He studied the scene that he’d envisioned so often in his daydreams. On the north side of the main street stood Paulie’s Drugstore, Amy Lou Baker’s beauty shop with its catchy name, The Hair Apparent, and Fulton’s Department Store. Jay-Jay’s Garage and the First Baptist Church flanked the row of stores like bookends.
On the street’s south side, shaded by tall maples that flamed red and gold in the fall, were Brynn’s uncle Bud’s real estate office, First National Bank, Nathan’s Hardware, Mountain Crafts and Café, Blalock’s Grocery and the Pleasant Valley Community Church, where Grant had married Merrilee last Saturday night. Behind these buildings the Piedmont River ran, close to overflowing its steep banks with the runoff from early-summer rains.
On the town’s east end, the street curved uphill out of sight, but in his mind’s eyes, Jeff pictured city hall, the hospital and medical clinic, the public school complex on the left, and the police and fire stations on the right, just past the lumberyard. Located well off the main highways, Pleasant Valley had been spared so far from an invasion of fast-food franchises, monstrous shopping malls, and gigantic one-stop home-improvement stores.
Waiting for Daniel to return from the department store, Jeff twisted on the front seat of his pickup for a better view of the café. The building was a far cry from the dilapidated, dusty fix-it shop where, as a young boy, he’d spent many happy hours with Mr. Weatherstone as his instructor. The old man had taught him woodworking, electrical wiring and, Jeff’s favorite, rebuilding and tuning engines. He’d also taught Jeff to curb the nasty outbursts of temper he had learned so well from his father. Today, except for original outlines of the old shop, nothing about it looked the same.
Jodie had added log siding to the front for a rustic touch, and a jaunty awning of burgundy and dark-green striped canvas protected the double door entry. The glass panes of the door and the huge display windows on either side, formerly opaque with grime, sparkled in the early-morning sun. Dew clung to the cheery red petunias, frothy white alyssum and plumes of fountain grasses grouped in massive redwood pots that flanked the doorway.
The same arrangements were repeated in redwood flower boxes at the second-floor windows of the apartment where Jodie and Brittany lived, rooms Mr. Weatherstone had used only for storage.
Brittany, Jeff thought, was a wild child, just as he had been, and for not-so-different reasons. Although she had the full love and support of the Nathans, Jodie had revealed yesterday that Brittany was not only unwanted by her father’s family, the Mercers refused even to acknowledge their kinship. Jeff had intended to consult Gofer last night about the girl’s dilemma and consequent rebelliousness, but once the bus had arrived with ten frightened, surly and generally undisciplined teenagers, the entire team had had their hands full.
Jeff had been walking Jodie to her van just as the bus had pulled in and disgorged its load. Her eyes had widened in unmistakable horror when the boys climbed off in their hip-hop clothes, some skinheads, others with dreadlocks or do-rags, and all sprouting so much metal from body piercings that they resembled walking pin cushions. Correction: tattooed pin cushions. Any one of them would have been the worst nightmare of the mother of a teenage daughter.
After that, Jodie hadn’t been able to leave fast enough, he recalled with a frown. He’d been glad she’d already agreed to hire Daniel. If not, she might have lost her nerve at the sight of the “terrible ten” and backed out of her freshly inked agreement with Archer Farm.
To make certain she hadn’t changed her mind overnight, Jeff had wakened Daniel at oh-dark-hundred, hustled him into town, and had him standing tall outside Fulton’s Department Store hours before their nine-o’clock opening time. Fortunately, Tom Fulton kept his father’s old habit of working in the store before it opened. He’d answered Jeff’s knock and, after hearing what Daniel required, let the boy in to make his purchases.
A rap on the truck window startled Jeff from his thoughts. Daniel stood by the driver’s door, looking awkward but neat in the black slacks and white polo shirt Jodie required as uniform for her busboys. A plastic Fulton’s bag dangling from his hand held the clothes he’d worn to town.
Jeff hopped out. “Toss that bag in the truck and let me have a look at you.”
Daniel did as he was told, then squirmed under Jeff’s scrutiny. “Am I okay?”
Jeff’s heart twisted at the boy’s uncertainty and his obvious desire to please. “You’re more than okay, Daniel. You look great. Ms. Nathan is lucky to have a guy like you working for her. I know you’ll do your best. Ready?”
After a self-conscious smoothing of his bright-red cowlick that promptly sprang upright after the swipe of his hand, Daniel nodded.
“Let’s go.” Jeff draped his arm around the kid’s shoulders and walked him toward the café entrance. “Just do what Ms. Nathan says, remember to say please and thank you, and you’ll be fine.”
“Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.”
Jeff opened the door and stepped inside. A melange of smells—freshly ground coffee, sausage grilling and the cinnamon aroma of baked goods—enveloped him and made his stomach rumble. He’d eaten hours ago. He scanned the front room for Jodie. The tables and counter stools were filled with the Tuesday-morning breakfast crowd, but she was nowhere in sight.
Jeff caught the attention of Maria, the dark-haired, dark-eyed, young short-order cook behind the counter, who was flipping an omelet.
“Where’s Jodie?” he called over the hubbub of a dozen conversations.
Maria jerked her thumb toward the back of the building, looked past Jeff and eyed Daniel with obvious skepticism.
“Follow me,” Jeff said to Daniel, who’d broken into a sweat at the sight of so many strangers.
He led the boy through the gift shop area to the deck at the back of the building, another of Jodie’s innovations. Huge glass panels arched over the structure, shielding patrons from the elements while offering a panoramic view of the river, rushing past a hundred feet away, and the mountains in the distance. Today the panels were open to admit the fresh summer breeze.
The deck tables were empty except for one at the far corner, where Jodie sat with Brittany, who was apparently finishing breakfast. When Jodie glimpsed Jeff and Daniel, surprise flashed across her features before she settled them into a welcoming smile and waved the new arrivals over.
“You two are out early,” she said.
“Daniel’s reporting for work, dress code and all. Looks good, doesn’t he?” He pleaded with his eyes for Jodie not to reject the boy.
He needn’t have worried. The smile she gave Daniel projected maternal approval. “I don’t know, Daniel. Can’t have my busboys so good-looking they distract the customers.”
Daniel blushed, and Jeff couldn’t help wondering how little positive reinforcement the kid had received in his life.
“Hi, Brittany,” Jeff said. “I haven’t had a chance to thank you for your help at our place last month. It was dirty, grungy work, and I appreciate your giving us a hand.”
“No sweat.” Brittany looked both pleased and embarrassed by his gratitude. She turned to her mother. “May I show Daniel what he’s supposed to do?”
Jeff had to admire Jodie’s self-restraint. In spite of her concern about Daniel’s influence on her impressionable daughter, she didn’t flinch but answered with genuine warmth. “Of course. You’ll make a good teacher. Brit’s been waiting tables some since school ended,” Jodie explained to Jeff. “She knows almost as much about the business as I do.”
“C’mon, Daniel,” Brittany, also dressed in black slacks and a white polo shirt, pushed to her feet. “We’ll find you an apron.”
The teens went inside, and Jodie gestured to the place across from hers. “I’m finishing my coffee. Want a cup?”
Jeff sat, and Jodie took a clean cup and saucer from a serving counter nearby. She poured steaming liquid from a carafe on the table and offered him a muffin from a linen-draped basket. With his appetite already stimulated by the c
afé’s delicious odors, he couldn’t refuse. He broke it in two, took a bite and was glad he hadn’t declined. Sweetness, texture and flavor exploded in his mouth.
“Man, these are incredible. You make them?”
Jodie nodded. “Pecan and cranberry. My own special recipe.”
He noted the stack of folders on the table in front of her and read a few of their labels upside down: receipts, payables, inventory, payroll, taxes. From his short stint as Archer Farm’s administrator, he’d learned paperwork could be a full-time job.
“When do you find time to bake?” He took another bite and noticed the half-moon smudges of fatigue beneath her long lower lashes.
“In the afternoons and evenings, when the café’s closed.”
“In between paperwork?” He nodded toward the folders at her elbow.
She shrugged. “Running a business is a full-time job. Especially a café that’s open seven days a week.”
“Raising a teenager is a full-time job, too. As my team and I are only beginning to discover.” He felt a hitch in his heart for Jodie, who’d missed the opportunity to be a teenager. She’d been raising Brittany instead. “What do you do for fun?”
She laughed. “I don’t have energy left for fun. I’m grateful if I have a few hours a week to put my feet up and zone out with the television.”
“You work too hard. You should take more time off.”
“You sound like my mother.”
“Your mother’s right.”
“But my mother doesn’t have all this to worry about, or Brittany, either.” She fixed him with a stare. “I’m taking a chance with your Daniel, you know.”
“I promise you won’t be sorry.”
“And I’ll hold you to that promise,” she said forcefully. She set down her cup and began stacking her folders. “Now, I have work to do.”
“Whoa, not so fast.”
“You may have all day to dawdle, but I don’t.”
“I made you a promise. Now I want you to make me one.”
“Yesterday wasn’t enough?” Her brow wrinkled in obvious puzzlement. “Seems like I signed a gazillion papers.”
“That was business.” He worked to keep his tone light so she wouldn’t see how strongly she’d affected him, wouldn’t guess at the wave of protectiveness that had engulfed him out of the blue. With the clarity of a lightning bolt, he realized that he wanted to take care of Jodie Nathan, to ease her worries, make her laugh, lighten her workload and brighten the endless drudgery of her days.
And he wanted to kiss her again. And again. Until all those kisses led to more. Much more. He’d never experienced such a mixture of tenderness and desire toward any other woman and had to clear his throat before he could speak.
“That was business,” he repeated. “This is pleasure.”
She gazed at him suspiciously and asked with a strange little wobble in her voice, “What’s pleasure?”
He focused on the dimple in her left cheek to keep his mind from careering off into a dozen equally seductive fantasies. Jodie was nothing if not terminally practical. If she had any idea the direction his thoughts were taking, he’d scare her away for good.
“I’m offering you a day off. With no responsibilities.”
“Ha! That’s not pleasure, it’s an impossibility.” She stood, picked up her file folders and held them against her chest like a shield. He felt an irrational stab of envy for the folders.
“It’s not going to happen,” she added emphatically.
“Why not?”
“Look,” she said with a reasonable tone that might have discouraged a less motivated man, “you have four guys to take up the slack when you’re not at Archer Farm. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here now, right?”
He nodded, unable to refute her.
“There’s only one of me,” she continued.
One of Jodie was all he needed. More than he’d ever wanted.
“And what happens if you burn out?” he asked. “Or let yourself get so run-down that you catch something and are too sick to work? You owe it to yourself to take time off. It’s good business sense.”
“Point taken. When I’ve figured out how to clone myself, I’ll take a vacation.” She turned to leave.
“Wait.” He was keeping her from her work but enjoying her company too much to let her go. “If I can figure out a way to free some of your time, will you promise to spend a day with me?”
“Sure,” she said with a saucy grin that infused him with hope until she added, “and buy me a lottery ticket while you’re at it.”
He ignored her sarcasm and glommed on to her initial agreement. “You promise? One full day?”
This time she laughed out loud. “My first free day is at least four years away, after Brittany leaves for college. If you don’t mind waiting that long—”
“I’m betting within the next two weeks,” he said. And he wasn’t laughing.
She shook her head in disbelief. “Not unless you’re a miracle worker.”
“Ah, how quickly you forget,” he chided her.
“Forget what?”
“I’m a Marine. We’re trained to do the impossible. I’ll fulfill my end of the bargain. Be prepared to keep yours.”
Jeff strode past her and noted with satisfaction her soft lips, parted in surprise; the swirling fragrance of magnolias; her appealing blush; and the fact that he’d struck her speechless.
When he entered the main dining room, Daniel and Brittany were clearing tables for the waiting crowd. Daniel worked with such quiet efficiency, his forehead knotted in concentration, that he didn’t notice Jeff’s approach.
“You doing okay?” Jeff asked.
“Yes, sir,” the boy answered. “It’s even kinda fun, working with Brittany and all.”
“Someone will pick you up this afternoon.”
“I could hitch a ride.”
Jeff shook his head. “Against the rules, remember?”
“Yes, sir.” Daniel’s expression was earnest, and Jeff recalled Gofer describing the boy as an eager puppy dog. “I didn’t intend to break a rule, sir. I only wanted to spare you the trouble.”
Jeff placed his hand on the boy’s shoulder and gave a reassuring squeeze. “You’re no trouble, son. The staff at Archer Farm is here for you. Always.”
“I won’t let you down.”
“I know, or you wouldn’t have this job. I trust you, Daniel. Remember that.”
With a farewell wave to Brittany, Jeff went out the door.
Climbing into his truck, he wondered why he felt so confident. He’d pledged Jodie the impossible, and he hadn’t a clue how he’d deliver on that promise.
But as he’d said, he was a Marine. He’d think of something.
Chapter Eight
Brittany slid the last plate into the apartment’s dishwasher and closed the door. “Can I go now?”
“Go?” Jodie asked. “You’re still on restriction.”
“Sheesh, Mom, only to my room. I want to paint my nails.”
Jodie smothered a grimace at the sight of her daughter’s black-tipped fingers. “You did them last night.”
“But I bought new polish today.”
“More black?”
“Pink.” At Brittany’s blush, Jodie realized that her daughter’s face lacked its usual unnatural pallor from dead-white makeup. “Daniel said he liked the way I looked at Uncle Grant’s wedding.”
Jodie held her tongue and thanked God for small favors. She’d worried that Daniel with his juvenile record would be a bad influence, but if he’d encouraged Brittany to abandon her walking-dead look, Jodie would be forever in the boy’s debt. “You were beautiful at the wedding, cupcake, the prettiest girl there.”
“Oh, yeah? What about Merrilee?”
“She had an unfair advantage. Bridal gown, billowing veil, radiant smile, and happiness oozing from every pore. But you were still spectacular.” Jodie’s eyes threatened to tear at the memory of her daughter, so lovely in her bridesmaid�
��s dress and so fast approaching the threshold of adulthood. “I was so proud of you. And not only for your looks. Pretty is—”
“—as pretty does.” With a smile, Brittany finished another of Sophie Nathan’s favorite sayings. Grandma’s homespun wisdom formed a common bond between them.
Brit’s smile faded, and her customary pout returned. “So am I excused?”
Jodie longed for a real dialogue with her daughter. When they talked, she often felt more like a prosecuting attorney interrogating a witness than a mom. Not that she expected to be Brittany’s friend. With her own mother as an example, she knew that her job, first and foremost, was to parent. And a good parent kept the lines of communication open. But a heart-to-heart chat with her daughter obviously wasn’t going to happen tonight.
“Go ahead,” Jodie said. “I’m almost through here.”
Brittany made her escape, and Jodie finished cleaning the kitchen island that overlooked the family room at the back of the apartment. When she’d renovated the spacious upstairs into living quarters, Mrs. Weatherstone’s low asking price had left Jodie with enough equity to splurge on floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked a small balcony and the river and mountains beyond. The glass expanse and high ceilings added openness and airiness to an otherwise claustrophobic space.
That afternoon, she and Brittany had worked late downstairs, dusting the gift shop shelves and mopping and polishing the floors. Luckily, Maria had left them supper, Caesar salads with grilled chicken, in the café refrigerator, because they’d been too tired to cook. Brittany’s labor, at least, was over for the day. Jodie still had to tally receipts and prepare tomorrow’s bank statement.
She welcomed the practical distraction from her whirling thoughts. Clearing Jeff from her system by getting to know him wasn’t working. Familiarity hadn’t bred the hoped-for contempt. Instead, every time Jodie was near him, like yesterday morning when he’d brought Daniel for his first day at work, Jeff’s presence merely increased her desire to have him around more often. As much as the admission frightened her, she had to accept that her infatuation was developing into something deeper, more substantive.
One Good Man Page 9