The Cottage on the Corner

by Shirlee McCoy

  Max’s Corvette rolled past, stopped a few feet away.

  Perfect. Just the person she wanted to see at seven in the morning when she was ice cold, out of breath, and about to die.

  The driver’s window unrolled and Max stuck his head out. “Need a ride?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hold on.” He jumped out of the car, keys jingling in his hand as he jogged to her side. He took the boxes. “It’s ten degrees, Charlotte. You should have stayed in your wagon and called for help.”

  “Called who? Everyone I know is retired. I didn’t want to wake them up this early in the morning.”

  “So you’d rather freeze to death?”

  “Not particularly.”

  He laughed quietly and opened the passenger door. “Go ahead and turn the engine back on while I put these in the backseat.”

  He tossed the keys into her lap and closed the door. She didn’t even try to put the keys in the ignition. Her fingers had frozen about five minutes into her walk.

  “Charlotte!” Zuzu squealed from behind her. “You going to see the nat-ivy with us?”

  “The nativity?” Charlotte asked, smiling at the little girl. “Is that where you’re going?”

  Zuzu nodded and held out a takeout cup. “I have chocolate.”

  “Is it good?”

  “It would be better if I had cookies,” Zuzu responded as Max got into the car.

  “Zu, I told you that you weren’t having cookies.” He took the keys and started the engine. “Besides, you already had a doughnut.”

  “Mommy gives me cookies,” Zuzu claimed.

  “Mommy isn’t here,” Max responded, and Charlotte was pretty sure he added damn her under his breath.

  “Charlotte will give me cookies.”

  “Max said no. Besides, I don’t have any cookies with me. Just coffee cake.”

  “Were you heading to the church?”

  “The parsonage.”

  “Mission meeting this morning, right? Ida said she couldn’t watch Zuzu until it was over.”

  “You haven’t found a babysitter yet?”

  “It’s been a little harder than I thought it would be. I’m going to interview a couple of people Friday when I have the day off.”

  She wanted to ask if he thought he’d still have Zuzu after the weekend, wanted to ask if he’d heard from Morgan, but Zuzu was in the backseat, and she wasn’t sure how she was feeling about her mother being gone. “Have you contacted any of the local daycares?”

  “There’s one in town, and it’s full. Besides, I don’t know how long she’s going to be here.” He turned up the heat and handed her a disposable cup. “Have some coffee.”

  “I’ll wait until I get home.”

  “Charlotte, your teeth are still chattering. You need to warm up. Drink the coffee.”

  “Drink it!” Zuzu chimed in.

  The cup did feel warm, and she was freezing. She took a sip. It was nice and hot, black and bitter. Not her normal morning drink, but the heat wound its way down her throat and settled in her stomach. “Thanks. That was nice and warm.”

  She tried to hand it back, but Max shook his head. “Drink the rest. I’ve had so much coffee, I’m getting jittery.”

  “Long night?”

  “Early morning. My phone rang at five-thirty.” He glanced in the rearview mirror, and she knew without asking that Morgan had called.

  “That was good, right?”

  “Wrong. Some people don’t deserve . . .” He glanced in the review mirror again. “Now’s not the time. We can talk about it at dinner Friday night.”

  Dinner. Yeah. She’d been trying to forget about that.

  Sure, she’d convinced herself that it would be a good thing, but she could already hear the gossip. She really didn’t want to be the center of that.

  He pulled up in front of a small clapboard house that had served as the parsonage for as long as the Apple Valley Community Church had existed. At least that’s what Ida said. According to her, the first pastor of the church had wanted to give his wife a home of her own, and he’d asked the congregation if he could build on the church property. They’d wanted to build the place for him and had planned a huge house with fancy everything. Before construction could begin, the pastor made it clear that he and his wife didn’t need anything big. Just a two-bedroom cottage that would be warm in the winter and cool in the summer.

  Charlotte had been in the house during both seasons, and she’d say that the builders had fulfilled the pastor’s request. Over a hundred years later, the cute little bungalow was perfect for Natalie and Jethro Fisher.

  “Stay here,” Max said. “I’ll bring the coffee cakes to the house.”

  “That’s okay. I can manage.” She jumped out of the car and ran around to the back, nearly slipping on ice in her haste.

  She needed to slow down.

  She did not want to fall on her butt in full view of Max. He lifted the boxes from the backseat and handed them to her. They didn’t seem as heavy now that she didn’t have to cart them up a hill.

  The front door opened before she reached it, and Natalie Fisher appeared in the doorway. “Charlotte! I was hoping that was you! Where’s your station wagon?”

  “At the bottom of the hill. It decided it didn’t want to make the drive.”

  “That hill is a bear to walk up, isn’t it? But it looks like a hunky hero drove to your rescue, so I guess things worked out just fine,” Natalie said, smiling and waving in the direction of Max’s Corvette.

  Hunky hero?

  Is that the way pastors’ wives always talked?

  “Yes, I guess they did,” she mumbled in response. “Where would you like me to set up the coffee cakes?”

  “I’ll take care of that.” Natalie took the boxes. “Since you didn’t charge me a dime, I wouldn’t feel right having you do any more work.”

  “I was happy to donate the cakes, and I enjoy setting things up when I deliver a product.” She liked the tables to look a certain way, have a certain feel. She wanted her customers to enjoy every part of the experience. The look, the taste, the smell of the food she’d delivered.

  “I’ll make sure it looks very pretty,” Natalie said. “But I can’t take advantage of you by asking for more than you’ve already given our mission committee. Besides, I wouldn’t want to keep Max waiting for his damsel in distress.”

  “I’m not a—”

  “Just a joke, Charlie. Thank you so much for these.” Natalie hefted the boxes. “Will we see you Sunday morning? Alex Riley is going to play special music in honor of Tessa and Cade’s wedding.”

  Probably not, but Charlotte didn’t feel all that comfortable admitting that she’d rather sleep in than attend service. “I’ll have to look at my schedule.”

  Natalie laughed, and Charlotte smiled. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sound like I was rebuffing a dinner invitation from a loser.”

  “At least you didn’t lie. You know Isaac Millwood?”

  “The guy who owns a farm on the east end of town?”

  “That would be the one. I saw him in the park and asked if we’d be seeing him Sunday. He said he’d love to come to church, but his cows get lonely if he leaves for more than twenty minutes.”

  “It could be true.”

  “It could be. If he had any cows. Now I really had better let you go. Doesn’t Max have a little girl he’s taking care of for a while?”

  “Zuzu. She’s in the car.”

  “Is she?” Natalie glanced toward the Corvette, something lonely and sad flashing across her face. She and Jethro didn’t have children, but if the rumors were correct, they wanted them.

  Charlotte knew exactly how it felt to long for a baby, to want to parent and not be able to.

  She touched Natalie’s arm. “Why don’t you go say hello?”

  “Not this morning. I have too much to do.” Natalie offered a brittle smile. “Thanks again, Charlotte. The committee is going to enjoy these!”

  She walked
into the house and closed the door with a firm snap that echoed on the still morning air.

  Chapter Eleven

  He should have finished his coffee.

  That’s what Max was thinking as Charlotte walked back to the car. He was also thinking that Charlotte had a decidedly sexy way of moving. Smooth. Elegant. Just a hint of hips beneath her frilly apron and short winter coat.

  “Charlotte!” Zuzu called from the backseat. “Let’s go see the nat-ivy!”

  “I think Charlotte is just going to want to go back to her car, Zu,” he cautioned.

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s busy.”

  “A girl is never too busy to haves fun,” Zuzu intoned.

  “Where’d you hear that?”

  “Mommy.”

  Of course. That had been Morgan’s philosophy when they’d met—have fun, do what makes you feel good, enjoy life because you only live it once. Those had been the reasons why she’d moved to L.A. in the first place, why she’d moved back to Apple Valley, why she’d finally sold her parents’ home and left town for good.

  He wasn’t there to judge, but he sure as hell didn’t agree. Especially when it came to parenting. Pursuing fun for the sake of fun was fine and dandy when you had no one to worry about but yourself. Once a kid entered the picture, things were supposed to change. Priorities were supposed to change.

  “Charlotte is not a girl,” he said as Charlotte climbed into the car. “She’s a woman.”

  “Who is a woman?” Charlotte asked.

  “You.”

  “Uhm. Thanks?” She reached for her seat belt, the scent of vanilla and cinnamon filling the air as she moved.

  “God, you smell good,” he said.

  Yep. He should have had the rest of the coffee.

  She raised an eyebrow, her mouth curving into a half smile. “Okay.”

  “What I mean is . . . you smell like cookies. Or scones. Or something equally delicious.” She tasted that way too.

  His gaze dropped to her lips.

  He wouldn’t mind tasting them again. He wouldn’t mind at all. He leaned toward her, and he was pretty sure she leaned toward him. They were a hairsbreadth away from each other, staring into one another’s eyes.

  “This is a really bad idea,” Charlotte whispered, but she didn’t back away.

  “Why?” he asked, because he couldn’t think of one reason.

  “I don’t date.”

  “And?”

  “You date lots of women.”

  “I used to date lots of women. I haven’t been out with anyone in a couple of months.” He lifted a strand of her hair, let it slide through his fingers. It felt like spun silk, smooth and cool to the touch. “You have beautiful hair, Charlotte.”

  “And you are a flirt.”

  She was probably right about that. He did flirt with women. He liked women. All women. Older, younger, thin, round, pretty, plain. He appreciated good mothers and good teachers and good cops, and he enjoyed letting women know that they were admired, because there weren’t enough men in the world who did that.

  “It’s not flirtation if it’s true,” he said. “And you do have beautiful hair, and you do smell like something delicious. Something that I would very much like to—”

  “I would very much like to go to the nat-ivy,” Zuzu cut in.

  Charlotte laughed nervously, scooting away so that she was nearly pressed against the car door. “That’s a good idea. We should probably do it.”

  He’d planned to take her to her car, but if she wanted to see the nativity, he wouldn’t complain.

  The church sat a ways back from the road, its white siding gleaming in the rising sun. Behind it, a cemetery stretched along the hillside, gray headstones poking up from the lush, well-manicured lawn. Reverend Fisher worked hard to keep up with the church and grounds, but it was a big job. One that Max had helped with on a few occasions. He loved the community spirit that held Apple Valley together. It reminded him of family. Or what family should be.

  The nativity sat in the center of the church’s front yard, a lone spotlight shining on the carved wooden scene. It wasn’t at all magical up close. Just a backdrop made of plywood and an old manger. Max had helped Jethro Fisher drag it out of storage and had perched the carved angel on top of a rickety frame. He’d done a little stabilizing when Jethro wasn’t looking, because he’d been afraid the figure would crash down onto some unsuspecting parishioner’s head.

  “There it is!” Zuzu squealed as he parked the car. “The nat-ivy.”

  “Nativity,” he corrected her, just like he had about ten dozen times since she’d seen it from his window.

  “Yep! There it is. Let’s go.” She unsnapped her car seat straps and tried to squeeze into the front seat.

  “Hold on, kid. Let us get out first,” Max ordered, more amused by her enthusiasm than annoyed.

  “Can you hurry up?” she asked. “Please?”

  Charlotte laughed. “At least she has manners.”

  “She needs to have patience,” he replied.

  “That’s kind of hard when you’re three.”

  “I’m going to be four on Christmas,” Zuzu interrupted, half her body hanging over Charlotte’s seat. “I’m going to have a big party with a thousand balloons.”

  “Are you?”

  Zuzu nodded, her tangled hair flopping over her face. He probably should have brushed it before he brought her out.

  “Yes!” she said with one last emphatic nod. “And we’re going to go to church, too, and we’re going to sing happy birthday to the baby Jesus, and we’re going to give him a balloon. So let’s go see him and tell him.”

  “We probably should,” Charlotte said solemnly. She opened her door and got out, taking Zuzu’s hand and helping her exit the car.

  “You know what, Charlotte?” Zuzu continued as they walked to the nativity.

  “What?”

  “I was thinking something portant.”

  “Important?” Charlotte asked, still holding on to Zuzu’s hand, the icy grass crunching under their feet, their arms swinging a little. They looked . . . right together. Connected. As if they’d known each other a long time.

  Max felt like an interloper, not quite in sync with their steps or their conversation. He crossed the yard with them, the sun nudging the horizon, Apple Valley sleeping snug and peaceful below. Christmas lights sparkled, streetlights burned bright, a few cars meandered along Main Street, their headlights muted in the purplish predawn light.

  “Yes. Important,” Zuzu repeated perfectly.

  “Are you going to tell me what?” Charlotte asked.

  “I was thinking you would make my cake for my birthday. I was thinking it could be a big huge giant cake with pink flowers and—”

  “Zu!” Max cut her off. “Charlotte is way too busy at Christmastime to bake a cake for you.”

  Zuzu’s face fell, and he felt like the worst kind of scum for stealing her dream of a big cake.

  “The thing is—” he started to explain.

  “Of course I have time to bake you a cake, Zuz,” Charlotte cut in.

  “Really?”

  “Yes, really.” Charlotte scooped her up and walked the last several feet to the nativity, whispering something to Zuzu as they went. Whatever it was, it made the little girl happy. She squealed with delight when Charlotte set her down in front of the carved figures.

  He hated to burst either of their bubbles, but it didn’t seem fair to offer Zuzu something she wasn’t going to get. No way was a big cake from Charlotte in the cards. Zuzu would be back with her mother soon, and they’d all go on with their separate lives.

  Somehow that didn’t sound quite as great as it had a couple of days ago.

  “You shouldn’t have told her that,” he murmured in Charlotte’s ear. “She’s going to be disappointed when it doesn’t happen.”

  “Who says it won’t?” she whispered, her gaze on Zuzu, her face soft with longing.

  He wanted to ask her
what had happened with her husband, how long they’d been married, why they hadn’t had children. He knew she wouldn’t answer any more than he’d answer a question about why he’d stayed single. “Christmas is five weeks away. She’s not going to be here that long.”

  “If she isn’t here, I’ll bring the cake to her.”

  “You’d drive a cake to Las Vegas for a kid you barely know?”

  She finally met his eyes, her hair gleaming in the rising sun, her eyes dark and so filled with sadness, his heart lurched and the air just kind of caught in his chest.

  “I know Zuzu,” she said. “I took care of her for sixteen hours, remember?”

  “Sixteen hours doesn’t make for a lifetime commitment.”

  “No, but it’s enough to make someone a cake.”

  “Not when they’re a thousand miles away. It would take days to get to Las Vegas and back. You have a business to run.”

  She shrugged. “I usually have all my orders filled by the twenty-third. If Zuzu is back with her mom, I’ll make sure I finish on the twenty-second. I can leave that evening and easily be in Vegas by Christmas.”

  “What if she goes back to Miami? That’s the kind of thing Morgan does. She hops from one place to the next, trying to find whatever it is she’s looking for.” For all Max knew, Morgan would decide to take Zuzu on a trip to Europe.

  “Then I’ll take a plane and have the cake shipped.”

  “It’s really sweet of you to want to do that, Charlotte, but I still think it isn’t a good idea to get Zuzu’s hopes up.” He glanced at the little girl and frowned. “Besides, you don’t want to spend Christmas away from home.”

  Charlotte couldn’t see any reason why she wouldn’t want to spend Christmas away. As far as she was concerned, Christmas was just another day on the calendar.

  “Why not? It’s not like I have family to spend the day with. I don’t even have a cat to worry about,” she said without thinking.

  Oh, God.

  That sounded pitiful, and from the look on Max’s face, he thought it was pitiful. Which was the absolute last thing Charlotte wanted. She didn’t need anyone’s pity. Living alone was a heck of a lot easier than living with someone else.