Sweet Somethings

by Barbara Freethy

  "Well, if we do, we should do it over a beer," Travis said. "Do you have any, Roman?"

  "I have some in the fridge," he admitted.

  "Along with some chairs?" Doug asked. "Looks like we're going to stay long enough to sit."

  "Looks that way," he agreed, leading them into the kitchen.

  * * *

  Juliette left the bakery in Susan's capable hands around four o'clock on Thursday afternoon. She'd been thinking about her conversation with Martha all day, and she really wanted to talk to Cecelia Grayson while she was at work and not with her sister.

  Cecelia managed the Bella Terra nursery down by the bay. The nursery consisted of a red brick building, a greenhouse, and two acres of plants.

  She made her way into the main showroom and asked a saleswoman if Cecelia was there. She was directed to the outdoor patio, where she found Cecelia with her hands in a big pot of soil.

  "Hello, Juliette," Cecelia said with a welcoming smile. "I can't believe you're away from your bakery. There's always a line in there now when I pass by."

  "It has been busy with Valentine's Day around the corner. You must be selling a lot of flowers as well."

  "Oh, absolutely, but we're really more about long-term plants here. Can I help you? Are you looking for something in particular?"

  "Actually, I wanted to talk to you, if you have a moment."

  "Of course." She wiped off her hands on a nearby towel. "What is it?"

  "I don't know if you're aware of this, but I grew up in a house on Primrose Lane—the same one you grew up in."

  Surprise passed through her expression. "I didn't know that. What a coincidence. I loved that house."

  "So did I. I had to move because my parents died unexpectedly."

  "Yes, I remember that horrible accident," Cecelia said with sympathy in her eyes. "It was so tragic; you were so young. I didn't know your parents well, but I'd visited your father's bakery, and your mother used to come here and buy plants for her yard."

  "She loved to garden," Juliette said. "Unfortunately, I didn't inherit her green thumb."

  "Well, you have other talents."

  "Anyway, I've had thoughts of buying the house back, but right now it's being remodeled, so I'll have to wait and see what Mr. Prescott wants to sell it for when he puts it on the market. In the meantime, I've been spending a little time there. My friend, Roman, is handling the construction."

  "Yes, I heard that." Cecelia didn't look too happy at the mention of Roman's name. "I'm sure the old house needs a makeover."

  "That seems to be the consensus. The other day Roman was pulling up some carpeting in the downstairs bedroom, and he found a box filled with love letters. We're wondering if you might know anything about them."

  Cecelia's face paled, and there was not a doubt in Juliette's mind that Cecelia knew about the letters, no matter what she said next.

  "Letters?" Cecelia echoed, her voice shaky.

  "Love letters to a man. There aren't any names, but the letters are beautifully written. Roman and I didn't want to just throw them away, so we thought we'd try to find the owner."

  "You read the letters?" Cecelia asked tightly.

  "We did," she admitted. "We were hoping to find a clue to the writer's identity, but what we found was a rather haunting love story. It starts out filled with hope and giddy desire and ends with heartbreak. I have to admit we're kind of curious about what happened."

  Before Cecelia could speak, Martha came through the door, giving them both a surprised look.

  "Juliette, what are you doing here?" Martha asked.

  "I wanted to ask Cecelia about the letters I found," she said, deciding not to beat around the bush. "The ones I told you about last night."

  "She told you last night?" Cecelia muttered to Martha.

  "And I told her that I didn't know anything about any letters," Martha said, sending Cecelia a pointed look.

  "It seems like you both know something," Juliette cut in, drawing their gazes back to her.

  "It's none of your business," Martha said sharply.

  "Stop," Cecelia said. "It's fine."

  "Cici," Martha said warningly.

  "It's all right, Martha," Cecelia said. "I don't mind telling her. I wrote the letters."

  It was exactly what she'd thought. "But you never sent them, did you? I wasn't sure, because in the last letter you were looking at the mailbox and thinking about mailing them."

  "I never sent them. I couldn't. He was married by then. I couldn't break up a home. It was too late." Cecelia's eyes had a faraway look in them, as if she was being swept back in time. "I wrote those letters fifty years ago. I can't believe you found them now."

  "Why didn't you take them with you when you moved?" she asked. "Why leave them hidden under the floorboards?"

  "I meant to take them with me, but I was away when my parents decided to get the house ready to sell. When I came back, they'd laid down new carpet in that closet. I couldn't rip it up because of some old letters. And I certainly couldn't tell my parents about the letters. They would not have been happy with my behavior, my father, especially. That's why I hid them in a box under the floorboard in the first place."

  It all made sense now. "Can I ask who the man was?"

  "That's none of your business," Martha interrupted. "It was a long time ago, and Cecelia has let all that go. I can't believe you're bringing it up again. You have no idea how much pain you're causing her."

  "I'm sorry; that's not my intent."

  "It's all right," Cecelia said, giving her a troubled look. "I admit I'm a little shocked, but I'll be all right."

  "Would you like the letters back?" She felt a little guilty for having asked about Cecelia's old lover. Martha was right; it was none of her business. The letters were Cecelia's real life; they weren't for someone else's entertainment.

  "Say no," Martha told her sister.

  Cecelia hesitated. "I think I would like them back."

  Martha let out a long, annoyed sigh. "That's the wrong decision. Let me take them and destroy them. You do not want to read them again. I remember how sad you were for days and months on end. I don't want to see you go down that road. There's no point. Life has moved on."

  While Martha was being her usual bossy self, Juliette was touched by the clear love Martha had for her sister. It gave her a dimension that Juliette hadn’t seen before.

  "It was all a very long time ago," Cecelia said. "I would like to see the letters again. Did you bring them with you?"

  "No. I wasn't sure you were the owner. I was just guessing."

  "You guessed correctly," Cecelia said with a sad smile.

  "I can bring them to you tomorrow, or you can come by the bakery if you'd like."

  "I'll do that," Cecelia said with a nod. "I'll get them from you. I don't want to put you to any trouble."

  "This is a bad idea," Martha said. "I don't like it at all."

  "Well, they're not your letters," Cecelia said, standing up to her sister.

  "Just don't come crying to me about your heart breaking again," Martha said harshly, then turned on her heel and left the patio.

  "Don't mind her. She does have good intentions," Cecelia said. "And thank you for taking the time to track me down. Most people wouldn't have tried that hard to find the owner of a bunch of old letters."

  She looked into the older woman's eyes. "Your words were beautiful. You evoked so many emotions in me when I read them. I have to admit; I was completely caught up in your story. I was hoping it had a happier ending than what I read."

  "I've had a happy life," Cecelia said. "And the man I was writing about was also happy in his choice. We just weren't happy together. Sometimes, that's the way it is. You have to accept what you can't change."

  "I have a hard time doing that," she confessed. "Even when people tell me no a hundred times, I still think there's a way to get a yes."

  Cecelia smiled. "That's a good trait. You're a strong, modern woman. You have confidence and
determination. I was not like that, especially not when I was your age."

  "It was a different time."

  "That's true. We weren't brought up to speak our minds. I think that's partly why no one can shut my sister up anymore. Once she found her voice, she couldn't stop talking."

  She smiled at the quiet humor in Cecelia's eyes. "I guess I understand but Martha is a bit terrifying."

  "I know she takes things too far. She judges too quickly and she has trouble with forgiveness, but she's been a loyal sister, and there are things she's gone through in her life that have made her bitter. It's not an excuse, but maybe it's an explanation that will help you understand a little better." Cecelia paused. "She was rude to Roman the other day. I told her to give that boy a chance, but once she makes up her mind about someone, it's hard to change it."

  "Roman is a good man. I'm sure he made mistakes when he was younger, but he's a soldier. He fights for our country. He was injured in the line of duty. Martha needs to back off."

  "I will tell her that, and so should you, if you feel inclined."

  "I did tell her that last night, but she didn't want to hear me."

  "She heard you; we'll just have to see if she decides to listen."

  She nodded. "I should get back to the bakery."

  "I'll come by tomorrow and pick up the letters. I have to admit I need a little time to get ready to read them again."

  "I'll see you then." As she walked out of the nursery, she was happy to have solved half of the mystery, but she was still curious about Cecelia's old lover. Was he someone in town? It seemed likely since Cecelia had lived in Fairhope most of her life. Although, it was certainly possible the man in question had moved away years ago.

  She probably wasn't going to find out the answer, unless Cecelia had a change of heart about sharing between now and tomorrow. But why would she? It was her personal business and it had obviously been a painful breakup.

  As she got into her car, she impulsively pulled out her phone and called Roman. She knew he would be interested to hear what she had found out. Plus, she just really wanted to talk to him.

  He answered after a couple of rings, and she was a little surprised to hear male conversation in the background. "Hi, it's me," she said. "Are you out somewhere?"

  "No, I'm in the house. Hang on a second." He paused for a moment. "Okay, I moved. It's quieter here."

  "Who is at the house with you? It sounds like you're having a party."

  "Not a party, but we have had a few beers."

  "You and who else?"

  "You're not going to believe me."

  "Doug," she guessed.

  "And Travis."

  "How on earth did that happen? Last I heard, you were mortal enemies."

  "Things have changed remarkably fast," he agreed. "Travis came by looking for work. I was about to turn him away when Doug showed up with the old police files on the fire. Apparently, he decided to get more information, as you obviously encouraged him to do."

  "I'm glad he did, especially since it sounds like whatever he found out has brought the three of you together again."

  "We're talking. I wouldn't say we're best friends, but it's clear that there were a lot of misunderstandings surrounding our police interviews. And it turns out there might have been an actual arsonist involved. Doug discovered there were similar fires started elsewhere that were never solved."

  "So none of you were responsible?"

  "Nope. I believe what the other guys have told me, and they seem to believe me."

  "I'm so glad," she said, genuinely happy he'd been able to get rid of that dark, hanging cloud.

  "I didn't think I cared that much, but now that we've cleared the air, it does feel good. Of course, Doug admitted that he went to the lengths that he did to protect his run for mayor and future political ambitions, but I appreciated the fact that he owned up to it."

  "This is great. I'm really happy for you. And I think I have to remind you that some of this might have happened because I stuck my nose into it."

  His laugh warmed her heart. "No doubt, Juliette, no doubt. What have you been up to today? Baking like a madwoman?"

  "Definitely, but I do have some other news."

  "I can't wait to hear it."

  She settled into her seat, thinking how nice it felt to have Roman to talk to. "I figured out the identity of the letter writer."

  "No kidding? Who?"

  "It's someone we both know—"

  "If you tell me it's Martha, I don't know what I'll say," he said dryly.

  "It's not Martha; it's her sister, Cecelia."

  "How did you figure that out?"

  "I got an inkling when Martha was lecturing me about being with you last night."

  "Wait, she was lecturing you? I'm sorry. I should have stuck around until you got into the house."

  "It was fine. I didn't care what she had to say, but to get her off the subject of me and you, I told her we'd found letters in her old house. She got the strangest look on her face even though she said she had no idea what I was talking about. So I went to see Cecelia today, thinking she'd give me a better answer, and she confessed that she was in love with a man who married someone else. Apparently, she was out of town when her parents had the room and closet carpeted, and she just figured the letters were lost forever. I told her she could come by tomorrow and I'd give them to her."

  "That's amazing, Juliette. There is nothing you can't figure out, is there?"

  "I'm having a pretty good week," she admitted.

  "I suspect you have a lot of good weeks. You tend to accomplish everything you set your mind to." He paused. "So who was Cecelia's lover?"

  "She wouldn't tell me. And Martha scolded me for asking."

  "Wait—Martha was there, too?"

  "She came in during our conversation. She tried to shut it down, but Cecelia wouldn't let her. It was interesting to see their loyalty and love for each other. Martha can be a mean-spirited person, but she adores her sister. Cecelia alluded to something in the past that had made Martha bitter and unforgiving. I wonder what that was."

  Roman groaned. "Not another mystery to solve, Juliette—you just figured this one out. Can't you at least take a breath in between?"

  She laughed. "Yes, I can take a breath, and I'm not planning to add that to my list, just commenting."

  "Well, I'm glad you can give Cecelia back her letters. It's better than throwing them out."

  "It is." She paused. "I'll let you get back to the guys. Are you rehashing old times?"

  "More than I'd like, but that's what a few beers will do."

  "What about Travis? Do you feel like hiring him now?"

  "I told him I'd hire him for three days. My grandfather will have to sign off on anything longer than that. If Travis does a good job, then I see no reason why he can't continue."

  "That will be good for Cameron and probably Donna, too." She was proud of Roman for being able to put the past aside to help out Travis.

  "I hope so." He let out a breath. "I missed you today."

  The husky, sensual note in his voice made her heart skip a beat as his words felt far more intimate than the conversation they'd been having.

  "I know," she admitted. "It seems like forever since I saw you, and it was just last night."

  "I was going to see if you wanted to get dinner, but I think I've had a few too many beers for that, and I'm not sure I'll get either of these guys out of the house any time soon."

  "You should hang out with them. I have tons of baking to do. I'm going to get a quick bite and get down to it."

  "Don't work too hard."

  "I will work as hard as I need to." She wasn't quite ready to say good-bye, and she didn't want to hang up the phone without making a plan to see him. "So tomorrow they're having the love boat parade."

  "What on earth is that?"

  "It's a parade of brightly lit boats just after sunset. They also have live bands and other entertainment on the pier while it's happen
ing. Do you want to come and check it out with me?"

  "Don't tell me you're providing desserts for that, too?"

  "No. I gave the parade a pass, so I could be free to wander around."

  "I'll meet you down there. I have some subcontractors coming late in the afternoon to give me some bids. But once they're done, I'll head to the pier."

  "Great. I'll see you there."

  She found herself smiling as she drove back to the bakery. It had been a long time since just hearing a man's voice on the phone had made her so happy. She just wished this particular man didn't have one foot out the door.

  But it didn't matter how often she told herself to hold back, to guard her heart, to try to stay away from him; she just couldn't do it. She liked him too much. For better or worse, she was in this til the end.

  Thirteen

  "That call must have been from a woman," Doug told Roman as he returned to the kitchen.

  "Why would you say that?"

  "Because you have that look on your face that you used to have when Amy Downing called you."

  "Amy Downing," he echoed with a laugh. "That is a name out of the past. Do you know what happened to her?"

  "I do," Travis put in. "She married a lawyer who became a state senator in Illinois last year. They have three kids and apparently quite a bit of money. Oh, and I saw a picture of Amy recently, and she's still hot, my friend."

  Roman laughed. "How do you know all that?"

  "My mother is friends with her mother."

  "I told you that you should have called her after graduation," Doug reminded him. "You blew it."

  He shook his head. "I didn't call her, because it was over. I told her I was going to enlist, and she said have fun, but don't think I'll be waiting around for you to come home."

  "Ouch," Travis said. "You never told us that."

  "It wasn't exactly news I wanted to spread around."

  "So who put that grin on your face today?" Doug asked. "Or do I have to ask? It's Juliette, isn't it? You've got a thing for her."

  He couldn't deny it, but he also didn't want to talk about it. Because Juliette was far more important to him than he wanted to tell these guys, so he just shrugged.