Small-Town Hearts

by Ruth Logan Herne

  Instead, she hit the volume button until the play-by-play grew loud enough to make her point. “I paid to hear the announcers, not you guys.”

  “Feisty.” Danny grinned, moved over to settle in alongside her, and pretended to be on his best behavior. “But cute.”

  “And you didn’t pay a thing,” her father reminded her, one brow thrust up. “Which is why Danny’s here instead of in his own living room, feet up, eating a pizza.”

  “This is much better, sir.” Danny met Adam’s gaze with a smile and swept the broad family room with a look of appreciation. “All the comforts of home, a great TV, wonderful company and a beautiful woman.”

  Adam’s grin said Danny made the short list.

  Megan refused to entertain such notions. The only lists she was interested in right now involved cookie and fudge production for festival booths. Keeping her store stocked. The summer loomed long and frantically busy, the quick rotation of town festivals a big part of her bottom line, and Meg took those numbers seriously.

  Danny’s self-confidence and quick wit called to her, but the reality of his life meant he’d be leaving, so why would she test the waters? Her home was here, her life, her family, her work…

  Danny leaned closer, his gaze on the television, his words for her ears only. “Remember that mustard seed, Megs?”

  “My name is Megan.”

  He grinned, still facing forward. “Sometimes things grow from tiny bits of faith, tiny seeds of life.”

  “Danny Graham, philosopher.”

  He shrugged, still watching the game, then shifted a glance her way, a quick look, his expression warm and teasing. “Thanks for coming with me.”

  She wanted to growl something back, something that made him realize she wasn’t a bit interested, but she couldn’t. Instead she slanted him a smile that made his eyes brighten, his smile deepen. “I’m glad I did.” She nodded toward the television and tucked her feet beneath her, feeling totally relaxed for the first time in months, not caring if it was Danny or the game or the situation, just feeling…good.

  She settled in, hugging a Yankees couch pillow and decided it was time to relax and enjoy the game. A big part of her hoped she was just talking baseball, but a hint of conscience probed the bigger picture and sighed within.

  Here we go again.

  Chapter Nine

  The melodic strains of “The Candy Man” woke Danny early the next morning. He scowled at the clock that read eight-ten, remembered it was Sunday, then groped for the phone, his mother’s ringtone in keeping with the family theme. He hauled the phone to his ear. “Don’t you have clocks in Buffalo?”

  “We do and they’re working fine,” she shot back. “Good morning, Daniel. How’s everything going?”

  He should have called and checked in. By not calling he’d aroused her curiosity, because he always checked in while scouting business locations and deals. They made a good team, his parents and him. And Grandma, of course, although she wasn’t as involved in the day-to-day as she had been. That thought niggled him. He hadn’t stopped back at the quilt store yet. Maybe he could do that today. He yawned, stretched and focused on his mother’s question. “Good. Mostly.”

  “Ah-hah.”

  “Nothing bad,” he assured her. “I’m just trying to weigh possible sites and come out on top with as few people hating us as possible.”

  “Why would anyone hate us? Hate chocolate? Hate candy? An impossibility.”

  “Not candy in general. There’s an old-fashioned chocolate shop here in Jamison and I’m trying to be careful so we don’t drive her out of business.”

  “Is she in a good location?”

  Danny mulled that. “Yes and no. She’s got better proximity to the interstate, but she’s in a tiny town that’s purposely caught in a time machine. They get a good tourist draw for six months of the year. And then there’s Thanksgiving and Christmas, but we’ll probably take a chunk of that business away if I buy the storefront I’m eyeing in Wellsville.”

  “Survival of the fittest, Daniel.”

  “Well…” He hesitated, picking his words. “It’s not that easy.”

  “Why?”

  “Because she’s…nice. Sweet. And she’s developed this business from the bottom up, so I don’t want to mess it up for her.”

  “Danny, I appreciate your thoughtfulness, probably more than most, but I don’t see how putting a small tribute store for Grandma Mary’s in Wellsville will have a huge effect on some little old lady’s shop up Route 19,” his mother argued. “And aren’t you the one always spewing numbers back at me? You thought this area wouldn’t support a candy shop at all—now you see it’s supporting one that’s in a less than perfect location. So what’s the problem?”

  “She’s not old.”

  “Oh?” A slight pause ensued. “Oh.”

  Danny ignored her. “And this area is beginning to resurge, so we might be able to capitalize on that. That’s lessened my concerns considerably.”

  “O-kay.” His mother drew the two syllables out slowly. “So, once more. What’s the holdup?”

  He absolutely refused to say too much. “I’m trying to strike a balance. An important balance. Let’s leave it at that for the moment.”

  She was silent for long, slow ticks of the clock, weighing his words as if trying to decipher this change of attitude. “All right. You’ll let Dad or me know if you need help, right?”

  He laughed. “I sincerely do not need help. But I do need my balloon. Can you have it brought down here in a few weeks? Wellsville has a big balloon rally in mid-July. I want to have a little fun before I make everyone mad at me.”

  “Mad at you…”

  Oops, he’d said too much. “Mom, you know how it goes. We’re the big guns, swooping into town to take out the little guy.”

  “Danny, it’s a candy store, not a Super Wal-Mart. For pity’s sake, get a grip. And go to church. They must have a church in that little town, right?”

  They had five. He’d discovered just how cute that was last Sunday morning. Five churches, all with bell towers, pealing their calls to worship alternately.

  No one was allowed to sleep in on Sunday mornings. Not in Jamison.

  He laughed. “You would be quite comfortable with the church-to-population ratio. And you never know. I just might.”

  She laughed, smug. “I knew sending you down there would be good for you. A chance to reconnect with your roots.”

  “My roots are in Williamsville, remember?”

  “Ancestral roots, boy. And don’t be a smart aleck. There’s a lot to be learned in a small town. And this has given your sister a chance to spread her wings. Get back in the game.”

  “Have you talked with her?”

  A more plaintive note colored her tone. “Yes. And she’s doing fine.”

  “But it’s hard,” Danny added.

  His mother hesitated. He could picture her in the big country kitchen in Williamsville, her forehead knit, a pencil tapping against the counter or the table, an old habit that refused to die. “It is,” she finally agreed. “Which makes it all the more necessary.”

  “If she needs help, I can be just about anywhere in a few hours’ time,” Danny reminded her. “There’s only an airstrip here, but I could fly out of Rochester or Buffalo. Or drive.”

  “I know you could. Dad said the same thing, but then it looks like we don’t trust her to do the job, and that’s a risk I can’t take. Not when she’s this fragile.”

  “But is she too fragile?” Danny asked, concern edging his voice.

  “No.” Merrilee Romesser’s reply took a firm turn. “And we’ve got to be careful not to expect too much, too soon. It’s only been a couple of weeks with you down there and Mary Clare stepping into your shoes, so we’ll just give it time.”

  A part of Danny longed to swoop in and grab his sister and cocoon her until the loss of her fiancé didn’t cut as deep, but his mother had already taken a stand with both Romesser men to let Mary Cla
re spread her wings. Take a chance, a leap of faith. Tucked away in sweet, bucolic Jamison, it was hard to do. “We could still switch spots.”

  “No.” His mother’s voice said that wasn’t about to happen. “It’s good for her to jump into the mainstream and it’s good for you to take a breath, Daniel. Smell a flower. Go to a small-town festival with a pretty girl.”

  Visions of Meg filled him, the sweet, old-world dresses, the colloquial turns of speech, the lacy hairnet she wore on occasion. Then and there he decided his mother was absolutely right. He wanted to stay here for the summer, get the tribute store up and running, and get to know his neighbor. But if his sister needed help… “You’ll let me know if you need me, though, right? I’m enjoying this assignment, but if Mary Clare gets into trouble—”

  “I’ll let you know,” his mother interrupted.

  Danny stood, rolled his shoulders, then filled the glass coffee carafe, yawning. “Gotta go. The church service starts in an hour.”

  “You’re actually going?” His mother’s surprise made him laugh.

  “I think I will. You can’t sleep through the church bells around here anyway, so why not? Talk to you later this week.”

  “Okay.”

  He glanced at the clock again. He had just enough time to get cleaned up and ready if Megs was true to form. She’d left the house for church at nine-ten the previous week. If he just happened to be walking in the same direction for a similar purpose, well…

  Timing was everything, right?

  Danny Graham.

  The guy was haunting her in a most annoying fashion. She thought about him when he wasn’t around, and when he was.

  And now he’d gone and kissed her, which incited a whole new round of thoughts.

  And feelings. Amazing feelings.

  She shut them down with a firm grasp on reality. Her beautifully planned autumn wedding the previous year had morphed into a town gossipfest. Not exactly the fairy-tale ending she’d sought.

  Fairy tales were fictional for a reason. She remembered that as she slipped into a pink floral dress. She’d play the historic candy maker later that day, but for church she was just another modern-day girl meeting the family at weekly services. And if Danny Graham happened to notice, well…

  What had he said about peeking through windows, watching for each other? She’d blushed at the realization, and then doused a spark of hope inspired by his admission that he’d been watching, too.

  If he was watching this morning, she wanted to look good. A quick glance in the mirror said she’d managed that. She smiled and headed out the door, only to run into the man himself.

  “Nice.” His gaze swept down, then up, his look appreciative. “Very nice. It appears you have no trouble with twenty-first-century garb, Megs.”

  “My name is Megan.”

  “I know. Are those shoes okay to walk in?”

  “I was thinking of driving this morning.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The thought popped into her head when she walked out the door and found Danny waiting for her. “Would you like a ride?”

  “Let’s walk.” He held out his arm.

  She ignored it and shrugged. “Plenty of time, I suppose.”

  “And a beautiful morning.”

  “It is.”

  He thrust his hands into his pockets and strolled alongside her, quiet and comfortable, as if he wasn’t making her heart beat a mile a minute at the thought of being seen together, walking through town on a Sunday morning.

  Oh, the gossips would be wagging their tongues. Shaking their heads. Wringing their hands at her expense.

  Danny leaned her way. “We’re just two people walking to church together. Nothing to get all steamed up over.”

  She sent him a sidelong glance. “You’ve never lived in a small town, have you?”

  “Not a rural small town, no. But a suburban one.”

  “Population?”

  He pondered that and nodded. “I see your point. Our high school classes had over four hundred kids.”

  “Eighty-nine.”

  “Big difference, yes, but—”

  “There are no buts. You can’t argue facts and figures. Not only am I ‘small town,’ we’re tucked in a region that’s been knocked around a lot the past twenty years. We’ve got an aging population, little growth influx and our kids are moving away in record numbers.”

  “But not you,” he argued. “And those facts are starting to change, right? Isn’t Walker Electronics expanding?”

  He was right. Alyssa’s husband, Trent, had returned to Jamison to work for Walker Electronics the year before, to help the town. And it was working, but…

  “It’s a long process,” she told him. “It doesn’t happen overnight.”

  “Most things don’t, Megs.”

  “Megan.”

  He grinned. Winked.

  And suddenly she started thinking Megs was about the cutest name she ever heard. But no way was she about to let him know it. Confident, smug, overbearing…

  He clasped her hand, the touch gentle. Warm. Firm. She started to back off and he swung their joined hands forward, his gaze down. “They’re happier like this, Megs. Don’t you think?”

  He was ridiculous. Endearing. Nice. And he’d gotten up early to walk her to church.

  What are you doing? her inner voice demanded. What are you thinking? Haven’t you had enough? This is a recipe for disaster. Walk away now while you still have a shred of dignity.

  She should listen to herself. She really should. But having her hand in Danny’s felt good. No, it felt wonderful. And the look he sidled her, a teasing look that made her want to laugh out loud, no words necessary, enticed her to take a chance.

  She hadn’t laughed a lot these past nine months. She’d worked, prayed, waited and done her share of whining. It felt good to laugh. Especially good to laugh with a man again.

  Which would be her downfall, no doubt. “You understand the predicament you’re putting me in, right?”

  He nodded. Squeezed her hand. “Oh, I get it. Life’s a risk. I think we all find that out the hard way.”

  “Did you?”

  “Don’t we all? Hey, if the quilt shop is open on Sundays, can we stop in after church? I need to buy something for my grandmother.”

  Something for his grandmother? The sweetness of that almost turned Meg’s insides to mush. Almost. “Main Street does a lot of Sunday tourist business, and Maude McGinnity is one sharp businesswoman. She’ll be open by the time the service ends.”

  “Perfect. One more thing I can check off my list.”

  “And that list includes…?” Meg left the question open-ended.

  Danny shrugged but looked less than comfortable. “Too many things to ponder on a beautiful Sunday morning. Are we sitting with your parents?”

  Megan sighed out loud.

  Danny grinned.

  “They like you. Ben likes you. The dog even likes you, but he doesn’t count because he likes everyone.”

  “Should I be insulted?”

  “Possibly. But while I like you, too, I’m not in any way, shape or form inclined to be involved at this stage of the game.”

  “You are holding my hand,” he reminded her.

  Oh, she knew that. Right down to her pretty little hot-pink painted toenails, the warmth of those clasped fingers making her think things she’d thought before. Twice before, as a matter of fact.

  She was an admitted romantic. Who else would dress in period costume to cook and teach people about days gone by?

  But pragmatism took over when she’d waited long, drawn-out minutes at Good Shepherd church, the corset-laced wedding dress tight and heavy as time dragged on, her apprehension building, as she realized her groom would never show up.

  She’d been able to rationalize Brad’s treatment of her after a while. Obviously Denise had been willing to do things she’d refused before their wedding, hence their preschool-aged son, born five months after the wedding. But Michael…

 
She’d believed him. Trusted. And yeah, if she was honest, she should have realized it wasn’t a perfect relationship. He’d let things slide she’d never be careless with, he wasn’t diligent to detail, and he wasn’t exactly Mr. Ambitious.

  But he’d been sweet, kind and funny. Very funny. And obviously humor was one of her downfalls because here she was, walking hand in hand with Danny, admiring his quick smile, his beautiful eyes and quick wit.

  Time to draw the line in the sand.

  She wriggled her hand free, tilted her head and angled him a scolding look. “As much fun as this is,” she acknowledged, sweeping their hands a quick glance before raising her gaze to his, “I’m putting the brakes on.”

  “Because?”

  “The whole summer love thing? It only works for teenagers on vacation. Not me, not here, not now. End of discussion. We’re neighbors. Maybe friends, given enough time. But that’s it.” She paused, firmed her gaze and met his look of invitation frankly. “I’ve got my busy season upon me, tourists left and right, a candy-making schedule that keeps me up at night and an ice cream business that makes me just enough extra income now to offset the slower months of winter. I can’t afford to mess things up by chasing rainbows.”

  Danny’s grin said he’d just scored a point. “Chasing Rainbows is the name of my balloon.”

  She paused as they approached the church steps. “Your what?”

  He reached forward and brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, tucking the errant curl behind her ear.

  “My hot air balloon. I’m using it in the Wellsville rally. My grandfather named the first one nearly fifty years back. We’ve been piloting a rainbow-themed balloon ever since.”

  “You’re a pilot?”

  “Yes.” He stepped closer, ignoring the people arriving around them, his gaze trained on Megan alone. “Would you ride with me? I’d love to take you up. Show you the hills from above. The trees, the towns, the farmers’ fields. It’s all different from the basket of a balloon.”