Johnson nodded sagely. “You never know what notion she’ll get in her head. Well, tell her I’ll bring you both some extra.”
Darcy’s heart thudded against her chest. What if Ramsey comes with him? She lifted her chin. “That sounds fine, Mr. Johnson.”
As Number 3 ascended a podium and received a tiny gold trophy, Darcy went back to the store.
13 ON THE TERRACE
T he last customer walked out the door, and Darcy helped Mrs. Johnson pack up the few remaining items outside, along with the table and chairs.
After saying goodnight and locking up, she walked to the cash register to count the day’s earnings. Her footsteps sounded hollow and sad in the empty shop.
Her father came in. “Are you ready for dinner? Jared was a bit weary after the golf game, so he decided to wait for us at the restaurant.”
Darcy shoved the last bundle of dollar bills into an envelope and slammed the cash register drawer. “Sure, Dad, let me freshen up a bit. I’ve had a long day.”
She dragged her tired feet up the stairs, leaning heavily on the bannister. After taking a quick shower, she threw on a clean blouse and pair of jeans and put her hair up in a damp ponytail. She scowled at her rumpled reflection in the bathroom mirror. I don’t care how nice this restaurant is, I’m not going to any extra effort tonight.
Darcy’s father spent most of the drive on the phone with some investor from Chicago, so they didn’t have much room for conversation. Darcy stared out the window. Why in the world did I agree to do this? People break up all the time. Jared is a self-absorbed, rude person. Why do I feel like I owe him anything? And will I have any chance at all with Ramsey if he finds out I came out here? She slumped down further, her forehead pressed against the window, cold from the blasting AC. Do I have a chance anyway?
Almost an hour later, they pulled up the winding drive to the Wyatt resort. Darcy had never been to the swanky establishment built in the hills outside of Wimber. She had no clue why an investor would choose to plan a high-end hotel truly in the middle of nowhere. Thick iron gates opened in a cold greeting as her father drove the rental car down the long circle drive.
The hotel had been built over a rambling hill, with clusters of buildings settled around a tall main entry way. Fountains sprang up from gardens barricaded by concrete rings. The whole thing looked rather out of place beneath the sweep of pines that towered over all.
Kind of like me. Darcy looked down at her hands. Maybe it was ridiculous to come to Wimber. Perhaps I shouldn’t have tried to pick up these pieces of this life again. The pain in Ramsey’s eyes—sure, he had jumped to conclusions, but how would she have felt in his place?
They pulled up to the curb and Darcy’s father handed his keys to the valet. He pulled out his phone, studied the screen, and put it back in his pocket. “Jared already got us a table. He’s waiting on the terrace.”
Her father led her through a courtyard to the side of the grand hall and pointed past the pool. “The restaurant is just around there. Why don’t you go on over and get a drink? I’m going to run back to my room and fetch my glasses. Those menus are ridiculously hard to read.”
Darcy folded her arms. “I’d rather wait for you here.”
Mr. Norman’s eyes shifted to the side. “My room is quite a step away. Go on. It’s not like he’s a stranger.”
“Fine.” Darcy got up and walked around the fenced-in pool to the restaurant’s entrance. Forks clinked against fine china amid the babble of conversation. Chandeliers winked from the ceiling and savory aromas filled the air.
A tall waiter dressed in black approached her. “Do you have a reservation, ma’am
?”
“Um, it would be under Art Nolan, or Jared Talbot?”
“Right this way.” The waiter led her through the restaurant.
Doubt filled Darcy’s mind as they stepped out on the terrace. Twinkle lights lit up the bannisters, and Frank Sinatra crooned over the loudspeaker. “Fly me to the moon . . .”
Funny, when Jared and I were dating, that was our song. Darcy scanned the tables, wondering why no one else was dining outside.
The waiter gestured to the farthest table, partially hidden behind a Japanese screen divider. “Have a lovely evening, ma’am.
Darcy moved toward the screen with tentative steps, fingers of dread grasping at her throat. Candlelight drew her to the empty table, set for two.
“Good evening.” Jared emerged from the shadows. He wore a suit jacket and tie, his blond hair slicked back. His eyes flashed over her, and suddenly she realized why she could never have loved him. She felt owned, possessed.
“Hello, Jared.” She tried to steady her voice.
“Darcy, I’m glad you’ve come to your senses and realized what I knew the moment I met you. We belong together.” Jared pulled out a chair. “Come and sit down.”
Her arms dropped to her sides. “No, that’s not why I came. My dad . . .”
“Wasn’t it nice of him to arrange for us to have the terrace to ourselves?” Jared’s smirk covered his face, distorting his handsome features. “There are just some things you don’t want pasted all over Youtube.”
He took Darcy’s hand. “Might as well do this before dinner.” After getting down on one knee, he pulled a ring box from his breast pocket. “Darcy Norman, I missed you, and I need you. Will you marry me?”
A wave of weariness rushed over Darcy, and her legs wobbled. What a long, long day it had been. She looked down at Jared’s half-lidded gaze, that confident look he got when he knew he was going to win.
“Jared, I . . .” The words clawed their way up from deep inside, the true self, the part of her that danced in the wind. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I should have at least called. But I can’t love you. You don’t love the real me. And I could never marry someone who doesn’t.” She pulled her hand away. “Please go home.”
She turned around and began to walk back to the door in sure, swift strides.
Jared’s voice followed her. “Darcy, you don’t belong here, and you never will. You know that. Let me take care of you.”
As she stepped out of the restaurant on the other side, she fumbled in her purse. Where is my cell phone? Hope I didn’t leave it in the car. Tears slid down her cheeks, and panic bubbled within her once more until her fingers found the smooth plastic case.
Kayla’s voice sounded tired when she answered. “Hey there, calling for a cookie fix after the crazy day?”
“No, I have a much bigger favor to ask.” Darcy craned her neck to make sure Jared hadn’t followed her outside. “Could you please come pick me up? I’m at the Wyatt resort outside of town.”
“The big hotel? Isn’t that almost thirty minutes away from here?”
Darcy sighed. “Yeah. I’m so sorry.”
A few seconds of silence ticked by. “Of course, I’ll come,” Kayla said. “I guess I’ll meet you at the entrance?”
Darcy exhaled. “Thank you so much, I’ll owe you forever. See you in a little while.” She hung up and put the phone back in her purse. Lights from the restaurant windows spilled out on the quiet pool, making patterns like stained glass on the surface. As she rushed past the reclining chairs, she almost ran into her dad.
Her father grabbed her sleeve as she passed by. “Honey, where are you going? Where’s Jared?”
Heat crept up Darcy’s neck and settled on her cheeks. “I’m really upset with you right now, Dad. I can’t believe you ambushed me like that. You knew Jared planned to propose, I can see it all over your face.”
Her dad’s shoulders sagged. “Can you blame me for trying? The guy was upset, I felt sorry for him. He can provide for you, give you the life you deserve. And you can tell he cares about you. The shop is never going to bring in enough. Come on, Darcy.”
“I’m actually doing very well.” Darcy scanned the entrance, hoping Kayla would appear miraculously early and rescue her from the conversation. “I made twice as much as I hoped for today.”
Her father shrugged. “Sure, it’s going okay now. But remember your garden when you were twelve? You got tired of it and let it turn into brown scraggly plants that cluttered up my lawn. And when you became a cheerleader--for one whole semester? Heck, you can’t even commit to Jared. You’re going to get bored and quit the shop too, and then where will you be?”
Darcy’s grip tightened on her purse strap. “And graduating with a 3.8 GPA meant nothing. I’m not twelve anymore. I love it here. I’m not going back.”
A couple walked by, laughing so hard they held onto each other for support.
Her father held out his hands. His jaw sagged and he suddenly looked much, much older. “You make me helpless, here.”
How does he do that? How does he still make me feel bad after everything he’s done? Darcy lifted her chin. “Good night, Dad. Have a safe flight home.”
She went out to the front to wait for Kayla, and to her relief, no one followed her to the concrete gardens.
Finally, Kayla’s lime-green Camry pulled around the corner.
Kayla yawned as Darcy climbed inside. “What a day, huh?” She glanced over.
Darcy dabbed fresh tears from her cheeks. “Thanks for coming to get me. I didn’t know who else to call.”
“I’m honored you think of me as that sort of friend.” Kayla eased her foot off the brake and the car crept back through the gates. “Anything you need to talk about?”
“Nope. Not right now.” Darcy put her face in her hands. “It was horrible. Horrible.”
Kayla patted her shoulder. “We all have those days.” She snapped on the radio.
Techno dance music filled the car, and they rode without speaking the rest of the way home.
14 WAITING ON THE PORCH
D arcy turned the candlestick she’d been polishing over in her hands and surveyed the kind faces in the room. It was hard to believe she’d only been in Wimber for a month. How did I go so long without these wonderful women in my life? “So, I’ve been looking for the key since I got back to the shop. I thought Gran might have mentioned it to one of you.”
“Wow.” Lila Wilkes perched on the edge of her seat, pale green eyes opened wide behind her glasses, forgotten teacup gripped in thin, white hands.
“I don’t know what to tell you, dear. Old buildings are almost always full of secrets.” Miss Lorinda tied off her thread and snipped the end with a pair of silver scissors. “There. That’s a nice little hat for the preemie babies.” She squinted over at Agatha, who was crushing dried herbs with a mortar and pestle. “Agatha, surely she must have said something to you. You’re her neighbor. Or Kayla?”
Both women shook their heads.
“Sometimes, people hold secrets so long they forget about them,” said Agatha. “Or perhaps they tuck them away in quiet shadows of their minds.”
“My shop has a hidden compartment under the floor.” Kayla fit a piece into the puzzle she was working on with June. “But the wooden side walls rotted away. Although there were a few secret toads living under there. I had to seal it against the damp.” She paused. “After I got the toads out, of course.”
Miss Lorinda nodded. “There are lots of hidey-hole rooms and passages in the older buildings of this town, mostly because of the Texas underground railroad.”
Ms. Travelsham sipped her tea, forehead wrinkled under her thick gray bangs. “Yes, our town was a pretty big part of that. Wimber was surrounded by cotton mills. Instead of sending runaway slaves up north, many were smuggled down to Mexico.”
“I had no idea,” said Darcy.
“But that doesn’t answer your question about the key, does it, dear?” Agatha patted her hand. “Maybe I c
an come by and help you look for it one of these days. My old eyes are still sharp.”
“We’d have a good time, even if we didn’t find anything.” Darcy smiled. “By the way, the soap is wonderful. I will definitely have to remember it for Mother’s Day and Christmas presents.”
Miss Lorinda passed the scone plate around for the second time. “Have any of you seen Vera Greer in the last few days? I heard she went to some fancy out of state market to scope out new clothing lines for her shop. But I’d think she’d be back by now.”
“You mean more of the ugly, big print crap?” Ms. Travelsham put her fingers to her lips. “Pardon my language.”
Darcy shrugged. “Well, wherever she is, I’m glad to have a break from her snooping. I caught her at the back of the shop trying to peek through the windows. I don’t know why. The store was open. I almost called the police.”
Miss Lorinda snorted. “Call the cops in this town? For that? If nothing’s been vandalized and Vera’s coming within business hours, there isn’t much you can do.”
“Plus, the cops spend most of their time over at Howie or Allen’s anyway. Those two men are always feuding,” added Ms. Travelsham.
“Howie and Allen? Who are they?” asked Darcy.
“Eh, well, they’re neighbors. Have two small farms on the edge of town,” said Miss Lorinda. “About thirty years ago, they both decided they were sweet on the same lady.”
“Miss Connie Burke,” Kayla murmured.
“I thought you’ve only been in Wimber for two years,” said Darcy.
“Oh yes, but we all know the story,” Kayla replied. “Didn’t Connie work at the bank?”
“Yes.” Ms. Travelsham settled back into the seat, folded hands settled in her lap. “She was in her early thirties and pretty as a wildflower. All the single men in town, and a good many of the married ones, would come into the bank lobby instead of going through the drive through, just to stand in Connie’s line and maybe catch a smile.”
Miss Lorinda nodded. “But none were as smitten as Howie and Allen, though both were firm bachelors and hadn’t dated in years. They’d come up with silly excuses to go in the bank. Bring in bags of change to be counted, write themselves checks to cash. That sort of thing.”
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