by Beth Andrews
“My mother always says just because you’re dealing with rodents doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be civil,” Yvonne intoned in a perfect imitation of Elaine’s carefully modulated voice.
He picked up a broom that was leaning against the wall and thumped the bristles on the floor. “I can’t imagine that being one of your mother’s pearls of wisdom.”
“Substitute ‘liberal’ for rodent,” Yvonne said, shifting her hold on the pipe, “and it’s a direct quote.”
And then she smiled. It wasn’t one of her practiced, polite smiles. It was a real smile, slightly crooked. A bit unsure and shy. One that reached her eyes and lit her face. And with her hair a mess and grease down her neck that smile made her seem…approachable. As if there was more to her than her beauty and her family’s money, her proper upbringing.
That smile knocked him on his ass.
“What are you doing here?” he snapped.
Her smile faltered and she walked past him, tossing the pipe onto the ground next to the sign. “I’m cleaning,” she said as she came back inside.
“I told you I’d have someone clean this place out by the end of the week.”
She took hold of his old Huffy’s handlebars and, despite the two flat tires, pushed it toward the door. “I needed something to do.”
And that’s when he saw the stiffness of her shoulders. Heard the trace of irritation in her tone. He stepped into her path, forcing her to stop or mow him over with his own bike. “Did something happen?”
He didn’t think she’d tell him, didn’t think she wanted to, but then she straightened, letting the bike rest against her thighs. “I’m just…having some trouble finding a decent caterer in town to list as a preferred vendor. But I’ll handle it. I mean, there has to be a restaurant or small catering business that doesn’t feature fried mozzarella sticks on their menu.”
“I like fried mozzarella sticks.”
Gripping the handlebars once again, she skirted around him. “Evidently, so does everyone else in Jewell.”
That was her job, wasn’t it? To find the caterers, florists, musicians…everything that went with getting married. But she was working for him.
Do you want me to fail?
He didn’t. But he also didn’t want to go out of his way to help see her succeed. Even though his mom had commanded him to.
“I’ll get you that list of people to contact,” he told her when she reentered the building, “the one…my mother said to put together.”
Yvonne eyed him warily. Good call on her part. “Thank you. That would be very helpful.”
He swept the floor in front of his feet. Back and forth. Back and forth. That was him. Mr. Helpful. Mr. You Can Count on Me to Do What’s Right.
Mr. Patsy.
He stopped sweeping. “Look, the reason I’m here is—”
“Now, don’t tell me,” she said serenely, but there was a glint in her eyes that told him she wasn’t as calm as she wanted him to believe. “Let me guess.” She tapped her index finger against her lower lip. “I know. You’re canceling our meeting for this afternoon. Or you’re firing me. Again.”
When had she gotten to be such a smart-ass? And why did he find it so appealing? “I hired a contractor.”
“You… Who? How?”
“Mark Michaels. And the usual way. I called him up and offered him a job.”
She looked skeptical. “When can he start?”
Aidan snapped his fingers at Lily, who was digging at the corner of a cardboard box. She hurried over to his side and he patted her head. “Immediately.”
“Immed…? Is he any good?”
“Would I have hired him if he wasn’t?”
“I can’t help but wonder why he can start so fast. Doesn’t he have other clients?”
Mark could start because Aidan had promised him a generous bonus. The carpenter had been only too happy to move a few of his other jobs around. “You wanted the renovations started and now they will be.” Aidan checked his watch. “Mark should be here any minute to go over the project with you.”
“But…but I can’t meet him now.” She held her arms out. “Look at me.”
“He’s coming to talk business. He won’t care what you’re wearing.”
“I care.” She dived at him—no, not at him, but at the huge bag on the old wine barrel under the window. She tore through it, muttering about men and the importance of first impressions in business relationships.
After taking a small bag out of her purse, she went over to the window, opened a compact and started pressing powder to her face.
Watching her transform herself took Aidan back in time. He’d always been fascinated by her daily rituals when they’d been married. How she’d slather on scented lotions and spend half an hour getting her makeup right, another thirty minutes doing her hair. He’d been so in love with her, so absorbed in everything she’d done. But after a while, he’d grown frustrated with the act.
“Why do you bother with that subterfuge?” he asked when she began to stroke on mascara. “Just for once let the real you show.”
Her hand stilled. She slowly put the mascara away and took out a lipstick. “Who’s to say this isn’t the real me?”
But it couldn’t be. She wasn’t this superficial.
She slicked on red lipstick. The shiny color made her mouth seem wider. Her lips fuller.
A car door slammed shut.
With a wince, Yvonne glanced over her shoulder toward the door. She put the makeup back in her bag, yanked the band out of her hair and bent forward, shaking her head. Her sweatshirt slid up, revealing her smooth skin, the slight indentations at the base of her spine.
Aidan couldn’t look away.
Flipping her hair back, she straightened just as the contractor walked in, accompanied by a barking Lily. Aidan quieted his dog, but didn’t miss the appreciation in the other man’s face when he noticed Yvonne.
“Mark,” Aidan said, stepping forward to shake his hand. “Thanks for coming. This is Yvonne Delisle. Yvonne, Mark Michaels. He’ll be heading up the renovations here.”
“Good morning,” she said, all sunshine and spring flowers, her hips swaying subtly as she joined them. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Michaels.” Mark still held her hand. “I’m so pleased you’ll be working here. I was worried we wouldn’t be able to find someone able to do the job on such notice.”
Mark grinned. Aidan was certain he’d have to rip the man’s arm from his shoulder to get him to release Yvonne. “We rearranged a few jobs, put a rush on a couple others.”
Yvonne finally tugged free, in a subtle, polite way, of course. “That’s very lucky for us. Isn’t it, Aidan?”
Yvonne Delisle was putting on quite the show. “Very.”
“Well, it wasn’t so much lucky,” Mark said, “as Aidan’s power of persuasion.”
“Yes,” she said brightly, “I know all about how…persuasive Aidan can be.”
He didn’t want to know what she’d meant by that. “I have work to do.” And if he didn’t, he’d be damned if he’d spend any more time than necessary watching Yvonne play Southern belle. “And since I’m sure you have a clear vision of what you want done, why don’t you go over the renovation plans with Mark?”
The warmth in her eyes made him think once again that there was a real girl inside her, after all.
“Of course,” she said. Then she sent another of those false smiles at Mark, brushing her hair back as she did.
“You can fill me in on the details at our meeting this afternoon,” Aidan said, already heading toward the door.
Stepping outside, he glanced back as Mark pointed to an uneven floorboard. “Careful,” he said, taking hold of her arm.
As if sensing Aidan watching her, Yvonne looked over her shoulder and met his eyes for one long heartbeat. And then she turned and did what she did best. Walked way.
LATER THAT AFTERNOON, Yvonne parked in the empty lot of the Diamond Dust’s gift shop. Aidan had texted her
an hour earlier telling her to meet him there instead of his office so he could close up the gift shop, since their manager who had to leave early. Which suited Yvonne just fine. She’d never felt comfortable in his father’s—in his—office. She wasn’t sure even Aidan felt comfortable there. It was as if it wasn’t completely his. More like a memorial to Tom.
She grabbed her binder from the passenger seat and climbed out of her car. The bright morning had given way to gray skies and cold, drizzling rain. Ducking her head, she hurried across the paved parking lot and stepped onto the long porch. Not much had changed about the gift shop in seven years. Same weathered exterior and tall windows.
She remembered enough of the family history to know that Tom and Diane had renovated the large farmhouse into the gift shop when they’d started their business. What would it be like, she wondered, to have a marriage like that? A partnership in every sense of the word, where a husband and wife worked together toward common goals. Where they not only accepted their differences, but appreciated them.
Her mouth twisted. She doubted she would ever know. She stepped inside and let the door shut softly behind her. The floor was a beautiful dark hardwood while a row of wide, rough hewn beams separated the large room. Silver pendant and S-shaped lights hung from the rafters.
“Hello?” she called, slowly making her way toward the back of the store.
Displays were set up on large wine barrels, shelves and long tables covered in green, pink and yellow table cloths. Along with their award-winning wines, the Diamond Dust carried a variety of merchandise: glasses, specialty food products from the region and an assortment of dinnerware and gift baskets.
Yvonne ran her finger around the rim of a crystal wineglass. No other vehicles were parked outside. Did that mean Aidan wasn’t here? She checked her watch. Five o’clock.
“Am I late?” Aidan asked as he walked toward her from the tasting room in the back of the store, carrying a bottle of wine. He’d changed into a white dress shirt, open at the collar.
She touched her neck where she’d rubbed her skin raw to remove the grease. “Yes. I mean…no.” As usual, he was right on time. “I just got here.”
He set the bottle on a rack and passed her on his way to the door, where he flipped the sign to Closed and locked up. “I looked over the list you gave me Friday night,” he said as he walked behind the tall checkout counter. “I’m not convinced we need to invest in tables and chairs this early in the game. At least until we know if hosting events is going to be worth our while. I’d rather rent them.”
She blinked. “I guess we’re getting right down to business.”
Opening the cash drawer, he glanced at her. “Isn’t that what this is? A business meeting?”
“Yes. You’re right.” She straightened her shoulders. “Renting that many tables and chairs is a mistake. Trust me, you’ll have no shortage of bookings. I wouldn’t be surprised if you recouped your initial investment within a year.”
Counting the bills from the drawer, he snorted. “If we do everything on that list of yours, it’ll be quite an investment.” He jotted down the amount, then tucked the money into a bank bag. “Tables and chairs, sound system, lighting, tableware—”
“It’s all necessary.” And not nearly the bulk of where the money would be going. “Remember, we’re—you all—are starting from the ground up. You had to realize there’d be costs associated with starting a new venture. But by hosting events, you’ll increase revenues and brand awareness, bring in more repeat business and draw people here,” she said, gesturing to the shop. “All good things.”
“It’s a little late to be selling me on the idea,” he said as he made another notation on a piece of paper. “I’ll invest however much it takes to make this a success.”
“Good,” she said, pulling Mark’s estimate from her binder, “then you won’t have a problem with this.”
Aidan scanned the sheet. “That was fast.”
“He seems very easy to work with.”
“Why don’t I just give the guy a blank check?” Aidan muttered. “Is a veranda even necessary? What’s wrong with holding a party out on the grass?”
“We’ll have both options. And we can always add the kitchen on at a later date.”
He raised an eyebrow. “We?”
She stiffened. “Figure of speech.” She’d never been a part of the we around here, so there was no need to think that would change now. Even if that had been her initial hope in returning. “I told him he’d have an answer in the morning.”
“I’ll look this over later tonight and let you know.” Aidan counted out some bills and put them back into the drawer. “Was there anything else?”
“No. Not really.” And why he was so anxious for their little meeting to be over, she couldn’t say. Just as she wasn’t sure why she wanted to prolong it. “I got your email,” she blurted. The list of florists, caterers, photographers. “I couldn’t help but notice a Jane Sheppard. Is that Brady’s wife?”
Aidan filled in a bank deposit slip, nodding. “She makes gourmet chocolates. Sold them here during the holidays. We’re thinking about making them part of our regular inventory when the baby’s older.”
Yvonne stared at the back of his head. “They have a baby?” Hadn’t she heard they just got married?
“Not yet. J.C.’s due in a few months.”
“Oh. That’s…nice. I’m sure your mother’s thrilled. This being her first grandchild and all.”
His hand holding the pen stilled. “Her first grandchild,” he said flatly as he began to write again. “She loves Connie’s two girls like they were her own granddaughters, though.”
Of course she did, Yvonne thought bitterly. She wondered if they’d made room for Brady’s new wife in their tight little group, if she measured up to their scrutiny and high standards. Maybe, if Yvonne had given in when Aidan had suggested the time was right for them to have a baby, they would’ve finally accepted her, as well.
She crossed to a large table displaying hand-painted wineglasses, bowls and serving dishes. “Thank you. For hiring Mark.” She picked up a wineglass with brightly colored birthday candles on it.
“I didn’t hire Mark for you.”
“No, of course not. But I appreciate you convincing Mark to take the job. And, in having enough faith in me to work with him on the renovations.”
“Just letting you do your job.”
“I…I know you said you’d look over Mark’s estimate tonight, but if you’d like…” She swallowed, twisted her fingers together. She’d never, not once, initiated any type of meeting or date with a man before. Not after her mother had drilled into her to always, always let the man make the first, second and every move thereafter.
Not when she was terrified of having someone, of having Aidan, turn her down.
“If you’d like,” she said, shocked, and yes, impressed by how calm she sounded, how confident, “we could go over them together. Maybe over dinner?”
CHAPTER TEN
AIDAN FLICKED HER a hard glance. “That’s not necessary. If I have any questions, I’ll discuss them with you tomorrow.”
Yvonne tried to convince herself that the only reason she’d asked him to dinner was to prove to them both that she could do so.
“That’s fine,” she said, as if being shot down didn’t bother her. “Whenever.” He probably had plans for this evening with the lovely Marlene, who was open and real and wasn’t afraid of dogs. “I’ll speak with you later, then.”
“You and Mark seemed to hit it off,” Aidan said before she could leave.
“Yes,” she said slowly. “He seems competent. And he had some great ideas for the renovations.”
Aidan once again opened the cash drawer, this time taking out the receipts. “That’s not the only thing he had ideas about.”
“I’m sorry. I don’t understand what—”
“You.” He shut the cash drawer, slapped the receipts on the counter. “Mark had ideas about you.”
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Her face heated. “He was very…friendly.”
Friendly. Flirtatious. Solicitous. He was also good-looking. Funny. And she hadn’t been able to drum up even the slightest interest in him.
Aidan was watching her.
“He invited me out to dinner,” she admitted in a rush. “I turned him down.”
Aidan’s expression didn’t change. “That’s none of my business. We don’t have a policy here against employees becoming personally involved. Although if you were to have a…relationship with someone working for us, I would ask that you do your best to keep your personal and professional lives separate.”
His rational tone made her want to scream. “That won’t be a problem, since I have no plans to see him other than professionally.”
“You’re allowed to date him, Yvonne.”
She went still. “Thank you,” she said icily, “for your permission. But I hadn’t realized I needed it.”
“You don’t. It’s been seven years. We’ve both moved on.”
“You certainly have.”
She winced. She shouldn’t have said that. He’d think she was…hurt by his relationship with Marlene. Angry. Jealous.
Dear Lord, she was all three.
He studied her so intently, she had to force herself not to move when he slowly came out from behind the counter, his gait predatory.
“What did you think would happen after you left?” he asked. “Was I supposed to sit around, waiting for you to come back?”
“Don’t be ridiculous.” But she didn’t know what she’d thought would happen. Hadn’t considered anything other than her need to leave. “You’re right. We have both moved on. And Marlene is…” Everything Yvonne wasn’t. Everything he’d wanted her to be. “She’s lovely. And seems very nice. I…I hope you two are very happy together.”
“Do you?” he asked softly. “That’s…civil.”
She frowned. “Would you prefer I wasn’t civil?”
“I’d prefer you were honest. Or is that not possible?”