by Joan Kilby
Emma arrived early to get a prime spot at Swan and Main Street. Even though Alex had left she couldn’t help looking in vain for a familiar dark head among the crowd. Give it up. He’s gone. And good riddance!
Right behind the band came Mayor Calloway in his white Cadillac. Miss Cherry Lake, a pretty blonde wearing a sash around her summery flowered dress, was perched on the trunk, smiling and waving. Her tiara sparkled in the sunshine and her smile was wide and white.
Emma waved to everyone she knew marching or riding in the parade. Most of the local businesses had a float—the toyshop, the sweet shop, the bank and the hardware store. The Jackson Orchard truck, with Robert at the wheel, went past decorated with a banner painted with huge red cherries. She put her fingers to her mouth in an unladylike whistle. Taylor and Jodi stood in the back with wreaths of fake cherries around their heads and threw out candies to scrambling youngsters.
This was way better than going to Mexico on the spur of the moment. She hoped Alex would get Montezuma’s revenge and spend the rest of his vacation running to the bathroom instead of lolling around a pool with some beautiful woman—which is what her imagination conjured every time she relaxed her guard.
War veterans came next led by a white-haired man in a wheel chair, his chest covered in medals from World War II. Then Nate, marching proudly in his uniform along with a handful of soldiers who’d served with him in the Vietnam War. Veterans of other conflicts—Korea, Iraq, Afghanistan, followed. The clapping and cheering grew louder as the soldiers passed and more than one person among the spectators dabbed their eyes as if remembering a loved one lost.
There were more floats, a clown on a unicycle and finally a posse of horses decked out in finest western gear ridden by students at Brett’s cousin, Molly’s, riding school. Emma recognized Carrie’s daughter, Darcy, on a quiet sorrel mare, looking beyond thrilled to be in the parade. Another clown scampered after the horses, scooping up droppings.
As the end of the parade passed, the crowd poured into the street and followed the procession down to the lake front park where a stage had been erected. Once they suffered through Mayor Calloway’s speech, a live band was scheduled to play.
Instead of going to the park, Emma threaded through the crowd over to Main Street where the stalls had been set up since early morning. She found Linda, shaded by a market umbrella, who looked up from stacking jars of cherry jam next to her sister-in-law Julie Jackson’s bottles of cherry liquor and compote.
“You look lovely today, Emma.” There was a tell-tale note of surprise in Linda’s voice. “Is that a new dress?”
Emma slipped in behind the table and started setting out plastic-wrapped cherry pies. “As a matter of fact, it is.” She twirled to show off her yellow sundress with the ripe cherry pattern. “Mom made it for me in honor of the festival.”
Next door to Linda’s stall, seventy-something Ray Worthington was selling maple wood cheeseboards and hand-turned salt and pepper shakers. Ray leaned over and waggled his bushy white eyebrows. “Va-va-va-voom!”
She wished Alex could see her in it. He might not think she was such a geek. God, she had to stop thinking of him. She’d known him what, a week? He was gone. Let him go.
As the morning wore on she was so busy she didn’t have time to brood. She’d just bent down to pull more pies out of the boxes beneath the table when she heard a familiar deep voice that turned her heart over. “How much are the pies?”
Emma popped up, her pulse racing. “I thought you left.”
Alex pushed his sunglasses up into dark hair ruffled by the breeze and smiled at her. “I didn’t go in the end. I’ve been at the orchard all morning.” He looked her over and whistled through his teeth. “A dress. Very nice.”
“Thanks.” Because she was still mad at him she stopped short of complimenting him but he looked amazing. His white T-shirt clung to a truly spectacular pair of shoulders and an equally impressive chest. His cut-off jeans rode low on lean hips and clung to strong thighs, exposing muscled calves.
His smile broadened, as if he knew what she was thinking. “So, the pie?”
Great, she’d been staring, drinking him in like a tall glass of ice tea on a hot day. “Five dollars. Proceeds go to heart disease research.”
He pulled a twenty out of his wallet. “Keep the change. It’s a good cause.”
“Thanks.” She put the bill into the moneybox and handed him a pie. “What made you change your mind?”
He stepped beneath the shade of the market umbrella, blocking out the noisy crowds and the music coming from the park. His eyes were dark pools of serious amid the frivolity. “You.”
“Oh.” Her heart thudded. “So you’re not mad at me for yelling at you?”
“I didn’t say that.” The smile lurked. “I stayed to prove you wrong.”
“I hope you do.”
“And to rescue your reputation, poor spinster science geek.”
“You’re too kind.” She smiled at him. “Need some help eating that pie? It’s about time I took a lunch break.”
“Let’s go down to the park where the food stalls are. I’ve been working at the orchard all morning and I’m hungry as an ox. No one was there to bring us sandwiches today.”
Emma told Linda she was taking off for a while and joined Alex to stroll down Swan Street toward the lake. The world had taken on a buttery glow and the sky was an impossible blue. He took her hand and squeezed. She couldn’t stop smiling.
They bought tacos and drinks and took them to a shady picnic table beneath the trees overlooking the lake. Emma waited until they’d finished eating before broaching the five hundred pound elephant seated next to her. “Have you talked more to Robert?”
“I managed to corner him for a few minutes before I came to your stall. He’s agreed to meet me tomorrow morning. We’re going fishing on the lake.”
“That’ll be nice.”
“You think?” Alex gave her a dry smile. “There’s only one thing l know less about than cherry picking and that’s fishing.”
“Well, look how well you took to picking. You’re indispensable around the orchard now. You’ll ace fishing like everything else you do.”
Alex sighed. “I hope you’re right. Now, how are we going to eat this pie? We have no knife or forks.”
“There’s only one way.” Emma bent the foil plate and tore off a chunk of pie with her hands. “The messy way.”
“The cherry spitting contest is on in half an hour,” Alex said, digging in. “I challenge you to a round.”
“I think it’s only fair to warn you, I’m a champion spitter,” Emma said around a mouthful. A morsel of pastry flew from her lips and landed on the table.
“You don’t say. Never would have guessed.”
“Don’t make me laugh!” she mumbled. Naturally he managed to consume the pie with barely a smudge of cherry juice on his fingers.
“You look like a chipmunk. So cute.”
“Stop it!” She dropped the piece of pie and pressed her fingers to her mouth, helpless to stop a tiny snort from escaping.
His bemused gaze never left her face. “Are we still on for the dance tonight?”
Last night’s quarrel flooded back, sobering her. She met his gaze, taking her time to chew and swallow. “If you want.”
Heat flared in his eyes. “I want.”
The hot summer day shimmered between them. Lust and longing made Emma’s cheeks burn. “Okay, then. We’re on.”
Chapter Nine
‡
That evening, Emma found Zoe seated at her dressing table, putting on her makeup. “Can I borrow your nail file?”
“On the dresser.” Zoe took one glance at her in the mirror and spun to face her. “You’re not wearing that to the dance.”
“Why, what’s wrong?” Emma’s sleeveless green shift of polished cotton had a boat neck and was fairly shapeless but the color was good on her. She felt comfortable in it.
“You’ve got a date with the ho
ttest guy who’s ever come to Cherry Lake and you go out looking like a novice nun? I don’t think so.”
“He’s seen the yellow dress I wore today and my sundress when we had dinner at the Jacksons’. This is the only other dress I have with me.”
“You can borrow one of mine.” Zoe went to her overstuffed closet and flipped through the hangers of dresses, blouses and skirts. She pulled out a sky blue dress with a plunging neckline in a clingy fabric. “This will look amazing on you. Try it on.”
Emma stroked the soft fabric and imagined Alex’s hands moving over her. “It feels amazing.”
She was jittery inside, thinking about what might happen after the dance if Alex asked her to go back to his cabin. She’d been laying it on thick yesterday about small town gossip but people would talk. She could hear them now, That Emma Stanhope fell for a good-looking guy who has no intention of sticking around, just like her mother.
She handed the dress back. “Thanks, but it’s not my style.”
“She’s right. That dress is too sexy for Emma.” Karen stopped in the doorway, a towel wrapped around her head. “I’ve seen Alex around the motel. Women don’t say no to men like him. If he sees her in it, he’ll expect her to put out.”
“He’s not like that, Mom. He’s respectful of women.” Alex’s character didn’t deserve to be called into question because women found him attractive. And why couldn’t she wear a sexy dress? Was she that much of a tomboy that her own mother thought she couldn’t be feminine? “I’m sure women have said no to him. If not, I might be the first.”
“You might not, too.” Zoe reached into a zippered pocket of her purse and pulled out a strip of condoms. “Take these.”
“Oh, my God.” Emma held them by a corner as if they were possum entrails. “Talk about premeditated.”
As if she hadn’t spent the past three hours fantasizing about making love to Alex tonight. She was all for women being smart and responsible and not leaving protection up to the man. Hell, she had a giant economy-sized box of condoms at her apartment in Missoula. She just didn’t carry one around with her wherever she went. No, when she went to bed with a guy it was after they’d known each other for weeks, if not months. It was planned, not spontaneous.
Hm, maybe that was the problem with her life.
“Don’t push her into casual sex,” Karen said. “Alex isn’t going to be around for long.”
“All the more reason not to waste time,” Zoe countered. She turned to Emma. “When was the last time you got laid?”
“Hello! Our mother is standing right there,” she said, flushing.
“So? We’re all grown women. We’re not talking about anything she hasn’t done when she was our age. Or younger. Right, Mom? How do you think we got born, Emma?”
“Look how well that turned out for me,” Karen said. “Emma, don’t make the same mistakes I did. I’m the last one to judge Zoe but babies happen, quite often even when using condoms. You’re not just risking an unplanned pregnancy. If you lose your heart to a guy who moves on then you’re opening yourself up to a world of hurt.”
“So you don’t lose your heart,” Zoe argued. “If you’re too cautious you miss out on a lot of the joy of living. Even worse, you end up never feeling anything.”
“Stop, both of you.” Emma held her hands to her ears. Zoe and her mother were playing out the debate that had raged inside her brain practically since the moment she’d met Alex. Her mom was right. Casual sex wasn’t her thing. But maybe Zoe was right, too. She hadn’t had a lot of fun lately. When she was with Alex she felt alive in a way that thrilled her down to her toes.
She took the blue dress back from Zoe. “I’ll wear this and keep my options open.” Then she turned to her mother. “But I won’t let myself be pressured into something I’m not ready for. I’m an adult woman. I’ll make up my mind when the time comes. If the time comes. Who knows, maybe Alex isn’t even interested in me that way.”
“I know you’ll do what’s best for you,” Karen said and gave her a hug. “If he hurts you he’ll have to answer to me. Now, I’d better get ready.” She padded back down the hall toward her bedroom.
“When he sees you in that dress, his tongue will be hanging out like a dog over a bowl of beef stew,” Zoe predicted with satisfaction. “If you don’t want him, let me have a crack.”
“No, he’s—!” Mine. At Zoe’s knowing grin she clamped her mouth shut.
“I’ll do your hair and makeup, too,” Zoe offered. “I’ve been trying out this fancy updo at the salon.”
“No fancy dos, and minimal makeup. It’s not me. I’m going to feel weird enough in this dress.” She tugged on a damp strand and a small smile came unbidden. “He asked me to leave my hair down.”
“Ahh,” Zoe said knowingly. “Maybe he’ll decide not to go back to Seattle. People do that sometimes. They take one look at Cherry Lake and sell up everything.”
“Usually when they’re ready to retire,” Emma reminded her. “Central Montana isn’t exactly a hotbed for the marketing profession.”
Zoe dismissed that with a flap of her white-tipped fingers. “With the internet people can work anywhere these days.”
“Don’t start speculating. He has a life in Seattle.” Emma unzipped her shift and stepped out of it.
Don’t let her start wishing and hoping. That was a dead end street. For years after her divorce, Karen had prayed for Emma’s dad to come back. Finally she’d given up but her crushed dreams had left her bitter and disillusioned. Emma so didn’t want that for herself. Better not to have any expectations.
“Hang on,” Zoe said before she could pull on the blue dress. “You’re going to need a different bra.” She pulled lingerie out of her dresser until she found a push up in green lace threaded with pink satin and matching panties.
Emma hesitated over the sexy underwear. That wasn’t her, either, but well, if things progressed that far she would feel more confident wearing lace than her plain cotton bra. “If the beauty salon ever goes under you could get a job as a stylist.”
Gingerly she donned the delicate lingerie and shimmied into the clingy blue dress. Already she felt like a different woman. By the time Zoe was finished, her red-gold hair curled around her shoulders and got caught in the valley between her half-bare breasts. Her eyes had a hint of smoke and her lips glistened with pale gloss.
She stared at her reflection. The woman in the mirror didn’t look like someone who would get her heart broken. On the contrary, she looked like someone who knew what she wanted and took it.
“Well?” Zoe said, tweaking strands of hair. “Do you like the new you?”
Emma pressed a hand to her fluttering stomach and felt herself grow calmer, stronger. “I could get used her.”
“Are you going to go for it?”
There was no need for Zoe to explain what she meant. Could she sleep with Alex and not get hurt? Her mom had naively believed her father when he’d said he would come back. Robert hadn’t gone back to Alex’s mom, either. The difference was, Emma knew beforehand Alex wasn’t staying. He’d come here on a whim and he’d stayed on impulse. Such a man wasn’t a safe bet.
But why shouldn’t she have a fling as long as she went into it with her eyes open? With no wish for anything other than a good time? She had no doubt that Alex could show her a very good time in bed.
“Why not?” she said. “What have I got to lose?”
She slipped her pedicured feet into Zoe’s sexy peep-toe kitten heels. Tonight was not for sensible shoes.
*
Alex toweled his hair dry and took extra care shaving in front of the cracked mirror over the rusty sink before splashing on light, citrusy cologne. Earlier, in the motel’s guest laundry, he’d pressed the summer dress pants and pale blue button-down shirt he’d packed for a nightclub in Cancun. He had no idea what to expect from a small town dance but he wanted to do Emma proud.
When he thought of her, an involuntary smile crossed his face. She’d beaten him
by a country mile in the cherry pit spitting contest. Going around the stalls with her, or just sitting on the grass listening to music, had been the most relaxed he’d felt in a long time. The last of his city stress had evaporated in the warm sunshine and he’d been able to put the tension with Robert out of his mind for a few precious hours.
Seated at the rickety kitchen table, he got out a travel kit and polished his tan leather shoes. Where he and Emma were going with their friendship, he didn’t know. Every ounce of his energy, thought and attention was focused on getting to the dance. He didn’t want to presume or anticipate too much but the tension between them was building to flash point.
She wasn’t like other women he’d dated for whom casual sex was no big deal. Her reputation was important to her, maybe more so because her sister’s and her mother’s reputations seemed somewhat tarnished, judging by veiled comments he’d overheard. He rubbed the soft cloth over the shoe toes, buffing them to a soft gleam. He paid that kind of thing no attention. Small town prejudice and double standards weren’t fair.
Whether he and Emma saw in the dawn together or parted at midnight with merely a kiss, he wanted to give her a night to remember. Which was why he’d stopped at a florist’s stall after they’d parted this afternoon and bought the biggest bunch of flowers they had, mixed blooms in all the colors of summer.
When he headed out to pick her up, Route 35 was open but people were still walking across the road between the park and the town and traffic was slow. He leaned an elbow on the window and gave way to another group. Funny, he didn’t mind the slow pace now, a stark contrast to the day he’d driven in to Cherry Lake, impatient to get where he was going.
His leather shoes sounded on the wooden steps up to Emma’s front door. His pulse was fast, his palms faintly damp. When was the last time he’d been nervous picking up a date? In fact, when was the last time he’d picked a woman up from her home? Mostly he met them at a restaurant or a club after work as a matter of convenience. Usually that was their choice, not his. It was the modern way. Tonight felt…different. Old fashioned in a good way. Special.