Dogwood Hill

by Sherryl Woods

  “That cat does something every day to put a smile on my face,” Cordelia told her, then confided, “But I do miss Archie. I know he was too much for me, but he’s such a special dog. I named him for my late husband. Did I tell you that?”

  “No, you hadn’t mentioned it,” Liz said. “Would you like me to bring him by to visit?”

  Cordelia’s face lit up. “Would you? Please do, if it’s not a bother. We always had Aussies, Archie and me. I know that’s why the grandchildren chose him, but none of us thought about how much energy it takes to keep up with one, especially a puppy. Are you going to keep him?”

  “I’ve been looking around for a good home, but so far no one’s stepped up.”

  “And he’s growing on you, isn’t he?” Cordelia said knowingly. “I suspected that would happen or at least I was hoping it would, so he’d stay close by.”

  “Please don’t count on it, Cordelia. I’m not sure I can keep a third dog,” Liz lamented.

  Cordelia immediately looked disappointed. “I would so hate it if he moved away,” she said with a sigh, then forced a smile. “I suppose placing him with the right family matters more than whether I get to spend a little time with him occasionally.”

  Seeing the older woman’s disappointment, Liz knew right then that Archie wasn’t going anywhere. “We’ll take it one day at a time. Unless the perfect owner comes along, he’ll stay with me.”

  Cordelia gave her a sly look. “Someone told me they saw him with that handsome young man, the new high school football coach. They said Archie seemed to take a real shine to him.”

  Liz laughed. “He did, but Aidan can’t take on a dog right now.”

  A speculative expression crossed Cordelia’s face. “I had a conversation with Nell after church the other day. Word is that you might have taken a shine to the same man. Any truth to that?”

  Liz felt heat climbing into her cheeks. “Cordelia Ames, please tell me you are not going to start matchmaking, too,” she chided. “Believe me, there are more than enough meddlers in this town already.”

  Cordelia regarded her with an unrepentant look. “It’s hard to say how many nudges it might take before people do what they’ve been wanting to do all along.”

  Liz was about to protest that she didn’t need any nudges, at least not in Aidan’s direction, but several chattering customers came into the store. She clamped her mouth shut. Arguing with a customer, no matter the topic, couldn’t be good for business.

  Thankfully, Cordelia seized on their arrival to give Liz a bright smile. “You have a good weekend, you hear. And I’ll look forward to a visit with you and Archie sometime after the holiday when you have the time.”

  Liz shook her head as Cordelia left the store, clearly satisfied that her mission was complete. It was hard to say, though, if her real mission had been arranging that visit with her former pet, assuring that Archie stayed with Liz permanently or poking her nose into Liz’s business and giving her a less than subtle shove in Aidan’s direction. No matter which, Liz feared it was going to take all her concentration not to fall into the sneaky woman’s trap.

  Come to think of it, with Liz already promising to keep the dog and to take him by for a visit, Cordelia was batting an impressive two for three.

  5

  After his Saturday morning run, Aidan showered, then sat on his balcony with a cup of coffee, enjoying the soft morning air. It struck him as a picture-perfect start to the holiday weekend. To lend credence to his assessment, he noted that Main Street and Shore Road were both crowded with shoppers and with locals pausing literally in the middle of the street to catch up, while drivers waited more or less patiently.

  There wasn’t a parking space to be had, which made him grateful that most places he might want to go were within walking distance. Customers had been leaving Pet Style and the other stores laden down with packages. He counted that as a good sign for Liz’s business. The fact that he was suddenly interested in how the weather might impact Pet Style’s sales was a little too telling for his comfort.

  At one o’clock, tired of his own company, he went downstairs to Sally’s to grab a sandwich for lunch, but the café, too, was jammed. Sally signaled to him that a booth in back was about to open up, then led the way there even before the dishes could be cleared.

  “I’ll get back to you in a few minutes. Anything I can bring you to drink when I come?” she asked, her expression harried.

  “Iced tea would be great,” he said.

  “Sweetened?”

  Aidan had forgotten that most people around here preferred it that way. “Unsweetened, if you have it.”

  “Of course we do,” she said. “Hang in here. I’ll get back to you when I can. Haven’t had a day like this in months, so I’m not complaining.”

  “Take your time,” Aidan told her. “I’m in no hurry.”

  When she finally made her way back to him, she dropped down wearily on the seat opposite him. “Two minutes off my feet, that’s all I ask.”

  He grinned. “Are you suggesting I should take my time ordering, maybe discuss the specials?”

  “Smart man,” she said approvingly. “I recommend you order the crab cake sandwich with coleslaw and fries before we run out, but could you please ponder that for a few minutes?”

  He laughed. “You got it.”

  She studied him for a minute, then asked slyly, “Have you dropped in on Liz today?”

  The question probably should have surprised him, but he’d already grown used to how fast news of relationships—real or perceived—rocketed through town. “No, why? I imagine she’s as swamped as you are.”

  “Exactly. And since she’s never been through a holiday crush before, I imagine she didn’t think to bring her lunch. How about I fix her one of those crab cake sandwiches, too, and you can take it by when you leave. I’m sure she’d appreciate it.”

  Aidan nodded at once, probably a little too eagerly if the satisfied expression on Sally’s face was anything to go by. “I can definitely do that,” he responded.

  Sally chuckled, her expression smug. “Thought you might grab the chance. I had to see for myself if the rumors were true.”

  “What rumors are those?” he asked, though it didn’t take a genius to figure it out.

  She gave him a pitying look as she stood up. “Oh, please. Don’t try that innocent act on me. I’ve been around too long. I’ll get right on those specials. You can take your order next door while you’re at it and vacate this booth so I can cram in more customers—how’s that?”

  “Sounds like a plan,” Aidan said. “I’ll wait for you at the register.”

  She patted him on the shoulder. “Good boy. I like a man who can take a hint.”

  Maybe what she really liked, Aidan thought as he headed to the register, was a man so easily swayed into going along with her devious plans. He was beginning to see what Liz had been trying to tell him about Chesapeake Shores being a haven for well-meaning matchmakers. For the moment, though, that suited him just fine. Sally had just shoved him in a direction he’d been wanting to go all day without being willing to admit it.

  * * *

  Liz was trying valiantly to keep her cool as she rang up sales, answered questions and tried to guide people toward merchandise. She’d always considered herself to be decent at multitasking. With a roomful of elementary school students, she hadn’t had much choice. They, however, could be ordered into a time-out when she started to feel overwhelmed. The customers and the unruly wave of questions just kept coming. She had no choice but to keep smiling and cope.

  Not that she wasn’t grateful. Today was going exactly as she’d hoped it might. She’d just had no idea how exhausting success might feel a few hours into it. Her cheeks actually ached from keeping that smile in place.

  To top it off, she was star
ving. She hadn’t thought to bring so much as an apple with her today. Until now, she’d always had time to at least call in an order to Sally’s, then run over to pick it up. Not that she would have had two seconds to eat something today, unless it could be consumed through a straw while she was ringing up sales and putting things into uncooperative plastic bags that seemed deliberately impossible to open. She barely had time to look up and make eye contact with the customers.

  “Did you find everything?” she asked automatically, even as she handed off two bags to the previous customer.

  “I was looking for the owner,” a male voice announced.

  Her head snapped up. “Aidan! What are you doing here?”

  He held up a bag. “Sally thought you might be hungry. Judging from the chaos in here, I’m guessing she nailed it.”

  “You have no idea,” she said, eyeing the bag with longing. “What’s in there?”

  “A crab cake sandwich and coleslaw. French fries, too. I’ve been here a few minutes, but it should still be warm.”

  She closed her eyes and imagined it. Chunks of lump crabmeat seasoned perfectly and lightly fried with creamy coleslaw on top. Crispy french fries. She nearly moaned with pleasure.

  “It sounds heavenly,” she murmured.

  “I can attest to that. I slipped into your back room and took a couple of bites of mine, hoping the crowd out here might thin out any minute, but it seems pretty steady.”

  “It has been all day,” she said wearily, then grinned. “It’s exhausting, but absolutely wonderful, even better than I expected.”

  “How about this? I’ll take over at the register long enough for you to go in back and eat something. I left an iced tea back there for you, too. Sweet with lemon. Sally said that’s how you like it.”

  She eyed the bag with real regret. “It is, but I can’t possibly take a break.”

  He lifted a brow. “Are you worried I’ll take off with your cash?”

  “Of course not. But you don’t know the system.”

  “Is everything priced?”

  “Of course.”

  “And it has a bar code?”

  “Sure.”

  “And the register calculates the sales tax?”

  Liz nodded.

  “Then go. If I run into a problem, I’ll come and get you.”

  Still she fretted. “Can you do a credit card sale?”

  “I earned my spending money for college by working at Bloomingdale’s during the holidays.” He glanced around the store. As busy as it was, it hardly qualified as a holiday madhouse in New York. “I think I can handle this.”

  Before Liz could think about what she was doing, she put her hands on either side of his face and kissed him soundly. “You’re an angel sent from heaven.” The impulsive gesture was a shock to her system, but she didn’t have time to linger over the sensation. She could do that just before bedtime.

  Aidan chuckled. “There are some who’d dispute that,” he said, then handed her the bag with her lunch. “Enjoy your break. I promise not to give away the store.”

  Since there were several customers in line, she left him to it and hurried into the tiny back room, kicked off her shoes and sat down with a sigh of relief.

  Even as she noted that Aidan had come nowhere close to finishing his own meal, she opened her bag, took out a French fry, then took a long sip of the ice-cold tea. Nothing she’d ever eaten had tasted better, at least until she took her first bite of the sandwich.

  “Oh, sweet heaven,” she murmured. Aidan might not be an angel, but he’d surely been sent by one. Sally couldn’t have chosen a better meal to send over. Liz would have to thank her profusely tomorrow morning.

  As much as she wanted to stay off her feet and savor the delicious food, she hurried through it, washed her hands and headed back to the front of the still-packed store. Aidan was handling sales with an easy charm that had those in line laughing as they waited patiently for their turns.

  As Liz was heading to the register to relieve Aidan, a woman stopped her to ask about the custom doghouses. She pulled a picture of a Great Dane from her purse along with a picture of her sprawling home.

  “Do you think the designer could do something like this for my Petunia?” she asked Liz hopefully.

  Petunia? Liz thought, barely stifling a laugh. “I’m sure he could. Why don’t I give Matthew the pictures and your number and ask him to give you a call? You can work out the details directly with him.”

  “Will you still get a commission if I do that?” she asked worriedly. “I like to support small businesses whenever I can.”

  “Matthew and I will work that out,” Liz promised her, appreciative of her thoughtfulness. She jotted down the woman’s name and phone number to pass along to Matthew. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  The woman beamed. “Not a thing. That nice young man has already rung up my purchases, but he said I needed to speak to you about the custom doghouse.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how he did it, but I’m leaving here with at least three things I’m sure I didn’t intend to buy. You have a wonderful selection. You can count on me being a regular. I’m afraid I pamper Petunia outrageously. That dog is like a child to me.”

  As the woman left, a satisfied expression on her face, Liz glanced in Aidan’s direction. He was smiling at a group of women in a way that could have gotten anyone—or at least any female over the age of consent—to buy just about anything. Maybe he was more than an angel. Perhaps he was a secret weapon she ought to consider using on a much more regular basis.

  But, she told herself sternly, only as long as she could find some way to inoculate herself against all that charm that seemed to come so naturally. Her husband had been a lot like that, charming everyone he met. She’d learned way too late to distrust that, but it was a lesson she wasn’t likely to forget.

  * * *

  “How was lunch?” Aidan asked when Liz eventually made her way back to the front of the store.

  “Delicious,” she said. “Thank you. And thanks for the break, too. I think I can handle things from now on out. You should go back and finish your own lunch before it’s ice-cold.”

  “I had plenty,” he insisted. “Do you have help coming in?”

  She shook her head. “There’s a high school girl who comes in after school a few days a week, but her family was going away for the weekend.”

  Aidan frowned. “It wasn’t very responsible of her to bail on you on a holiday weekend.”

  Liz shrugged. “I didn’t think it was a big deal at the time. I know better now. Tess is hoping for more hours this summer and now I can safely tell her she’ll get them.”

  “How about I hang around, at least until the crowd slows down. You can work your magic answering questions and I can stay up here at the register.”

  “I can’t ask you to do that,” she protested.

  “You didn’t ask. It’s not as if I have other pressing things to do. I’ve been enjoying the chance to talk to people.” Unsaid was that he liked watching her in action, too. She had a quiet sales manner that seemed to make people instinctively trust her. And her enthusiasm for the merchandise was plain. It was a potent combination that excited people, but assured they never felt pressured.

  Glancing around at the number of people still milling about, she seemed to reach a conclusion. “If you’re sure you don’t mind, I’d be grateful for the help, but only until things quiet down.”

  “Agreed,” he said at once. “Now go. There’s someone else looking longingly at that doghouse. I think you can sell another one.”

  Liz immediately scurried off in that direction, leaving him to ring up sales and chat with the tourists, who seemed to have come from all over the region. Many were staying at The Inn at Eagle Point and raving about the food. Others we
re asking for tips on other shops and restaurants.

  “I’m new to town, but I’ve heard good things about Brady’s seafood,” he told them. “And I can testify firsthand that O’Brien’s has a terrific, authentic Irish pub menu. If you’re looking for something simple, like a burger or a crab cake sandwich, Sally’s right up the block is terrific. It’s very popular with all the locals.”

  He was amused to realize he was starting to sound like a spokesman for the Chamber of Commerce. Not that he was likely to do this on a regular basis, but he really did need to get around more if he was going to be passing out recommendations.

  As that tourist left, he started ringing up yet another sale, when he realized the woman was studying him intently.

  “You’re the new football coach, aren’t you?” she said.

  “Aidan Mitchell,” he confirmed.

  “I’m Pamela Hobbs. My son is the team quarterback. He’ll be a senior next year, so his father and I are expecting great things from him.”

  “I’m still getting to know the players,” Aidan told her, wise enough to word his response carefully. “We’re a long way from settling how next fall’s team will shape up, but Coach Gentry definitely told me about your son. I’m looking forward to seeing him in action. I hope to get in a couple of scrimmages before school’s out.”

  She frowned at his response. “Surely you’re not considering making any changes to the roster.”

  Aidan saw the minefield. “It’s much too early to say.”

  She looked as if she was about to argue, but instead she gave a tug to her tight, scoop-neck T-shirt to display even more cleavage before fluffing her perfectly highlighted chestnut hair. Holding his gaze, she suggested, “Perhaps we could have a drink and discuss this further.”

  He bit back a smile. “Sorry. As you can see, I’m busy.”

  She frowned at that. “You’re not working here, are you?”

  “I’m helping out a friend.”

  “Well, I’m sure she won’t mind if you take care of something that is related to your job as the coach.”