In Firefly Valley

by Amanda Cabot

  She stepped outside the tent, stopping for a second to let her eyes adjust to the sunshine.

  “Lauren,” a man called. “I was hoping to see you.”

  Her blinking had more to do with being startled than the sun’s rays. What was he doing here? There was no mistaking the blond, blue-eyed man with the California tan who’d annoyed virtually everyone he’d met the last time he’d come to Dupree.

  Lauren moved to the side, hoping Drew Carroll would disappear. He did not. And so she raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t think anything would bring you back to Dupree,” she said, keeping her voice as cool as the ice cubes that were even now melting in her glass. “I guess Greg’s wedding was important enough for you to forget how much you disliked this—what was it you called it?—pathetic excuse for a town.” Though Lauren knew Dupree had its shortcomings, she would not allow a man who hadn’t bothered to look beneath the surface to denigrate it, especially a man like Drew Carroll.

  He smiled, a white-toothed smile that appeared to radiate sincerity but only served to deepen Lauren’s distrust. This was the man who’d ignored Rainbow’s End’s clearly posted no-alcohol rule, apparently believing that rules did not apply to multimillionaires.

  “Did you ever consider that I might have come to see you?”

  “Never. That would happen when not just pigs but elephants fly.”

  “Dumbo’s an elephant, and he flies.” As a small hand tugged on hers, Lauren looked down at her daughter and guessed she had been sent to escort her to the Kozinski table.

  “You’re right, sweetheart. I forgot about Dumbo,” Lauren said, her smile fading when she returned her gaze to Drew. “Do you remember my daughter?”

  “Of course I . . .” As she raised her eyebrow again, the lie died on his lips. “No, I don’t.”

  Of course he didn’t. The day they’d met, it had been apparent that Drew had no time for anyone under the age of twenty-five.

  “This is Fiona,” she said. Turning to her daughter, Lauren completed the introduction. “This is Mr. Carroll.”

  Fiona tugged on Lauren’s hand again. “Our table’s over there.” She pointed to the last row, where Alice was seated with her parents and baby Liam. “Alice and me want to play on the swings. Her mom says it’s okay.”

  “Alice and I,” Lauren corrected automatically. “All right, but be careful.” Fiona had a tendency to swing too high. “I’ll be with you in a few minutes.”

  It wouldn’t take longer than that to dismiss Drew. But she hadn’t counted on his tenacity. He gestured toward the plate he held and an empty table for two. “Will you join me? If I thought it would work, I’d claim it was your civic duty, but since I doubt that would convince you, I’ll resort to the truth: I’d enjoy your company.”

  Though she wanted to refuse, Lauren hesitated. The first time she’d met Drew Carroll, she’d formed an instant dislike for the brash Californian. This was the same man, and yet he seemed different. While no one would call him self-effacing, he appeared less arrogant, and though she might be misreading it, Lauren thought that was pain she saw in his eyes. If she understood one thing, it was pain and the way a friendly gesture could assuage it.

  “All right. I’ll be back in a minute.” When she’d made her excuses to the Kozinskis and endured Susan’s knowing smile at the sight of Drew, Lauren returned to the table he’d appropriated. Unrolling her napkin, she looked up at him. “I assume you attended the ceremony.”

  He appeared amused by the question. “You could say that. I crashed it.”

  “What?” It was not the response Lauren had anticipated. Even though the guest list was small, surely he would have been on it. “You’re Greg’s partner.”

  “Past tense. I haven’t spoken to him since right after Easter.” Drew took a bite of tamale, chewing carefully before he added, “After seeing them together last spring, I’m not surprised that he married Kate, but I am surprised by the secrecy. As far as I can tell, no one in California knows he was getting married. Even though he’s no longer part of the company, Greg Vange’s wedding is newsworthy.”

  Lauren sipped her tea, considering her response. She forced a smile when one of the Matchers walked by, eyeing Drew. The only good thing she could say about the woman’s curiosity was that she’d buy at least one item when she came to HCP on Monday to learn whatever she could about Lauren’s companion.

  “I don’t think they wanted media attention,” she told Drew when the woman was out of earshot. “They want publicity for Rainbow’s End, not their personal lives.”

  “I can’t blame them for that. What surprises me is how much Greg has changed.”

  Lauren couldn’t comment on that, because she hadn’t known Greg before he’d sold his software company and come to Texas, and so she said only, “People do change.”

  After he’d washed down his tamale with a long slug of iced tea, Drew tipped his head to the side, as if evaluating her statement. “You think so?”

  “I know so. I’m not the same person I was a year ago.” Why had she said that? Half an hour ago she hadn’t even liked this man, and now she was discussing her personal life with him. Drew was a virtual stranger, but when he nodded, encouraging her to continue, Lauren knew she had to explain.

  “Everything changed when Patrick died. It wasn’t just being a widow.” Although that was bad enough. “Being a single parent is much harder than I realized.”

  “Especially since you’ve got your business to run.”

  Lauren was surprised by the astute comment. Few in Dupree realized how much of a drain HCP was on her energy. Some days just smiling at customers felt like a herculean task. But Drew knew. As part owner of Sys=Simpl, he understood the demands. Of course, his software firm was far larger than her quilt shop.

  “There were some tough weeks,” she admitted. “But I’m fortunate that I love what I do, because it’s what puts food on the table.” Patrick hadn’t worked long enough to earn a pension, and uncovered medical expenses had exhausted their savings. “I don’t imagine you’ve ever been worried about that.” Lauren doubted that Drew’s life was perfect—no one’s was—but at least he had no financial concerns.

  “Not recently,” he agreed, “but there are other worries.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like whether someone else will come up with a better product and we’ll lose all our clients.”

  That was one worry Lauren didn’t have. There were no other quilt shops in Dupree. “Is that likely?”

  “If Greg were still part of the company, I’d say no. Now . . .” Drew paused, and his eyes grew somber. “I don’t know.” Shaking his head, he said, “That’s much too gloomy a subject for today. Let’s talk about you instead.”

  Lauren had already told him more than she’d intended. “I’d rather hear about life in California.”

  One subject led to another, and before Lauren knew it, they’d discussed everything from favorite movies to white-water rafting to red versus green chili. She stood up occasionally to look at the swings, and when it was apparent that Fiona was still having fun with Alice, she sat back down. But now, as the crowd began to thin, Lauren knew it was time to leave.

  “I’d better get my daughter. She’s on a sugar high, and I need to get her home before she crashes.”

  Drew rose and pulled out Lauren’s chair for her, then walked with her toward the swings. The number of curious glances their progress elicited told Lauren that Monday would be a banner day at HCP. She wondered if Drew was finding being the center of attention as annoying as she was. Before she could say anything, he turned toward her. “Can I buy you dinner tonight?”

  Though the thought was strangely appealing, coming as it did from a man she’d thought she disliked an hour ago, Lauren knew there was only one possible answer. “I’m afraid not. I’ve got to work tonight.”

  “It’s Saturday,” he pointed out.

  “Believe me, I’m well aware of that, but I have less than a month to finish a dozen quilts. Th
ere are going to be a lot of late nights between now and then.” That was why Lauren had brought one of her sewing machines home. While she couldn’t do the actual quilting there, she could at least piece the tops.

  They’d reached the swings. Drew thrust his hands into his pants pockets and stared at Lauren for a long moment. “Okay . . . well . . .” This was the first time he’d seemed tongue-tied, and she wondered at the cause. Finally he said, “It was nice seeing you again,” and headed toward Kate and Greg, who were saying their good-byes.

  Fiona ran up to Lauren. “You spent a lot of time with that man.” Her tone left no doubt that she disapproved.

  “Yes, I did.” Lauren was the mother; she had no need to explain her actions to her daughter.

  “I don’t like him.”

  But I do. Though she hadn’t expected to, Lauren had enjoyed the time they’d spent together. Somehow Drew had banished her melancholy thoughts, and somehow she’d managed to diminish the pain she’d seen in his eyes.

  She wouldn’t see him again, for he’d told her he was returning to California in the morning, but that was good. Drew was a complicated man, and complications were one thing Lauren did not need. Drew was also unlike anyone she’d ever met. That had to be the reason—the only reason—why Lauren found herself sketching his face that evening when she was supposed to be designing a quilt.

  5

  Hello, Blake,” Marisa said as she left the church the next morning and saw him standing at the foot of the steps. Her mother was still inside, chatting with friends, but Marisa had wanted to escape the endless refrains of “so glad you’re back.” Blake might provide the respite she needed.

  Though she refused to accept her mother’s theory of love at first sight, Marisa wouldn’t deny that she enjoyed his company. For whatever reason, none of the men she’d met in Atlanta had affected her the way Blake Kendall did.

  She smiled at him. “I thought your friend might be with you.” Greg had said nothing about a second guest, but Marisa wouldn’t have been surprised if the blond-haired man had shared Blake’s cabin last night. The couches in the living area of each cabin opened into beds, providing accommodations for larger families or overnight guests.

  “Drew?” Blake shook his head. “He was only here for the day. He had an early morning flight to California, so he stayed at a hotel near the airport.”

  Marisa felt her pulse racing. It seemed that every time she was with Blake, her heart beat faster, her cheeks flushed, and she felt as if every nerve ending was on alert. That had never, ever happened before.

  Keeping her voice even, as if this were an ordinary conversation and not one that turned her world upside down, Marisa said, “It seems like a long way to come for such a short time.” Of course, if Drew Carroll was as wealthy as her mother claimed, he could have chartered a plane. That would have made the trip less onerous.

  Blake nodded his agreement. “It was a lot of travel time for him, but it was good to see Drew. It’s been years since he and Greg and I were together.”

  “Was that at Stanford?” Mom had given Marisa an abbreviated history of Drew’s first visit to Rainbow’s End, one that included a few choice comments about the man’s poor judgment. Apparently Drew had made a strong impression, albeit a negative one.

  “We all shared an apartment our senior year,” Blake explained. “After graduation, I moved into the city, while Greg and Drew stayed in Silicon Valley. I rarely talked to Drew after that and probably wouldn’t have seen Greg if he hadn’t been a client.”

  Marisa wasn’t surprised. Though she and her college classmates had vowed to keep in touch, distance and the pressure of jobs and family had taken their toll on what she’d once thought would be lifelong friendships.

  “So you wound up having a reunion in Dupree, Texas.” It was more than a little ironic that three cosmopolitan men had found each other here.

  “The Heart of the Hills.”

  Marisa chuckled. “You saw the sign.”

  “It was pretty hard to miss, but that’s all I saw of the town. Could I convince you to give me a guided tour?”

  Though he’d been standing only a couple feet from her, Blake took a step closer, and as he did, Marisa caught a whiff of his aftershave. It was spicy and musky and made her want to take a deep breath, simply to inhale it. Instead, she tipped her head to the side and asked, “Do you have five minutes to spare?”

  Blake’s smile showcased teeth so evenly spaced they had to be the result of orthodontia. “I just might. Maybe even ten.”

  “In that case, we’ll walk.” It was a beautiful morning, perfect weather for a stroll, especially a stroll with Blake.

  “In those shoes?” He stared at the four-inch heels Marisa had worn to church.

  “Sure. It’s a small town.” After she told her mother that Blake would take her back to Rainbow’s End, Marisa rejoined him and pointed to the street in front of the church. “I don’t know whether you noticed the sign, but this is Lone Star Trail. When the town was founded early in the twentieth century, it was called Main Street, but for a while after Sinclair Lewis’s book of that name was published, people didn’t want any connection to Main Street. The mayor proposed Lone Star Trail, and it’s been called that ever since.”

  Marisa paused for a second, trying to judge Blake’s reaction. When he appeared genuinely interested, she added, “The other east-west streets are all avenues. Avenue A, Avenue B—you get the idea. And, sorry to disappoint you, but I don’t know why the town fathers decided to use the alphabet rather than calling them First and Second Street.” When Blake merely nodded, Marisa laughed. “You really do want to learn about Dupree, don’t you?”

  Blake held up both hands in surrender. “Guilty as charged. Besides, only a crazy man would pass up the chance for a walk with a pretty girl.”

  As flirtations went, it was mild, and yet Marisa felt blood heating her cheeks. “Flattery will get you . . .” She paused, trying to think of something outrageous to say while she waited for her pulse to stop racing. “An all-expenses-paid trip to the east side of Dupree.”

  “Which is where we were heading anyway.”

  “Exactly.” They walked slowly, passing the bank, the town hall, and the supermarket that did double duty as a newsstand. When they reached the movie theater, Marisa paused. “You’ll notice that it’s called the Bijou, like hundreds of other cinemas in the country, and that it has only one screen. The films are tenth run.”

  “You’re exaggerating.”

  She shrugged, gazing at the building where she and Lauren had watched so many movies. It was old enough now that instead of appearing old-fashioned, it seemed classic. “I may be exaggerating a little, but all the shows are at least six months old. One week each month, the features are what the owner calls classics.”

  “Like Star Wars?”

  “Think older. Much older. Think Casablanca and Whatever Happened to Baby Jane?”

  Blake’s chuckle warmed Marisa’s heart. “Sounds like my grandparents’ generation’s movies.”

  “Exactly. If Mr. Benton could find them, I wouldn’t be surprised to see silent films on the list.” The owner had grown up in the fifties and had what Mom described as a terminal case of nostalgia. Unfortunately, Dupree’s younger generation wasn’t particularly enamored with film stars whose careers had ended decades earlier, and attendance was low during nostalgia weeks.

  Blake looked down the street to the business establishment that fronted the main highway. “Let me guess. That’s the only gas station in town.”

  “A shrewd guess.”

  “Is there a soft drink machine in front?”

  “Of course. As you’ve already discovered, Dupree is the quintessential American small town. But if you were looking for Coke or Pepsi, you might be disappointed. This is Texas, so we offer Dr Pepper.” While the gas station’s sign had been updated over the years, some things hadn’t changed, including the owner’s loyalty to the soft drink that had its origin not too far from D
upree.

  Marisa frowned as she thought of the many paydays Mom had given her money to buy a Dr Pepper if she would wait for her father and walk home with him as soon as his shift ended. It was only as she grew older that she realized Mom was trying to keep him from stopping at the liquor store or the town’s sole bar and drinking half of his paycheck but didn’t want to humiliate him by coming to the station herself. Marisa forced her lips into a smile. Nothing would be gained by dredging up painful memories.

  “Is that all of Dupree?” Marisa wondered if Blake had sensed her melancholy mood, because he gave her shoulders a quick squeeze when he spoke, as if seeking to comfort her.

  “Oh no,” she responded. “There are more shops on Pecan, and of course there are houses. Mostly single family homes, but the south end of town has an apartment building for lower-income families.”

  “Is it nice?”

  “Not very. I’d say it’s kind of dilapidated now.” How odd. She’d grown up with Hickory View and never gave it a second thought until Blake asked about it. “It didn’t start out that way. According to my mother, it was once an attractive building, but the owner got tired of the constant repairs and let some maintenance slip. Now everything’s so old that anyone who can afford to live elsewhere does.”

  “That’s sad.”

  Though his responses were terse, they continued to reveal new facets to Blake. He, a stranger who was only passing through Dupree, seemed more concerned about Hickory View than most of the town’s permanent residents.

  “It is sad,” Marisa agreed, “especially when you know that the owner is the town’s former mayor. He doesn’t live here any longer, but from all accounts, he could afford to renovate it.”

  Blake nodded again. “I’ve heard similar stories about absentee landlords.” He gave Marisa’s shoulder another squeeze. “We can’t solve the world’s problems this morning, so I propose that we try to enjoy the beautiful day. I wouldn’t mind seeing more of the town.” He winked and added, “Lead on, Macduff.”