Rose waved her off and said, “I’m fine. Why don’t you talk to Sue at the bakery? She might have to hire more help.” Withdrawing her head from the case, her mother put a hand on her hip and smiled. “Now, isn’t that nice? Your business is providing work to people in town.”
“Tell that to Dad,” Holly said.
The four teenagers had finished their drinks and were heading for the door. The only other customer was the blonde woman, who appeared content with her cappuccino and laptop.
“Now, Holly...”
“Okay, I’ll be quick.”
“Take your time.” Louise came out of the kitchen and headed for the cups left by the teens. “We’re all caught up. We can handle things. How about it, Rose?”
Holly smiled at her best friend. “Have I told you how much I appreciate your help with this venture?”
Cups in hand, Louise rolled her eyes. With a glance at Holly’s mother, she lowered her voice. “Think you can handle seeing Mac around? That stuff happened a long time ago.”
Louise had been Holly’s most ardent defender when the older boys would start their taunts. As small as she was, they just laughed at her attempts to quiet them. Holly shrugged as she picked up the tip jar and jingled the change inside. She didn’t care to think about Mac’s reappearance in their lives. “He insulted my coffee.”
Louise smiled. “Your coffee will win him over, just like everyone else in town.”
“Everyone except my father,” Holly said. “Chris is the only one who has traveled. He’s used to places like this. But the others still think coffee should cost a quarter.”
“They’re a minority. Stop worrying.”
“What if they’re right, Weaz? I’ve invested my life savings in this shop, not to mention the loan from my parents and your free help. If the business goes under, I’ll have nothing to show for it. My father will never let me hear the end of it.”
“If you wanted to be safe you would’ve stayed enlisted. But you took a chance. If it doesn’t work out, you’re young. You’ll find something else.”
“Let’s hope everyone in town doesn’t share McAndrews’s fifty-cents-a-cup attitude.” She peered into the tip jar. “We got tips.” Holly dumped the change in her hand and counted out fifteen dollars and fifty-two cents. “Somebody put in their two cents’ worth, most likely my brother, who thinks he’s funny.”
As Louise started to back through the swinging door into the kitchen, she said, “Add the cash to the register.”
“No way. You, Mom and Carolyn get the tips. It’s the least I can do.” Dumping the change in the jar, Holly pushed back her guilt that no one was accepting a paycheck yet. She needed to start making a profit soon. By fall, when everyone returned to their usual duties, she would need an employee or two.
“What else would I be doing?” A resigned smile graced her face before she disappeared into the kitchen.
Holly could hear her loading cups into the dishwasher and her heart went out to her brave friend.
Kneeling by the display case, Rose caught her gaze. “I think working here has been good for Louise. She seems more like her old self. You go on, we’re fine.”
Holly untied her apron and hung it on the hook next to the kitchen door. Thinking of Louise’s tragedy, she realized her own memories of being teased in gym class couldn’t compare. “Okay, I’m out of here. I hope you don’t get a busload of senior citizens while I’m gone.”
Holly left the shop and stood outside, savoring the fresh spring air. For a minute, she allowed herself to visualize The Wildflower as a success. A comfortable spot where locals came to relax and visit. A hangout after Friday night football games at the high school. After all, she had duplicated the school colors in her shop.
The Bear Meadows Cubs were expected to win the state title this year. Her shop could even be a stopover for fans traveling through town on Saturdays on their way to Penn State football games in the fall. Then maybe her father would come around. Not that she ever expected him to say he was wrong.
Holly stretched her arms over her head. Her back cracked loudly. “Ah, that feels better.” She shrugged her shoulders, took a few steps to the right and glanced in the window of the beauty salon. Seeing the proprietor with a customer, she stuck her head in the door. “Hi, Megan. Hi, Mrs. Fleck.”
Mrs. Fleck brought a hand out from under her drape and waved at Holly. Pieces of her hair had been pulled through a foil cap. “I’m getting highlights. What do you think, Holly? Maybe I’m too old for this nonsense. I’ve never dyed my hair.”
“You’ll look great. You music types are always at the forefront of fashion.”
Mrs. Fleck blushed and waved away her compliment. “Before I started teaching, I was in a girl band, believe it or not.”
Holly leaned against the doorjamb. “I always figured you for a wild woman, Mrs. Fleck.”
Her own long dark hair caught back in a ponytail, Megan wiped some white paste on a lock of hair and flashed a smile. “Hey, I like having you right next door, Holly. Your caffeine helped me through two dye jobs and a three-year-old’s first haircut.”
“So I heard. These walls are thin.” Holly laughed. “Glad to help. See you later.” With a wave, she left and entered the computer shop.
Pierre Lefonte stood behind a glass case sorting boxes. “Holly. How are you, mademoiselle? How is your system working? Good, I hope.”
Holly leaned on the counter. “So far, so good. Thank you, Pierre. You didn’t come over for your free coffee.”
Pierre flipped a lock of hair out of sparkling brown eyes and grinned at her. “You were busy, no? Perhaps tomorrow. And I would prefer a double espresso. None of your weak American coffee for me.”
“We’ll convert you one of these days.” Holly straightened and wagged a finger. “I will hold you to it, then. One double espresso. Au revoir.”
“Au revoir, mon amie.” Pierre went back to sorting as Holly left the shop and continued on the boardwalk.
She peered through the window of the used clothing store. Seeing no sign of the extravagantly dressed Cheri, she continued to the bakery, where the scent of fresh bread lingered in the air. “I love the smell in this place.” She leaned on the counter and smiled at the short, heavyset woman standing at the open cash register. “The flowers by the door look nice. Did you put the pot together?”
Periodically licking her thumb as she counted one-dollar bills, Sue peered at Holly over horn-rimmed reading glasses. “Cheri seems to think flowers will draw in more customers. Tell her to put the pot in front of her door. I don’t have time to fuss with flowers.” She banged a roll of quarters on the edge of the cash drawer. “Did you let yourself into the shop yesterday after I closed?”
Holly straightened. “Of course not. I’d only use the key you gave me in case of emergency.” A flicker of unease caused her to look around. “Why do you ask?”
Sue stopped counting and rested her hands on the open drawer. Glancing at the filled racks, she shook her head. “I could have sworn I made more peanut butter cookies yesterday.” She resumed counting. “I don’t know. Ever since Brad started this midlife crisis nonsense I haven’t been able to think straight.” She pressed her lips together and her eyes glistened.
“I’m sorry, Sue.” Holly’s heart went out to her new friend. Everyone in town knew Brad’s midlife crisis involved another woman. “Did you tell anyone about the missing things?”
“I called the police station. Now I wish I hadn’t. Chief McAndrews will think I’ve gone off my rocker if I say somebody’s been stealing cookies.” She tucked a few strands of dyed blond hair behind her ear. “Forget I said anything, Holly. Did you make any sales?”
“Did I make any sales? Do owls hoot? We sold out of whoopie pies and no bakes.”
Sue’s hands stilled and her head jerked up, blue eyes wide
. “I thought you had more than enough. I thought you had too many, in fact, and they would go stale. I thought—”
“You’ve got to think positive, Sue.” Holly couldn’t remember the last time she’d seen a smile on the baker’s face. She had known Sue first as a volunteer at school functions. Ten years later, no trace of that happy woman remained. “No chance of your baked goods going stale. I’m here to order more.”
“Dot McClain asked me if I needed any help,” Sue said. “Her husband just got laid off. Working here won’t replace her husband’s pay but some money’s better than nothing.”
Holly thought about the boy who’d ordered two black coffees. So times were tight at his house. She glanced at the racks filled with bags of fresh bread and boxes of old-fashioned cookies. “How has business been?”
Sue counted the ones, then returned them to the drawer. “Business is good on the weekends but not so great during the week. I’m thinking of opening just two days a week. I saw in the paper the retirement home is looking for a cleaning lady for second shift.”
Holly pressed a hand to her chest. “What about me?”
“I’ll still provide you with baked goods.” Eyes narrowed, she peered over her glasses as she pulled out the fives. “What else do I have to do with my time?”
Holly racked her brain for a subject to pull Sue from her dark mood. “Do you see Josh often? He’s in the army, right?”
“I haven’t seen him since I moved out of the house.” She shook her head. “I like keeping busy. Besides, your little coffee shop is saving my bakery...such as it is.”
Despite Sue’s negative attitude, a warm feeling swept through Holly as she realized that her mom had been right. Her coffee shop was helping create jobs. She just hoped her business continued. Holly glanced up at the cookie jar clock over the counter. “Oh, my goodness, is that the right time?”
Sue answered without looking up. “Yep.”
“I’ve got to run.” Holly backed toward the door. “What time can you have the cinnamon buns ready in the morning?”
“How early do you want them?” Lips tight, the baker slammed the money drawer shut.
“Is six forty-five too early?” Watching her friend’s face, Holly groped behind her for the door handle.
“Not for a baker.” Sue patted the front of her apron, flour dust surrounding her in a cloud. With just the trace of a smile, she waved goodbye. “Thanks again, Holly. I appreciate your business. You’re a lifesaver.”
With an answering smile and a final wave, Holly reached for the door. She had been gone too long already.
CHAPTER THREE
MAC COULD SEE HOLLY, arm outstretched, backing toward the door. Realizing she was coming through that door with no idea someone stood on the other side, he stepped away just as the door burst open. Everything would have been fine if someone hadn’t left a flowerpot sitting in the middle of the walkway. With the heel of his boot catching the edge of the pot, Mac found himself cartwheeling toward the edge of the porch.
He had to give Holly credit for a quick reaction. She grabbed the front of his shirt and reversed his momentum. “A little clumsy this morning, Chief.”
The mischievous grin left her face as Mac’s backward motion transferred to forward motion and she found herself pressed to the wall of the bakery. Mac’s hands landed on either side of her head as he tried to prevent himself from smashing into her.
Her expression a mixture of surprise and alarm, Holly shoved at his chest. “What the heck, McAndrews?”
Hands still pressed to the wall, Mac stared at Holly. Her green eyes locked on his face, her lips parted. Mac’s memory brought up a picture of a fifteen-year-old Holly, holding an orange flower in the palm of her hand, smiling up at him. He took a slow breath. “Are you—”
“Get off me, McAndrews. You’re squishing me.”
This time Mac’s jaw dropped. “You grabbed me.” He backed up a step. “And may I remind you who just came plowing through that door like a runaway horse?”
“Did you just call me a horse?” Holly brushed off his hands and pushed past him. “You haven’t changed one bit.”
She stalked down the boardwalk toward the coffee shop. When she reached her door, she turned and shot him a laser beam of a look that sent a shiver up his spine. What was her problem?
He escaped into the bakery and shut the door with a sigh of relief. Holly wasn’t fifteen anymore. She had grown into a strong, smart woman, just as he always knew she would. And if she didn’t like him very much, well, that didn’t come as a surprise.
He glanced at Sue, expecting a smile. Instead, she crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. “Well, did you find anything out?”
His eyes lighted on the cookie jar clock, hoping against hope it was quitting time.
It wasn’t.
And who was he kidding? No such thing as quitting time for the chief of police.
* * *
HOLLY RACED INTO the shop and slammed the door. Striding over to the counter, she leaned on it and took a deep breath. Why, after six months, was that man suddenly underfoot? She closed her eyes.
She had liked him at first, when Chris brought the new kid to the family Christmas party. Then when she saw him in gym class, everything changed. He was nowhere near the nice, polite boy who helped her father set up the Christmas tree that had fallen victim to one of her brothers’ all-too-common tussles. He had everybody fooled. Everybody except her.
She slapped a hand over her chest and belatedly looked around the room, hoping no customers had observed the owner’s brief foray into madness. No one had. The teens were gone, the blonde was gone and apparently her mother and Louise were gone. Her pounding heart slowed. “Mom?”
A voice wafted from the far corner of the store. “Over here.”
Holly went around a wall divider and peeked into an alcove stacked with books and magazines. Her mother lay sprawled on a beanbag chair, studying a business magazine. Holly propped her hands on her hips. “Comfortable, are we?”
Rose laughed as she struggled to rise from the chair, which kept collapsing as she pushed on it. She reached out a hand. “Pull me up, honey.”
Holly gripped the outstretched hand and pulled. “What were you doing?”
Rose straightened her apron and returned the magazine to a neat pile on a shelf. “I was straightening up this area and I happened to see an article on bed-and-breakfasts. I had to read it.”
“Of course.” Holly followed her mother to the counter. “You should head home anyway. Dad’s probably waiting for his dinner.” She drummed her fingers on the counter as her mother removed her apron. “What’s he up to today?”
Her mother folded the apron into a small square of fabric before answering. “When I left this morning he was putting the finishing touches on the backyard gazebo. He’s always doing something, you know. He can’t seem to sit still.” She rested a hand on Holly’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be down soon, honey. He’s proud of you.”
“He’s so proud of me he refused to offer me the same terms as Sonny and Thomas because he thinks I don’t have business sense.” Her father would rather do hard labor than visit Holly’s coffee shop. He had told her in no uncertain terms that leaving the air force was a mistake, that she should “tough it out.”
“Oh, Holly.”
She squeezed her mother’s hands. “Thank you, Mom, for your help. I wish I had the money to pay you.”
Rose laid a hand on her cheek. “Of course, sweetheart.” She carried the folded apron into the kitchen. When she came out she had two paperback books in her hand and her purse looped over her shoulder. “You don’t owe me anything. Look at all the free books I get to read.”
Laughing, Holly propped both elbows on the counter as her mother passed with a wave. “Wonder who the blonde la
dy was.” A stranger in their little town stood out and usually ended up being someone’s relative.
Rose paused, her hand on the doorknob. She turned, brow wrinkled in thought. “What did you say, dear?”
“The blonde who was drinking a cappuccino, working on a laptop. She doesn’t look like a local.”
Rose leaned against the open door and put a finger to her lips. “You know, if I didn’t know better, I would’ve guessed she was Mac McAndrews’s wife. But of course she can’t be. His wife passed away three years ago.”
“How do you know what she looked like?” Holly’s antenna emerged. Mac was married to a woman who looked like the blonde cappuccino-drinker?
“Chris showed me a picture once. She was on the cover of an equestrian magazine.” Rose turned in the doorway, hands clasping her books to her middle. “Beautiful woman. Bye, dear.”
With a backward wave she was gone, leaving Holly to wonder: after he’d been married to a woman like that, who could possibly meet Mac McAndrews’s standards? She pitied the next woman to fall under his spell.
Holly looked up as the bell over the door jingled. “Mom, did you forget—”
Instead of her mother, Holly was greeted with the sight of Sonny, the expression on his ruddy face intense. He flipped her sign to Closed and locked the door. “Mom’s halfway home.”
Holly held up a hand like a stop sign, her eyes closed as she anticipated her brother’s wrath. “Whatever you’re going to say—”
“I’m not saying anything. Carolyn said you might need help cleaning up.” He walked behind the counter and stared at the dual coffeemaker. “Is it okay if I turn this off and empty the pots?”
Holly stared at her brother, momentarily taken aback at the offer of help. Go figure. I can’t even understand my own brothers half the time. Men. “Sure, just dump the coffee in the sink and rinse with water.” She tapped her fingers restlessly on the counter. “Thanks.”
Sonny grabbed a container and easily lifted the heavy pot to the drain board. “No problem.”
“Mom already covered the pastries so I guess I’ll—” she looked around the room at the crumb-littered tables and chairs moved about “—wipe everything down and put things back where they belong.”
Wanted--The Perfect Mom Page 3