The Cottage on Juniper Ridge

by Sheila Roberts

  Instead of sharing this, she said, “Are you going to help me brainstorm?”

  “Sure,” Toni said.

  But there was no chance to brainstorm that night, not when they were busy drinking, eating and playing cards. The following day was equally full with shopping, lunch at Zelda’s, dinner with Cecily and then book club.

  Everyone was delighted to meet Toni and welcomed her as if she were an old friend. Juliet was especially excited when she learned that Toni was a master gardener. “Have you read this book?” she asked, holding up their selection for the month.

  Toni shook her head.

  “I found it really inspiring,” Juliet went on.

  “Not me,” Chita told her. “I’m too busy simplifying my life.”

  “It didn’t do much for me, either,” Charley said. “But I’ll happily eat all those extra zucchinis you übergardeners bring in.”

  “I’ll share,” Juliet said. “If I can spare any. I’m already making plans for chocolate zucchini cake, zucchini muffins and zucchini bread. Oh, and zuccini pizza.”

  Stacy cocked an eyebrow. “Zucchini pizza?”

  “Oh, yeah,” Juliet said. “I got the recipe online.”

  “I’d better add some zucchini to my garden,” Jen decided.

  “So are Jen and I the only ones doing a garden?” Juliet asked.

  “I guess so,” Cecily replied.

  Juliet rolled her eyes in mock disgust. “You’re all a bunch of lightweights.”

  “No, we’re just simplifying,” Charley said. “And growing a garden on top of keeping up with a family and running a business does not make for a simple life.”

  “Speaking of business, how’s the shop doing?” Chita asked Stacy.

  Stacy bit her lip and stared at her glass of lemonade. “It could be better.”

  “You have to give it time,” Charley told her. “It takes a while to build a customer base.”

  Stacy nodded, but she looked as if she wanted to cry. “I thought this was such a good idea.”

  “Hey, it is,” Cass assured her. “This is our slow season, but business will pick up starting at Maifest, and then we’ll have lots of people coming up for the summer, and things will be good clear through December. You just have to hang in there for a few more weeks.”

  “Or until tomorrow,” Toni said. “I want to check out your shop. And I brought my credit card.”

  That made Stacy smile. “You can bring your sister to book group any time,” she told Jen.

  “Since when are you into antiques?” Jen asked later as she and Toni drove back to the cabin.

  “Since tonight. I bet I can find something in that shop.”

  And, sure enough, she did. By the time Toni was done checking out Timeless Treasures the next day, she’d amassed quite a collection of goodies—a china cup and saucer to give their mother for her birthday, a vintage necklace she knew Jordan would like, a carved Jim Shore Easter creation and a set of Fiesta ware mugs.

  “Now, all I need is about twenty more customers just like you,” Stacy said as she rang up the sale. “Although I’d settle for one or two.”

  So far they were the only ones in the shop. Poor Stacy. She’d worked so hard at this. Jen hoped Cass was right and business would pick up. Otherwise, Stacy was going to be back to having a houseful of stuff. Nope, there was nothing simple about simplifying your life.

  * * *

  It was a typical Saturday. Chita had piles of laundry to do, a son to drive to baseball practice, a house to clean. She looked around and decided the dusting and vacuuming could wait. She put the kids to work cleaning their bathroom, and while they did that, she threw in a load of laundry. Quesadillas and canned chili would take care of dinner. And now she had time to breathe.

  She also had time to stop by Stacy’s shop after dropping Enrico off at the baseball field.

  There were no other customers and Stacy sat at the counter by her cash register, doing something on her computer. She raised her head when the shop bell jingled and her face lit up at the sight of Chita and her daughter.

  “Hi, guys,” she greeted them.

  “Thought we’d come see what new things you’ve gotten in since your grand opening,” Chita said.

  Anna was drawn instantly to a display of a little-girl-size china tea set. “Don’t touch anything,” Chita cautioned. “Just look.”

  “That’s new,” Stacy said. “I took it in on consignment.”

  Anna was gazing at the tea set as if it were the Holy Grail. “It’s so pretty.”

  “How much?” Chita asked Stacy in a low voice.

  “I’ll make you a deal.”

  Her daughter would soon be too old for tea parties. Now was the time to indulge her. She and Stacy did some quick negotiating and then the tea set was Anna’s.

  “Thank you, Mama!” she cried, and about hugged the life out of her mother.

  Okay, that had been worth every penny.

  The bell over the shop door jingled again, and a man entered. A tall, slender, fortysomething man with light brown hair and a mustache. Ken Wolfe, the veterinarian.

  Stacy greeted the newcomer. “How’s everything in animal land?”

  “No big trauma this week, no casualties.” Now he smiled at Chita. He had a darned nice smile. “We haven’t seen Hidalgo in a while. Has he been behaving himself?”

  “Yes. It’s a miracle.”

  “Is there anything I can help you find?” Stacy asked.

  He scratched his head. “I’m looking for a gift for my sister. She’s got a birthday coming up.”

  “I’m sure I’ve got something she’ll love,” Stacy said. “Does she like china, decorations? Is she interested in quilts?”

  He scratched his head again. “I’m not sure. I’ll just browse for a while.”

  “Of course,” Stacy said.

  He turned to Chita. “Maybe you can help me.”

  The tone of his voice, the way he was looking at her...was Ken Wolfe interested in her? Chita caught Stacy’s smile out of the corner of her eye and found herself blushing.

  “What would you pick out?” he asked.

  “Something for the kitchen,” Chita said.

  “Food for thought,” he punned. “My sister’s a foodie. She’d probably like something for the kitchen.”

  Chita led him to the section where Stacy had arranged a number of kitschy kitchen items. “This is adorable,” she said, pointing at the small pedestal glass dome with three teacups stacked inside.

  “What would you do with it?” he asked with a rather confused expression on his face.

  “Use it as a centerpiece for a tea party.” She could see herself using it the next time it was her turn to host a shower. And with so many women in her large extended family either getting married or getting pregnant, she was bound to have the opportunity.

  “I don’t know,” he said.

  She picked it up. “Then I’ll have to get it for myself.” And that was the absolute last thing she was buying. Her bank account wouldn’t accommodate any more spending. Still, it was good to splurge once in a while and she hadn’t done any splurging in a long, long time. “I think I’ll throw a tea party one of these days.” Maybe for Mother’s Day. She could have her mother and her two sisters and their daughters over. She smiled at the thought.

  “You know, you have a lovely smile,” Ken said. “I rarely see it when you come into the clinic.”

  “That’s because I’m always worried about Hidalgo.” And how I’m going to pay the latest vet bill.

  “Well, it’s nice to see.” He pointed to an empire-waist blue apron with a swirling black floral print. “Hey, what about this?”

  “That’s nice,” Chita said.

  He folded it over his arm. Decisio
n made. “I’ll give it to her early. She’s having a dinner party tonight, French theme. This looks French, doesn’t it?”

  “Oui,” Chita agreed.

  Now he tilted his head and turned to her, considering. “I don’t suppose you’d be interested in French food, would you? Beef bourguignon.”

  Ken Wolfe was asking her out? Was that what was happening? She blinked in surprise. Had he been sending signals all along and she hadn’t picked up on them?

  Maybe they’d been too subtle. She’d certainly known when Jose Fuentes, who worked in the Sweet Dreams warehouse, had been interested. Nothing ambiguous about what he’d said, especially when he added a bump and grind to demonstrate. Go out with me tonight and you could get lucky, Chita. Ick.

  “And Julia Child’s raspberry Bavarian cream for dessert,” Ken added.

  “What do you know about Julia Child?” Chita teased.

  His cheeks took on a reddish tint. “I’m kind of a foodie myself. I’m actually bringing the dessert.”

  A dinner with grown-ups. That sounded wonderful. But... “My children,” she began.

  “I’ll babysit,” offered Stacy, who’d been shamelessly eavesdropping.

  “There you go. Now all you need is a string of pearls.”

  “We have those here,” Stacy said.

  “So, what do you say?” he asked.

  “Oui.”

  Later that evening, Chita found herself wearing a sundress and the cultured pearls Stacy had insisted on giving her, seated at a dinner table with five other people and discussing everything from food and books (her favorite subjects) to politics (not her favorite subject). And all the while, Ken had kept her wineglass filled and made sure she felt included. His sister and her friends had been equally welcoming. It had been an evening of quiet sophistication, like something out of one of her book club novels, she thought as he drove her home.

  There’d been one tense moment when Ken’s sister had asked what she did for a living. Not for the first time, she wished she’d had more ambition when she was younger, that she hadn’t settled so quickly for the life she had.

  “I work for Sweet Dreams Chocolates,” she’d said, and then had steered the conversation toward chocolate preferences. It was a bit of sleight of hand she’d mastered over the years to focus attention away from the specifics of her job.

  Working at a chocolate factory probably sounded like fun to most people, but standing on her feet in front of a giant conveyor belt doing quality control wasn’t all that much fun. It sure didn’t require much in the brain department. A waste of a good brain, she thought now, and remembered her high school English teacher saying the very same thing when she’d earned a D in class for not bothering to turn in her homework.

  “Your sister is lovely,” she said. “And the dinner was great.” This was a lifestyle she could get used to.

  “She’s not bad,” he murmured, like a typical brother.

  “And I never get tired of talking about books,” Chita said. “Sometimes it seems like a long wait till my next book club meeting.”

  “You mentioned your book club at dinner. What do you read?”

  “Anything and everything. Fiction, memoirs, even some nonfiction.”

  “Oh, yeah? What was the last nonfiction book you read?”

  “A book on gardening. Not something I’m interested in.”

  “Me, neither,” he said. “When it comes to gardening I don’t carrot all.”

  “That was bad,” she said with a smile.

  “Well, then, lettuce move on to a new subject,” he said, making her groan. “Sorry. Sometimes I can’t help myself. What else have you read?”

  “We read Muriel Sterling’s new book on simplifying your life, which I’ve been trying to do. Between the kids and work, it gets a little crazy.”

  “Working at Sweet Dreams has to be a fun job, though,” he said. “What exactly do you do?”

  She could feel her cheeks heating. It’s good, honest labor, she reminded herself. But it was far from satisfying. “I work in the factory.”

  “You say that like you’re ashamed of it.”

  She shrugged. “Maybe I am. Sometimes I think I could have done more with my life.”

  “Your life’s not over yet,” he said.

  They were at her house now. He shut off the engine and turned to look at her. “So is your life too crazy to add a man to it?” He slid his arm across the top of the seat and his fingers found her hair.

  Just that little touch was enough to start a slow melting deep inside her. “I don’t know.” She hadn’t wanted to get involved with another man. Hadn’t wanted to risk her heart. Or her children’s hearts. But Ken Wolfe was tempting. Now he was playing with her hair. She was going to turn into a puddle here in the front seat of his fancy ’stang. “Maybe for the right man.”

  He smiled. “Want to go out again?”

  “First, tell me how it is that such a handsome man is single.”

  “I’m looking for the right woman.”

  She cocked her eyebrows. “That was a sly answer.”

  “But true.” He leaned across the seat and urged her toward him. The look on his face made her mouth go suddenly dry. He kissed her. It was a slow, sexy kiss. Oh, boy. He’d have to pour her out of the car now. By the time he was done, her lips were vibrating, and so was the rest of her.

  “Would you like to go out with me next week?” she asked.

  He smiled. “Oui.”

  The minute she was inside the house Stacy wanted to know all about her date.

  “It was fantastic,” Chita said. “And it got me thinking.”

  “About sex?” Stacy teased.

  “What’s that?” Chita joked, and flopped on the couch.

  “Something you’re about to experience in the near future, I’m betting.”

  “Well, that would be nice.” There was an understatement. “But I’m thinking my life could be...more.”

  “How so?”

  Chita picked up a large bowl that held a few half-popped kernels of popcorn. Stacy and the kids had obviously been partying. She took one and chewed on it. “These people I was with were all smart. They had degrees, interesting jobs. His sister and brother-in-law are brewmasters. The other couple owns an orchard.” She frowned. “And me? I work on an assembly line.”

  “Not just any assembly line, though. Your company makes chocolate.”

  Chita sighed heavily and set the bowl aside. “Yeah, well, if I owned the company...” She sighed again. “I haven’t done anything with my life.”

  “You are doing something with your life. You’re raising two great kids, and you’re doing it single-handed.”

  “It’s just that, well, I don’t know,” Chita finished lamely. “It sure would be nice to do something new.”

  “You still can. Your life’s not over yet.”

  Chita smiled. “That’s exactly what Ken said.”

  “Ken sounds like a smart man. I hope you’re going out with him again.”

  “I am.”

  Stacy smiled. “Then that makes you a smart woman.”

  She just hoped she was smart enough for Ken Wolfe.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Simplifying your life can be as challenging as it is rewarding.

  —Muriel Sterling, author of Simplicity

  I’m really loving my simple life. My garden is coming along well, and today I’m trying something new. I’m going to make candles. In simpler times people always made their own candles.

  Although I think in simpler times it didn’t cost as much. Wax, wicks, coloring, fragrance, a pouring pot, double boiler. My goodness! I did read online that you can use birthday candles for your wicks, and you can recycle wax and use old jelly jars. So that’s what
I’m doing. I went to the Kindness Cupboard, our local thrift store, and found just about everything I need. Well, except the coloring and fragrance. That I ordered online. Now I’m set. This is going to be fun!

  The day Jen picked to make her candles happened to fall on the first of the month, when Garrett always stopped by to collect the rent. That had nothing to do with why she was picking this particular day, she told herself. But she knew she was lying.

  “So I want to impress the man,” she muttered, placing the fire extinguisher on the counter. (Purchased after the woodstove fiasco.)

  Her sister was right. She needed to find someone else. The manager of the produce department at the Safeway was nice enough. She’d actually had a date with him. They’d gone to the Falls Cinema to see a movie. And had run into Garrett and Tilda. Jen had found it impossible to concentrate on the movie after that, and next time her friendly produce man had called she’d come up with an excuse to ditch him. She’d also dated one of the local Realtors, but with his fancy car and fine-art collection, he’d been more into himself than her. As for her admirers from the Red Barn, they were nice but there was no spark.

  Still, there were plenty of other men in Icicle Falls. Plenty of men! She didn’t need to hang around waiting for Garrett Armstrong to get a clue. Except here she was, with her makeup on and wearing her cutest top and her shortest shorts.

  She was in the middle of melting wax, using her makeshift double boiler, when he tapped on the cottage door.

  He was earlier than usual. She’d hoped to have her candles poured by the time he arrived. She ran to the door and threw it open. “You’re early.”

  Both his eyebrows went up. “Is that a problem?”

  “No, no. It’s just that I’m in the middle of making candles.”

  “They don’t have any at the store?”

  “Of course they do, but I thought this would be interesting to try. Come on in,” she said, then hurried back to the stove. “I don’t want to leave this wax unattended for too long.”