The Timeless Love Romance Collection

by Dianne Christner

  Willa shook her head. “So you were a holy terror?”

  “And not so good at English, either. But I seldom played hooky from her class. Even on beautiful days like this.” He leaned toward her and grinned. “So why don’t we take advantage of the day and go for a walk?”

  “I have a feeling you won’t take no for an answer.”

  “You have the right feeling.” After he took a few sips of his soda, Garrison left a dime on the counter and strode along with Willa. She expected him to start asking questions as soon as they left the drugstore, but the walk to the park was spent in compatible silence. The warm, overcast day was perfect for a picnic. Most of the shopkeepers and clerks took advantage of good weather by eating lunch in the park, but since noon was well past, Garrison and Willa were able to find a bench where they could sit and talk privately.

  “If you think you’re going to find out what upset me the other night, think again,” Willa told him. “As much as I enjoyed the picnic, that doesn’t entitle you to know everything about me.”

  “Ah, a woman of mystery. But it would seem I am entitled to know if I did anything to upset you.”

  “You didn’t.”

  “Do you mean that?”

  “Yes.”

  “All right then. The subject is officially closed.” Garrison folded his arms and began watching a couple pigeons flutter and chase a few crumbs someone had apparently spilled from a box of cookies earlier.

  At that moment, Willa regretted she couldn’t share everything with Garrison. She hardly knew him, but she somehow felt she could trust him with anything. Reticence held her back from sharing how Dirk had humiliated her. If she told him the story of the breakup, then Garrison might wonder why Dirk didn’t want her. And if her high school sweetheart, a young man who supposedly knew her well, had dumped her, why should Garrison, a total stranger, want her as more than a dinner companion? At least that’s what she imagined she would be thinking if she were in Garrison’s shoes.

  Contrary to Garrison’s assumptions, Willa was hardly a woman of mystery. An act like that might intrigue a man for an evening or two, but his curiosity wouldn’t last long. Perhaps sharing a lesser secret would be best.

  “All right,” she said aloud. “I’ll tell you why I’m out this time of day, and it’s enough to make anyone blue. I’m out because I no longer have a job. I was fired.”

  “Recently? As in yesterday?” he inquired.

  Willa nodded.

  “I’ll bet I can guess why. A man returning from the war needed your job.”

  “Bingo. You probably don’t know Mr. Henson. He’s our local lawyer. I helped him with general office-type stuff. But as soon as his nephew came home from the war, I was history.” Willa let out a resigned sigh. “Same thing happened to my girlfriends with their jobs.”

  He shrugged. “Seems reasonable to me. I’m sure most men have families to support.”

  “I suppose.” Willa knew she didn’t sound convinced. “It just doesn’t seem fair, though. I did the job as well as any man.”

  “I don’t doubt it. And you’re right. It doesn’t seem fair.”

  “You’re just saying that to be nice.” She folded her arms defensively.

  “I’m nice, but not that nice.” Garrison chuckled. He situated himself on his elbows, looking into the sky as though he were contemplating the shapes of the clouds. After remaining pensive for only a few moments, he sat upright and snapped his fingers. He leaned toward her. “Say, I have an idea! Why don’t you work for me as my assistant?”

  Willa laughed, remembering Garrison’s pained expression when he tried her Apple Avocado Amazement. “That’s a nice thought, but your job is preparing food that can take a blue ribbon at the county fair, remember? I don’t think you and my cooking go too well together.”

  He gave her an indulgent smile. “I don’t want you to cook. I want you to answer my phone, take care of my accounting, answer letters. You know. General office-type stuff.” He winked.

  Willa wasn’t sure his offer was serious. “But what about all those poor former servicemen with families to support?”

  “I doubt if they look anything as good as you.” His countenance turned serious. “I admit I do have an ulterior motive. I’m hoping if you’re my secretary, you might agree to sell me some of your flowers for decorations. I don’t know of anyone else who can grow roses as beautiful as yours.”

  She gasped aloud, bringing a hand to her throat. “You really want to buy my flowers?”

  “Why not? They’re better than most professional florists could provide. You obviously have a knack for gardening.”

  Willa thought for a moment. Garrison was right. Maintaining the house for her brothers wasn’t enough to keep her occupied all day. Even with volunteering at her church and weekly Bible study, she still had time to spare. Working outside the home would give her a little pocket money. And she could never ask for a job she’d enjoy more than working with flowers. Why not take him up on his offer?

  She nodded once. “All right. I’ll do it. When do I start?”

  “How’s tomorrow morning at nine sharp?”

  “Nine sharp it is.” Willa felt as though she were dreaming. To work for Garrison! In her heart, she knew there was another reason she wanted to take the job. To be near him.

  That was a secret she would have to keep to herself.

  Chapter 5

  That’s it. The last stroke of paint. We’re done.” Willa stepped back from the living-room wall, now painted a cool shade of gold. The color reminded Garrison of the sun shining on a pleasant spring day, much like the one they were enjoying at the moment.

  “Hear hear! Let’s have a round of applause for all of us hardworking painters!” Don, who’d been helping Garrison and Willa paint, clapped loudly.

  “No matter what you decide to do with this room, Garrison, I think you’ll enjoy this color,” Willa observed.

  Garrison didn’t answer. A lump formed in his throat. He never thought he’d miss the old place, but now that the renovations were finally finished, he found himself reluctant to leave.

  The house wasn’t the only reason. Three seasons had passed since he’d first met Willa on a hot summer day. Now spring was in full flush, and the woman standing next to him had grown from an acquaintance to a true friend. As she’d promised, she’d shown up for work at nine sharp the morning after he offered her the job as his assistant. From there they had developed an easy friendship. Willa’s beauty, both internal and external, hadn’t gone unnoticed by Garrison. Because he planned to return to his home state one day, he didn’t dare let on that he’d like a deeper relationship with Willa. In spite of the temptation she offered, Garrison had been careful to maintain a close distance.

  Guilt pangs had shot through his conscience as he watched Willa paint his house, a job that definitely blurred the line between the professional and personal. He hadn’t planned on her taking up a paintbrush, but she’d thrown herself into the task with a cheery demeanor and recruited her brother to boot. Moving the brush up and down in even strokes seemed to relax her. Willa was obviously pleased with the tangible rewards of her work. She’d helped him select stylish yet tasteful hues for each room. Every space looked fresh, ready for new occupants. If only …

  Willa interrupted his musings. “I’ve got roast beef hash at home in the icebox.”

  “Sounds like a winner,” Don said. “Let me be the first to wash up. I’m starved.”

  Garrison chuckled as he watched Don depart. “Willa, you’re always prepared. You remind me of Rosalind Russell in His Girl Friday.”

  “Oh do I?” Tilting her head, she placed a dainty hand on each hip. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

  “Naturally. You’re always one step ahead of me.” Garrison swallowed. What would he do without Willa? At that moment, he realized what he’d been trying to deny for months. He didn’t want to go back to Maryland any longer, even though that’s where his family and old friends were. A job wa
s no problem. He’d been promised a chef’s position at a friend’s restaurant in Baltimore, a city famous for seafood. Garrison was a natural at creating melt-in-your-mouth crab cakes and succulent, buttery lobster tail. He hadn’t seen a mussel or crustacean since he left the East Coast. There was nary a Virginia ham in all of Kansas, as far as he could tell. All the Midwesterners he’d met wanted beef. Beef, beef, and more beef. Rare, medium, well done. With or without gravy. Any kind of meat would do, as long as it came from a cow.

  His thoughts wandered to the ocean, its lapping waves making soothing sounds as they ran upon the sand. How he missed lying on the beach, building sand castles, and letting the sun’s intense rays warm his body. He sighed.

  “A penny for your thoughts,” Willa offered.

  “Huh? You heard me?”

  “I heard the most mournful sigh. Are you thinking about Maryland again?”

  “Yes. I do miss it.”

  “We are in the twentieth century. There are planes, you know,” she reminded him.

  “Are you suggesting I should take one?”

  “As long as you don’t stay forever.”

  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, Willa’s beautiful face turned the most becoming shade of pink. She turned away from him and pretended to be engrossed once more in putting away the leftover paint.

  Unwilling to pry, Garrison didn’t press Willa about her feelings. Aside from her last remark, which he could tell hadn’t been planned, Willa had done little to indicate she was interested in him beyond the easy camaraderie that developed through their work relationship. Could he have been blind all this time? Could Willa possibly look at him as more than a friend?

  Don poked his head in the doorway. “Ready to go?”

  “I am,” Willa answered. “Garrison, you will be having dinner with us, won’t you?”

  “Sure he’s eating with us,” Don interjected. “He’s got to drive us home anyway. He might as well stay.”

  “As if you don’t see enough of me already. What with Willa working for me every weekday, and us being in the same Sunday school class …”

  “Trust me, Don would tell you if he didn’t want you around. Isn’t that right, brother dear?”

  “That’s right,” Don agreed.

  “Besides,” Willa added, “I’ve already looked in your icebox. I know all you’ve got in there is a bottle of soda pop.”

  “All right. You win,” Garrison conceded. “That’s the best offer I’ve had all day. I’ll be out as soon as I wash up.”

  After Garrison washed up, he met Willa at the car. “I can’t believe it,” he said as he opened the door on her side of the car.

  “Can’t believe what?”

  “How you’ve gotten attached to Goodie Woodie.” Before she could answer, he ambled around to the driver’s side and slid in the seat beside her.

  “What makes you think I’ve gotten attached?”

  “You don’t complain about her anymore.”

  “I never thought I did,” she protested.

  Garrison grinned. “Not in so many words. But I remember the look of horror on your face when you first saw her. And I remember how embarrassed you were when people recognized you. I think you wished the floorboard would develop a hole so you could slink through it and escape through a manhole in the street.”

  She laughed. “I was that bad, huh?”

  “Yes, she was,” Don piped up from the backseat.

  “Enough of that, or you won’t get any hash,” Willa teased.

  “That’s all right. She takes a little getting used to,” Garrison admitted.

  “Which one?” Don asked. “The car or my sister?”

  “Very funny. You’re a regular Bob Hope.” Willa shook her head. “I have to admit, I kind of like riding around in her now. Everybody knows us, and they always wave.”

  “She is a bit conspicuous,” Garrison noted as he parked in front of Willa’s house. He peered into the side yard as he set the parking brake. “I see the roses have begun to bloom.”

  “Yes, the first few buds have made an appearance. I don’t get as many blooms from the ones I grow outdoors as I do from my plants in your hot house, though. I guess I’ve gotten spoiled. The weather isn’t so reliable.”

  Garrison thought back to when he’d first agreed to put up a small hot house on his property for Willa to grow flowers for winter events. Even though he’d told himself he wouldn’t be there to enjoy it long, he figured the investment would increase the property’s value. Since it was erected, Willa had expanded her expertise to include orchids and other exotic blooms. Willa’s flowers had soon come into demand for events not even related to Gaines Goodies. Garrison only hoped the new owners of the house would allow Willa to use the hot house for her business.

  “Maybe the weather isn’t always perfect, but you still manage to coax blooms from the most difficult breeds,” Don told his sister as they exited the station wagon.

  Willa shot her brother a look of thanks before turning her attention to Garrison. “Speaking of difficult breeds, I want to show you the blooms on one of my rose plants. They’re lilac pink. See if you think they’d be any good for the Brewster wedding.”

  “While you two are talking flowers, I’ll go in and set the table for supper,” said Don. “But don’t take all day. I’m hungry!”

  “We’ll try not to,” Willa answered.

  Garrison seemed doubtful about Willa’s choice in flowers. “I think the bride would really like blue roses. Will she be satisfied with lilac?” he wondered aloud as they walked to the garden.

  “She’ll probably have to be. There really aren’t any blue roses. Some breeders wish they could come up with a rose that is truly blue, but I don’t see how they ever will because the blue color pigment isn’t present.” She led him near the middle of the garden, where a shrub with round blooms waited. “Here she is. One of the best old roses. The Reine Victoria.”

  Garrison let out a whistle. “Beautiful.”

  “I think I’ll suggest that we mix these with white in her bouquet, and yellow for the bridesmaids’ bouquets, to match their dresses.”

  He nodded. “Sounds great. I don’t think you’ll have much trouble convincing her.” Garrison studied the lilac blooms. “Why don’t you enter one of these specimens in the fair this year?”

  “The fair?” Willa shrugged. “Oh, I don’t know. Do you really think it would stand a chance of winning anything?”

  “Are you joking? Everyone knows you grow the most beautiful flowers anywhere around. I think they’re even more popular than my cooking, sometimes.”

  “I don’t think so. But thanks.”

  As she contemplated his suggestion, Garrison noticed for the hundredth time how the golden streaks in her yellow hair caught the sun, making the strands sparkle like a multifaceted diamond solitaire.

  “You know, Garrison,” Willa said, obviously oblivious to his thoughts, “if it hadn’t been for you, I never would have considered selling my flowers. You gave me the confidence I needed.”

  “I don’t take any credit for that. You did everything on your own. Although I might fill out the form for you to enter some of these in the fair, just to make sure you don’t conveniently forget.”

  “But I’m going to enter the cooking contest again this year. I’ll be busy enough with that.”

  Garrison tried not to grimace. “Uh, is your entry anything like last year’s?”

  “Nope.” She shook her head. “This year it will be either a fruit salad or a beef dish.”

  “So why do you want to enter the cooking contest?”

  Willa’s blue eyes widened as if to say he was crazy for asking a question with such an apparent answer. “Because Mother always entered, of course. She won first place many years.”

  “So?”

  “What do you mean, so?” Willa’s voice had taken on a defensive tone.

  “I think it’s wonderful that your mother’s cooking was recognized with blue ribbons.”
Garrison tried to speak softly. “But does that mean you have to enter the cooking contest? Your talents lie in gardening. Why not make the most of that instead?”

  “But Mrs. Sours always takes first place in Rose Specimens.”

  “So?” he challenged her again. “Give her some competition.”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Winning a blue ribbon every year means so much to her. Besides, she was my first-grade teacher. If I enter against her, everyone would think I’d gotten too big for my britches.”

  Garrison laughed aloud. “You take the cake, Willa. Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re not a little girl anymore.”

  Willa flushed, her cheeks turning a most flattering crimson. “I know, but my brothers would be terribly disappointed if I didn’t enter the bakeoff. And anyway, I’ve already started looking through Mother’s old recipes. Maybe I can duplicate her chocolate mousse.”

  “That’s quite ambitious. Chocolate mousse is more difficult than you might imagine.”

  “Really?” Willa asked. “How bad can it be? It’s just melting a little chocolate, whipping some cream, pop it in the icebox, and voila!”

  Garrison tried not to laugh. “How about I teach you how to make it? I’ll even let you use my recipe, as long as you promise not to share it with anyone else.”

  “Really? You’d do that? For me?”

  “I certainly wouldn’t do it for anyone else. Except perhaps, for my own mother.”

  “This is wonderful! I can make individual dishes for the next wedding rehearsal dinner we’ve booked. I know the Whitneys will be impressed.”

  “I’m sure they will be. But please let me supervise the process.”

  “Oh, I don’t need supervision. Didn’t you just say I’m a big girl now?” Her voice grew faster. “After everyone tries the mousse, it’ll be a cinch to win the blue ribbon at the fair!” The excitement in her eyes showed she meant what she said.

  “I don’t know.”

  Willa wasn’t paying any attention to reason. Her hands were clasped, and she was bobbing up and down on her toes as though she’d just won a million-dollar sweepstakes. “Don and Ron will be so proud! What a wonderful tribute to Mother!”