by Syndi Powell
He leaned over and kissed his mom’s cheek. Then he held out his hand to Lizzie. “Now that you’ve tried the fried pickles, you have to taste the dill-pickle soup.”
Lizzie wrinkled her nose, but she followed him.
* * *
THIS SMALL TOWN could do things to a person. She’d only been in Lake Mildred two days, and part of her was wondering what living there would be like. People smiled and said hello. Acted as if she’d been one of them for years. She didn’t feel rushed or anxious. She hadn’t thought of her voice mail or email for hours. In fact, she hadn’t glanced at her cell phone since the parade two hours before.
Rick turned toward her when she sighed. “It gets to you, right?”
She shrugged and pulled on the hem of her dress. She should have changed after the parade. Or at least after they’d sampled the fried dill pickles, the dill-pickle soup, the gherkin mousse. She should have passed on that last one. But the pickle pâté had been fabulous. The lure of the festival had kept them in the park, enjoying the booths and the people surrounding them. “I guess it is getting to me.”
He stopped at the ticket booth and purchased two wristbands, then tied one to her wrist. “Which ride should we try first? The tilt-a-whirl or the scrambler?”
She put a hand over her stomach. “I’d like to keep my lunch down, thanks.”
Rick laughed. “Where’s your sense of adventure? Your joie de vivre?”
“It prefers not to spend life with my head in the toilet.” She looked around at the rides. There had to be something tame. “Why not the Ferris wheel?”
Rick glanced up at it, then grabbed her hand and sprinted toward the line. “You won’t believe the view up there. You’ll be able to see the whole town.”
“All square mile of it? Can’t wait.”
When they reached the beginning of the line, Rick let her take a seat first before joining her. They got locked into the seat, then took a deep breath as the operator gave a thumbs-up.
The view at the top took Elizabeth’s breath away. Trees grew lush and green. The sunlight glinted off the lake and winked with the promise of fun times. Small homes were built around the town square and farther beyond. Cottages lined the lakeshore. Part of her suddenly yearned for a place in this community.
Rick nodded. “I told you it was spectacular.”
“You weren’t kidding.” The camera would love it. She turned to him. “You understand that our coming here would forever change the peace and quiet. We couldn’t leave this place as it is now. For months, it would be chaos with the contestants and crew. We’d clog your streets and your businesses, and leave the mess for you to clean up. And then the gawkers would descend.”
“What I know is that it would bring jobs and money to people who need both more than you know.” He pointed at a home with a tree house in the backyard. “It would mean Steve wouldn’t lose his house.” He pointed to another with a covered porch. “Or that Shelly could feed her kids this winter.”
Elizabeth closed her eyes. She knew what it was like to be hungry. What it meant not to know if there would be dinner that night. “I can’t guarantee Devon will go for this idea.”
Rick settled back into the seat. “You tell him it’s either you have me here or I don’t do it at all.”
“That’s a pretty big threat.”
He reached out and touched her hand. “I won’t let you lose your job over me, but I won’t lose myself in the process, either. I’m not going to lie, the idea of doing the show again is making me quake in my sneakers. But as long as we can establish some ground rules, if we can do it my way, then everyone will be happy.”
Uh-oh. His way? She was the producer here, not him. “You ask for a lot.”
Rick shrugged. “So do you.”
She watched the emotions play over his face. He wanted to save this town, but at what cost to himself? He was a good man. Too good for this business. Elizabeth reached out and touched his face, then snapped her hand back as if he’d burned her. What was she doing?
“Lizzie.” The hoarseness of his voice seemed to shock even him.
“Elizabeth.”
He leaned back and looked out over the treetops. “Come to Sunday dinner tomorrow afternoon at my mom’s.”
After the confrontation in the food tent, that was a shock. “Why?”
He turned to her. “Because that’s what I do every Sunday. Spend it with my family. And maybe if we talk some more, we can figure this out. Give my mom a second chance. Isn’t that what you’re offering me here?”
Was it? Elizabeth wasn’t sure anymore.
* * *
ELIZABETH ADJUSTED her black skirt and straightened her pink linen jacket while wondering for the eighty-ninth time why she had agreed to do this. She’d gone to great lengths to secure contestants in the past, but this topped them all.
She exhaled as she saw Rick come down the back stairs from his apartment to where she waited by her convertible.
“Good morning.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.
She glanced at her watch. “It’s technically afternoon.”
Rick grinned and shrugged. “Close enough.” He moved next to her to lean against the car. “Ready for this?”
Elizabeth’s insides vibrated with tension, and she clutched her stomach. “I’m not hungry.”
“We’ll eat. Talk. Maybe watch a ball game. And have a great afternoon.” He bumped her shoulder with his. “My family wants to get to know you.”
Why? She was about to change Rick’s life again. Maybe coming here hadn’t been a good idea. If she hadn’t been so worried about her job... Instead of asking, she smiled. “Then I’d love to.”
Rick’s shoulders sagged in what looked like relief. “Thanks. You’ll be saving us from a week of leftovers—roast-beef sandwiches, roast-beef salad, beef pâté.”
Elizabeth wiped the sweat off the back of her neck. “Your mother made a roast in this heat?”
Rick shrugged. “She likes to cook.”
What would it have been like to have grown up with a mom like that? Elizabeth couldn’t even begin to imagine. “Is that where you learned it?”
He nodded. “She taught me everything I know. She’s the best.”
“Which you obviously use in your job.” She turned and looked at him. “Did you know the diner would be your life the last time I saw you?”
He took so long in answering her, she thought at first he hadn’t heard what she’d said. At last, he sighed. “No, it’s not where I pictured my life passing. I imagined ball fields and team buses. But things changed after the car accident. And the diner stepped in and took the place of that dream. I spend most of my days there because it’s easier than looking at my life and wondering what the future holds.”
“So what do you want?”
He patted his stomach. “To go to lunch. I’m starving.”
She unlocked her car door and stood in the opening while she looked at him. “Should I follow you out to your mom’s?”
Rick peered past her to the inside of her car. “Actually, I’ll ride with you. Can we put the top down?”
She shook her head. “You’re worse than a kid.”
He grinned at her, and a punch landed in her stomach. Wow.
With his help, they put the soft top down on the convertible and she settled into the driver’s seat. He bounced slightly in the seat and tried all the knobs on the dashboard. She playfully swatted his hand, then turned the key in the ignition. “It’s a car, not a toy.”
He chuckled and settled back in the passenger seat, eyes closed and sun streaming onto his face. “I love Sundays.”
“I can tell.”
He opened one eye and looked at her. She turned her gaze back to the road. “You don’t?”
She shrugged
. “In my world, it’s just another day. Another day of phone calls, meetings and... Why are you staring at me like that?”
“You really need to find a hobby.” He turned his focus back to the road. “Turn left up here, and we’ll follow the lake to the house.”
* * *
RICK HELPED LIZZIE out of the car, then walked around the house to the back door.
He opened the door and popped his head inside. “Mom?” The smell of roasting beef tickled his nose, so he knew she was around somewhere. He turned back to Lizzie. “She’s probably changing from her church clothes.”
Lizzie looked down at her suit. “Do I look okay?”
He smiled. Always worried about how she looked. He wore his Detroit Tigers T-shirt and favorite jeans. He didn’t have to worry. “You’re not meeting my family as a girlfriend, so stop worrying. They’ll love you.”
“Until they find out I’m bringing you back to the show again.” She shut the door behind her. “We really need to talk.”
He held up a hand. “I know. Later.” It was definitely a conversation that could wait.
His mom entered the kitchen and walked over to him. She kissed him on the cheek. “My handsome boy.” She turned to Lizzie. Her expression changed from affection to distrust. “I’ve agreed to be civil, for Rick’s sake.” Lizzie fidgeted until his mom looked her over and sighed. “Rick’s right. You need some fattening up. I hope you’re hungry.”
Rick took a step between Lizzie and his mom. Better to keep them at a distance for now. “Is Danny here yet? I’m starving to death.” He patted his empty stomach again.
His mom rolled her eyes. “Never mind him, Lizzie. He’s always hungry.”
“Elizabeth.”
His mom checked on the roast in the oven, then turned to them. “Rick, you’re on table duty. Lizzie, if you’d help me make a salad, then we’ll be able to eat once Dan arrives. Now, why don’t you tell me more about what’s going on with you two.”
Lizzie colored as pink as her suit. Rick cleared his throat. “I’ve agreed to do the show again, Ma.”
She stopped pulling vegetables from the crisper and turned to face him. He swallowed and felt exactly like he used to when waiting for his father to come home and discipline him for goofing off in school. He hadn’t wanted to blurt it out like that, but it was better to say it now rather than waiting for Dan to start spinning this to his advantage. He watched for his mother’s reaction.
She nodded and took a seat at the kitchen island. Rick helped to put the vegetables on the counter and shut the refrigerator. He chuckled, trying to keep it light. “I didn’t expect you to be overjoyed, but speechless? Wow.”
“Why do you want to put yourself through that, honey?” She put her hands on either side of his face. “Do you think you could handle it again?”
He glanced at Lizzie, who started to peel the plastic wrap from the head of lettuce. His producer wasn’t being any help, so he shrugged. “I’m still single. Still haven’t found the right woman. Why not open the odds up a little in my favor?”
“It didn’t work the last time.” She shook her head and buried her face in her hands. “I begged your father to let you off the hook. We didn’t need that ridiculous show to survive.”
“Mrs. Allyn, the chances of Rick finding a wife are better this time. He’ll be the focus of our show. The one doing the choosing.”
His mom turned to her. “I can’t believe you’re torturing him again with this. You don’t know what it was like when he came back. The pain—”
“Ma.” She turned back to him. He’d do anything to ease the worry in her eyes. “I know you’re trying to protect me. But this time will be different.”
“How can you be so sure?”
He winked at Lizzie. “Because we’re doing it my way this time.”
Lizzie paled but gave a weak nod to Ma when she looked at her. “Rick wants more control this time. We still have to work out the details, but he wants to film here in town.”
Rick crossed his arms. “I more than want it. I’m going to have it or there will be no show.”
Lizzie accepted the knife from his mom. She started to chop the tomato. “I understand that you want to avoid what happened last time, but there are certain requirements, restrictions, that the show places not only on the contestants, but—”
He held up one hand. “Don’t try to produce me right now, Lizzie.” He turned back to his mom. “When are you going to stop worrying about me?”
She tried to give him a smile, but he could see what it cost her. “You’ll always be my baby.”
He hugged her and rubbed her back. “Someday you’ll have to trust me to make big-boy decisions.”
“What’s wrong?”
Rick turned to Dan, who had entered the kitchen, shrugged out of his suit coat and hung it on the back of a stool. “Mom’s worried about me doing the show again.”
Dan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms over his chest. “So you’re really going to do it.”
“Yes, Dan. I think so.” He glanced at Lizzie, who watched his reaction closely. “I’m almost positive.” He turned back to his mom. “I don’t want to make the same mistakes, so that’s why we’re doing the show here. You’ll get to know all the women throughout the whole process. And give me advice.” He turned to face Dan. “When I ask for it.”
“Taping here means that we can showcase Allyn Pickles even more. Make a national audience aware of what we offer.” His mercenary brother’s eyes glazed over with the possibilities, and Rick sighed and patted his mom’s arm.
“I’ll set the table, and we can discuss this over dinner. Okay?”
She nodded, but he could tell she wasn’t really there. He walked to the cupboard and pulled out dishes and glasses, then disappeared into the dining room. It was mindless work, but that was what he needed to clear his mind.
“What happened after the show last time?”
Rick glanced up from a dinner plate and frowned at Lizzie, who stood in the doorway watching him. “You’re supposed to be making a salad.”
“Your mom took over, so I came in here to talk to you.”
He finished placing the plates on the table and turned to the sideboard drawer where his mom kept the cloth napkins. He folded four and walked around the table, placing them where they belonged next to each plate. “I don’t need to talk.”
“What happened that’s got your mom so scared for you to do this show?”
She stepped in front of him so that he had to look at her or push her out of his way. He chose to look at her. “It’s complicated.”
“That’s my response. Get your own.”
He sighed and moved around her to retrieve the silverware from the sideboard. He pulled out four forks, four spoons and four knives, then slammed the drawer shut and braced his hands on either side of him. “It wasn’t good.”
She placed a hand on his shoulder. “I want you to do this show, but not if it’s going to hurt you.”
He looked down at her soft mouth. “You want your job. Dan wants his publicity. The town needs the money. Do I really have a choice?”
“You always have a choice, Rick.” She dropped her hand but kept her gaze on his. “Tell me what happened last time.”
He closed his eyes. “Some people run when trouble comes. Others throw themselves into work.” He opened his eyes and saw her watching him, a frown marring her brow. He might as well tell her the whole story, because his family would if he didn’t. “I retreated to my family’s cottage. Didn’t go out. Didn’t work. Cut myself off from everybody and everything. I couldn’t sleep, wouldn’t eat. I became disoriented and got behind the wheel of my car to drive back home. I didn’t wake up until I hit a tree. After crushing my knee in the accident, I lost even my dream of playing with the pros.” He straightened his
shoulders and cleared his throat. “But I won’t let it happen again. And you’re going to help me make sure of that.”
CHAPTER FIVE
BY FEBRUARY, Lake Mildred was ready, poised on the brink of either publicity or infamy. Rick poured another round of coffee for his regulars and tried to maintain his good mood despite their incessant questions.
Would the production crew hire local people to help out as they had agreed in the contract? Rick knew they would and had signed papers to make it so. Lizzie had promised, and he knew he could trust her.
Would the show bring more tourists in? Probably, depending on the ratings. If it was popular, they’d want to come experience the place for themselves. If it ended as it had before, they’d want to come gawk at the man destined to be alone.
Would he find a wife? He prayed that he would. There was no other option on this. Either he met the woman meant to be his wife or he’d choose someone who was close enough to his list of expectations and hope that love would grow between them. He wearied of going to bed alone, waking up alone. He didn’t want to keep living with only his thoughts.
He replaced the coffee carafe in the machine and leaned on the counter. Ernesto, the cook, came out from the kitchen and joined him. “You ready to give this all up?”
Rick snorted and glanced around the dining room. “It’s only for a couple of months. Don’t get used to not having me here.”
“You’re the lifeblood here at the diner. In the community.” Ernesto put a hand on his shoulder. “What you’re doing for us now is...” His voice broke, and he shook his head.
“I’m not a savior, Ern.” Rick pushed himself off the counter and went to stand at the front window, watching as road crews filled in potholes that had cropped up after each thaw. There had been talk of repaving, but it wasn’t sound fiscal judgment in the winter.
But it was more than the potholes being filled. Rick had added fancy coffee drinks to his menu, and a bright copper espresso machine had arrived that he’d had to learn and teach his staff to use. Lizzie said it would draw the crew and contestants in like mosquitoes to a bug zapper. Outside the diner, the community task force had repainted benches, shored up docks and ordered more road salt for the snow that hadn’t stopped since New Year’s Day.