Blue Moon Enchantment (Once In A Blue Moon Series)

by Jeanne Van Arsdall

  His blue eyes sparkled and seemed to dance in merriment, but he lightly touched the brim of his fur blend hat in welcome. She noticed he didn’t wear a plain straw farmer’s hat like most local men wore to keep the sun from their eyes. She’d seen some like his in the catalogue her pa placed orders from. American bison fur with a twisted leather band around its crown. Those didn’t come cheap.

  Realizing he was speaking, Millie shook herself from her reverie.

  “...three miles or so out of town.”

  “I’m sorry, where did you say you were staying?”

  The stranger again cocked his brow.

  “I said, my name is Geoffrey Standish. My aunt and uncle own a farm about three miles or so out of town.”

  “There’s no one named Standish hereabouts.”

  “Nope, their name’s Hooper.”

  “Ida Mae and Henry?”

  “Yes, that’s them. Uncle Henry’s been ill, so Mother decided I needed to come here for the summer and help him on his farm.”

  Unable to stop herself, Millie grinned and choked back an amused chuckle. “You don’t look like a farmer.”

  His smile was charming as he asked, “Is it that obvious I’ve never been on a farm before?”

  Millie nodded, but said nothing.

  “Actually, I’m from New York. And the fact I took Father’s brand new Model 20 for a joy ride played heavily into her decision to send me.”

  Unable to tear her gaze away from his face, Millie just watched his expressive blue eyes. And his mouth. Oh yes, she did watch his mouth.

  “So, am I to know your name as well or do locals hereabouts not practice proper manners?”

  “Of course we practice proper manners, as you so indelicately put it. Northerners clearly aren’t perfect either.”

  Geoffrey laughed, then cocked his head and stared without saying anything else.

  “What?” Millie burst out in exasperation.

  “You still haven’t told me your name.”

  Drat and blast! She could feel the heat creeping up her cheeks again. “Millicent Baker,” she stated formally, “but everyone calls me Millie.”

  “Well, it’s nice to meet you Miss Millicent Baker. Now if you’ll be so kind as to ring these items up, I’d best finish gathering what’s on Aunt Ida’s list.” He gestured to the bags of flour and sugar on the counter. “I promised I’d return early.” Chuckling, he added, “I think she was afraid I’d get lost.”

  Millie walked around the counter, following him. “If you’ll show me Miz Ida’s list, I’ll help you fetch the items.”

  He shrugged and nodded his agreement. When he handed her the list, their hands brushed and Millie felt like a bolt of lightning shot through her. From his expression, he must’ve felt something too.

  To cover her embarrassment, she headed toward the shelves stocked full of everything her pa thought people could possibly need. “If you’ll follow me, I’ll hand you the items and you can place them on the counter. It will be quicker that way.”

  The door opened and the bell jingled again. Millie glanced over her shoulder to see who it was as she reached to grab something off the shelf.

  “Afternoon, Miz Esther. I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

  “Afternoon, Millie. No rush. I’ll look around. I told my Homer I planned to get me a new length of material.”

  While gathering the items on Geoffrey Standish’s list, Millie glanced at Esther Taylor. The woman hadn’t moved the first step toward the material, but stood staring at Mr. Standish.

  “Miz Esther, have you met Mr. Standish? He’s here from New York. He’s staying with his aunt and uncle, the Hooper’s.”

  Material clearly forgotten, Esther Taylor approached them. “Ida Mae and Henry? Well, now, I didn’t know they were expecting company. Thought I heard Henry’s sick.”

  Tipping the brim of his hat in her direction, Standish said, “Yes, ma’am. That’s why I’m here. When Mother received word Uncle Henry was ill, she decided I should come help this summer.”

  Giving an unladylike snort, Esther Taylor said, “Leila Hooper is your mother? No one’s heard nary a word from her since she ran off with that Englishman and now she’s sending you to help?”

  Standish straightened his shoulders. “Yes, ma’am. Leila Standish is my mother, and that Englishman is my father.” His hostility toward Esther Taylor’s words showed clearly on his face.

  To deflate the tension in the room, Millie handed him more items. “If you would place these on the counter, we’ll have your order filled in no time.”

  She faced Mrs. Taylor. “You know where the material is Miz Taylor. If you see something there you like, I’ll be with you as soon as I’m finished with Mr. Standish.”

  But the woman didn’t move, just watched Standish walk toward the counter.

  Hoping to draw the stubborn woman’s attention away from Geoffrey, she asked, “Are you making a new dress for Sunday’s social this week, Miz Taylor?”

  Since the woman was not only the banker’s wife, but the town gossip, Millie had no doubt that within the hour everyone in Napierville would know Leila Hooper’s son was in town.

  “Yes, dear, I am. You’ll be there, too, won’t you?”

  “Yes, ma’am, wouldn’t miss it.”

  Millie drew the ladder along the track and climbed up several rungs to reach for two bags of coffee beans. The weight of the second bag threw her slightly off balance. Before she steadied herself, two strong hands grabbed her waist. As if she weighed no more than a feather, those same hands lifted her and placed her safely on the floor.

  He turned her and peered deeply into her eyes. “You okay?”

  Millie couldn’t speak. Just nodded and stared up into those eyes. Eyes as blue as a Robin’s egg.

  Storming over, Mrs. Taylor pulled her away from Standish’s grasp, then spun on him and wagged her finger in his face. “Young man, did your mother teach you no manners at all? It’s not proper to touch a young woman you don’t know. We’re not some small backwards town. We have manners down here, unlike what I hear about people who live in large cities.”

  For several seconds Standish only stared at her. Then a smirk edged his lips. “I’d probably know her a lot better by now if some nosy busybody wasn’t in the store with us.”

  “Well, I never!”

  “No, ma’am, I imagine you haven’t. I’ve been in town less than a week now and I’ve already heard about the ridiculous Anti-Kissing League. No wonder everyone’s disposition is so sour in this one-horse town.” He quirked a brow at the older woman. “Or are y’all always this rude to people?”

  Mrs. Taylor sputtered. “Well I...I...I should have expected no less from Leila Hooper’s young’un. Anyone that would run away with some foreign traveling salesman and leave her family without a word is no lady.”

  Standish’s eyes narrowed, but his voice remained level. “Ma’am, I suggest you not say one more derogatory word about my mother. If you don’t like my behavior now, you certainly won’t like it if you continue.”

  He shifted to face Millie.

  “Miss Millicent, I believe it’s best I leave now.” He reached for the bags of flour and sugar. “I’ll take these for now, then be back tomorrow for the rest of the supplies and to settle Uncle Henry’s account.”

  Without another word, he crossed the store and strode out the door.

  Millie hurried to the window and watched the material pull taught across his thighs as he eased himself up to the seat on the wagon. Before he flicked the reins to start the horse in motion, Geoffrey Standish winked at her.

  And then he was gone.

  ***

  Brown eyes and brunette hair, tied back with a delicate blue bow. That’s what teased Geoff’s memory as the horse pulled the wagon down the rutted dirt road back to his uncle’s farm. What a laugh. As if he gave a rat’s ass about a delicate blue bow. What he did care about was the young woman wearing it. And he’d noticed every detail of her old-fashioned
dress. Far from the up-to-the-minute fashions his mother received from London and Paris, this dress looked as if it had been around since the 1800s. But oh how it had fit her. From the small white standup collar to the pleating of the skirt as it flared over her hips, he’d noted everything. Made him want to know exactly what was beneath that tightly fitted blue bodice. Yet lust aside, it was her quick wit and smile that made him want to know more.

  And that bothered him. She’d gotten under his skin. Oh yes, in those few short minutes together, Miss Millicent Baker—with her wide smile and dimples and the embarrassed flush to her cheeks—had definitely gotten under his skin. A woman was the last complication he’d planned on for this summer.

  It was bad enough Mother had sent him off to this godforsaken place. He’d never even met Aunt Ida Mae and Uncle Henry and now Mother expected him to help on their farm? He didn’t belong here. He belonged in Manhattan, working with Father at MetLife at One Madison Avenue, and driving Father’s new Model 20. That was one fine vehicle, and Geoff was proud his Father owned one of the first few produced by the Hudson Corporation.

  He wondered if his father’s prosperity and wealth was why his mother’s distant relatives had contacted them now.

  Geoff’s stomach knotted. Did they want money?

  These people meant nothing to him and he wanted nothing to do with them. Hadn’t they shunned his mother all these years? Now they expected him to help them?

  No, he knew none of that was true. His aunt and uncle had been kind to him this past week.

  What he hadn’t counted on was a complication in the form of a pretty young woman who barely came to his shoulders. He’d felt the spark when their hands had first touched. And when he’d held her while helping her down from the ladder, Geoff acknowledged he’d felt things he’d never felt before. And certainly never thought to feel when told he was being banished to this place.

  If not for that interfering biddy, he might even have been lucky enough to steal a kiss. Wouldn’t that be funny? Kiss a beautiful young woman he didn’t know in a town that currently had a ban on kissing?

  The lunacy of it. Believing the future of their town’s crops depended on men not kissing their wives. Wait until he was back home and told Brody and Rod about that!

  ***

  “Why of course you’ll attend the social with us after church today, Geoffrey,” his aunt told him. “Everyone in town will be there. It was all we talked about at our quilting bee Friday afternoon.”

  Geoff rolled his eyes. How quaint! A quilting bee.

  He’d been out in the yard, trying to repair the hinges that had torn off the chicken coop during the storm the night before, when Aunt Ida Mae had called out, “Geoffrey, dear, I’ll be back later this afternoon. I’m heading to the quilting bee over at Clara Middleton’s house. She’s getting married soon. We have to finish her hope chest.”

  When she’d arrived home before supper, she’d been determined to tell him and Uncle Henry about her day as they sat down to eat.

  “Geoffrey, dear, why didn’t you tell me how rude Esther Taylor was to you the other day?”

  He tried to talk around the mashed potatoes in his mouth. “Didn’t matter. Just an old busybody.”

  “Yes, I heard.”

  He quirked a brow.

  “Millie Baker told me,” his aunt told him with a smile.

  Ah yes, Millie. Beautiful Millie with the long dark hair and expressive brown eyes. He’d thought of her every day as he worked in the field, tilled the dirt. And he’d certainly thought of her every night as he tossed about in bed. He couldn’t get her out of his mind.

  He never should have gone back to town the second day to settle the bill. Although he had to, since he hadn’t gotten all the supplies his aunt and uncle needed.

  She’d been alone in the store then, too.

  That day she’d had on a beige dress with a gingham checked apron over it. Not the best color on her, but his body had responded at the sight of her nevertheless. He’d had to shift uncomfortably as his pants had become considerably tighter.

  She’d had everything boxed for him and she showed him where they were in the back of the store. He might have been okay if they hadn’t touched again, but as he bent to pick up a box she’d done the same for the one beside it. Their shoulders had brushed and she’d jumped back like she’d been burned.

  Burned? Man, she’d practically singed him. He’d had to grab the supplies and get out of there before he did something he’d regret forever. Like kiss her.

  And there was the crux of the problem. He wanted to kiss Millicent Baker. Wanted to do a whole lot more than just a kiss.

  There was something about this simple young woman that made him feel like an untried schoolboy, and he didn’t like that thought. Maybe he should just ignore her. Not talk to her the next time he saw her.

  And today would be a good time for that. He would see her at church, then later at the social. He’d ignore her. Not be rude, of course, just make a point to stay away.

  “Of course, Aunt Ida. I believe I’ve changed my mind. I’d be pleased to go to the social this afternoon.”

  ***

  Why is he ignoring me? Earlier this week I thought he might like me. Millie watched Geoff as he wandered around the churchyard, speaking to no one. The sight of him still took her breath away. His clothes were different from the men of Napierville. Theirs were functional. His the height of fashion. He wore a dark brown, three-button cutaway frock coat, which matched his brown pants that flared at the bottom. She’d seen the likes of his clothes in the Sears Roebuck Catalog, but no one she knew wore such fancy clothes. His bowler hat was cocked to the side of his head and the sterling silver handle of his cane was hooked across his forearm. He could have posed for the catalog himself.

  Her feelings hurt, Millie walked to the edge of the church yard. Well, see if I care what that man does. If he wants to ignore me, that’s fine. I’ll ignore him, too! Spreading out a blanket, she sat on it and leaned back against a tree.

  A shadow falling over her made her glance up.

  His arm outstretched against it, Geoff leaned indolently against the tree. A hint of a smile touched the corners of his mouth.

  “Avoiding me, Miss Baker?”

  “Avoiding you? You were...never mind. I just don’t feel like being around people today.”

  Geoff inclined his head to watch her. “After telling my aunt how much you were anticipating this day?”

  Not one to back down from a challenge, she met his eyes. “Then I was. This is now. Do you never change your mind about things, Mr. Standish?”

  “Quite frequently, actually, but in New York we have far more to choose from. When very little goes on in a town, I would think you would wish to partake of every event that happens.”

  “Which goes to show you don’t know me very well, sir,” she said frostily.

  While continuing to gaze down at her, he shifted position so his back rested against the tree.

  “Actually, Millicent, I don’t know you at all.”

  “I told you I hate the name Millicent. I prefer Millie. That’s what everyone calls me.”

  “I’m not everyone.”

  “And clearly you do whatever you wish.”

  He smiled. “Usually.”

  “And what do you wish to do now, Mr. Standish?”

  “Kiss you.”

  Startled, she jumped up and stared at him.

  “K-kiss me? I...I... I have absolutely no intention of marrying you, sir. What made you say such a ridiculous thing?”

  Eyes wide, Geoffrey looked at her like she’d lost her mind. “Marry you? I said—”

  “You said you wanted to kiss me. Do you think so little of me that you think I’d allow you to kiss me if we weren’t wed?”

  “Kissing someone has nothing to do with getting married. It merely means I’m...slightly attracted to you.”

  “Slightly? Sir, when you were in Father’s shop you hardly kept your hands off me. Ask Mi
z Taylor.”

  “I wouldn’t ask that busybody the time of day. And if you’re referring to me catching you before you fell, would you rather I had let you fall on your pretty derrière?”

  Millie spluttered, “How dare you speak to me like that? You...you... Ooooo...you should be shot!”

  He chuckled. “And who do you plan to have shoot me?”

  “If you keep aggravating me, I’ll do it myself.”

  He moved away from the tree and stepped toward her. “A pretty little thing like you doesn’t know how to shoot.”

  He ran his hand lightly up and down her arm.

  Millie jerked her arm away. “Don’t tell me what I do and don’t know how to do. You don’t know a thing about me.”

  “You already said that. But you’re wrong. I do know some things about you. Your name is Millicent Baker, but you hate the name Millicent. However, since it suits you so well, that’s what I shall call you.” When she said nothing, but persisted to glare, he continued. “You try to make yourself invisible by wearing mousey beige, but you look prettier than some rich New York model when you wear blue. That’s what you had on the first day I saw you, you know. A blue dress, with a blue ribbon pulling your hair back. It’s an image I can’t get out of my mind.”

  He reached behind her to untie the pink ribbon in her hair. “Until today. Now I shall forever think of you in pink. You should wear it more often.”

  “What I wear or don’t wear is none of your business.”

  Something flashed in his eyes, but Millie wasn’t certain what. She found out soon enough.

  “Well now, that paints an interesting picture.”

  “What?”

  “You wearing nothing at all. I do believe I can visualize that quite well. I—”

  “Stop it,” she shouted, then lowered her voice when several heads turned. “Are you trying to embarrass me? You can’t say such lewd things to me.”

  “I can’t?”

  “No, you can’t. You might talk like that to women in New York, but you can’t say something like that here.”