The soft warmth of his breath reached her lips, with a hesitation until she leaned in. An unexpected familiar closeness laced with a tingling sensation pulsed through her. Instinctively, she reached up her hand and caressed his neck, sharing her desire for more. For a few moments, they explored the feelings and wonder of the connection between them. At last, Armand pulled away, closing his eyes, whether to savor or restrain, she couldn’t tell. But a content smile played on his lips as he stroked her hair
The silver doorbell rang. “Yoo hoo, everybody okay?” Shennedy breezed in toting cleaning supplies, glancing quickly around the store. “Sorry, I stopped at Widow Madsen’s place on the way, seeing as you were fine— oh, hey there.”
She stopped at the counter, finally seeing the two in the close embrace. Lindy smiled at her open-mouth stare. “You know, I think I forgot something in the car. Be right back.”
“No, it iz fine, Miss Shennedy.” Armand took Lindy’s hand and lifted her up with him. “I must make a phone call but I shall return to help finish the clean-up. You are well, yes?”
“Not as well as some, apparently…but yes, thanks for asking.” She gave him a sly grin and began unpacking cleaning supplies. He kissed Lindy’s hand and walked upstairs.
Shennedy merely raised her eyebrow and Lindy released an uncontrollable smile. “You were right. There was a reason gnawing at his roots, a noble one.”
She chuckled. “My three favorite words.” Lindy gave a questioning glance. “You. Were. Right.” Lindy quickly recounted what had happened to which Shennedy continued to nod her head in I-told-you understanding.
She gave Lindy a hug. “Now all I ask is that you stay open to what’s next. That Armand, he’s a keeper. Don’t let your past garbage get in the way of your present gifts.”
“Profound, Shen, profound.” Lindy took a deep breath. “We’ll see. I want to help him find a better solution to Saturday. But meanwhile, I’m soaking in what is.” She glanced around quickly. “Except this part. I’m so sorry, Shen, the timing is unreal.”
Shennedy put her hands on her hips. “What are you talking about? The place looks great, except for the big hole in the front.” Lindy saw the worried expression flit over her face as she carefully moved her fingers over the distressed counter with now embedded glass. Shennedy took a deep breath as if to push it away.
Lindy spoke gently. “So much for the perfect shop, or the perfect opening. Both are gone. I’m sorry.”
“Are you kidding?” Shennedy gave a mirthful laugh. “This is actually great. We’ll give the counter a really distressed look and it will become legend— the day of the microburst and here is the damage right here on our counter. Eat a muffin on it. We’ll be Echo Ridge famous by noon tomorrow.”
Lindy hugged her again and they got back to work. Armand came down the stairs seeking to know what to do. By consent everyone began working a part of the shop. Shennedy focused on choosing new antiques to replace the broken ones. With the lumber yard swamped right now, Armand brought as many large pieces of cardboard from the back as he could find and went about fitting them in the window frame, duct taping to make it work. It would have to do for now. With sunset approaching, the room darkened even more without the window light. Lindy put on as many antique lamps as functioned, and the place began to feel cozy again.
Shennedy looking at her cell phone. “Oh no. The Sweetheart Tree was hit.” There was a pause to digest it. The town’s oldest sweetheart place besides the Overlook on the mountain was the Sweetheart Tree by the pond. Many marriages could trace their dating roots back to that very spot, and their first kiss. “Well, they can make a bench out of the wood and call it the Sweetheart’s Smooch or something. It’ll be famous— ”
Lindy reddened. “Before noon. But seriously, Shen— what about tomorrow, the opening? People will be helping clean up the town and get ready for the Harvest Hurrah.”
“We go on! So we only have four people. We’ll go help them get their place set then invite them back here to sit a spell. Who wouldn’t want a cozy place with tea, surrounded by worn, wonderful things at a time like this?”
Armand nodded. “It is possibility.”
Glancing around, Lindy nodded. A healing place, that’s what this little shop was. With her spirit renewed, she helped the shop get to a good finishing point. No, it wouldn’t be the stellar opening they envisioned. But it would work and it would help and it would heal.
Smiling, she finished the last details that could be taken care of and they all headed to Shennedy’s to make a big pot of spaghetti with leftover artisan bread. An easy connection surfaced between her and Armand. Now that the tension, borne of misunderstanding and unawareness, had been resolved, and their hearts exposed to each other, the air hummed with a romantic energy building once again between the two of them.
Sitting on the comfy couch and nestled into his arms, they watched a modern version of Les Miserables. It was an agreeable two-fer. Because Marian the Librarian had assigned Lindy the book for her classic, Lindy had been working through it a dense chapter at a time. Following Shennedy’s example, she figured cinematic cliff notes couldn’t hurt. Never mind watching it while being held by Armand’s strong and sure arms. After the movie, Shennedy had gone to bed, though Lindy guessed it was to give them some time. They left the lamps low and the gas fireplace on. Armand pulled out a small tan leather book of what looked to be French poetry.
He followed her gaze. “Do you like French poetry?”
Lindy chuckled. “I don’t think I know any, not even a French author. No, wait. I like Antoine St. Exupery, the one who wrote The Little Prince. Perhaps not very literary.”
“Oh, but he is. He won many esteemed awards, in America too. One of my favorites also.”
“What are the others?”
“I appreciate Baudelier, and Chenier— the last one, he addressed more the scientific questions and problems of the day. But my favorite is Victor Hugo.” He turned the tan book so she could see the title, La collection Poésie de Victor Hugo.
“Victor Hugo. As in, ‘Les Miserables?’ He was a poet too?”
“Yes, very much so, leading out the romantic era. Quite beautiful meaningful poetry on the plight of everyday people. And, of course, love.” He reddened slightly.
Victor Hugo was a poet. Officially, she was a ditz.
Armand opened the book and began to read in French. The lilting tone, the rolling words and phrases, the cadence and soothing rhythm. She watched his lips as he spoke, mesmerized by the language and his command of it in such a lyrical manner—
“Wait.” Lindy sat up. “You’re not stuttering.”
“Ah, it is in my native language, mon cher. And there is no one here but you. Wonderful, magnificent you.” Her head lay on his lap again, her face looking up at his, held in the crook of his right arm while he held the book in his left.
With a pause, he glanced down, then slowly reached toward her. He gently met her lips and together they shared a few moments of heady connection. At last she pulled back and he kissed her forehead, but not before she saw the worry line between his eyes.
“You’re worried. About Saturday.”
“Nothing has changed except that now you know. The results will be the same.”
“Pastor Louis didn’t care.”
“He is a pastor.”
She pursed her lips. He had a point. Swooning women didn’t typically go for stuttering men, no matter how handsome. Especially when the detective character he created was supposed to be invincible. “Still, it doesn’t have to be one or the other. We can find a solution to go both ways. I just don’t know it yet.”
A sad smile. “It is alright. Truly. What did he say, we are to trust, no? So, I will practice the trust in God. And now, we will talk no more of zis. It is time for us.”
Once again, he opened the book and they spent the next hour between beautiful prose and exhilarating kisses.
THURSDAY WAS THE OFFICIAL first day of the Harvest Hurrah and it
had dawned bright with beautiful clear skies. By mid-morning hundreds of townspeople milled about the Big Barn area. With Thursday dedicated to Kids Day, the surrounding grassy area sported the festivities that included a dunk tank for Mayor Holbrook, who donned a 1920s swimsuit for the occasion.
A late-afternoon whistle announced the start of the kids’ games. The committee had chosen to bring back the old-fashioned favorites— egg-on-a-spoon, bobbing for apples, and a fish pond. In the background an old calliope could be seen and heard, although the music was piped in from an iPod.
Lindy walked easily with Armand, feeling the thrill of walking close to him but hoping it didn’t start a stir, and yet itching to take his hand. Was this what she truly wanted? Damon had understood the difficulty of the decision and said he’d need a final before the weekend was out.
“What are you thinking, mon cher?”
He said it softly, leaning down and toward her, his breath tickling her ear. By consent, and concern for her and town gossip, he also refrained from showing physical affection in public. But the frequency with which their hands accidentally touched and caressed, and his arm somehow found its way around her shoulders or his hand on the small of her back to guide her, told her all she needed to know. As did the constant catching of his eyes simply taking her in, this earnest look of wonder, as if asking himself how he had found her.
He gave her such a look now, and she returned it with an unabashed smile. His earnest blue eyes, matching the sky, her joy bubbling over like the children’s enthusiasm. The ideal fall day, and a crisp change was in the air. But which way would the change go?
“Not thinking about anything, really. Except how strangely happy I feel.”
“You mean, being happy is strange to you, or what makes you happy is strange?”
“That I should be happy at all, considering how opposite I felt a mere few weeks ago.”
He nodded, feigning to glance around casually. “I find myself marveling at the same thing.” Then more quietly, “You bring me great joy, Lindy Marrshan. And for a moment, I feel all with the world is parfait.” Passing behind a tree, he swiftly took her hand and brought it to his lips, then returned it. They both smiled with the ridiculousness of being adults and feeling like school kids.
Past the tree now they nodded to several people who waved or called hello and added, “I love your books!” and “See you at the signing.”
As if a cloud covered the sun, Armand’s expression fell momentarily. Lindy noticed but wondered how much to say. They walked in silence for a bit.
“I’m still thinking of a solution, you know.”
He gave a wry smile. “My Lindy, all will be well. You were right. Do the correct thing and let it, how you say, play out. People find the truth anyway, and it is better to have been honest than hide in shame. My heart has opened to this. It will be well.”
And yet, the worry seeped through his energy to her and added to her real concerns for him. Easy enough for her to stand on principle and expect integrity. But cold hard Saturday night reality and the media aftermath was not so simple. And to know she will have a hand in it, as well as the resulting low book sales and possible career impact, kept her heart and mind unable to sustain holding onto true happiness. As he had shared last night, who will want to read his suave debonair detective again without thinking of Armand stuttering through the words?
But could she respect him if he didn’t keep his word, and could he truly respect himself? The only way out was to find a solution that could fulfill both. But what? The night before, Lindy had endured a fitful sleep, waking with one bizarre idea after another of what could be done to avoid the imminent nastiness. And still, nothing.
“What is that, how you say, large face you have?”
Lindy laughed out loud. “You mean long face? You’re right. This large face is in need of some caramel apple. Come on.”
Bitty Betty strode to them. “Aren’t you just the cat’s meow, personal assistant Lindy Marchant?” A social frozen smile. “I’m so sorry, but Armand is needed to approve his authentic country book signing backdrop— complete with authentic candles in the authentic lanterns.” She didn’t break eye contact with Armand as she wedged herself between him and Lindy, took his arm, and began leading him toward the tank area. “I believe it’s my shift now.”
Armand raised an eyebrow but Lindy smiled. “Perfect timing, I need to help Shennedy with the booth inside the barn anyway. See you later.”
“Oh, we’ll take good care of him.” Betty smiled pointedly. With one last helpless but amiable look from Armand, and a heart-skipping wink, Lindy moved inside the Big Barn.
Inside the structure, booths lined the perimeter of the wall in a large rectangle. Craft booths held hand-made sweaters and jewelry from the Ladies League, and cultural booths displayed native American Indian beadwork and woven pieces. Everything from teaching resources for children’s music lessons to cheap imports and unusual purses was offered. As for food, Fay’s burgers and fries, Chip’s barbecue, and Martha Jean’s baked goods were givens.
She moved to check on Shennedy and the shop booth. Her Big Barn assistant, Cheryl Anne, had it generally under control but right now customers thronged the two women. The day turned into a happily exhausting affair. Working side by side, with Shennedy particularly— laughing together, solving problems, connecting with people— Lindy remembered how much she enjoyed creative endeavors with someone she loved.
In the back of her mind hummed the need to decide her final answer to Damon. Time was ticking.
After several hours of talking, selling, and contact gathering, during a lull Shennedy pulled Lindy to sit in a folding chair. “Take a load off, Lindy girl.”
“This is an easy load. It’s been a needed distraction.”
Shennedy knew what she meant. “Any decision for Damon yet— when does he need to know?”
Lindy briefly flashed the text at her, repeating it aloud.
I’m disappointed not to hear something before now. But a reminder that I need to hear by business close tomorrow, 5 p.m. Jed is anxiously awaiting his newest sales seminar exec.
Shennedy nodded thoughtfully. “And Armand? Any magical solution?”
“Nada. As in, zip.” She sighed, looking around the Big Barn, amidst the swirl of people and motion. Too much to process.
Shennedy patted her knee. “I know you’re trying to decide on trivial things, like your entire financial future, or a relationship with a man who lives on a different continent. Or helping that man save his career with some drop-from-the-sky solution for Saturday. You know, the small stuff. But my advice is to relax and let the ideas present themselves.” She tipped her head, smiling. “Enjoy the moments with him right now, without all the calculating and what ifs. He’s done the right thing and so have you. Now let the ball keep rolling on its way. The solutions are already there, you just have to see them.”
Lindy nodded. Shennedy’s wisdom felt true, despite the weight of both problems. Simply enjoy what was and let the answers rise to the surface.
For some reason, that made her think of a hot bath, which sounded heavenly, and she said goodbye to do that very thing.
Immersed in the soothing bubbly water, Lindy reflected on the peace of these past few hours. Only one gracious text came from Armand to say that the ladies had captured him for dinner and discussion, with no end in sight. But that he couldn’t wait to see her first thing in the morning. She had texted back that first, she knew he needed to write, and second, he would be likely mobbed at the Hurrah, so time together may have to wait.
With Damon’s text, questions of Armand and her life and decisions involuntarily began to rise. All three fronts presented concerns. As for the job offer, that came first both in need and deadline. She had to be wise about this. Her dream job was ready for the taking— it would not do to walk away. But what if she asked for flexibility, or at least for a few more weeks to be sure where she and Armand were headed? Likely Jed would see it as immature
and unfocused, not a good way to begin a likely rough road with her new boss.
But if she didn’t take the offer, what would she do instead? Stay here in Echo Ridge and run an antique shop? How long would that satisfy her? And of course now that Armand was before her and happiness regained, it seemed a dreamy possibility to not take the job. And yet, a troubling wave rose and fell inside— what about long-term? What about a future for her independent of basing it on a guy— who knew what would work or not between the two of them? Was she willing to risk her future on someone she’d known only a few weeks? Definitely not her style.
And then there was Saturday night and how to solve the problem of his pending public humiliation. He had borne it, that good man, the possibility of the embarrassment and financial fallout. And that he had done it to show his integrity to her. Such a man does not come often, at least into her life. Armand had shown his goodness and character, and now, did she simply wait on the sidelines with a blanket and a warm embrace to make it hurt less?
Lindy raised her hands out of the bubbles and splashed warm water on her face, rubbing her eyes and forehead to ease the worry away. What she needed was something soothing. What she needed was an evening of Armand. Low light, comfy couch, his resonant voice reading poetry. Perhaps she could make a lasagna tomorrow night, one of the few dishes—
She sat upright. Eyes moving rapidly, the thoughts came quickly, almost as a download. They moved from one idea and subsequent question to the next until it made total sense. Not about the job offer. That would have to come tomorrow.
But for now, the solution for Saturday had come.
***
Jiggling the shop door handle in the black of the night, Lindy tried to hush the silver bell. Quickly entering the shop, she hurried up the stairs and stood before the door, pausing only once to reconsider, then she knocked loudly.
Kisses Between the Lines: An Echo Ridge Anthology (Echo Ridge Romance Book 2) Page 52