by JoAnn Durgin
“Whoa. Slow down there.” Thornton raised his hands. “Where you and Arnie choose to worship is between you and the Lord. It’s no one else’s business. You won’t hear anything about it or get any flack or judgmental words from me.”
“I know, and I love you for it.”
He shot her a sympathetic glance but ducked when she started to ruffle his hair. “I’m sure those looks were prompted out of concern and because they missed you in church, Andrea. Chin up.” He checked his watch.
She laughed. “She’ll be here. I guess Vara was too nice to correct me when I called her Sarah last week. I hope she’ll be able to help Charlotte, though. That’s the main thing.”
“So far, so good,” he said. “Vara worked with her at Mercy Grace, and their first session here in Cherish went well.”
“Well, la-di-da with her coming out here on a house call, but isn’t that nice? For you and Charlotte. Vara’s a real pretty name, but I’ve never heard it before.”
“It’s Greek,” he said. “Distinctive. I think it suits her well.”
“I didn’t say it didn’t.” Andrea angled her head in the direction of the chalkboard. “I’d say the quote on the board today is appropriate if she orders death by chocolate again.”
“Let’s hope she comes in to appreciate it.” He grinned and checked the front window again. “Happy now?”
“Yes, and like I said, she’ll be here. I can pretty much guarantee it.” As she started to clean a nearby table, she eyed him. “You’re not fooling anyone, you know. Here’s an idea. You should ask Vara to the Valentine Dance.”
Thornton swallowed his coffee and then coughed into his fist. “Since Vara’s coming to Cherish in a professional capacity, I don’t know how she’d feel about being hit on by her patient’s grandson.”
An odd expression crossed the coffee shop owner’s face, but it disappeared quickly. “The Thornton Fielding I know wouldn’t let that stop him. It’s not being hit on if there’s a mutual attraction. From what I know, you two set the rumor mill buzzing the other day. I felt like a celebrity with everyone asking me about the new girl in town.” Andrea squeezed his shoulder as she scooted around the table. “Kind of reminds me of a few years ago when those reporters came in here looking for you—”
“The joys of living in a small town…or being from one.” Thornton sipped his coffee, hoping she’d let that thread drop.
“You love it and don’t try to tell me any different. Besides, Charlotte’s her patient, not you. It’s called getting to know someone, Thorny. You’re old enough to be getting married and having kids. Better get on the stick, old man.”
“Promise not to call me Thorny, especially in Vara’s presence, and I’ll think about it. Give me some time. I’ve still got a little life left in me. Did you not catch the George Clooney references?”
“I did. You’re smooth like George, too. But thank the Lord you don’t walk a black, pot–bellied pig around town on a leash. That sure would stir up the townsfolk.” She laughed at the thought.
“There’s an idea. I might consider it.”
“Ask Vara to the dance, and then we’ll reassess.”
Thornton lifted his cup in a salute. “This is some great coffee, Andrea.”
“Talk with you later, sugar.” With a sassy hip bump to his shoulder, she headed into the other room.
He stared at the pastry he’d bought. He felt a little lightheaded after two tiny bites. No wonder he didn’t usually eat sweets. Maybe a gorgeous brunette might care to share. He could hope.
No subconscious motive there, Thorn.
The coffee shop owner was right about one thing. He’d obsessed enough about Vara over the weekend to the point where he could be that teenage boy. He was 34 and way too old to crush on someone. He’d had his share of relationships, albeit short-lived, but none where he’d thought the woman could be “the one.” Nothing was wrong with a grown man admitting he hoped to find the love of his life. Prayed for it, even.
Deep down, he wanted kids and a family—a normal family instead of the somewhat dysfunctional one he’d had where his parents were gone as much as they were home, and he’d been frequently pawned off on his grandmother. Maybe it was uncharitable to think of it in those terms. His parents had done the best they could, and he missed them, but it seemed he might have some lingering anger issues.
“You look contemplative this morning.”
Ah, yes. Miss Alexandris had arrived.
Thornton smiled. His morning had just become a whole lot brighter.
Chapter Nine
Vara slid into the chair across from him, appearing fresh-faced on this cold, blustery Monday morning. So pretty. Thornton coached himself not to lean across the table and plant a kiss on her soft-looking lips. But…no. Doing so would be the quickest route of saying good-bye to even the possibility of a relationship. Vara didn’t believe in soul mates, and she’d apparently been burned by a man who hadn’t treasured her the way she deserved.
“You caught me. Good morning, Vara. You look lovely.”
“Thank you. You look very handsome. Looks like your beard is filling in nicely.”
Huh. That was an unexpected observation that bordered on what a close personal friend might say. If she was this friendly after meeting him a few days ago, who knew what could happen in a few weeks? Vara couldn’t have any idea how happy she’d just made him. They were making progress. He squelched the urge to run into the kitchen and share the news with Andrea like a regular kid. Or a girl.
He grunted. “Did you order yet or can I get something for you?”
“I’m all set, thanks. Ron saw me coming in the door and set right to work on my death by chocolate. I thought I’d try something different today, but then I didn’t have the heart to disappoint him. He looked so happy.”
Thornton chuckled. “Barely in town, and you’re already a regular and making love puns.”
“I know! A girl’s got to start somewhere. I didn’t even have to fight my way to the counter.”
“Or use any Greek words?”
“Not a one.” With her bright smile, Vara looked rested, relaxed. Beautiful. “I also saw what’s written on the chalkboard. Did you see it or is that a moot point?”
“I couldn’t miss it.”
“Right. It’s your favorite subject, after all. From the creator of Peanuts, no less. Who knew?” Oh, her impish smile was cute, especially when she wrinkled her nose.
“I think most people are a little addicted to chocolate.” He imagined having Vara in his life on a regular basis could quickly become as addictive as chocolate.
She laughed. “You’re not going to try and engage me in a debate about chocolate, are you?”
“If you want, I’m sure I could come up with something.”
“No doubt. That’s a great quote, though. Women seem to crave chocolate,” she mused. “From what I know, it’s actually biological or hormonal. I used to work with a guy who was allergic to chocolate.” Vara shook her head. “Isn’t that tragic?”
When he didn’t answer, she gave him a quizzical look. “What? Did I say something wrong?”
“The opposite. You’re very…effervescent today.”
Her smile grew. “I don’t think I’ve ever been called that before. I’ll take it as a compliment.”
“I meant it as one.” Thornton pushed his plate of half-eaten pastry toward her. “Please help me eat this. It’s not chocolate, but it’s extremely decadent. I rarely get anything here, and now I know why. After two bites, I’ve already got a decent sugar buzz going. I’ll have to give the forearm a hard workout later on.”
She laughed. “Don’t mind if I do. Hopefully, you won’t have to scrape me off the floor, or I won’t be of any use to Charlotte today. What do you do to work out?”
“I have weights and an elliptical trainer at the house. Mostly I fend off Charlotte’s scowls. Those are heavy enough these days.”
“I know. I’m trying to work on that. May I borrow
your fork? All that decadence looks messy and sticky.”
“You want to share my fork?”
Her eyes met his. “Oh…sorry. I’ll go get another one.” She started to push back her chair.
“Stay.” Reaching across the table, Thornton put a hand on her arm. “That’s not what I meant. I don’t have a cold, and I’m not a germophobe.”
Sliding her arm from beneath his grasp, Vara surprised him by taking his hand and giving it a quick squeeze. “Are you okay, Thornton? You seem…different…this morning. More subdued or something.”
“You seem to have enough enthusiasm for both of us.”
“Careful. Now your sarcasm is starting to show.”
“Sorry. Enthusiasm is good. I just have some things on my mind.” Like you.
“I like this side of you, but it’s not like you.” A slight frown creased her brow, making him want to smooth it away. She was getting to know him whether she wanted to or not.
“Did you have a good weekend?”
“Yes. It was great, thanks.” She shrugged out of her coat and let it fall on the chair behind her. “My sister, Sofia, flew in from Chicago, and we had fun catching up. I saw her in Florida over Christmas, but she moves at a fast pace and always has interesting stories about the ad agency where she works. We went out for sushi on Friday night and then went back to my apartment, got in our jammies, watched movies, talked, and vegged out. Other than church on Sunday morning, we didn’t go out the entire weekend. She flew back to Chicago late last night.”
Vara was right. It did sound like the perfect weekend. Maybe one day he’d do things like that with his wife. If he ever stayed rooted in Cherish long enough. For now, he needed to stop internalizing and get on with it. The deep pumpkin color of her sweater complemented her light olive skin tone. This wasn’t a woman with a fair complexion who looked better in pastels. Deep, rich, and vibrant colors would look better on Vara. And now he was a fashion critic? More because it was an analogy of her personality and, in his mind, other women paled in comparison.
“It must be terrific to have a big family where you’re close and genuinely enjoy each other’s company. That’s saying a lot.” Thornton tried not to let any trace of self-pity slip into his tone. He’d given up hoping for a younger brother or sister when he was eight after the brain cancer diagnosis that claimed his mother’s life two short years later.
“Sometimes a huge family can be claustrophobic, but it’s great knowing there’s always someone who has your back,” she said. “People who love you and will do anything for you. If I need a shoulder to cry on, or someone to celebrate with, or to speak my mind—they’re there. We’re always texting, calling, emailing, or Facebook private messaging, and there’s not a day that goes by where I haven’t chatted with at least two or three of them, my parents included. They want to make sure I haven’t frozen to death.”
He smiled. “We all need people like that in our lives. People who accept us as we are, and we know we won’t be judged.” He’d always thought that would be one of the best things about having a sibling. Take now, for instance. It’d be great to have a brother. They’d play some one-on-one at the gym or go to dinner together and tease each other about careers, girlfriends, lives.
Vara’s expression softened. “Do you have someone you can call if you need to vent?” At least she didn’t give him a head tilt with the pity look. He got enough of those from the ladies at church. The fact that Charlotte was his only living relative must somehow fuel their desire to get him married off. He could appreciate it to a point, but it could get annoying.
“I have friends, but most of them are scattered around the globe,” he said. “It’s different with guys, anyway. We have five-minute phone conversations consisting of a few blanket statements, a grunt or two, and a dude or man thrown in there somewhere. That or we share quasi-meaningful chats during breaks in a ballgame.” Man, he was being a downer. That wasn’t like him. He needed to snap out of it already.
Ron appeared beside their table and set Vara’s cup in front of her. “Your drink, Miss Vara.” He pointed to Vara, Not Sarah! written on the side of the cup, making them laugh.
Taking the fork, Vara sliced a small portion of the pastry and took a bite. “Oh, this is good.” She chewed for a moment. “Thornton, do you have my business card? It was in the folder I gave you the other day.”
“I do, and I also read through the information. It was very thorough.”
“If you ever need to vent—about anything—I want you to call me. Okay?”
“Are you speaking on a professional level or a personal one?” That was his bold question of the morning.
Her green eyes softened. “Both.” She took another bite.
Great answer. “I might do that sometime.” Not that he’d take advantage of it. “So, how many brothers and sisters are there in the Alexandris clan?”
“Two older brothers and three younger sisters. Don’t let them hear you call it a clan, though. They call it The Tribe. Sounds better.”
“Duly noted. What’s it like being the middle child? Love it or hate it?”
She took another bite. “It’s nice with the boys being the oldest since they’re protective of us girls. My oldest brother, Tony, threatened to beat up a boy who stole my lunch money for a week when I was in third grade. I was never bothered by bullies again. My brothers boss me around, but it’s not bad since I claim those same elder rights with my sisters.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t stand up to that bully on your own.”
Vara nodded. “You might not believe this, but I was shy for a long time. I’ve never thought about it before, but I think that experience actually helped me realize that I needed to start speaking up for my rights. Of course, it didn’t hurt that Tony’s always looked like an offensive lineman. He was almost eleven pounds when he was born.”
Thornton winced. Ouch. “So, the largest player on the field with excellent agility and balance but limited straight-line speed?”
She laughed. “I’d say that describes him well. I read an article once about being the middle child that seemed like it was written about my life. It discussed how we’re always compared to our older siblings, we can’t get away with things like the baby of the family, and whatever we do—no matter how big or small—it’s considered rebellious. The rebellious part doesn’t describe me so much, though. I’d say I’m more of a peacemaker.”
“That would make sense.”
Vara took another bite, clearly enjoying the pastry. “I think I’ve become pretty good at adapting.”
“Adapting?” He never knew what she’d say next, and that was one of the best things about her. Life would never be dull.
“I was used to not being noticed, so I became like a chameleon in social situations,” she explained. “I’m usually flexible, easygoing, and open-minded—depending on the subject, of course.”
“Of course.”
She grinned. “A lot of people think of the middle child as a follower. That can be true, but sometimes it’s also the opposite. I can hold my own in an argument one-on-one, but if my brothers and sisters are involved, I sometimes get skipped over.”
“You seem more of a leader to me,” he observed. “In fact, if you hadn’t just told me all that, I would have thought you were the oldest.”
She smiled. “Why’s that?”
“Just like you studied your own name when you were ten, you seem to have a great handle on your personality type. I don’t know many people who understand themselves that well, myself included.”
“I’ve done some personality studies,” she said. “They’re great for helping me understand my patients. Somewhere along the way, I managed to learn some things about myself.” She put down the fork and sat back in the chair.
“Something wrong?”
“Not really.” She met his gaze. “Understanding my motivations and responses doesn’t mean I don’t make a lot of mistakes.”
“That’s because you have t
o deal with all the crazies out there in the world. We all make mistakes, Vara. Take me, for example.” He opened his arms. “Walking comedy of errors right here.”
He’d wanted to bring back her smile, and he accomplished it. “From what you’ve said, you have a great family.”
“I do, but you might not think so if you’d hear the way we go at each other sometimes. When we’re all together, it can be loud, chaotic, and crazy, but I wouldn’t trade it for anything.”
“I can’t imagine you being any of those things, but it might explain your sense of irony and sarcasm.” He didn’t know much about Greek families except what he’d seen or heard from books or movies, and those were more stereotypes than anything else. One thing he did know was that he liked Vara’s independence, her sense of humor, and her fighting spirit.
“When I get together with my family, I’m a hot mess.”
He’d like to see Vara in that state. Might be pretty fun. Talking about her family, she was animated and relaxed, the smile in place. The title of the old Streisand song “Where Have You Been the Rest of My Life?” inexplicably popped into his mind. Charlotte used to listen to that song a lot. He hadn’t particularly liked it, but he must appreciate the title since he still remembered it all these years later. He wondered if the song was in Myrna’s repertoire.
“Tell me about them. Are any of them married?”
“My oldest brother that I mentioned is Antonis, and he goes by Tony. He’s an immigration lawyer. He and his wife, Britt, married three years ago and have a darling one-year-old daughter named Harper. My other brother, Nicholaos,”—she spelled it out—“goes by Nick, and he’s happily single and owns a print shop. They both live in Florida, near the family homestead in Ft. Lauderdale.
“Then there’s Sofia, the sister I mentioned who lives in Chicago and works in advertising. Joanna’s next, and she lives in Miami and works as a women’s clothing buyer at a high-end department store. She has a serious boyfriend named Michael, a great guy. The baby of the family is Brielle or Brie. She’s studying music performance at Berklee College of Music in Boston.”