“What happened?” he asked, lifting his free hand to tame hair that had escaped her updo.
“It didn’t work out that way,” Spring said with what she hoped came off as a nonchalant shrug. “Anyway, I did end up with a lot of kids,” she continued, aiming to put a bright face on the matter. “I’m a pediatrician. I look at all of my young patients as my children. I have their well-being at heart as much as, and sometimes more than, their parents.”
He was quiet for a moment, then said, “I see what you mean. But it’s not the same thing. Kids change your focus. Instead of I and me, your focus shifts to what’s most important for this little person who is depending on you for everything. You pray and hope you don’t mess it up, that maybe you learned something from the way you were raised, something that will make it all work out for the best.”
“Jeremy is a good boy,” Spring said.
“He calls you pretty Spring.”
She smiled. “I know. I don’t know why he calls me that, but every time he says it, it’s just the sweetest thing.”
“When he was sick, you made him better. When he opened his eyes, he saw what I see when I look at you.”
Spring’s gaze lifted to meet his. “What’s that?”
Her question was just barely a whisper. They were so close she breathed in the musky citrus of his aftershave or cologne and liked the scent that seemed so much a part of him.
“A woman of infinite beauty and grace.”
“David.”
Saying his name was like releasing a cavalcade of emotions she didn’t even realize was locked up inside her.
“Spring, I’m going to kiss you now.”
“I know,” she said.
And then his mouth covered hers in an embrace that left her breathless.
Spring wondered at the way her heart beat seemingly in unison with his. Every fiber of her seemed to be saying that this was right, this was what it felt like to love and to be loved.
But her head was sending another message, one that she let drown out the drumbeat of her heart. She pulled away and stared up at him.
“Do you want me to apologize?” he asked.
Unable to speak, Spring just shook her head from side to side.
“I...” She paused, then lifted a finger to his mouth to trace its contours.
David caught her hand, opened her palm and pressed a kiss into it.
“Let’s go inside,” he said. “Dinner and your friends are waiting.”
That had the effect of a glass of ice water in the face. Spring stepped back, putting needed distance between them and claiming her hand from him.
“David, this is more than just a dinner party.”
He grinned. “I know.”
Her eyes widened. “You do? But how? Who told you?”
“You did,” he said.
Spring was 250 percent sure that she had done no such thing. She hadn’t mentioned it to anyone but the supper club members since she’d concocted this harebrained intervention dinner party. “When?”
“When you told me you wanted me to meet some of your friends,” he said, reaching for and tugging on her hand. “Come on—let’s not keep them waiting.”
“That’s not what I meant,” she said.
But he either didn’t hear or chose to ignore her protestation.
* * *
While the Magnolia Supper Club’s dinner commenced at the Darling family’s historic farmhouse, another burglary was under way in downtown Cedar Springs.
It was a quick affair, the items to steal pretargeted and the business’s less than stellar alarm easy for the two-person burglary crew to overcome. In and out they went. They tucked their goods in the trunk of a dark sedan, a four-door vehicle that looked like many, many others in the city. And then they were off, headed out to Orchard Road where merchandise was stored, repackaged and prepared for delivery to willing buyers.
* * *
The diners were seated following introductions over hors d’oeuvres. Among the supper club members were Roger and Carol Delaney, who owned a bed-and-breakfast; Maddie Powers, who was a retired home economics teacher; and Natalie and Christopher Parker, who were self-proclaimed foodies and hosted an online food podcast. As host of the meal, Gerald explained to his guests what he’d prepared.
“The lovely Cecelia has offered to assist me, and thank you to Spring for opening your home for our little soiree.”
After the group decided on the next gathering’s theme and host, Gerald provided descriptions of the meal he’d prepared. “We’ll begin with a fennel and apple salad with lemon shallot, followed by a fresh corn chowder with feta and sun-dried tomatoes. Then,” he said, practically beaming with glee and pride, “we shall feast on trout stuffed with salmon mousse in a deliriously light puff pastry along with a yummy yam soufflé.”
“Sounds scrumptious.”
“It is,” Gerald said. “And that’s not boasting,” he added to chuckles from his supper club members. “For dessert, well, I’ll tell you about that later, but you are absolutely going to die of bliss.”
The courses and conversation flowed around the table, touching on everything from alternative ways to prepare the entrée to an update on the burglary at Step Back in Time Antiques.
“Do the police have any leads?”
“If you mean like something that will lead them to whomever burglarized the store, no,” Gerald said with a huff. “But I have some leads of my own.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” Maddie Powers said.
“You don’t have to,” Gerald said. “I’m going to tell you.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” Carol Delaney said, reaching for her water goblet.
Spring and David shared a glance, humor sparking between them. “I told you,” Spring murmured. “Maddie has had a thing for him for years. He’s oblivious.”
“Hey, no whispering down there,” Cecelia said. “If you’re sharing juicy gossip, I want to be a part of it.”
“Just filling him in on some backstory,” Spring said.
David lifted his water goblet in a slight toast to indicate all was well at their end of the table.
“On the QT, Officer Walters told me that the police are looking into several burglaries in Cedar Springs,” Gerald said, clearly relishing his role as purveyor of news unknown to the others. “And,” he said, lowering his voice as if said criminals might be listening in to their dinner conversation, “they think there may be a ring operating somewhere out here.”
“Out here where?” Cecelia asked.
“In one of the abandoned barns or houses,” Gerald said. “Can you imagine that?”
Spring’s eyes widened, and she looked at Cecelia, who was also staring at Gerald.
“There aren’t that many abandoned properties,” Spring said. “Many of them are like this house, used as weekend getaways.”
Gerald nodded knowingly. “Exactly. I would assume the crooks have scanned out all of the property out here and know exactly when they’re empty. They could be watching us right now.”
“Gerald,” Cecelia said, “stop being so melodramatic.”
He huffed and sat back. “Call it what you want. I just hope the police recover those paintings and the vases they took. I can’t believe they just cherry-picked our inventory like that.”
Cecelia pushed her chair back. “I’m going to go get dessert ready,” she said, standing. “Spring, why don’t you help me?”
Spring knew exactly what Cecelia wanted to talk to her about in the privacy of the kitchen. They’d seen Sweet Willie wandering around in the area where there was a barn that was definitely deserted. What if he was a part of the burglary ring or knew something about it?
Just as soon as they were alone in the big country kitchen, Cecelia voic
ed the very question that had been on Spring’s mind.
“Do you think Sweet Willie has something to do with the break-in at the antiques store?”
Spring leaned against the counter. “I don’t know. It doesn’t seem likely.”
“What’s out here for a homeless man to get into besides trouble?” Cecelia said, keeping her voice low so it didn’t carry to the other room. “Wasn’t I just saying yesterday something was off about him?”
“Do you think we should go to the police?” Spring said.
“Go to the police about what?” David asked, entering the kitchen with several dinner plates in hand.
Spring started as if she herself had been caught in the middle of a criminal activity. She looked at Cecelia, who lifted and dropped her shoulders, leaving the decision to Spring whether or not to bring David into their confidence. Although he was an outsider, she trusted him... Well, she trusted certain parts of him. But because he wasn’t from Cedar Springs, maybe he could see a different perspective.
“Cecelia and I were coming out here to get the house ready for this dinner, putting the leaves in the table, making sure there was enough dinnerware and that sort of thing. But on the way here, we saw one of the homeless men who is a regular for meals at Manna, the Common Ground ministry’s soup kitchen.”
“Was he doing something illegal?” David asked.
“No,” Spring said.
“But there’s a good reason to believe he’s not so innocent.”
“Cecelia,” Spring said, resignation in her voice.
“What?” David asked, looking between the two women.
“Cecelia has a theory about him that I think is ridiculous.”
David placed the dirty dishes in the sink. “Well, if there’s a connection between him and the burglary at Gerald’s store, you should let the authorities know. Police on the news are always saying that even the smallest of details can be significant to a case.”
“What do you think, CeCe?”
The professor looked torn as she weighed the pros and cons of the situation.
“Tell you what,” Cecelia finally said, “I have some volunteer shifts at Manna this coming week. If Sweet Willie is there, I’ll see what he has to say.”
“You should not be playing detective,” Spring said. “We have no idea what, if anything, could be going on.”
“That’s right,” David said. “I’ve been involved with development projects where squatters had to be forcibly removed from buildings before demolition or renovation could take place. It wasn’t pretty, and the police were ultimately called in on each situation. Given that you’re thinking there could be criminal activity associated, the wisest course of action would be alerting the authorities.”
Spring let out a snort, the type her mother would deem extremely unladylike. She went to the refrigerator and started pulling out the miniature parfaits that would be served with their tortoni.
“If you think Professor Many Degrees over there is going to follow the wisest course of any action, you’ll be sadly and extremely mistaken.”
“Professor Many Degrees?”
“Pay her no attention whatsoever,” Cecelia answered.
But Spring was looking at David. “What you said,” she told him. “That may be it.”
“What did I say?”
“The abandoned buildings. My sister Summer runs the kitchen at Manna. And I remember her saying there have been periods when Sweet Willie just sort of disappeared.”
“And?” Cecelia prompted.
“The abandoned buildings out here. They are the perfect place for someone to live, especially someone without a permanent home,” she said. “Maybe that’s what Sweet Willie was doing out on Orchard Road. Heading to a barn or building where he’s—what did you call it?—squatting?”
David nodded. “It’s not as big a problem here on the East Coast as it is in some of the southwestern and western states where entire subdivisions have foreclosed properties. Homeless people, drug addicts and others just move in. Sometimes squatters keep up a property better than the homeowners who abandoned the places because they want it to appear like they belong there.”
“How long does it take three adults to gather a simple dessert?” Gerald said, entering the kitchen carrying the remaining dinner dishes. With a glance around the kitchen, he scowled. “You didn’t put the coffee on. Must I do everything?”
“No one makes chicory coffee like you do, Gerald,” Spring said, smoothly changing the subject.
“Go,” Gerald said, shooing all three out of the room. “I’ll see to the dessert and coffee service.”
After dessert at the dining room table, the group of diners moved to the living room for after-dinner coffee and the real purpose of the dinner party.
“So, David,” Carol Delaney said. “I read in the Gazette that your firm is coming up with a plan for developing outlying parcels here in Cedar Springs.”
“That’s right,” he said, taking a sip of espresso from the demitasse cup. “My team has reviewed all of the sites, but I’ve only seen two of the three proposed sites. I’m here to inspect the third.”
Cecelia, sitting to his left, reached for one of the small fresh-baked minibiscottis on a tray that Spring was passing around. “Did you know that this house was once part of the Underground Railroad? One of Spring’s ancestors was an abolitionist.”
“Really?” David said, sitting forward. “I researched a lot of the area and didn’t come across that fact. I know there were rumors about way stations being in eastern North Carolina, but I had no idea that Cedar Springs was a part of it.”
Cecelia nodded and continued with the story. “Cedar Springs was something of a little protected enclave in the years leading to the War. Things weren’t quite as they appeared. Most of the homes over on Catalpa Road, like the Scofield House, are on the Historic Register. They were all built by and for free blacks.”
“Cecelia heads up a project that’s getting a few of the ones that haven’t been kept up purchased and renovated.”
“Is that so?” David said. “Hmm...”
Spring wondered what he was thinking. But before she could think of a way to ask, Cecelia was answering.
“Indeed,” the professor said. “There were more free blacks living in the town, then known as Springs, North Carolina, than in much of the state. Spring’s family, the Darlings, were a perfect example of how it was done. A couple believed by most to be their enslaved domestics were actually a teacher and a groomsman who would later go on to earn a medical degree. Eventually that groom earned the piece of paper that validated what he’d been doing most of his life under the tutelage of Dr. Darling, her great-great-grandfather,” she said with a nod toward Spring.
“And that black teacher who masqueraded as a house servant for the Darling family was her grandmother’s grandmother,” Spring said, indicating Cecelia.
“Hiding in plain sight,” David said. Then he sat back in the wing chair and steepled his hands. “I’m starting to get the overall picture here,” he added. “You didn’t invite me here for dinner. This is some sort of passive-aggressive ploy to get me to either withdraw from the mixed-use project or to recommend one of the other sites.”
He didn’t look at Spring when he made the accusation, but she felt his quiet wrath as if he were yelling directly at her.
Sitting forward, David met the anxious gazes of each of the dinner party guests. “I don’t appreciate the subterfuge,” he said. “If you wanted to make your case, why couldn’t you be straight up about it?”
For an uncomfortable moment, the room remained oddly quiet. The quiet of the guilty, Spring thought.
“Don’t blame them,” she said, looking as miserable as she felt. She’d been trying to tell him, to make her confession before things got to this point. But she h
ad waited too late, let herself get swept up in the tide of it’ll all work out in the end. She should have known better. Only in the movies and on reality television did interventions actually end with the result desired at the beginning. “It was my idea,” she told David. “As a matter of fact, more than one person tried to talk me out of it. I just thought—”
“You just thought that you could bombard me with stories about how precious this house and your land is. How I should take my architectural plans and go ruin some other community.”
Spring lowered her head.
That’s exactly what she’d thought. But hearing the words come from David made the plan seem cold and callous, devious and self-serving.
“We thought if you saw—”
David held up a hand to halt the rest of her explanation. Rising, he nodded to the members of the Magnolia Supper Club. “The food was great,” he said. “I wish I could say the same about the rest of the evening.” When no one said anything, he added, “I’ll see myself out.”
Spring slumped in her seat.
She would have liked to have heard the front door slam behind him on his way out. But there wasn’t even that bit of his anger to assuage her guilt.
“I’m sorry, guys,” she told her friends. “This clearly wasn’t one of my better ideas.”
“What do we do now?” Carol asked.
“Maybe we can fast-track the historic landmark application.”
Spring rose. “Excuse me,” she told her friends. “I need some air.”
She didn’t want to cry, but she felt the wetness welling up in her eyes. Cecelia had predicted that this escapade would end badly. Spring had relied on the strength of her convictions. But look where that got her—roundly and solidly chastised by someone she was starting to have strong feelings for.
Pulling open the front door, she came up short when she spied David standing on the porch. His back was to her as he stood gazing out at the cedar trees and beyond them the fields leased by small farming operations.
“I thought you’d left.”
The Single Dad Finds a Wife Page 12