“Like the latter would ever happen.” Rory rolled his eyes skyward before planting a kiss on his friend’s forehead. “I mean, seriously, why on earth would I give up your stew for Sam’s?”
“Why indeed.”
Dropping into his favorite booth, he scooted across the bench and leaned his head against the vinyl seat back. “Ahh, now that feels good. Real good.”
“You look exhausted, Rory.” Delilah’s eyebrows furrowed and her trademark smile disappeared.
“I am exhausted. Been working fourteen-hour days the past two weeks, trying to get things done over at the inn.” He lifted his feet beneath the table and stretched them across to the other bench. “I figure the sooner I get done over there, the sooner I can move on.”
Her eyebrows rose further. “Move on?”
He nodded.
“Move on where?”
“Don’t know. I just think maybe it’s time I see what else is out there. I’ve spent my whole life in this same place.”
“That’s what home means, Rory.”
His eyes swept across the miniature tree that graced the ledge above his table, noting the miniature frames and hearts that dotted the branches. “Oh, hey, look…there’s Virginia’s picture…and Tyler’s…and Carly’s…and yours.”
“It’s our staff tree. Everyone had to write something on a star and hang it on the tree—a favorite quote, a personal mantra, whatever.” Delilah leaned across the booth and grabbed hold of one of the hearts. “Can you guess who this one belongs to?”
He peered at the rounded writing on the wooden star. “‘Who needs men?’”
Delilah nodded.
“That would have to be Virginia. Unless Maggie started working here.”
Ignoring his comment, Delilah stood up straight. “I haven’t hung mine yet.”
“What’s yours say? Eat and be merry?”
“No. Though that might be a good alternative.”
“To?”
“Love heals all wounds.”
He dropped his hands into his lap. “You really believe that?”
“I really do.”
For a moment he said nothing, opting instead to grab hold of the paper-wrapped silverware and roll it back and forth across the table. “What happens if the wounds are simply too big?”
“You love harder.”
“You love harder,” he mumbled. “Okay…so what happens then if the love isn’t wanted?”
“If that’s truly the case, then I guess you move on.” Delilah peered around the diner, then slid onto the bench beside Rory’s feet. “But the key is finding out whether it’s truly unwanted or simply pushed away out of fear.”
He raked a hand across his face, the relaxing evening he’d craved slipping through his fingers with each sentence they exchanged. “But how can I counteract a fear I can’t guarantee won’t happen? I mean, there’s no way I can be sure I’m not gonna get hit by a bus tomorrow. Life doesn’t work that way. Just look at Reardon. If I’d known what he was going to do, I’d have stopped him. But I didn’t. And so I couldn’t.”
A tender smile inched across Delilah’s face. “Do you know how long I’ve been waiting to hear you say that?”
“Say what?” he mumbled.
“That you didn’t know. You’ve always been so hard on yourself about that—how you should have known, how you should have done this, that or the other. But you couldn’t have, because you didn’t know. Reardon didn’t tell you.”
Leaning his head back, Rory stared up the ceiling. “Life happens. For better or worse. All you can do is live it the best way you know how.”
“What happens if the best way involves sharing it with another person?”
He squinted at his friend. “It’s a moot point when that other person doesn’t want to share it with you.”
“I see.” Delilah scooted to the edge of the bench and stood. “Well, I guess it’s okay to give up on a job when it gets too hard. Makes things easier that way.”
“Wait.” He dropped his feet to the floor and sat upright. “I’m not the one who gave up. Maggie did, remember?”
“I remember.”
“Then how am I giving up?”
“By working yourself like a dog just so you don’t have to feel.”
“I’m not doing that. I’m working like this so I can—” He stopped short of admitting she was right. Only he was going about it in a slightly different way. He was working the way he was so he could run.
“Look, I can see you’re tired. And the last thing I want to do is exhaust you further.” Delilah put a friendly hand on his shoulder. “So what would you like to eat?”
He glanced over at the mini chalkboard propped against the napkin dispenser and read the day’s specials. “How’s the pot roast?”
She made a face. “You have to ask? It’s superb.”
“Okay. Then I’ll take that.” He eyed his friend as she turned toward the kitchen, the question that had been burning in his heart for the past two weeks finding its way to his lips. “Have you talked to her? Is she doing okay?”
“Don’t you think you should ask her that yourself?” Delilah replied as she stopped just shy of the next booth.
“She doesn’t want me around. She made that perfectly clear.”
“Did she?”
Rory closed his eyes as his thoughts traveled a well-worn path back to the last morning he’d seen Maggie, her use of the word mistake hurting all over again. “Oh, she made it clear all right. Trust me on that.”
“Well, maybe she just needs a little time.”
“Time isn’t going to do it,” he argued. “She doesn’t want this. She’s too afraid of risking her heart again.”
“Maybe she just needs to walk alone for a little while before she’s ready to trust her hand to someone else again.”
His friend’s words hit hard, as the truth often did. “She smacked my hand away, Delilah. Again and again. She’s doesn’t want to walk—alone or otherwise.”
Delilah nodded but said nothing, her thoughts as much a mystery to Rory as his own at that moment. She took a step toward the kitchen and then stopped again, glancing over her shoulder one last time. “She’s walking now.”
“What do you mean?”
“How about I show you instead.”
“Show me?” he echoed.
“Come by next Saturday around eleven-thirty. I’ll show you then.” Delilah gestured toward the kitchen. “Now I better get that pot roast. You look like you could use a little pick-me-up.”
Chapter Nineteen
“I wish I’d had your vision when I opened this place four years ago.”
Maggie stepped away from the front window and stood beside Iris Johansen. “There’s no guarantee that my ideas are going to increase traffic.”
The woman picked up the First Steps baby frame Maggie had designed as an example of the Everlasting Smiles line, and held it out for her to see. “With items like this, there’s no doubt in my mind. In fact, it almost makes me wish I could be part of this on a daily basis instead of simply your landlord.”
“I don’t want you to be just my landlord,” Maggie protested. “I want to be able to call you and ask for suggestions if I mess up.”
Iris set the frame back down. “I don’t think you’ll be needing suggestions from me, I really don’t. But let’s see what happens, okay?”
She smiled. “Okay.”
Grabbing her purse from the counter, Iris took one last look around the store. “I’ve been meaning to ask how you’re feeling. Any better at all?”
Maggie shrugged. “A little, I guess, but that’s what you get for going craft-supply shopping during cold-and-flu season.”
“I’d tell you to take it easy, but now that you’re running a store those words are rather futile.” Iris pulled her gloves from her coat pocket and slipped them on. “I wish you great success here, Maggie, I really do.”
“Thank you, Iris.” She took hold of the woman’s hand and gave it a ge
ntle squeeze. “And thank you for putting me in contact with that vendor friend of yours. He couldn’t have done a better—and faster—job on the sign.”
“My pleasure, dear.” The woman approached the front door, then paused and turned back. “May this be the start of many wonderful ventures in your life.”
“Thank y—oh!” She grabbed hold of the counter as the room began to spin.
In an instant, Iris was at her side. “Maggie, are you all right?”
Closing her eyes, she willed the wooziness to subside. And eventually, it relented. “I’m okay. Just got a little dizzy there for a moment.”
“Perhaps I should stay?”
She waved off the woman’s concern. “No. I’ll be fine. I just think I need to make sleep a priority this evening.”
“Well, if you’re sure…”
“I am.”
And then Iris was gone, closing the door on Lake Shire Gifts & Things for the very last time. Blinking back the sudden moisture in her eyes, Maggie glanced around the shop at the various items she’d made over the past three weeks—objects that had kept her hands busy and her mind occupied.
But the pace she’d been keeping surely hadn’t helped her fight whatever stomach bug she’d picked up while out and about. For the most part the nausea was manageable, coming and going at odd times. The headache that seemed to be taking its place, though, wasn’t as accommodating.
She stepped behind the counter and grabbed her large purse from the shelf underneath the register. Unzipping it quickly, she rummaged around in the hope of finding something that could take the edge off the pain. One by one she touched each item—her wallet, a tube of lip gloss, a small notepad, a few pens and—
“What on earth?”
Wrapping her fingers around the smooth round object near the bottom, she pulled it from her purse.
The wishing ball.
“How did this get in…” The words died away as the answer became clear. She’d put the ornament in her purse when she went to visit Rory that last time. It had looked so nice on his tree she’d wanted him to take it back. Only she never got around to giving it to him.
Because we made love instead.
Stuffing the ornament back into her purse, she gave up on the headache medicine in favor of focusing on anything other than Rory O’Brien. Fortunately for her, it was ten o’clock and time to open the store.
Her store.
“SO WHERE ARE YOU TAKING me?” Rory asked as he eyed Delilah from the passenger seat of her car. “And why won’t you give me so much as a hint?”
A hint.
The word made him smile. He’d always prided himself on being a patient guy—the sort who took things as they happened. Yet here he was, wanting a hint about their destination, just like Maggie.
He pressed his head against the cool glass and watched the lake and trees and buildings whiz past. For weeks he’d been trying hard to forget about Maggie, to ignore her car in the lot of the inn, to ignore the pull in his heart to see her. Yet no matter how hard he worked, no matter how hard he tried to convince himself he was better off, he failed. Again and again.
And he knew the reason. He was in love with Maggie Monroe, plain and simple.
“Earth to Rory. Come in, Rory…”
“Huh?”
“You asked a question and I gave you an answer. But I’m thinking you didn’t hear me, because you haven’t said another word.”
“I’m sorry. I guess I was…well, it doesn’t matter.”
“You’re missing her, aren’t you?”
“Every day.”
It was a simple answer. It was also accurate.
“Then why don’t you talk to her?”
He gave another simple answer. “It’s like I told you the other night. She wants nothing to do with me.”
“Maybe that’ll change.”
“I doubt it.” He pointed out the windshield as Delilah decreased their speed to accommodate the cobblestone road. “What are we doing here? Do you realize Christmas is only five days away?”
“Bah humbug!” She stopped to let a group of pedestrians cross from one side of the outdoor marketplace to the other, a scowl lowering her brows.
“I’m not bah humbug. Just look at this place—it’s crazy.”
“It’s almost Christmas, Rory. People are shopping.”
“I see that. Which brings me back to my original question…with a slightly different twist this time around. Why are we here? I don’t need to shop.”
Delilah drove slowly, her car inching down the road. “Let’s just say we’re doing a little window looking.”
He studied the shops as they passed—Ray’s Gourmet Dog Treats, Sally’s Wash & Clip, Lake Shire Antiques, Last Page Bookstore. His confusion over why his friend had insisted on this little excursion was at an all-time high. “Don’t you mean window shopping?”
“No. I mean window looking.” She clapped her hands above the steering wheel and released a little squeal. “Oooh, rock-star parking!”
“Huh?”
Pointing at the vehicle emerging from a parking spot two car lengths in front of them, she squealed again. “I couldn’t get a more perfect place if I tried.”
“A rock star, eh? Don’t they usually have chauffeurs?” His laugh echoed through the car, bringing a smile to his companion’s face. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“I haven’t heard that laugh in far too long.”
He knew she was right. He’d been burying himself in work the past few weeks—trying desperately to forget the woman living just down the hall. And at times, when he was completely focused on his work, he managed to hold thoughts of her at bay. But the moment he completed whatever task he’d been working on, she rushed into his mind once again.
“I’m sorry, Delilah. I really am. It’s just…” he leaned his head against the seat back and drank in their immediate surroundings “…that keeping busy helps…” His words trailed off as the shingle sign across the street claimed his full attention.
“See? It’s like I said the other night at the diner…she’s walking again.”
Rory’s mouth grew dry as he noted the whimsical pink writing, the name nearly leaping off the wooden sign: Natalie’s Nook.
“Wh-what happened to Iris’s place?” he asked, even as the answer dawned on him. “Wait, she did it? Maggie really opened up a shop?”
Delilah grinned. “That she has. She’s leasing from Iris.”
“I—I don’t know what to say.”
“She’s barely slept these past few weeks, trying to get things ready. Even when she wasn’t feeling well she kept working.”
“Maggie was sick?” He pulled his attention from the window display at Natalie’s Nook and fixed it on his friend. “What was wrong?”
She shrugged. “A stomach bug, I guess. I kept telling her to get some sleep, that she’d be able to fight it better with rest, but she kept on trudging.”
“Is she okay now?”
“I suppose so. I haven’t seen her the past few days.” Delilah pinned him with an unwavering stare. “But we could go in now and check.”
He looked back at the store, the pull to go inside almost more than he could bear. But Maggie didn’t want him around. She’d made that perfectly clear. “I think we better leave.”
“But—”
“Delilah, please.” Taking a deep breath, he gestured down the road. “I’ve gotta get back. I have an inn to finish. And the sooner the better.”
IT WAS NEARLY FIVE O’CLOCK before she came up for air, her first day more of a success than she could have ever imagined. All day long people had come in to welcome her, only to return to the register with item after item.
The holiday wall hangings had been a hit, the front-door reindeer and jolly-faced Santas the most popular of the bunch. The Everlasting Smiles line had generated a number of comments and nearly as many orders. Maggie had even taken a request for a picture frame that would document the moment a child had
found his or her shadow. It was a notion that had both intrigued and saddened her at the same time. What she wouldn’t give to have seen Natalie reach that stage.
The miniature artificial trees she’d used to display her handmade ornaments were nearly bare, all thoughts of a good night’s rest virtually gone. Fortunately, she’d managed to work on a few projects in the back room during occasional lulls. Had she not, she’d be busy until it was time to open again in the morning.
Still, the persistent headache and momentary bouts of dizziness had to be addressed. How, though, she had no idea.
Put on soft music…close your eyes…and relax. Just like you did with Natalie. Natalie.
Throughout the day people had asked her about the name of the shop, assuming at first that she was Natalie. The first time or two she’d felt a familiar lump in her throat, sensed a burning behind her eyes. Yet as the day wore on, she began to relish the question.
By naming the shop after her daughter, she’d found a way to merge her past with her present, just as Rory had said.
Rory.
Prior to her arrival in Lake Shire, she’d done little else but cry. Her aunt hadn’t been able to reach her. Her cousins hadn’t been able to reach her. Her friends hadn’t been able to reach her. And after ten and a half months, she’d been tired of them trying.
So she’d packed what she could fit into her car and had taken off for Michigan, to the quiet and solitude of her uncle’s inn. Within days she’d made progress, eating, smiling, laughing, dreaming….
And it was all because of Rory. He hadn’t pushed. He hadn’t insisted. He hadn’t bribed. He was simply there. Listening when she spoke, talking when she needed to listen and guiding her along a path she needed to take.
Natalie’s Nook wouldn’t exist if it weren’t for him. Sure, the desire was buried somewhere deep in her soul, but without Rory she doubted whether she’d have ever unearthed it.
His patience and his gentle encouragement had been the push she needed to keep busy. And as he’d predicted, forging a life didn’t mean she had to forget.
Natalie’s Nook was proof of that.
Miracle Baby (Harlequin American Romance) Page 14