Small-Town Hearts

by Ruth Logan Herne

  She’d obviously crossed a line. She definitely needed to leave her neighbor alone. Absolutely, positively alone.

  Then why had she left a welcome basket of assorted cookies on his doorstep an hour before?

  Simple. She was a glutton for punishment with little self-discipline.

  Or she was a great neighbor. She brightened at the thought. That was what people did, right? They offered a welcome to their new neighbors, inviting them to be part of the community? Of course they did.

  Nevertheless, Megan was still determined to keep her distance from Danny, but if he came over to thank her for the cookies, she’d be nice. Sweet. Friendly.

  You are so in trouble, and the guy just got here. What are you thinking?

  That was just it. She was trying so hard not to think about him that she was constantly thinking about him. A bad sign. Really bad. His footsteps down the back stairs made her breath hitch, wondering if he would turn right, toward her door, or left, toward the driveway.

  He’d gone left, every day, just like she’d asked him to, but that didn’t stop her heart from skittering every time she heard him pull into the driveway, the quiet engine and the car door closing marking his presence late in the day.

  So now she was tempting him across the divide with homemade baked goods. What on Earth was she thinking?

  “Megan, you here?”

  “Alyssa.” Meg stepped through the candy kitchen door and beamed at her married, very pregnant friend. “Oh, my gosh, look at you. I don’t see you for two weeks and you—”

  “Popped.” Alyssa hugged Megan, then laughed and passed a hand over six months of baby. “That’s what the locals are calling it.”

  “Perfect.” Megan stood back, perused Alyssa, then grinned and nodded. “You look so happy.”

  Alyssa’s smile confirmed Meg’s assertion. “I really am. I should feel guilty about being this delighted with life.”

  “No, you shouldn’t.” Megan offered her best scolding look, very nineteenth century. “You deserve to be happy. God gives us chances. Our job is to either take that chance or duck and run. You took the chance and happiness was just one of the fringe benefits. How’s Cory doing?” Cory was Alyssa’s four-year-old daughter from a former marriage. The precocious preschooler had been hospitalized the previous summer with a heart condition, a scary time for Alyssa’s family and the entire town.

  “She’s wonderful. You’d never know she’d had problems, to look at her, and she’s got Trent and Jaden wrapped around her little finger. I’m hoping some of that will ease once this baby arrives to give her a little competition.”

  “Then Trent can spoil them all,” Megan noted. “Have you got time for coffee? Say yes, please.”

  “Yes,” Alyssa laughed. “How about you?” She motioned toward the production area.

  “Yup.” Meg headed into the kitchen and grabbed a couple of mugs. “I’ve got the morning work done and it’s quiet until two or so, so this is the perfect time to chat. I can’t believe we live ten minutes apart and I haven’t seen you in two weeks. Are you in a Chocolate Glazed Donut coffee mood, French Vanilla or straight?”

  “Chocolate. Always. And gainful employment and family stuff manage to steal time, don’t they?” Alyssa smiled her approval when Megan backed through the swinging half door with two mugs of flavored coffee.

  “Oh, yum.” Alyssa leaned forward, breathed deep, and relaxed into her chair. “This is lovely.”

  Megan laughed. “It is. And you look marvelous.”

  “Thank you. I’m not quite to beached-whale stage yet, so I’ll accept your compliment graciously. In six weeks, I may bite your head off, so be forewarned.”

  “I’ll take it under consideration. Are you helping staff the restaurant’s booth for the Balloon Rally?” Alyssa’s family owned and managed The Edge in Jamison, a gracious hilltop restaurant that overlooked the valley, now doubling as a wedding reception and special-occasion hot spot. Alyssa’s mother made to-die-for strudels, and the family sold them at a rally booth every year.

  Alyssa nodded. “Absolutely. It will be fun. I kept that weekend clear of weddings because it’s silly to overbook and drive the servers crazy. We’ve got to have enough people on-site for the rally to bake and serve, and who wants to miss the balloons or fight traffic to do a wedding on Balloon Rally weekend?”

  “Good point. And there’s only so much you can handle at this stage of pregnancy, right?”

  Alyssa shot her a look of disbelief. “Unfortunately, once you’ve got a kid, that scenario goes out the window. You hit the ground running once they’re born and you don’t look back. Trent keeps telling me to slow down, but I feel…” She sighed, smiling. “Wonderful.”

  “You’re married to one of the greatest guys on Earth, have a beautiful home perfect for raising babies and a job running a great restaurant. I’d say you have reason to feel wonderful.”

  “I agree.” Alyssa sat forward and grasped Megan’s hand. “And I wish the same for you. I heard that Brad and Denise were coming into town this week, and I had to hold myself back from going over to Jacqueline’s house and having it out with them.”

  “Old news.”

  “It still hurts.”

  Megan shrugged. “It really doesn’t. Not anymore. Oh, don’t get me wrong.” She met Alyssa’s raised brow with a half smile. “I don’t like the fact that they’re going to be underfoot all summer, but I really wish them well. It was a long time ago and I hope they’re happy together. And Brad did me a favor.” She sent a knowing look Alyssa’s way. “You and I both know that.”

  “And Michael?”

  “Grrr…” Megan mock scowled. “He did, too, but that whole left-at-the-altar thing? So not cool. My parents still go ballistic thinking about it, but I heard gossip that he’s cheating on his new girlfriend over at Alfred State, so again, it’s just as well. I’ve read half a dozen self-help books, and the conclusion is that I need to up my standards considerably. Not trade down.”

  “I won’t disagree there, and you’re better off without Michael. We all know that.” Alyssa squeezed her hand and leaned forward, her look empathetic. “But more than anything, I want you happy.”

  “Like you.”

  She beamed. “Exactly like me. So we can raise our kids together. Coach soccer teams. Watch football under the lights while we eat hamburgers grilled by our husbands for the Sports Boosters’ Fund.”

  “Smalltown, USA.”

  “But good.”

  Megan sighed. “It is good, but pretty unreachable. It’s not like Jamison and Wellsville are overflowing with a truckload of available thirty-somethings dying to settle down. Most of the available guys are unmarried for good reason.”

  Alyssa contemplated that, then nodded. “Unfortunately, you’re right. But they’re not the only game in town, I hear.” She slid her gaze left. “I understand we got a new tenant last week.”

  “Life in a small town.”

  “Oh, yes. Not much gets by people here. But in this case, the rumor mill has taken a very positive slant on this newcomer.”

  “He’s…nice.”

  “Nice?” Alyssa’s furrowed brow invited more.

  “And funny.”

  “Humor in a man is a wonderful thing. It almost makes them palatable. Tell me more.”

  Megan squirmed. “That’s it. He’s here for eight weeks on business, has a great smile. Not too tall, but tall enough that I look up to him.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Stop. He’s just a tenant. And I’ve scarcely seen him. But he’s got great eyes.”

  “Does he now?” Alyssa leaned forward, heightened interest arching her brows, lighting her eyes. “Do you think he’s good-looking? Because I’ve heard he’s hot enough to burn toast in a microwave.”

  Megan laughed, considered, then nodded. “I can’t disagree, although your analogy’s a little strange. And he’s smart. Quick-witted. And totally off-limits.”

  “Why?”

  Megan raised
her hands up. “Let’s backtrack to the ‘here for eight weeks’ part of the conversation. He leaves. I stay. I don’t need another bout of heartache, particularly in the public view again. Seriously, Lyssa, cut me some slack, okay? Once was hard. Twice was torture. No way in this world am I going for a third round. Uh-uh. I’m doing strategic planning to keep my heart intact.”

  Alyssa nodded, her lips pressed into a tight line. “I can understand that. But it seems that sometimes, despite our best plans, God has other ideas.”

  “My present plan is to build my business and lay low until the sting of Michael’s rejection moves to a back row of my mind. Oh, and figure out how to help my parents manage Ben’s quirks. Has he been okay at the restaurant?”

  Alyssa nodded. “He always is. He saves the shenanigans for his family.”

  Megan weighed that and shrugged. “It’s good that he discerns the difference, but it’s not easy to have a grown man who thinks preschool pranks are funny.”

  “You’re right. Are your parents still considering moving him into a group home?”

  “Dad is. Mom won’t hear of it. And that’s probably part of the problem. She feels like she’s abandoning him, while Dad thinks it would be good for him. The group home outside of Wellsville would shuttle him to work every day, and they take the residents to movies, shopping, area events. Ben’s high-functioning enough that he’d be fine with all that. He’d only be fifteen minutes from home, so we could grab him for supper or weekends whenever we wanted, but Mom keeps saying no.”

  “A standoff.”

  “Yes.”

  Alyssa drained her coffee and stood. “That’s not easy, Meg. But I can see both sides. Your mother feels responsible and it’s hard to give that up. But your Dad is looking at what’s best for Ben long-term.”

  “Exactly.”

  “I’m tucking the whole matter onto my prayer list. And you.” Alyssa reached out and hugged Megan. “I want you happy. And I wish I could roll time back and make Michael and Brad just disappear from the whole picture. I don’t want their negativity to mess up chances you might have taken otherwise.”

  Megan sidled a glance Alyssa’s way as she walked her to the door. “Meaning don’t ignore the cute guy next door because you’ve been burned at the stake on the town square twice.”

  “Not burned. Singed. There’s a difference.”

  “Semantics, Lyssa. But for the moment, I’ve got all I can handle just trying to maintain and not get bogged down in the whys and hows of the situation. I was just as much at fault as they were.”

  “Not true. Not even close to true.”

  Megan laid a hand on Alyssa’s arm. “It is. At least partially. I wanted the dream. Wanted it so badly that I let myself think Brad was the real deal. He wasn’t. And then Michael. I should have called a halt to that long before he proposed, and then I was in too deep. He did us both a favor. Big time.”

  “Well, he could have done it a few days earlier.” Alyssa rolled her eyes. “But God’s got better things in store for you. And I’ve got to get to the preschool and grab Cory. We’re meeting Trent for lunch at the Beef Haus.”

  Megan gave her a quick hug. “Thanks for stopping by. Tweaking me.”

  Alyssa returned the embrace. “You’re doing fine. I know that. But when I found out Brad was coming into town for the summer, I got mad. Protective.”

  Megan grinned. “I like it when my girlfriends watch my back. I’m okay with that.” She said goodbye as two cars angled into the little parking lot abutting the store. A variety of older women climbed out of each car, their back-and-forth chatter reminiscent of the finch house in the backyard. Megan waved a friendly greeting, waited on the broad porch, then held the door open as they stepped inside, exclaiming over this and that.

  She had a business she loved and a family she cherished, and despite that goofy biological clock, she had time. She knew that. What she hated was not having control. That whole ‘let go and let God’ scenario that people talked about?

  Tough for a girl that liked to make her own way in this world.

  She followed the ladies inside and grinned while they browsed the counters, their delightful exchanges heralding old times. Old candies. Days gone by.

  By the time they left, they’d bought several hundred dollars’ worth of wonderful candies to take home to family and friends. A great start to a wonderful day.

  Danny spotted the old-style basket at his front door, filled with individually wrapped huge cookies, the kind every little kid longs for, including the little boy that lingered in this grown man’s body. He seized the basket, realized it was long past supper time and scoured the contents for a note. The mid-June day was bright despite the evening hour. No note.

  He sighed, scratched his head, frowned and glanced around the corner toward Meg’s back door. He’d passed a long line of ice cream customers at the front, the regular clomp, clomp of feet on the wide wooden steps an old-fashioned sound in keeping with her business. He headed toward her back door, second-guessing his choice, but needing to be polite and thank her for the gift.

  She very nearly whapped him in the face with the storm door as she lugged out a bag of garbage, mortification and surprise stressing her features when she spotted him there. “Danny, I’m sorry. I didn’t see you. Are you okay?”

  Was the note of concern a hint more personal than it needed to be?

  The zigzag of his heart said yes.

  Common sense said he was being ridiculous. She’d made her case clear the other day, a stand that made perfect sense for both of them.

  And then left cookies at your door.

  Neighborly, he decided, ignoring the internal warning. Very old-time friendly. With the cutest dimple just above the left side of her mouth.

  “I’m fine. No harm done.” He set down the cookie basket, grasped the garbage bag and hoisted the overloaded thing, then eyed it and her. “Does the idea of changing this more often not occur to you?”

  She flushed then sighed, chagrined. “I should, I know. I tend to use things up. Wear them out.”

  “Frugal.”

  “Whereas I call it bottom-line conscious,” she told him, following as he toted the heavy bag across the backyard. “But yes, I should have dumped it midday and I didn’t. My bad.”

  “Waste not, want not.” He faced her after tossing the bag into the Dumpster. “I’ve got a grandmother who spouts proverbs on a regular basis.”

  Megan acknowledged that with a knowing smile. “Don’t we all?”

  Her pretty smile made him wonder if she noticed how easily he’d handled the heavy bag, while his inner thoughts whacked him upside the head with the reality that he’d be leaving soon, and the gracious young woman standing before him didn’t deserve to be left, ever again.

  Obviously Brad and Michael were complete morons.

  He nodded toward the cookie basket he’d set down. “No note?”

  She flushed again. “I figured you’d know who they were from.” Her shoulders rose in explanation as if convincing herself or him, possibly both. “I hadn’t officially welcomed you to the neighborhood, and that’s what people do around here.”

  “Which only makes Jamison nicer, something I’d considered impossible.”

  She considered his words, then waved toward Main Street. “While it’s lovely in many respects, Jamison’s got all the flaws of small-town living, but the perks outweigh those. Most days.” She headed for her door, her manner suggesting she needed to return to work. “I’m glad you like the cookies.”

  He fell into step beside her. “Right now they look like supper.”

  You’re leaving. She’s staying. What part of this are you not getting?

  “You haven’t eaten?” Meg asked.

  He shook his head. “Worked through it. I was going to grab something then didn’t, which was fairly short-sighted because I was hungry, so when I got out of the car and found these on my doorstep, I was one happy man.” He bent and retrieved the basket of cookies, a part
of him longing to ask her to go out with him once she’d closed the store in another hour. Grab a bite to eat. Talk. Laugh. From the crinkle lines framing her eyes, he knew Megan Russo laughed often, a trait he found appealing, but then there wasn’t much about this woman he hadn’t found appealing, which made applying the brakes tougher than it should have been. Way tougher. He raised the cookies into the air. “Thank you, Meg.”

  She dipped a curtsy, a move that candy-coated his heart, not even close to playing fair. “You’re welcome, kind sir.”

  She started back into the store, the sounds of Crystal’s and Hannah’s voices mingling with that of a Little League team, a fun mix, totally summer.

  He wanted to slow her escape, despite the noisy call of her business, the throng of young people on the front steps. Part of him yearned to linger, to dawdle, to enjoy the late-day sun, the chatter of birds, the excitement of little-boy voices heralding a great win.

  But the reality of their lives intruded on his conscience. His job was to leave. Mary Clare’s phone call reminded him that he might have to duck out at a moment’s notice, that his sister’s emotional state might not be up to the rigors of East Coast marketing and monitoring, even though he knew this challenge was good for her.

  And good for him, he admitted, though he wouldn’t necessarily want to confess that to his mother. The peace and quiet of this sweet community enticed him.

  Or was the enticement the beautiful woman before him?

  Both, he decided.

  In any case he had a job to do, a job he loved, one that kept him on the road way too often. He moved back, smiled and hiked the cookies once more. “Thanks again.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  He didn’t wink. Didn’t smile too wide, didn’t angle his head and give her the slow, measured look that said too much. No. He turned and quietly walked away, pretending he hadn’t been listening for her feet on the steps every morning, the jangle of the bell saying she’d entered the quaint store, the sounds of the back door banging shut as she and Hannah loaded the van with cookies going here, there and everywhere.