“Bring it on,” Amy said cheerfully and continued her rapid chopping of a large bunch of freshly washed dill leaves. “Are you and Mr. Lamb going to the soccer tournament?”
“Oh yes.” Aunt Judy set her bag on a counter and stepped back, dusting off her hands. “Gerry Standley’s been talking about it for weeks. We wouldn’t dare miss it.” She turned to Piper. “What about you? Have you made plans to go with Will? Or has Scott’s visit . . . ?” Aunt Judy’s voice trailed off uncertainly.
“I don’t have any plans for the tournament other than sending Scott in that direction on his own. Might as well get the message across right away that he’s not going to be able to pick things up where he left them six months ago.”
“Oooh,” Amy said, shaking her head. “That could backfire. Scott could take it as a challenge. That might make him ramp up his efforts to win you back.”
“He can take it any way he wants. As long as he takes it out of my presence.” Piper knew she sounded tougher than she felt. Deep down, she worried about her own reaction to seeing the man she’d once been in love with. She’d been doing so well with Scott not around. Would she be able to hold strong with him nearby?
The toot of a car’s horn sounded from out front, drawing Piper out from the back room, followed closely by Aunt Judy and Amy. The first thing she saw was a red convertible Volvo, the exact model Scott had sold before leaving on his soul-searching journey. The driver’s door opened and someone climbed out. Piper held her breath. She heard the door slam shut and a man stepped into view, looking toward the shop.
“Oh!” Aunt Judy cried. “It’s Scott!”
Piper found herself nodding dumbly. It was indeed Scott.
And he looked absolutely great.
2
Piper felt herself rooted to the spot. Aunt Judy glanced at her, then moved on past to greet Piper’s former fiancé.
“Scott,” Piper heard her aunt cry at the doorway. “How nice to see you again!”
Piper was aware of Amy’s stepping discreetly back into the workroom, though she left the door open. Piper knew she should take a step forward but couldn’t seem to will herself to do it. She watched as Scott gave her aunt a hug then looked toward Piper. This was silly, Piper told herself. If she was such a self-assured person she should start acting like one. She therefore held out her hand and moved forward, intending to keep her greeting cool and distancing. It didn’t work. Scott rushed forward, crying, “Lamb Chop,” the pet name she hadn’t heard in six months, and engulfed her in a breath-stopping hug. When he attempted a kiss, Piper strong-armed him back.
“It’s nice to see you, Scott,” she said, pushing space between them.
Scott looked startled, then glanced back at Aunt Judy and seemed to take her presence as the reason for Piper’s reticence. He stepped politely back, which gave Piper a chance to look him over in more detail.
He’d acquired a tan, something Scott rarely managed while working long hours in Albany. It gave him a rugged, outdoorsy look that was augmented by the safari jacket he wore. He appeared more muscular, and his brown hair was longer and flopped boyishly over his forehead. But the biggest change Piper saw was an excitement in his eyes, which she didn’t flatter herself was due to her. Yes, he was clearly happy to see her, but she saw something deeper shining through, as though he were much more aware of the world outside himself than he had been before.
“Your travels seem to have agreed with you,” she said.
“Piper, you have no idea the things I’ve seen. I have so much to tell you!”
“That would be really interesting. We’ll have to get together sometime when I’m not working.” Piper stepped casually behind her counter, putting more space between them. “How long will you be in Cloverdale?”
Scott spread his arms wide. “As long as I like. Maybe the rest of my life. Of our lives.”
Piper groaned internally. “Scott, you need to understand—”
At that moment the door to Piper’s Picklings opened and a young woman stepped in—Gerald Standley’s pretty, blond daughter, Miranda.
“Oh!” she said, glancing around. “I thought my father was here.”
“Miranda! Good to see you!” Piper said, delighted with the interruption. “Your dad was here a few minutes ago. He said he had more dill to drop off before heading over to the soccer field.”
“Hi, Miranda,” Amy called from the back room, apparently able to keep track of the goings-on up front quite well.
“Miranda, dear,” Aunt Judy said, “this is Piper’s friend, Scott Littleton. Miranda’s father,” she explained to Scott, “is handling the big soccer tournament this weekend, something we’re all excited about.”
“Soccer! I went to a couple of fantastic matches when I was in Italy.”
“That’s where the visiting team is from!” Miranda cried. “Maybe you saw them? Bianconeri?”
Scott wrinkled his brow. “Doesn’t ring a bell. They’re all good, there, though. I swear soccer’s in their genes.”
“Oh, don’t say that.” Miranda laughed. “Dad’s team doesn’t have much Italian blood in it. He hopes they’ll make a good showing.” She grinned. “Actually, he’d love it if they’d kick their butts. I’ve never seen him so excited.”
“He’s coaching?” Scott asked.
“More assistant-coaching, which he’s done for years. Dad’s happy to do just about anything to stay close to the game. Everyone connected to Cloverdale soccer knows my dad.”
“And loves him,” Aunt Judy added.
Miranda smiled and nodded. “Well, I’ll try to catch up with him at the field. See you at the games?”
“Absolutely!” Amy, who’d come to the back room doorway, responded along with Aunt Judy. Piper simply waved cheerily as Miranda took off.
“Well!” Aunt Judy said, turning back to Scott. “What are your immediate plans? Do you have a place to stay?”
Please don’t invite him to the farm, Piper prayed silently.
“I do,” Scott answered, and Piper exhaled. “With the iffy flight connections I had, I wasn’t sure when I’d get here, so I booked a room at the Cloverton. Good thing, since I rolled into town around two this morning. I can’t even guess what time zone my sleep clock is in. But I’ll catch up quick. I always do. Anyway, I thought I’d get to know the town a bit and see if it can use another lawyer.”
“Oh, we can definitely use a good lawyer,” Amy said, which earned her a strong look from Piper. “I was remembering that awful guy Nate almost hired,” she defended. “But then again, he was in criminal law. Maybe you’d do something else?”
Scott grinned. “Criminal law is exactly my field. I was a prosecutor up in Albany. But I doubt a small town like this has much crime—”
Oh, you don’t know the half of it, Piper thought.
“—so I’ll probably aim for doing a little of everything,” Scott finished. “Contracts, wills, whatever comes up.”
“Well, that sounds just lovely,” Aunt Judy said, then, hearing a cough from Piper, added, “though Cloverdale just might seem a little mundane after all the exotic places you’ve just seen.”
“Not at all!” Scott proclaimed. “I believe my travels have taught me to truly appreciate the simple things in life.” He glanced around Piper’s shop. “Such as what you’ve got here, Lamb Chop. Love it! Good, solid, down-to-earth basics for working with food. Preserving while adding spice. Wonderful!”
Piper couldn’t help but be pleased at that, and she beamed.
“Lamb Chop?” a male voice questioned. Will Burchett stood in the open front doorway, looking from Scott to Piper and back again.
“Will!” Piper cried in surprise. “Will, I was just about to call you.”
It was Scott’s turn to look from Piper to Will and back.
There was an awkward pause, which Aunt Judy once again smoothed over
. “Will, this is Scott Littleton, who’s just arrived from—where did you actually arrive from, Scott? China?”
“China, Japan, and a smattering of islands along the way till I landed on the West Coast. After that it was full steam ahead for Cloverdale and back to Lamb Chop, here.”
“Please don’t call me that, Scott.”
“Back to Lamb Chop?” Will asked. He was looking fairly tanned himself, especially in contrast to his blond hair, and possessed his own brand of outdoorsyness. Piper guessed from his jeans and roll-sleeved checkered shirt that Will had come straight from his Christmas tree fields.
“No,” Piper said. “Not ‘back,’ simply here. Scott and I are going to have a talk concerning that, very soon.”
“Great!” Scott said. “How about closing up shop and we go somewhere for a nice long lunch.”
“Scott, I don’t just close up shop at the drop of a hat,” Piper said. “This is my livelihood now.”
“Okay. I’ll scout around town this afternoon and we can have dinner. What time do you close?”
Will cleared his throat. “I’m afraid Piper and I have plans for tonight. Assuming”—he looked at her—“they’re still on?”
“Yes, of course they are, Will.” She turned to Scott. “I’m sorry, Scott, but you didn’t give me much notice.” Seeing his crestfallen expression, Piper softened. “Tell you what. If you come back in about an hour, we can go out for a quick lunch while Amy’s here. But it’ll have to be quick.”
Scott brightened and glanced at his watch. “Be back here at twelve.” He gestured toward the street. “It’ll be like the old days, riding in my Volvo C70. This one’s a rental, but if I can get a decent law practice going here, I’ll be looking to buy a replacement.” He grinned. “There are some things in life you just can’t give up. See you later!”
As Will watched Scott trot out the door and hop into the Volvo, he asked, “Law practice? Here?”
Just then two women customers pushed their way into the shop.
“Tonight,” Piper promised Will before turning gratefully to answer one of the women’s questions. Being able to talk about pickling and preserving was a huge relief, temporary though it might be. Will left—in what kind of mood Piper couldn’t guess—and Aunt Judy toodle-ooed, obviously intuiting that Piper needed a little space. Piper waved back but expected space was likely to be a precious commodity in the next few hours.
Piper took Scott to the Clover-Daily Deli, which served up great sandwiches in record time but offered tiny tables and stiff, hard-bottomed chairs at which to enjoy them—a major reason most customers chose carryout and the very reason Piper picked it, as she hoped to keep her time with Scott to a minimum. While they unwrapped their choices and popped straws into their drinks, Scott shared his early impressions of Cloverdale, all of which were glowing.
“I love it here, too,” Piper said, taking a quick sip of her lemonade. “But don’t imagine it’s Utopia. There’s plenty of wonderful people—with my aunt and uncle at the top of the list. But just like any place, you’ll find some bad along with the good.” She was thinking about the situation Nate had recently struggled through, when he came very close to being charged with murder.
“Oh, I know,” Scott said airily, sinking his teeth into his steak and cheese, smothered with onions. His eyes lit up. “Wow!” he said after chewing and swallowing. “I’d say any town that can offer fast food this amazing must have plenty more ‘good’ to look forward to.”
Perhaps her choice for lunch hadn’t been as clever as Piper thought.
“Scott,” Piper said, getting right to the point. “You’re certainly free to live anywhere you want. But you should understand that settling in Cloverdale doesn’t mean that you and I will go back to where we once were. If you remember, I returned my engagement ring—”
“Yes, but—”
Piper raised her hand. “Returning the ring wasn’t just a temporary gesture, a ‘putting things on hold’ while you traveled about. It truly meant our engagement was over. And it’s still over. Finished. We are no longer a couple.”
Scott stayed silent for a while, chewing on that idea as well as another bite of his steak and cheese. Knowing him as well as she did, Piper could see the cogs spinning. Where they were leading him, though, she could only guess.
“So you really meant those texts and e-mails?”
“One hundred percent.”
Scott puffed his cheeks and exhaled. “Well,” he said with a weak smile, “it looks like your own, much shorter journey—from Albany to Cloverdale—brought about some pretty significant changes.”
“It has. But I’m happy where I am. I hope you can be, too.”
“Oh, I’ll be okay,” Scott said. “I’m not the same supercharged guy I once was. My travels have changed me, too. Maybe you don’t see it yet, but I hope in time you will.” He reached for her hand, holding it with both of his. “I still want to settle in Cloverdale. I hope we can be friends?”
“Certainly,” Piper said, patting Scott’s hand with her free one in a friendly, platonic way before gently sliding her captive hand back.
Their conversation shifted to more neutral topics as customers crowded in, and they eventually parted on amicable terms. As she headed back to her shop, Piper heaved a huge sigh of relief.
She still had to face Will that night, though, and that was going to be harder. Piper had been at fault for not preparing Will for Scott’s sudden appearance, so the first thing she did as they sat down for dinner was apologize profusely.
“It wasn’t fair to let you be blindsided like that. I’m truly sorry.”
“Accepted,” Will said with a small smile. “So,” he said, opening up his napkin, “you had lunch with Scott?”
“I did. And I was able to make it clear that he and I are no longer a couple.” Piper hesitated, trying not to squirm. “But he still plans to settle in Cloverdale.”
Will frowned. “Well, I suppose that’s his right.”
Piper nodded.
“Think you’ll run into him much?”
Piper had thought hard about that. Will had become special to her, but she didn’t want to make promises that implied a certain level of commitment. She just wasn’t ready for that. “Scott and I parted as friends,” she said. “I won’t be searching him out, but I expect us to remain on good terms.”
Will was silent for a long while then nodded. “Okay. If I had my druthers, Scott Littleton would take off again for Timbuktu, or better yet, Mars. But I can deal with him setting up a law office in Cloverdale. I’ll even wish him success that will snow him under with enough work that he barely has a minute to drive anyone around in his shiny, retractable-top Volvo C70.”
Piper grinned and reached her hand across the table. Will covered it with both of his, where she was more than happy to leave it—at least until she needed it to eat.
The next morning, Piper made an early shopping trip to TopValuFood before opening up Piper’s Picklings. She quickly found and paid for milk, bread, a few frozen items, and, of course, chocolate, and was loading the bags into the trunk of her car when she saw a large bus drive by with “Bianconeri” painted on its side.
“That must be the Italian soccer team,” Mrs. Peterson said as she climbed from her own car nearby. “I’ll bet they’re heading for the high school.”
Piper nodded, then checked her watch. She had a few minutes to spare. After hearing Gerald Standley and the others talk so excitedly about this visit, she was curious to see the Italian team in person. She hopped into her driver’s seat and started up.
As she pulled into the high school’s parking lot nearest the soccer fields, Piper saw she wasn’t the only one eager to meet the visiting team. The school itself was not in session—she’d overheard mention of professional days for the teachers—but plenty of students had given up their morning sleep-in to welcome (and ogl
e) the Italian team. Gerald Standley stood at the forefront as part of a small group of official greeters. Piper guessed the group was made up of the coaches and school administrators. She wouldn’t have thought it possible, but Standley looked even more excited than he had the day before.
She watched from the edge of the crowd as the occupants of the bus moved about, gathering gear, then one by one stepped out to noisy welcomes. Hands were shaken, shoulders clapped, and greetings in Italian and English traded as they passed through the crowd.
Miranda Standley, along with several other young women, stood ready to hand each player a goody bag from a large basket, and quickly became surrounded by the athletic and highly attractive young men.
The last to exit the bus were two older men. Piper assumed the first, dressed in a matching black-and-white team warm-up, was the coach, and he waved, speaking exuberantly in Italian and English as he made his way out.
The second man paused on the last step and looked about him, an odd smile, almost a smirk on his handsome face. He was dressed in casual but not athletic clothing—a polo shirt, slacks, and a light jacket—although he looked trim enough to play. Judging by the streaks of silver in his thick, dark hair, Piper guessed his age at forty-five to fifty, and she wondered if he were the team manager.
“Conti!” she heard Gerald Standley suddenly call out in surprise, and from his tone it didn’t sound like a welcome one.
The man on the step looked about for the source of the call and spotted Standley. His smile widened, but to Piper it looked self-satisfied rather than joyful. “Standley,” he said. “I wondered if you’d be here.”
Piper saw Gerald Standley’s face darken. He stared hard at the man he’d called Conti, then turned and pushed his way off through the crowd. Piper was surprised at the action, even more so when she looked back at the man who’d apparently caused it. Conti remained on his step, standing a full head above everyone below and seeming to relish his position. With obvious pleasure, he watched Standley walk off until the embarrassed remaining members of the welcoming group, along with the affable Italian coach, drew him from the bus and into the crowd.
License to Dill Page 2