It had proven so popular Sage had begun to consider expanding her square footage. But so far she hadn’t taken any action on the plan.
“So, Rosie,” Portia said, “tell me about yourself.”
Rosie swirled her spoon through the whipped cream and cocoa. “Not much to say. I’m probably the most boring person in Marietta.”
“I don’t believe that.”
“I’ve lived here all my life. Only had one job and that’s this one.”
“What about guys? Do you have a boyfriend?”
“No one serious. To be honest, I haven’t dated anyone in at least six months.”
Portia’s eyes rounded. No doubt she would consider a month to be an intolerable dry spell.
“I’m in a rut, and not a good one,” Rosie admitted. “When I was in high school, my father began suffering from serious complications from his diabetes. Against his protests, I put off going to college so he wouldn’t have to go into a care home.”
“You must have been really close.”
“It’s been just the two of us for a long time. My brother is twelve years older. I can hardly remember when he lived at home. And my mom died from cancer several years ago.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Dad took her death especially hard. He used to write bestselling thrillers, but after Mom died he never wrote again.”
“How tragic.”
“Yes. It’s been tough.”
“I can see why you want to move. What are your plans when you get to L.A.?”
Rosie told her about Daniel and his wife. “They’ve promised to find me a job of some sort,” she finished vaguely, not wanting to reveal her writing aspirations. “I’m willing to try anything to get out of this town.”
“Not that Marietta is a bad place,” Rosie added quickly. “I just need a change.”
“I know that feeling,”
Rosie raised her eyebrows inquiringly.
Portia seemed on the verge of elaborating, but then the door opened and Sage rushed in. Even with her hair in a messy updo, and wearing yoga gear with a toddler perched on her hip, Sage looked gorgeous.
Rosie immediately leapt to her feet, worried her boss would think she’d been lazing around. While Sage was one of the sweetest people Rosie knew, she had exacting standards when it came to her chocolate shop.
But Sage wasn’t even looking at Rosie.
“Portia what’s going on? Shouldn’t you be at college in Seattle?”
And suddenly, shockingly, Portia started to cry.
Chapter Two
This town sure is full of pretty women. As Brant Willington passed a sweet, young thing, lugging a big suitcase along Main Street, his thoughts were still on the chocolate shop sales clerk. The fifteen minutes he spent chatting with Rosie and resisting her attempts to get him to buy something new were the highlight of his Friday afternoons. If he was in a different place in his life, he’d be tempted to ask her out.
But he had no time for dating. Between his job and his obligations to Sara Maria he was pretty much tapped out.
Thinking of the evening ahead, his stomach felt the way it had as a kid when he’d been in the waiting room for the dentist. The antiseptic smell, the whining of the drill, those things had made him want to bolt.
Which was what he longed to do right now.
If this had been a regular Friday night three months earlier, he would be in the bar with his buddies right now, looking forward to a few games of pool and possibly a little dancing and romancing, if he found the right girl.
But those days were gone now. Probably forever.
Brant forced his feet to move in the direction of the May Bell Care Home. The small town was quiet in the aftermath of the rodeo, but with the aspen leaves newly golden, he’d never seen it look prettier. Longingly he glanced down the block to Grey’s Saloon, before turning on Second, then again on Church.
And there it was.
From the outside it looked pleasant enough. A three story brick building with nice landscaping out front, including two benches, which were both currently occupied.
He nodded at an older lady settled on the bench to his left, with her hands resting on her walker.
“Good afternoon, Mrs. Powell.”
“Hello, Brant. It’s nice to see you. Your visits are the highlight of her week you know.”
Mrs. Powell was so arthritic she could hardly walk, but mentally she was a force to be reckoned with. Brant considered it both a blessing and a curse that she had the room next to Sara Maria’s.
Inside, he stopped briefly to check-in at reception, before turning right and walking to the end of the hall. The door to Sara Maria’s room was shut, which meant she was still watching Jeopardy.
Brant squared his shoulders. Sara Maria had been born ten years after him. He’d adored his cute baby sister at first, and the feeling had been mutual. His mom had always said that when Brant was in the room Sara Maria would look at no one else.
Then Sara Maria turned two. And all of a sudden she’d changed. She’d become quiet and withdrawn. No more smiles, no more adoring gazes at her brother. After numerous doctors’ appointments and hours of scouring the internet, his mother had come to realize Sara Maria was autistic.
Family life had never been the same after that, especially once their father left. Their mother had borne the brunt of the burden, until three months ago, when she’d been killed in a car crash.
Now Brant was the head of the family. If only he had half the strength and patience of his mother.
Brant inhaled deeply, then tapped on the door and walked into the darkened room. Sara Maria had closed the curtains to eliminate any glare on the TV screen. She was sitting in her chair, gaze fixed on her favorite show. She didn’t even glance at him as he crossed in front of her to perch on the edge of her neatly made bed.
On screen the show host gave the name of a city.
“What is the capital of Belize,” Sara Maria responded quickly, before any of the contestants.
“How the hell did you know that?” Brant shook his head in amazement.
She didn’t have the good judgement to turn off the stove burner after using it, yet she knew facts about the world he had no clue about.
Predictably Sara Maria ignored his praise. When she was watching television or a movie, she devoted one-hundred percent of her concentration to it.
Five minutes later, after the show had ended, Brant knew enough to let all the credits roll and wait for a commercial to start playing before turning off the TV. To do otherwise, to shorten her program by so much as one second, could cause a tantrum.
The moment the room was silent, Sara Maria finally looked at him. “Did you bring me my chocolates?”
He resisted the urge to tease her by pretending he’d forgotten. Such pranks never ended well.
“Sure did.” He handed her the bag.
“Thank you, Brant.”
“No problem.” He went to the window and pushed open the curtains, so he could stare out at the view while she ate the first of her treats. He didn’t need to watch to know she would first lick the pink flecks of salt from the top, then the chocolate coating on each side of the square until all that was left was the caramel, at which point she would finally pop the damn thing in her mouth.
He’d had sixteen years to get used to his sister’s peculiarities and her obsession with routine. But not until three months ago had he realized how much his mother had acted as a buffer between the two of them.
Mom had filled the awkward silences with cheerful chatter. She’d protected Sara Maria, while giving her son the freedom he’d craved.
Only now did Brant wonder if she’d felt as trapped as he did.
“I’m finished. Can we go for pizza now?”
“Maybe we should try the Main Street Diner for a change,” he teased.
She didn’t even smile. She almost never did.
“Friday is pizza night.”
Her total lack of a sense of humor w
as tough to deal with. He remembered complaining to his mom, who had cautioned him not to judge. “You’re not so normal yourself, Brant. Who grows up to be a cowboy in this day and age?”
Touché, Mom.
“Yup, let’s go for pizza.” He handed his sister her jacket, careful to not touch her fingers. Sara Maria hated physical contact.
The Pizza Parlor was on Front Street, conveniently located less than a block from the movie theater where they’d be going next. Their walk was a silent one. If Sara Maria had any thoughts, she didn’t share them, and neither did Brant share his, which had circled back to the curly-haired clerk at the chocolate shop, with the sweet, round face. He wondered what she was doing this evening. Probably something a heck of a lot more interesting than he was.
The silence between him and his sister continued after they’d been seated in a booth and handed menus they wouldn’t need because they always ordered the same thing.
Several years ago, his sister had turned vegetarian after watching an upsetting documentary on the meat processing industry. Even their mother’s attempts to source “happy” chickens and “free range” beef hadn’t swayed Sara Maria, and eventually all their family meals became vegetarian because she wouldn’t touch her food if there was any sort of meat product on the table.
As they waited for their veggie pizza and colas to arrive, Brant glanced around at the other diners. There were several families as well as couples out on a date night. He glanced longingly at a table of guys who looked to be in their late twenties like him. He’d bet their biggest worry right now was whether they’d be able to talk any ladies into dancing with them later tonight at Grey’s.
As Brant was watching, one of the guys at the table noticed Sara Maria. He sat up tall, the way a guy would do when he spotted a pretty woman. But after a few seconds the guy’s admiring smile was replaced by a puzzled shrug.
It was a familiar reaction.
Brant’s sister was very pretty, with light blonde hair and delicately feminine features.
It was only on the second glance, or possibly the third, that someone picked up the “different” vibe. And that was obviously what the guy at the other table was sensing.
Brant looked for their server, anxious for the food to arrive so he’d have something to focus on besides his sister’s quiet presence. He took a sip of water, then adjusted his place setting.
“Stop playing with your cutlery,” Sara Maria said, mirroring the very words his mother had often spoken to him.
Brant let out a breath of relief as he spied the server coming with their order.
He’d only finished his first slice, when Sara Maria said, “Mom is in heaven.”
Brant’s stomach tightened, and his appetite ebbed. “Yup.”
“She’s never coming back.”
“No.” He reached for his cola.
Why did she insist on saying these things every, single time he saw her? He got that she couldn’t help her various eccentricities. But why did talking about their mother’s death have to be one of them?
Aware his sister was still looking at him, Brant gulped the rest of his cola, then pulled out his wallet.
“I’m not finished eating.”
“No rush,” he lied.
It wasn’t until twenty minutes later, when they were seated in the theater watching previews for upcoming movies that Brant could finally relax. This was the only time he truly enjoyed being with his sister, mostly because he could sort of forget about her. As long as he bought her a small box of popcorn and a bottle of water, as long as the movie wasn’t overly sexual or violent, he could count on her being still and quiet until the credits finished rolling.
And, yes, they had to stay until the screen had gone dark before they could finally leave.
But Brant didn’t mind that part, just as the walk back to the care home would be fine as well. His sister liked to analyze movies after she’d seen them, and she did just as good a job as any film critic he’d ever seen on television. Generally, she would talk without the need for any response from him about the film for the entire walk home, at which point he could hand her over to the care of the evening nurse with a clear conscience.
After all, he’d done his duty.
And he’d have an entire week to himself, before he had to do it all over again.
Only this night didn’t go according to plan.
The night nurse at the care home was waiting for him when they walked in the main doors. Donna was a short woman, with stocky legs and tight blonde curls, about mid-thirties. While she had a quick and easy smile, her eyes always seemed to be quietly judging him.
Or that was how she made him feel, anyway.
“Hi, Sara Maria. Did you have a nice night out with your brother?”
“The movie was rated seventy-four on Rotten Tomatoes. I think it should have been seventy-eight, at least.”
“Is that so?” She turned to Brant. “Before you leave, could I have a quick word?”
“Sure,” he said, feeling ambushed.
Leaving Sara Maria to head to her room and prepare for bed, the nurse led Brant to the first floor lounge room, where they both sat down.
“Brant, Margie from admin has been trying to reach you.”
He nodded, guiltily aware of not having returned any of her messages.
“You can’t keep avoiding her, Brant. Or the fact that your sister no longer fits in here with us at the care home.”
Oh, God. He so did not want to hear this.
“When you first brought her to us in July, she was hardly eating, and wouldn’t communicate with anyone.”
He nodded. His sister had taken their mother’s death badly, in fact had suffered a total breakdown. She’d been hospitalized for several weeks before she’d finally improved to a state where he could move her here.
“At that point, she was a good candidate for us. But this last month she’s made remarkable strides. Emotionally, she’s on an even keel. And she manages all of her daily needs completely independently.”
Brant studied the nurse’s eyes, trying to figure out if he could appeal to her sympathy. “Yeah, but she’s still not capable of living on her own.”
“Is there another family member she could move in with?”
He thought of his dad, who’d been out of their lives since Sara Maria’s autism diagnosis. Remarried with two young children, their father made it clear he was good for the occasional visit and regular financial contributions to Sara Maria’s care and nothing else.
“Not really.”
She shook her head, looking genuinely worried. “I’m not sure what to suggest then. Maybe you could explore other living arrangements for the two of you?”
He crossed his arms over his chest. “I work on a ranch outside of Bozeman and live in a bunkhouse with three other guys.”
“I see. Well, that is tricky.”
“I brought Sara Maria here on the understanding this would be a long-term arrangement. My sister likes routine. She’d be upset if I moved her.”
“We’re not going to kick her out, if that’s what you’re afraid of. But you need to think about what’s best for your sister. She’s bored here, I’m afraid. Her potential—which is much greater than we initially accessed—is terribly underutilized.”
Brant stared at the woman as if she’d just handed him a prison sentence.
But it wasn’t Nurse Donna’s fault. His fate had been imposed the moment after his mother died.
His sister’s welfare was in his hands and it would remain that way for the rest of his life.
No chance of parole.
Chapter Three
Sage was handing Portia a copper apron when Rosie arrived for work on Saturday morning.
“Good morning, Rosie,” Sage said. “I’m glad you’re here. You can show Portia how to ring in sales and explain how our pricing works. I’ve just outlined the shop rules concerning dress and cleanliness.”
Sage sounded distracted, which meant her mi
nd was on something else… no doubt she had some chocolates at a delicate stage of production.
“I guess you got the job.” Rosie smiled at Portia. “Congratulations.”
Portia and Sage exchanged a glance loaded with emotion. Rosie imagined they’d had a long discussion last night. No doubt Sage had tried to talk her niece into finishing her degree, but obviously she hadn’t succeeded.
“Portia will be working rotating hours, some days with you, others with Dakota,” Sage said. “She’s also agreed to handle some of our marketing duties, like maintaining the website and organizing special events.”
“That’s great.” Sage was awesome at creating delicious chocolate treats, but in Rosie’s view she didn’t spend nearly as much effort on promotion as she should.
Besides, it would be fun to have someone new to work with. After just a few hours, Portia proved to be a quick learner. Business was a bit more brisk now that it was the weekend, but between customers they chatted about music, fashion, and their mutual love for quirky rom-coms.
Several times Rosie was tempted to tell Portia about the TV pilot she and Daniel were working on. It had some elements that reminded her of the Gilmore Girls, but with more action and a thread of mystery running throughout. She just knew Portia would love it.
But talking about the pilot would mean coming clean about her part in the writing. And it was too soon for that.
At lunch time, Sage came out of the kitchen looking pleased. “My dark chocolate truffles turned out perfectly. Why don’t the two of you take your lunch break together? I’ll watch the shop until you’re back.”
Happy for the rare opportunity to go out for lunch—normally she ate a sandwich and apple from home—Rosie whipped her apron over her head.
“I need to use the restroom first,” Portia said. “Meet you out front in a few minutes?”
“Sure.” Rosie was going to sit on the outside bench and soak up some sunshine, but Sage stopped her.
“Could I have a quick word, Rosie?”
Her mouth went dry. Surely Sage wasn’t going to fire her to make room for her niece? Though she was planning to leave, eventually, Rosie had hoped to work as long as she was still living in Marietta.
Melt My Heart, Cowboy (Love at the Chocolate Shop Book 1) Page 2