“I’m sure you do, but I have other appointments and you are so great at organizing events. I’ll buy you a cup of coffee,” Coraline offered. “I’m sure Gracie will be here by the time we’re finished.”
Mrs. Morgan glanced around the store and finally sighed, giving in to Coraline. Patrick watched as the mother of Trent Morgan was escorted from the store.
“Is it safe?” Gracie walked through the door, peeking around the store for any sign of the woman who, had things been different, would have been her mother-in-law.
Patrick walked to the front of the store and looked out the window. “For now.”
“Good.” She slipped her work apron over her head. “I’m going to have to face her eventually.”
“Probably.”
Gracie tied her apron and reached for a coffee cup. “I’m sorry this is becoming your problem. It shouldn’t be. I’ll talk to her. I need to give the dress back, and maybe that will start the road to making things better.”
Giving the dress back would be a step toward making this real. She obviously couldn’t explain that to her boss; the man seemed pretty uncomfortable with the conversation.
“Are you sure you don’t want to think about this before giving the dress back?”
The coffee overflowed on her hand. She pulled back, reaching quickly for a napkin to wipe her scalded hand and then the drops of brown on the floor. She glanced up at Patrick as she straightened to throw the napkin away.
“I’m positive I don’t want that dress or a chance to think.”
He shrugged and let it go, handing her a wet wipe for her hand rather than commenting further.
“I stopped at the Gazette and put the ad in for the Workshops for Women.” She shifted topics because she was tired of the current subject. Trent. It was time to move on. The workshops would be a great way to bring in customers. And it gave them something to talk about other than the wedding.
“That’s good, thank you.” He glanced at his watch and groaned. “Will you be okay here for an hour or so? I got a call last night from a woman who needs a light installed.”
“Did you?” She smiled because even though she was done with romance, that didn’t mean everyone should be. At her church’s ladies’ meeting last night she’d told Annabelle to give Patrick a call, because he had to be the greatest catch in Bygones.
“I did.” He had started toward the front door but he turned. “Why is it you don’t seem surprised?”
She thought about avoiding answering. Instead she smiled her best innocent smile and told the truth. “Because last night a friend mentioned needing a light installed and I told her you do great work.”
“Thanks, I think.”
Gracie ignored the growing lump in her throat because in the shadows she saw something on his face, a sadness, or loss. It had to be her imagination. And maybe the way her heart shook a little was her imagination, too.
“Would it help if I said she’s pretty and very sweet?”
“Not really.” He cleared his throat. “Gracie, I’m really not looking for someone.”
“No one ever is. Sometimes the right person happens into our lives when we’re least expecting it.”
“Happens. As in, they come along unexpectedly, not because everyone in town is helping it to happen.”
She laughed a little and felt the lump dissolve because his smile had reappeared. “Isn’t it great living in a small town?”
He flipped on the open sign and headed back in her direction. She felt that tightness in her throat again. He was tall and broad-shouldered, his dark hair always looking a little messy. Last night one of the ladies at the church meeting asked why Gracie wanted to push such a handsome man off on someone else. Gracie had to admit she didn’t have a clue. Self-preservation maybe?
“Oh, I also submitted information about the block party on Main Street. Coraline said it would be great for the school to put together fund-raisers, maybe baked goods, candles, that type of stuff.”
“Changing the subject?” He pulled off his apron and tossed it on the counter.
The door chimed. Saved by the bell. She exhaled and grinned up at her boss. “Not at all, just filling you in on everything.”
“Do you have a list I should know about? Ad for workshops. Check. Article about block party. Check. Get Patrick married off. Check.”
“Something like that. I can give you a full list later.”
“Thanks, I’d appreciate that.” He grinned and pulled keys out of his pocket. “Does she have the light fixture or do I need to take one?”
“She has it.” She grabbed a piece of paper off the counter and wrote out the address. “Here you go.”
“I’m not sure if I’m going to thank you for this.”
“You will.”
He left and Gracie turned her attention to the customer at the front of the store. She smiled at Mr. Fibley, once the pharmacist in town. Now that the drugstore had closed, he spent his days at the bookstore and sometimes visiting Ann Mars at This ’N’ That. He was a dapper little man with a sweet smile.
“Mr. Fibley, what can I help you with?”
He looked around the store. “I haven’t been in here yet and I really thought I ought to come check it out.”
“Oh, I see.” Gracie shoved her hands into the loose pockets of the apron and waited.
“I thought I might need lightbulbs. Do you carry lightbulbs?”
“We do. What kind do you need?”
“Oh, those expensive energy savers, I suppose. My niece told me they last forever.”
“They do last awhile.” She took him by the arm and they walked through the store to the aisle with bulbs and other home items.
“Are you doing okay, Gracie?” he asked, leaning in to whisper when they reached the lightbulbs.
Gracie smiled and nodded, but she couldn’t answer because his kindness caused an immediate tightness in her throat and a sudden sting of tears behind her eyes.
He patted her arm. “I know that people are being hard on you, but you’ll get through this. I’ve watched you grow up and you’ve always been a fighter.”
“Thank you, Mr. Fibley.”
“There, those are the lightbulbs.” He laughed a little as he reached for two boxes. “And you thought I just came in here to stick my nose in your business. You know, people ought to be shopping local. Prices might be a little higher, but with the price of gas, it doesn’t make sense to drive to the city for things we can get right here.”
“I agree, Mr. Fibley. Hopefully, we can convince people that we’re right.”
They walked back to the register and Gracie rang up the lightbulbs. Mr. Fibley took the paper bag and gave her another sweet smile.
“You’ll be just fine, Gracie Wilson.”
“Thank you, sir.”
He winked and then he left, taking slow steps, examining the store as he went. At the door he stopped to admire bird feeders, and then, with a wave back at her, he walked out the door.
A few minutes later she heard the rumble of a motorcycle. She walked to the front of the store and peeked out. The dog she’d been feeding for the past few days looked up from his place on the doormat and wagged his tail. She’d brought a food and water bowl today and she’d fed him at the back door. He seemed nice enough and didn’t even bother to get up when people walked past. Maybe he should have a name if he was going to stick around? She’d have to think about that.
She opened the door and reached to pet his wiry head. He licked her hand and then lost interest. A few parking spaces down from the store, she spotted her brother Evan getting off his bike. He hooked the helmet over the handlebar and raked a hand through his unruly dark hair. Sunglasses hid the black eye he’d gotten the previous day when a bull tossed him and then slammed a horn into his cheek.
“Came to check on my big sister.”
“Really?” She opened the door and walked back inside. Evan followed. The dog returned to the mat.
“I do care.”
He spotted the coffeepot and poured himself a cup of the steaming brew that couldn’t begin to compete with the coffee at the Cozy Cup Café. But they weren’t in competition. They just wanted to offer people a cup of coffee while they browsed. The farmers liked it because they sometimes wanted to stand around and talk before heading back to work.
“This is bad coffee.” He took a careful sip and made a face.
“It’s free.”
“Right.” He put the cup down on the counter. “Trent Morgan came by the house this morning looking for you. I guess he’s postponed his trip a couple of days. You know, the honeymoon?”
“I know.”
“Are you going to work things out with him?”
“No.”
“So this wasn’t just cold feet or anything.”
She picked up the cup of coffee he had abandoned and took a sip. “No, and if you’d been home, you would have known that.”
“I couldn’t miss that rodeo.”
“No, of course you couldn’t.” She tried to blink away the tears, because her brother skipping her wedding, even if the wedding hadn’t happened, still hurt.
“I wasn’t about to come watch you hitch up with a guy you didn’t love.”
“Why did you think that?”
Evan shrugged one shoulder and took the cup back. “That’s my coffee. And you didn’t love Trent Morgan. You were trying to be everyone’s hero again. You accepted his proposal and then you got to know him better and realized he wasn’t the guy you thought. But you couldn’t back out when everyone was planning that wedding and counting on you. Give it up, Gracie. Stop always doing the right thing. It makes the rest of us look bad.”
He said the last with a smile that didn’t settle in his dark eyes, didn’t lighten the mood.
“I obviously don’t always do the right thing. Remember, I sneaked out the window at my own wedding and left Trent at the altar.”
“Smartest thing you’ve ever done, sis.”
She stood on tiptoe and Evan leaned in so she could kiss his cheek. “You’re a mess but I love you.”
Under his dark tan, he turned a little red. “Yeah, I love you, too. And now for the other reason I’m here.”
“What’s that?”
“Dad.”
“Okay.” She waited, holding her breath.
“I know he’s real worried about the granary, and now Mrs. Morgan is telling everyone we owe her big.”
“I’ll take care of that. Dad doesn’t have to worry. And you don’t have to worry about Dad.”
“I’m not worried about the old man.”
“Yes, you are.”
Evan didn’t respond. He didn’t smile or agree. As he turned to walk away, Gracie reached for his arm.
“I have to go, Gracie.”
“I know, but not before I give you a hug. Please be safe this weekend.”
“I’m always safe. And you aren’t my mom.”
She bit down on her lip and nodded. “No, I guess I’m not.”
He hugged her and then he left. She walked to the front of the store and watched as he buckled on the helmet and started the bike. The engine roared to life, startling a couple of ladies walking down the sidewalk. She saw her brother grin and knew that behind the visor of this helmet he probably winked at the younger woman.
She glanced at her watch and wondered how things were going for Patrick. That made her smile, thinking of Patrick and her plans to help him find a wife. He needed to settle down and stay in Bygones.
It was a good plan, and yet, it made her feel empty inside.
Chapter Five
It was nearly closing time. Patrick looked at his watch and at the customer Gracie had been helping for the past thirty minutes. They’d had steady business all afternoon since he got back from helping the very single and looking Annabelle Clark. He couldn’t thank
Gracie for the setup.
Annabelle turned out to be a sweet woman of about thirty. She enjoyed cooking and taking her dogs for long walks in the park. As he installed the light, he was held hostage while she listed off information that made it sound as if she was providing personal details for a dating website.
He should have listed his own details. Patrick Fogerty, thirty-four and single with no interest in random dating. He’d yet to meet a woman who made him consider marriage. His parents’ brutal divorce had been a life lesson he’d never forgotten. Marriage should be more than two people joined in holy matrimony but living separate lives with three kids somewhere in the middle.
Gracie. He watched as she walked next to the customer, an older woman he remembered from church. Mrs. Duncan. She baked cookies for visitors to the Bygones Community Church and sometimes liked to sit in the rocking chairs that Patrick made. He usually kept one or two on the sidewalk in front of the store.
As he started closing out the register for the day, Gracie grabbed a few paintbrushes for Mrs. Duncan. He couldn’t hear what they were saying but he could tell Gracie seemed to be trying to talk her customer out of something. Or into something.
They continued down the aisle, getting closer to the counter. He smiled as he listened.
“Mrs. Duncan, I really can’t sell you a ladder,” Gracie said, holding their customer’s arm as they walked. “It wouldn’t be safe.”
“Well, Gracie Wilson, you know I don’t have children. And I certainly can’t pay someone. It’s just that the town is looking so nice and clean, but my old house, well, it’s like a stain on a new dress.”
“Mrs. Duncan, your house is beautiful.” Gracie said it so earnestly Patrick had to smile.
“It hasn’t been painted in twenty years, Gracie. Now, I might be getting on in years, but I can still see.”
“I’ll paint your house.” Gracie put the brushes and other supplies on the counter. “You tell me what color and we’ll go ahead and ring up the paint. I’m off tomorrow and we close early on Saturday. Maybe I can get my brothers to help.”
“I can’t ask you to paint my house.”
Gracie kissed the older woman on the cheek. Patrick watched as the two women, both obviously strong-willed, continued to argue.
“You’re not asking, Mrs. Duncan. I’m offering.” Gracie said it as if that was the end of the argument.
Patrick sighed, because he knew where this argument would land him. By the end of the week he’d be on a ladder, painting. Because Gracie had a way of dragging other people along. The block party at the end of the month. The rocking chairs she’d encouraged him to make, and now her obvious plan to marry him off. He drew the line on that one.
But helping Mrs. Duncan paint her house, that he wouldn’t mind doing. He’d come to Bygones looking for slower pace, a shorter workweek and the closeness of a small town. He thought he might get everything but the shorter workweek.
“Mrs. Duncan, I’ll help Gracie. I bet if we find some volunteers, we can paint your house in just a day or two.” Patrick smiled at Gracie and Mrs. Duncan as he made the offer.
Mrs. Duncan smiled big. “Well, now, aren’t you two the sweetest couple?”
“Oh, we’re not…” Gracie’s mouth opened and she turned a little pale.
“Gracie, everyone in town is talking about you and that wedding you didn’t show up for. There had to be a good reason, and now I can see what it was.”
“Mrs. Duncan, I’m only Gracie’s employer.” He smiled at Gracie. “And her friend.”
“Of course.” Mrs. Duncan pulled cash out of her purse. “Here’s wh
at I have. Do you think that’s enough to cover the paint?”
Patrick took the money and counted it. It wouldn’t begin to cover the cost of paint. He handed it back to the woman. “I’ll bill you when we’re finished, since we don’t know how much the paint will cost.”
“Now, I can’t afford much more than that.” She shoved the money back into her wallet.
“It won’t be more.” Patrick bagged up the brushes. “I’ll keep the supplies here so we have them when we start painting.”
Mrs. Duncan smiled. “That is so nice. I might buy some of those mums you have outside, too. And a flag for my front porch.”
“We’ll make sure we bring them with us.” Gracie smiled back at Patrick as she led her customer toward the front door.
Patrick watched as the two women walked down the sidewalk, the stray dog following close behind. The dog’s tail wagged and he knew that Gracie was the reason the animal wouldn’t leave. When he’d come back earlier, he’d seen the food bowl in the alley behind his store. He shook his head and went back to work, closing out the register for the night.
A few minutes later Gracie returned. She looked a little hesitant as she stood on the opposite side of the counter.
“I take it you haven’t heard that rumor?” She fiddled with the desk calendar and didn’t look at him.
“That was a new one.” He zipped up the bank-deposit bag and cleared his throat. “They’ll have something new to talk about by the end of the month.”
“Maybe I should start a rumor?” She smiled up at him, her darks eyes twinkling, either from humor or unshed tears. He didn’t see Gracie Wilson as the type of woman to spend too much time crying over something she couldn’t change.
“I think someone else will take care of it for you.”
“I hope so. Cold feet, another man, an argument over money and, my favorite, that I couldn’t take much more of his mother.”
“That one sounds like the winner.”
She laughed at that. “I kept telling myself I was marrying Trent, not his mother, in the end.” She shrugged. “Hey, Josh has coffee and Melissa has day-old pastries. They’re sitting down at the end of the block on lawn chairs and they wanted to know if we’d like to join them. An impromptu meeting or maybe just an excuse to visit and drink coffee. I’m invited because they want to talk about the Main Street Block Party at the end of the month.”
The Boss's Bride (The Heart of Main Street) Page 5