The Cottage on the Corner

by Shirlee McCoy

  “Wow!”

  “I’m going to karate chop the bad man if he comes. Chop! Chop!”

  Bad man?

  Was she serious or playing a childish game?

  Charlotte crouched down so they were eye to eye. “What bad man?”

  Zuzu glanced around the room. She wrapped her hands around Charlotte’s head and pulled her closer, whispering in her ear, her breath tickling Charlotte’s cheek. “He’s under the bed.”

  “What bed?”

  “My bed. Momma says he’ll come out and gobble me up. She says he likes little girl hearts and brains. He eats them for dinner.”

  “Zuzu! That’s not true!”

  “It is! Momma told me!” Zuzu jerked back, crossing her arms over her chest, her chin wobbling.

  “Your momma was joking.” And it had been a really mean joke. Who told her kid that a monster lived under the bed? No one Charlotte knew, that was for sure. Certainly no one she respected.

  She wanted to track Morgan down and tell her what an idiot she was.

  Not that it was any of her business how the woman raised Zuzu, but a story like that? Told to an impressionable three-year-old? That was just cruel.

  “No, she wasn’t. The man is under my bed. I heard him last night.” Zuzu’s eyes were big as saucers.

  No doubt she’d heard something.

  Probably Max’s big ugly tom scurrying after a dust bunny.

  “You probably heard the cat. They like to go under beds.”

  “Pete likes the couch.”

  “Does he?”

  “He likes the counter, too. Ida makes him get down.”

  Zuzu seemed to have forgotten all about the bad man under the bed. Charlotte opened the door and followed her out onto the porch.

  Max stood near the box of lights. Somehow he’d managed to free one strand from the tangled mess. Apparently he hadn’t been joking about spending his Christmases practicing the skill.

  “You did it!” she cried, taking the strand. “I could just . . .”

  Kiss you was on the tip of her tongue.

  “I’d like that a lot,” he responded with a wicked smile.

  “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

  “I know exactly what you were going to say.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and she blushed.

  Darn her fair skin!

  “I think I’d better put these up before they tangle again,” she mumbled, turning away and hanging the end of the string from one of the hooks, because she was definitely not going to kiss the man.

  “And I think we’d better head out. Much as I’d like to spend the rest of my day here, I have a hot date tonight, and I need to get ready for it.”

  Surprised, she met his eyes. “You have a date?”

  “A very hot date,” Max responded, eyeing her intently. “You did tell me that you didn’t want to have dinner as friends, right?”

  “Right. I’m glad you found someone else to go out with,” she muttered, draping the lights from nails she and Zim had installed her first year in the house.

  “I’m pretty excited about it,” he responded, a hint of amusement in his voice. “It’s a full moon tonight, so we’re going to picnic in Riley Park. Not quite as romantic as a camping trip, but I’m going to make it work.”

  “It’s going to be ten degrees out tonight,” she pointed out, because she might have been just at teensy bit jealous.

  A picnic in the moonlight sounded romantic and just a little heavenly, and there was a small part of her that wanted to be the woman he was taking.

  A small part?

  A huge part!

  “That’s part of my evil plan, Charlotte. My date and I will have to stay close to keep warm.” He tugged her in so that there wasn’t a bit of space between them. Like magic, she could feel their combined body heat chasing away the cold.

  God, it felt good.

  He felt good.

  She wanted to stand right where she was for the rest of the day.

  Heck with that.

  She wanted to pull him into the house and kiss him senseless.

  “I have my grandmother’s old fur throws,” he murmured, his lips brushing her ear, his hands smoothing up her spine and back down again. “The ones her mother used when she rode in a horse-drawn carriage. I’m going to spread them out on the ground in this quiet little place I found. It’s right at the base of the hill that leads to Apple Valley Community Church.”

  “Near the cemetery? I’m sure that will be extremely romantic.”

  He chuckled, the sound vibrating through her. “Not even close to the cemetery. It’s in a little clearing in the middle of a copse of trees. We’ll lie in the moonlight and sip wine and eat cheese. We may even hold hands.”

  “That sounds . . . nice.”

  “There’s just one thing I need. Maybe you can help me with it.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’d like to bring something special. A treat of some kind. Something a woman might really enjoy.”

  Great. Now he was asking her to help him with the hot date he planned to have in the moonlight. “Cheesecake?”

  “I’m thinking she’s more of a chocolate kind of girl.” A smile hovered at the corner of his lips.

  “I have a nice recipe for chocolate cake. It’s simple and tastes good with or without frosting,” she offered, mostly to convince herself and him that she was glad he was going out with someone besides her.

  “That sounds fantastic.”

  “I can make the cake this af—”

  “If you give me the recipe, I’ll make it.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “You think I can’t cook?”

  “I’ve seen your kitchen, Max. You don’t have any ingredients. Unless you want to make a cake out of cardboard and eggs.”

  He smiled. “I think I can manage to find what I need at the grocery store.”

  “The thing is, I usually don’t give out my recipes.” Too many people complained when she did. Nothing ever tasted the same, and everyone insisted she’d left out an ingredient or two.

  “Can you make an exception if I promise I won’t share the recipe with anyone?”

  “I don’t think—”

  “Please is a nice word, Maxi,” Zuzu piped in.

  “You’re right, Zuzu,” he responded. “Can you please make an exception, Charlotte?” He smiled into her eyes, and she couldn’t think of one reason why she shouldn’t.

  “I guess. Since you said please.”

  She ran into the house, because that seemed so much easier than staring into his eyes wondering what it would be like to be the woman he made chocolate cake for.

  Man! She had it bad, and she wasn’t even sure how it had happened. She hadn’t intended it to. She’d planned to keep her distance, keep her focus, and refuse to veer from the course she’d set for herself after Brett’s death.

  She grabbed an index card from a drawer in the kitchen and jotted down the recipe.

  All set! She’d hand it to him and send him on his way.

  Good riddance to bad company. Only the company hadn’t been bad. It had been pretty darn good, and she’d enjoyed every moment of it.

  “Idiot,” she muttered as she walked back outside.

  Sam and Zuzu weren’t alone on the porch. Daisy was there, her brown hair pulled into a messy bun, her eyes big behind her thick-lensed glasses. She didn’t look like a criminal who’d been breaking into Charlotte’s house, but Charlotte couldn’t forget what Cade had told her.

  “Hi, Daisy!” she said, her voice squeaking just a little at the end.

  Nerves.

  They did that to her.

  Daisy didn’t seem to notice. Her gaze was on the index card, her eyes bright and glittery. Maybe even a little crazed. “Hi, Charlotte. I’m sorry for interrupting. It’s my lunch break, and I wanted to talk to you before I have to be back at the office.”

  “About?” She handed the index card to Max.

&nbs
p; Daisy watched the transaction, her brow furrowed. “What’s that?”

  “Nothing,” Charlotte responded quickly. If she admitted that she’d given Max a recipe, Daisy would beg for the double chocolate delight recipe again. “You were about to tell me why you’re here, remember?”

  “Of course, I remember,” Daisy snapped. “I’m here about a wedding cake.”

  “You’re engaged?!” Charlotte glanced at Daisy’s left hand. She couldn’t see a ring bulging out from under the leather glove, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t one.

  “I’m going to get married,” Daisy responded, offering a brittle smile. “I’d like to choose the cake and topper today.”

  Let the woman who might have broken into her house order a cake with her?

  That wasn’t going to happen.

  “I’m sorry, Daisy. I have a lot of work to do for the Henderson party. Next week would be better for me.”

  “What if it’s not better for me?”

  “Then I guess you’ll have to find another baker to make the cake.” She hoped Daisy would take her up on the offer.

  “You know what I think? I think you don’t want to let me order my cake because I’m not engaged yet,” Daisy huffed.

  “I had no idea—” that you weren’t engaged was what she planned to say, but Daisy cut her off.

  “I thought you were a really nice person, but I’m beginning to see that I was wrong.”

  “But—”

  “Go ahead. Make the Henderson cake. I’ll come back next week. If you have the time for me then.”

  “I told you—”

  “I’ll see you then.” Daisy stalked away, her entire body vibrating with the force of her indignation.

  “Talk about not getting a word in edgewise,” Max murmured as Daisy got into her car and peeled away from the curb. “She didn’t even give you a half a chance to speak.”

  “She’s pissed.”

  “That’s the understatement of the century.” Max tracked Daisy’s retreating car. “She was angry as he”—he glanced at Zuzu—“heck.”

  “I don’t know why. I’ve always been really nice to her.”

  “You’re always really nice to everyone, Charlotte. It’s past time that someone was nice to you.” He tucked the recipe in his pocket and led Zuzu to her Big Wheel. “We have to get out of here. Thanks for the cookies and milk. We really enjoyed them, right, Zuzu?”

  “Yes!” Zuzu agreed.

  Charlotte smiled. “I’m glad you liked the cookies. Thanks for stopping by. I’ll see you—”

  “At six. Dress warm,” Max cut in as he lifted Zuzu onto her Big Wheel.

  “Dress warm for what?”

  “Our picnic in the moonlight,” he responded. “You haven’t forgotten already, have you?”

  “I thought you were taking your hot date there.”

  “I am, but only because she refused to go out to dinner as friends.” He dropped a quick hard kiss on her lips, gave Zuzu a gentle nudge toward the town center, and started jogging along behind her.

  “We are not going on a hot date!” Charlotte shouted after him.

  He probably heard, but he pretended not to, his gaze fixed on Zuzu.

  Darn the man!

  He’d set her up.

  She should be upset about it, but she was smiling as she finished hanging the lights and humming Christmas carols as she walked inside the house and made a pot of tea.

  Making a cake was not supposed to be difficult.

  Was it?

  Max looked at the lumpy, gooey mess that he’d dumped onto a plate and scowled.

  “Yucky!” Zuzu said, peering over the edge of the counter and staring at the brown goop.

  “You think?” The sarcasm was lost on Zuzu.

  She wrinkled her nose and frowned. “Yes.”

  “Then it’s good you don’t have to eat it.” He used a spoon to try to pile the mess into something that resembled a cake. All he succeeded in doing was splattering batter on the wall. “Sh—oot!”

  He’d been trying to clean up his language.

  Little pitchers had big ears.

  At least that’s what Ida had said when she’d heard him cuss in front of Zuzu. She had a point. If he wasn’t careful, Zuzu would be wandering around town spouting words no three-year-old should know.

  “You made a mess!” Zuzu accused, her gaze sharply focused on the flecks of chocolate that dotted the walls.

  Someone knocked on the door.

  Emma. It had to be. She was early, but he wasn’t going to complain. The last hour of Zuzu’s chatter had driven him almost to the brink of insanity. She’d talked so much, he’d been tempted to invest in a pair of earplugs.

  He yanked open the door and let Emma in.

  Her eyes were shadowed, her hair pulled into a high ponytail. She wore dark blue jeans and an oversized sweatshirt. No makeup. No snide look in her eyes. She could have been ten or fifteen rather than twenty-five.

  “You look like hell,” he said. “Are you sure you’re up to babysitting?”

  “Thanks,” she growled. “Yes. And watch your language around the kid.”

  “I’ve been working on it.”

  “Hmph!” She carried a huge duffle to his coffee table and dropped it there.

  “You planning to spend the night?”

  “I’m planning to entertain a precocious three-year-old.”

  “And you thought you needed an entire bag of tricks to do it?”

  She tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ear and looked at him like he was an idiot. “From what I’ve heard, I may need more than that.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  “Jordyn Lancaster told Tate Gordon that Zuzu is the smartest kid she’s ever met.”

  “She told me the same thing.” As a matter of fact, the young nurse had said it at least a dozen times during Zuzu’s appointment. “Why was she saying it to Eli and why did Tate say it to you?”

  “We ran into each other at the district courthouse today.”

  “You got another speeding ticket?”

  “I’ve only gotten two, Max, and you’re the one who issued them,” she responded with a scowl.

  “I’ve got to do my job. No matter—”

  “Yeah, yeah. Save it for someone who cares.” She tightened her ponytail and crossed her arms over her chest. “As I was saying, I was at the courthouse, and I ran into Tate. He mentioned how impressed Jordyn was with Zuzu.”

  “So Jordyn and Tate are an item now?”

  If so, Max was surprised.

  A divorce lawyer turned college professor, Tate lived on the east edge of town with his three kids. His wife April had died a few weeks after the youngest was born. That had been Max’s first year in town. He’d heard lots of talk about the couple and their perfect marriage, perfect children, perfect house on the edge of town. There wasn’t a woman in Apple Valley who hadn’t thought Tate would marry again before the year was out.

  He’d need someone to care for his poor daughters. Or so the blue-haired ladies at the diner had said.

  Over and over again.

  Tate hadn’t remarried. The girls were doing just fine, and the gossips had finally shut up about the situation. Hopefully Tate didn’t ruin that by entering the local dating arena. Since he and Max were friends and hunting buddies, it was only right that Max let him know that.

  “He helped Jordyn with her divorce last year. She says that she and Tate are dating, but you know how she likes to exaggerate things.”

  “More than rabbits like carrots. More than the Red Hat club ladies like their purple shampoo.”

  She laughed. “Thanks, Max.”

  “For what?”

  “Making me laugh. I needed it.”

  “Bad day with your dad?”

  “Bad day all around.” She unzipped the duffle and pulled out Play-Doh. Twenty-four different colors. “But I’m going to put it behind me. Zuzu and I are going to have a blast tonight. Aren’t we, hun?”

/>   “No,” Zuzu responded, shoving her thumb into her mouth and clambering onto the couch. She’d already taken her bath. He’d done his best to brush her hair, but it was sticking out in about five different directions. Despite his best efforts to get her into one of the pretty new pairs of pajamas the historical society had brought, she’d insisted on wearing the god-awful footy pajamas she’d arrived in. He could see a little hole in one foot and another under the arm.

  She looked like a ragamuffin.

  A very angry ragamuffin.

  “Sure you are, Zu,” he cajoled, because there was no way in hell he was missing his date with Charlotte. “Emma is a fun person.”

  “Not tonight she’s not,” Emma muttered under her breath, but she walked back to the bag and pulled out a coloring book with a princess on the front cover. “That’s okay, Max. She doesn’t have to have fun with me. I can have fun all by myself.” She dragged a brand-new box of crayons from the duffle. “I’m going to color princesses—”

  “I’m a princess,” Zuzu said, the words muffled by her thumb.

  Emma didn’t seem to have any trouble understanding her.

  “I know—”

  “Don’t feed her delusion, Em. She’ll be wanting to walk around in a crown all day.”

  Emma rolled her eyes. “Obviously, you don’t understand, Max. Every girl is a princess. Right, Zuzu?”

  Zuzu nodded, her eyes wide.

  “That’s why we’re going to make crowns, too!” Emma pulled out some weird Styrofoam-looking crowns and a bunch of glitter glue.

  “Wow!” Zuzu said with obvious wonder. “I want pink.”

  “That’s good, because I like yellow.” Emma extended her hand and Zuzu took it.

  They walked into the kitchen together.

  Max grabbed the wicker picnic basket that Tessa had lent him when he’d called and asked her advice about dinner with Charlotte. The thing had cups, plates, an old-fashioned Thermos, and containers for food. It was a relic of the past, probably something Tessa had saved from the shop her sister and brother-in-law had once run.

  It fit the occasion.

  But that was Tessa. She loved reusing old things, making them work for new situations.

  He carried the basket into the kitchen and set it on the counter. He’d already filled the Thermos with wine, put grapes in one container and cheese that Ida had provided in another. Gourmet. According to Ida, that was the way to go. He’d consulted both women. That probably surprised him as much as it surprised them.