Smitten

by Colleen Coble

  “Thanks for your help, Nick. I’m sorry you always have to come to my rescue.”

  “Why are you sorry? I want you to count on me.”

  “But I can’t expect you to always fix things for me. You have your own life.”

  “That’s what friends do, Shelby. Period. I want you to come to me for anything you need.”

  Shelby saw the disappointment on Nick’s face, so she said nothing further. Besides, as much as she hated to admit it, she did need him.

  Those flowered wreaths had been springing up all over town for months. Nick grunted. Losing the mill was one thing, but now Smitten was on its way to being the laughingstock of the state.

  Rolling down the roadway, Nick’s truck chugged and groaned. Its big tires crunched and stirred up gravel dust behind the taillights. With a crank of the handle, he rolled up his window from the chill. He needed to finish his cup of hot coffee to get his mind off of what those women were trying to do to the town. He let out a sigh. He knew they meant well, but this was his town. He’d lived here all his life, and he couldn’t stand by and just let them turn it into a “girly” town, could he?

  His thoughts turned to Shelby and the way she had looked at her house. Her eyes, dark pools shadowed with fear beneath thick fringy lashes, the tinge of pink that stained her cheeks.

  In one protective moment, he wanted to scoop her dainty form into his arms and hold her close.

  He shook his head. You’re thinking nonsense, dude.

  Passing the church, he spotted the lavender wreaths on the front doors. His sour mood zipped back into place.

  Seemed to him the church should stay neutral on such matters. Regardless of what the pastor said about the wreaths standing for faith in the town’s survival, the fact that little Mia came up with the idea told him it was a nod toward the women and their ridiculous idea to make Smitten a romance capital. If he’d wanted to live in a love capital, he’d have moved to the Poconos.

  Women. The big ones and the little ones were all the same.

  He should thank his lucky stars he didn’t have any around his house. He took a careful swig from his paper cup, then let out the kind of sigh that came with thinking ahead.

  Frank Sinatra’s voice called from his cell phone, and Nick clicked his finger on his Bluetooth. “Hello?”

  “Nick?”

  “Yeah.”

  “This is Catherine Givens.”

  His body sprang to attention. He hadn’t talked to his mother-in-law since the day of the divorce. She hadn’t been exactly civil at the time.

  “Hi, Mrs. Givens.” The words felt strange as they slipped off his tongue. He had called her Catherine once upon a time.

  A cold pause hovered between them, causing a thread of fear to wind through him. “Is Willow all right?”

  His twelve-year-old daughter barely talked to him when he called her each week, and she acknowledged his gifts with forced thanks. Still, he loved her deeply. Unfortunately, there was more than miles between them.

  “Willow is fine. It’s Camilla.”

  He could only imagine what his ex-wife had gotten herself into now. She and her high-society friends always seemed to stir up something.

  “What about her?” He braced himself. When things like this came up, it usually cost him money.

  “She’s dead.” The way she said that, as though Camilla had the nerve to intrude upon her organized plans, sent a momentary wave of compassion through him for his ex-wife.

  He didn’t know what to say. Though there had been no love lost between them in the last few years, she was at one time his wife and would always be the mother of his child.

  Nick eased his truck to the side of the road so the vehicles behind him could pass.

  “Did you hear me?”

  “I heard,” he said, his tongue thick, throat dry. Say what you would about Camilla, he’d never imagined her . . . dead.

  “What happened?” he whispered.

  “A yachting accident.”

  He took a minute to digest the news. Then another thought crashed into his head like a tree downed in a storm.

  “Where’s Willow?”

  “She’s with me.”

  He bristled. “I’ll come get her.”

  “Yes, I supposed you would. Of course, Charles and I would be happy to have her stay here, but we travel so much and she would . . .”

  Get in the way. Like mother, like daughter. “I’m her father. She should be here.”

  “Yes.”

  Just as he suspected, no argument. The sooner he got Willow, the better. Poor thing. She hardly knew him, and now she had lost her mother. He’d make it up to her somehow. He had to.

  He took down the particulars on the funeral and made arrangements to take Willow home with him afterward. He clicked off his cell phone and realized his hands were shaking.

  “Are you all right, honey? I’ve been out of town and just heard the news.” Shelby’s next-door neighbor stood at the front door.

  Shelby held the open door. “Come on in.”

  Rose Garner, Natalie’s great-aunt, stepped inside. Her silver hair, threaded with black strands, was pulled back into a flawless knot at the nape of her long neck. Her complexion, fresh and glowing, made her look twenty years younger than her age of seventy-eight. A soft white blouse and trim dark pants gave her tall, lithe body an elegant appearance that matched her gentle nature.

  Shelby took her into the dining room and showed her the damage.

  “My, my.” She turned to Shelby. “I’m just so thankful you’re all right.”

  “I’m thankful that none of my sewing projects were ruined. Several of the outfits have deadlines, and that would have really put me behind.”

  Rose nodded.

  “Would you like to go upstairs?”

  “No, thank you, sweetie. I can’t stay. I just wanted to make sure you were all right.” They stepped back outside. “By the way, what are you going to do about your classes?”

  “Well, I wanted to talk to you about that—”

  “Yes, of course you may hold your classes at my house,”

  Rose said with a smile.

  “You’re such a blessing. Just like your niece.” Shelby smiled, thinking how Natalie and Rose shared the same spirit. “Thank you, Rose.”

  “The blessing is mine.” Rose gave Shelby a hug. “While I’m thinking of it, do you still want my help when you get to the dining etiquette section?”

  “Absolutely,” Shelby said.

  “Wonderful. Have you found someone to do the repairs?”

  “Nick contacted Griffen Parker for me, and he’s agreed to do the job.”

  “Nick is quite the gentleman.”

  Shelby thought that an interesting comment. Nick was a great friend, no doubt about it, but “gentleman”? Somehow an ax-wielding, whiskered mountain man did not conjure up a gentleman in her mind.

  “Well, I’d better get going. We’ll talk later about the classes. Bring over whatever you need anytime. I’ll get my dining room ready.”

  Shelby waved good-bye and stepped back inside, wondering where to begin.

  CHAPTER TWO

  By Saturday afternoon Shelby had managed to bring some order to her dining room despite the damage brought on by the smoke and fire. The dehumidifiers and fans had helped with the smell, making it possible for her to stay in the upstairs of her home.

  She could kick herself for being so irresponsible with the glue gun. She sighed. No use going there now. Fortunately, Griffen would be coming on Monday, and it wouldn’t take too long to get the repairs finished. She hadn’t been able to get in touch with Nick since he set everything up for her.

  Sitting at her sewing machine, she put the finishing touches on Penelope’s Christmas outfit. Penelope resembled a cream puff with button eyes, and would look beyond adorable in the red cotton T-shirt adorned with boa and tulle.

  “Come here, Penelope,” Shelby called. The dog pranced over to Shelby and lifted her head in eager e
xpectation. Shelby pulled the outfit onto her dog and looked on with amusement as Penelope circled about like a doggy ballerina.

  The doorbell rang then, and Shelby and Penelope went downstairs to answer it. Rose stood on the front step.

  “I wanted to talk over some recipes with you. Do you have time?” she asked.

  “Sure. Let’s go upstairs.”

  They went to the living room and settled on the plump sofa cushions facing one another.

  “How lovely. You have a fire going already.”

  “Yes. This big old house is drafty and I’m always cold—the damp air from fighting the fire doesn’t help.”

  “Or the fans and open windows.”

  “Right. Though I confess the thought of starting a fire bothered me a bit.”

  Rose grinned. “I can understand why.”

  “Would you like something to drink?”

  “No, thank you.” The logs crackled in the flames. “I thought I’d make little finger sandwiches for the high tea.”

  “You don’t need to do that, Rose. You’ll be busy playing your violin for the occasion.”

  “But I want to do both. I enjoy helping the girls.”

  “You don’t know how much I appreciate that.”

  Penelope jumped up on the sofa between the two women, tutu in place. Shelby watched the older woman interact with Penelope and whispered a prayer of thanks to God for bringing Rose into her life. They had met one night at the town square, right after Shelby had moved into town. The Garner Sisters had played, and Shelby thanked them for their performance and struck up a conversation. Shelby hit it off with all of them, but especially Rose. She supposed it was because Rose had a kind voice—like Shelby’s mother.

  “Well, I must say it’s very exciting to see what you girls are up to with the town. I do believe you’re sprucing things up.”

  Rose smiled her approval.

  “Yes, it is exciting. Have you been to Julia’s spa yet?”

  Rose shook her head. “Oh no. That’s for you young things.”

  “You have to go. It’s amazing.” Shelby explained the ins and outs of a spa experience and pretty much convinced her friend to go. “I wish everyone was as excited about the changes in town as you, Rose.”

  “What? Oh, you mean the handful of men who are grumbling about it?” Rose waved her hand in dismissal. “They’re nothing to worry about. They haven’t done anything to make a go of it—why not give someone else a chance? Besides, that noise seems to be dying down.”

  “Well, Nick Majors sure hasn’t lost his grumble.”

  “Is he back yet?” Rose asked.

  “Back? Where did he go?”

  Rose frowned. “You haven’t heard? His ex-wife died, and he went to pick up his daughter.”

  “Oh my.” Shelby took a moment to digest the news. “I’m so sorry to hear that.” Nick didn’t talk much about his daughter.

  “Sweet little thing. Pretty too. About twelve years old, I would say. She lives in Boston with her mother—well, she did. The way I understand it, she’ll be moving back here with Nick. It will be an adjustment for both of them, to say the least.”

  “How do you know all this?”

  “I’ve been a friend of the family for years. Knew Nick when he was just a little tyke.”

  For some reason, the idea of Nick as a little boy warmed her. Shelby hoped he and his daughter would have a better relationship than she had with her father.

  “Twelve years old is a tough time to switch families,” Rose said.

  “Twelve years old,” Shelby whispered, with a clench in her heart. She knew another child who would have been twelve this year . . . if the child had survived.

  Once Willow’s belongings were safely anchored down with bungee cables in the back of Nick’s truck, he and Willow said their good-byes to her grandparents and climbed in. He turned the key in the ignition and glanced at Willow.

  “You need to buckle up,” he said.

  She rolled her eyes and made a dramatic sweep of the belt across her chest.

  Willow hardly spoke a word the entire trip home. Nick didn’t know if she was grieving over her mother, worried about her new life with him, or just pouting about something. Her one-word answers to his attempts at conversation left little room for bonding, and he eventually gave up.

  The moon hung low over Sugarcreek Mountain by the time he pulled the truck up to his cabin. The steel truck door protested when he climbed out and stretched his long legs on the hard ground. He let out a sigh. His heart squeezed for his only child. The future would offer challenges for both of them.

  She was a beautiful girl, if he did say so himself. Long wavy brown hair, soft blue eyes, and a definite flair with fashion, just like her mother. Even he could see that. There was a certain gracefulness in the way she walked—not like a gawky kid.

  With Willow’s suitcases in hand, Nick led the way to the front door. The chilled air was sweet with the smell of balsam and Fraser firs. He drank it in. One of the many reasons he loved living here. He unlocked the door and flung it wide open and reached for the light switch.

  His laptop was on the sofa. Shoes and socks littered the hardwood floor, along with a potato chip bag and chip crumbs. Beyond the living room, the kitchen sink was full of soiled dishes, and a couple of opened cans sat on the counter, their jagged-edged metal lids sticking straight up.

  Willow looked around, wide-eyed—in fear or surprise, he couldn’t say.

  Nick cleared his throat. “I didn’t have a lot of time to clean things up before I left.”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Well, I know it’s late, so I’ll just show you your room and we can talk some tomorrow.”

  Willow nodded.

  No sooner had he closed the front door than someone rapped on it. Nick frowned. Who would be calling tonight?

  He walked over and opened the door.

  “Shelby.”

  She held out a plate of cookies. “Hi, Nick. I’m sorry to call so late. I stopped by earlier, but you weren’t home yet.”

  He opened his mouth to invite her in, but Willow’s voice stopped him.

  “That’s because it took forever to get here. Dad wouldn’t go over fifty on the interstate.”

  Clearly amused, Shelby looked at Nick. “No kidding?”

  “I couldn’t go much faster and still be safe, what with all her stuff tied down in the back of the truck.” He glanced at Willow. “What is all that stuff anyway?”

  “Just my life, that’s all.”

  Willow rolled her eyes again—a gesture that Nick suspected was going to grow old quickly. But she’d just spoken more words in the last minute than she had the entire trip home.

  “I’m so sorry about your mother, Willow.” Shelby stepped inside and handed the plate of goodies to Willow. “I’m Shelby Evans. Your dad is a good friend of mine.”

  Willow nodded.

  “Can I get you something to drink, Shelby?” Nick said.

  “Oh, no thanks. I need to get home.” She pulled her sweater tighter around her. “It’s chilly tonight.”

  “Cold weather will be upon us before you know it,” he said. “That reminds me, I noticed the seal around your door frame was pulling loose, and also you have some air coming through the bottom. You’ll need that caulked before winter.

  I’ll take care of it. It will save on your heating bill.”

  “Thanks, Nick. You take good care of me.”

  “That’s what friends do,” he said with a smile, pointing to the plate of cookies.

  Just then Shelby’s cell phone rang. With a glance at the caller ID, she said, “I’m sorry, I’d better get this.” She clicked on the phone. “Hi, Rose. Everything okay? . . . Oh dear . . .

  No, of course, I understand. Don’t worry about it. I’ll figure out something. We’ll talk tomorrow.” She clicked off.

  “Something wrong?” Nick asked.

  “The pipe to Rose’s water filter was corroded and burst while she was i
n Stowe today. Her kitchen floor and hallway are flooded. She has to clean it up and get new flooring. She was going to host my classes while the repairs were made to my house. Looks like I’ll have to find another place.”

  Nick rubbed the back of his neck. “You could hold your classes in my outbuilding.”

  Shelby brightened. “Really?”

  “Why not? It’s pretty good-sized, and it’s heated. It’s the one I use to display candles, lights, ornaments—Christmas decorations for sale. Remember?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’m not using it at the moment. Probably about the time I’ll need it, your place will be up and running again.”

  “That’s so sweet of you to offer, Nick.” Shelby thought a moment. “I’ll agree to it if you let me help you on the tree farm when things get busy. At that point, my classes will be over till January, and I’ll be available.”

  “Deal,” he said with a wide smile. “But just so you know, if you work on the farm, you might have to get dirty.”

  Shelby gave a mock shudder. “I think I can manage.”

  “You’ll have to wear jeans.”

  “I don’t wear jeans.”

  “You can’t go around the farm with nice clothes on, Shelby. You’ll ruin them,” he said.

  Shelby glanced at Willow, who just stood there staring at both of the adults. “I think we have time to talk about that one, don’t we?” Shelby turned her attention to Willow.

  “Anyway, the school bus stop is right down from my house, if you ever want to get off and visit me. My house is the one that has a sign out front that says Social Graces.”

  “Thanks.”

  Nick thought he saw a flicker of interest in Willow’s eyes.

  “Well, that’s all. Just wanted to introduce myself and bring a welcoming gift. Again, I’m so sorry for your loss. Both of you.”

  “Thanks, Shelby.” Nick walked her to the door. “I appreciate it.”

  Shelby stepped outside. “See you later. And thanks again for the use of your building.”

  Nick waved and watched her go.

  “I’m going to bed now,” Willow said as he closed the front door.

  He said good night and noted the firewood in the basket was low. “I’m going to cut some wood. I’ll be outside if you need me.”