The Cottage on Juniper Ridge

by Sheila Roberts

  “You’re melting wax?” His tone of voice betrayed a certain lack of confidence.

  “Hey, I know what I’m doing,” she assured him. “I’m not a complete idiot.”

  “I believe you,” he said, and sauntered into the kitchen. He eyed the fire extinguisher. “Baking soda will work, too.”

  Okay, so she’d overcompensated. “Just making sure,” she said.

  “Would you like any help?”

  He was only offering because he thought she’d burn the place down but she decided not to quibble over his motives. Instead, she gave him her sweetest smile and said, “That’s really nice of you.”

  “That’s me, Mr. Nice. What do you want me to do?” he asked, looking around at the collection of jam jars lined up on the counter.

  “You can be in charge of the baking soda,” she said, and took the box out of the cupboard. “Do you always provide this kind of service to your tenants?”

  “Never had a tenant before.”

  “So I’m your first.”

  “Yep. And you’ve been a memorable one.”

  She frowned. “I don’t think you meant that in a good way. Oh, here, it looks like my wax is ready to pour.” She pointed to the box of birthday candles sitting next to the jars. “Would you mind helping me with my wicks?”

  “Birthday candles?”

  “I read that they make great candlewicks. Get one out and hold it in the jar while I pour the wax.”

  He seemed less than excited about this idea, but gamely took a candle from the box and held it in the middle of a jar. “Don’t burn me.”

  “I’m not an idiot,” she said again. Although now she was nervous. She took her pouring pan to the counter. She was standing so close to him she could almost feel the current zipping between them, and that made it hard to concentrate. She bit her lip and focused on her job, pouring very slowly. Nothing bad happened and she smiled. “There. See? No problem. Let’s do another.”

  So they went on to the next candle. And, once more, Garrett’s hand survived the experience.

  Maybe after two successes she was getting cocky. Or maybe he’d moved his hand just a little. She wasn’t actually sure. But the third time didn’t prove to be the charm. She managed to splash him with hot wax, making him flinch. Which meant that his hand jerked and she really got him.

  “Yow!” He pulled his hand away and the wick fell sideways.

  “Oh, no. I’m so sorry,” she said, setting aside the pan. “Let me get some ointment.”

  “Cold water,” he said, turning to the faucet. “Got some ice?”

  She nodded and took ice out of the freezer, putting some in a quart-size plastic bag. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “I don’t know how that happened.”

  “No worries,” he said.

  “Your poor hand,” she fretted, giving him the bag.

  “It’s okay,” he said as he applied the ice to his wound.

  Why was it that every time she encountered this man something went wrong? “Things like this don’t happen when you’re not around,” she tried to explain.

  “Yeah?” He looked dubious.

  “Does it hurt?”

  “Not much. I’m tough.”

  She bit her lip. “Maybe I should just buy my candles.”

  “Maybe,” he agreed.

  “You know, I really am not incompetent.”

  “I never said you were.”

  “But that’s what you were thinking.”

  He shrugged. “Not everyone’s cut out for candle-making.”

  “Or assisting in candle-making,” she teased.

  He smiled. “Or assisting in candle-making. We can’t be good at everything.”

  “Hold that thought,” she said, and hurried down the hall to the bathroom. She snatched some ointment from the medicine cabinet, along with a box of bandages.

  When he saw what she was holding, he shook his head. “I don’t need that.”

  “Yes, you do,” she insisted. “I took first aid. You need to protect the skin.”

  She took the top off the ointment tube and, obviously resigned to his fate, he put down the bag of ice and let her play Nancy Nurse.

  As she took his hand, she couldn’t help observing how big it was, just like the rest of him. Big and solid.

  Once more she was aware of that current flowing between them. She peeked up at his face and saw him giving her that look, the one a man wore when he wanted to kiss a woman.

  Her lips were suddenly dry and she had to lick them. It was getting warm in here.

  “You’ve got a nice touch,” he said as she applied the ointment.

  His voice had gotten softer. Was it her imagination or was he leaning closer to her? She could feel her pulse rate picking up. It was definitely getting warm in here.

  “I can smell those candles.”

  She swallowed. “They aren’t scented. Must be my perfume.” Or his aftershave. He smelled...delicious.

  “It’s nice.” He sounded like a man who’d been hypnotized. You’re falling for this woman. Falling, falling.

  That would be okay with Jen. She so badly wanted a stable man, a good man, she could build her new life with. This man, her heart kept insisting. Stupid, don’t-take-no-for-an-answer heart.

  Garrett suddenly came out of his trance. He cleared his throat and she could feel him pulling away. “That’ll probably do it.”

  Oh. As in stop fondling his hand? She took out a bandage and carefully stuck it on. “See? There’s something I’m good at. Actually, I’m good at a lot of things,” she added. “Words with Friends—I always beat my sister and that kills her, since she’s the real writer in the family. Playing cards, organizing stuff.” Okay, she had to stop. She sounded as if she were applying for a position. She supposed, in a way, she was. “What are you good at?”

  She could think of one thing he was probably great at. Ooh, it was so hot in here.

  “Hitting a baseball, I guess. Swinging a hammer. And I’ve been known to win my share of card games.”

  “Bet you couldn’t beat me.”

  Instead of rising to the bait and suggesting they play a game, he said, “I’m not even going to try. I’m sure you’re a force to be reckoned with.” His cell phone dinged to tell him he had a message. He glanced at it, then said, “I should get going.”

  “Then I’d better get you a check. I hope you don’t have to spend any of it on a doctor’s visit.”

  “I’ll be fine,” he said.

  She wrote him a check and handed it over.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  She nodded. “See you around town.” Probably with someone. Who’d just messaged him? As if she couldn’t guess.

  She walked him to the door, then watched as he climbed into his truck and drove away. So much for impressing her landlord.

  * * *

  That was a moment of temporary weakness, a sneaky hormone attack, a chemical reaction. No matter how cute and sweet Jen Heath was, Garrett wasn’t interested.

  But he had to admit she was interesting. He was fascinated by the way she was always up for trying something new. But every new thing she tried seemed to go slightly wrong, whether it was driving in the snow, planting a garden or making candles.

  And that’s why you’re with Tilda, he told himself. Thank God.

  So that vision of Jen in her little pink top and her butt-hugging shorts could go find some other sucker to annoy.

  She sure looked good in pink.

  With a growl of disgust, he pressed harder on the gas pedal and turned off Juniper Ridge.

  * * *

  “What’s with the bandage on your hand?” Tilda asked when she stopped by the fire station the next day.

  Garrett had meant to take it o
ff but he’d been too busy and forgotten. He focused his attention on washing down the fire engine. “No big deal.”

  “What happened?”

  “I burned it.”

  “I thought you could cook,” she teased.

  “Didn’t do it cooking.” Okay, that was dumb. He should’ve just let her think he’d burned his hand on the stove.

  “Yeah? What happened?” she repeated.

  Better to be straight up, he decided. Anyway, it was kind of a funny story. “I went to pick up the rent the other day, and my tenant was making candles.” He shook his head at the humor of it all.

  “What, and she threw hot wax on you?”

  “No, I was helping her.”

  “Hmm. Cozy.”

  “Well, it was that or let her burn the house down. Although she did have a fire extinguisher handy.”

  “Considering her history, good idea.”

  “Anyway, she spilled some wax on me. No big deal, but she wanted to bandage it, so I let her.”

  “Wasn’t that nice of you?” Tilda had a smart mouth to begin with, and that was okay with him, but today her comments had a razor-sharp edge to them. And she wasn’t smiling.

  Time to change the subject. “You want to do something later this week?” Tilda was on swing shift but he figured she’d be up for some racquetball or getting breakfast at her mom’s place.

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Oh. You got plans?”

  “Not with you.” She spun around and started for her car.

  He turned off the hose and followed her. “Hey, what’s going on?”

  She stopped, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “You tell me.” If her tone of voice hadn’t been a big enough clue that he’d stepped in it, the expression on her face sure was.

  “What do you mean?”

  She pointed a finger at him. “I don’t play games.” Then she started walking to her car again.

  He hurried after her. “I don’t, either.”

  “Good. Because I don’t want to waste time on someone who isn’t interested in me.”

  “I’m interested,” he protested.

  She stopped at the car door. “Yeah? Well, let me make this clear since you’re not getting the picture. We’ve been hanging out long enough that I’m ready for this to go somewhere. If you want to chase after your tenant, that’s fine. We’ll call it quits right now.”

  “I don’t want to chase after my tenant.” Well, maybe part of him did, but he wasn’t about to give in to it. “I want someone who’s got her shit together. You know that.”

  “Yeah, well, you talk a lot.”

  “Come on, Tilda, give me a break.”

  She opened the car door.

  “I’ve got tickets to the Mariners game.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. How does a day in Seattle sound? We can go to the game and then check out that big Ferris wheel down on the waterfront.”

  She looked at him, considering. “You’d better not be yanking my chain.”

  He held up both hands. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  She smiled. “Good. ’Cause I’d hate to have to pistol-whip you.”

  He smiled back. “I’ll call you.”

  She nodded and got in her car and drove off, while Garrett returned to his fire truck. Okay. That did it. No more helping his tenant make candles, no more helping her with her garden, no more cozy friendly chats. Jen Heath was cute and she was fun. But she was the kind of woman who would turn a man’s life upside down with her crazy antics. He already had one woman doing that. Tilda, on the other hand, would never tear up his septic system or spill hot wax on him. She’d be good to his kid and she’d keep Ashley in line. Yep, Tilda was the way to go.

  Had Jen ever been on that Ferris wheel in Seattle?

  * * *

  The first week in May had been so dead, Stacy had considered buying a gravestone for her shop door. Rest in Peace, Timeless Treasures. We Tried.

  But come Maifest weekend, lo and behold, the tourists arrived in town. They came in every variety and combination—sisters, girlfriends, mothers and daughters, families. And they all came into the shop. Or so it seemed. At one point it was so crowded she thought she’d need a traffic cop. And almost everyone who wandered in wandered back out with a quilt or a vintage knickknack or antique.

  “Where’d everything go?” Dean asked when he showed up later to take her out to dinner.

  She beamed. “It’s gone. Isn’t that great?”

  He smiled and nodded. “You did it, babe. You’re a success.”

  And now I need to restock. Which meant more shopping. Oh, what a shame. “My feet are killing me,” she said, “and I’m so ready for pizza.”

  “The heck with pizza. We’re going to celebrate.” Dean hugged her. “I’m taking my baby to Schwangau.”

  Linen tablecloths, crystal and fine china, candlelight—the simple life. Stacy was so glad she’d figured out how to link downsizing with finding her own unique career path. She was sure Nana would be proud.

  Fortunately, they were early enough that they managed to snag a table for two.

  “Now that you’re a successful businesswoman we can eat here all the time,” Dean joked as they settled in with their menus.

  She wouldn’t mind that. Schwangau was the most expensive restaurant in town. The food was excellent, but mostly what people came for was the atmosphere. If you wanted to impress someone or celebrate a special occasion, Schwangau was the place to go.

  And someone was out to do some impressing, she noted when she ran into Chita and Ken Wolfe, who were coming in as she and Dean were leaving. They said their hellos and then left them to enjoy their dinner.

  “Looks like something’s starting there,” she murmured as she and Dean walked to the car.

  “Spring, when a young man’s fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love,” Dean said.

  “Did you just make that up?”

  “Nope. Stole it from Lord Tennyson.”

  She shook her head. “Give it back to him.”

  * * *

  Chita took in her elegant surroundings. Wood paneled walls, tables decked to the nines in linen tablecloths and fine crystal, waiters in white jackets bearing trays laden with food that looked as if it belonged on a page in Bon Appétit.

  “This is lovely,” she said.

  He seemed surprised. “You’ve never been here?”

  She’d lived in Icicle Falls for seven years and she’d never eaten at Schwangau. Pretty pathetic. But she’d moved to town from Yakima, newly divorced and broke. Eating at fancy restaurants had to take a backseat to other things, like paying for groceries.

  “This isn’t exactly the kind of restaurant you take small children to.” Unless you were rich.

  He nodded. “I remember when my son was little. I wouldn’t have brought him here, either.”

  “You have a son?”

  “He lives in Seattle with his mother. He’s in middle school now. He comes over to stay with me in the summer when he can go tubing on the river and hang out at the pool.”

  “He’s lucky he has you in his life,” Chita said, thinking of her children’s deadbeat dad.

  “I wish I saw him more.” Ken’s face clouded.

  “So, who moved away, you or her?”

  “She did. She got a job offer from Microsoft. I told her to take it. We’d make it work. And we have.”

  “You ever consider moving to Seattle?”

  He frowned. “I’m not a big-city guy. Icicle Falls is my home now. It always will be.”

  “This is a special place,” she agreed.

  “Full of special people,” he added, smiling at her.

  She sighed. “I’d like to be special.
”

  “You already are. You’re a beautiful woman with a beautiful heart.”

  “I’m thinking of going to school,” she blurted. “Only online classes, but...” Her voice trailed off.

  “That’s great,” he said. “What kind of classes? What do you want to do?”

  She’d been thinking a lot about what she’d like to do with the rest of her life, but now she felt foolish telling him. “Would you laugh if I said I want to be a vet? Or at least a veterinary assistant?”

  “Not at all.”

  “I’ve always loved animals. I thought it might be a good direction to go. I could start small, take some online college courses.” She shrugged. “At least I’d feel like I was doing something for myself. I wasted my life when I was young. Now I want to do...more. Be more.”

  The waiter appeared with their wine just then and poured it for Ken’s approval. He sniffed and swirled and tasted and nodded. Once the wine was poured and the waiter had faded back into the shadows, Ken lifted his glass. “Here’s to being more. Hard to imagine because you’re already so much, but I say go for it.”

  This man was wonderful. When would the bubble burst?

  Maybe it wouldn’t, she thought later that night after he’d kissed her good-night. “I hope you’ll go out with me again,” he whispered, his breath tickling her ear.

  For another kiss like that? Definitely.

  * * *

  I don’t have any big vacation plans for the summer and I’m not going to make any. That’s because I’m happy living my new simple lifestyle. My garden is off to a great start and I’ve harvested rhubarb from my front flower bed.

  Later today I’m going to make strawberry-rhubarb upside down cake. My friend Stacy served it at our book club meeting last night and gave me permission to share it with you. I hope you enjoy it. (By the way, we’re reading John Steinbeck’s Travels with Charley now. You might enjoy that, too.)

  Strawberry-Rhubarb Upside Down Cake

  Ingredients for filling:

  2 cups rhubarb

  2 cups strawberries

  2 tbsp cornstarch (you may need to use a little more if your berries are really juicy or if you’re using