by Fiona Lowe
He mopped up the yolk of his egg with his toast. “I don’t remember you doing that.”
“It was when you were all small and your grandparents were still living on the farm.”
He couldn’t remember much about his grandparents as they’d both died a long time ago in a car accident when their car had skidded on black ice. “Why France and why cheese?”
She sucked in her lips as if the memory wasn’t happy. “It was a time when milk prices were particularly low and I think your father was looking for something new and he thought making cheese might be it.”
He couldn’t imagine his father as a cheese maker. “What happened?”
She shrugged, her expression guarded. “Who knows with farming? It was around the time his parents died and I guess milk prices went up.” She drained her coffee. “Can you cope without your dad for a day or two? If I can drag him away from the farm, we’re going down to Janesville to visit with Auntie Gwen.”
He slid his cutlery together neatly on the plate. “Mom, I’ve been running the farm without him for a year.”
“Of course you have, dear, but summer’s a busy time for you and I’m worried you’re not getting any time off.”
His mother had the work ethic of an ant so her concern on this surprised him. “Mom, you and Dad didn’t have any time off in years. Our family vacations were mostly camping at the lake so Dad could continue to milk.”
“I know that and it wasn’t perfect either, but the world’s a very different place now and your father had me to come home to at the end of the day. I just wonder if you being here on your own without any down time is good for you.”
Again, her words burrowed in uncomfortably like a tick and he moved to throw off the feeling. “Mom, we had this conversation before you left for Arizona and we really don’t need to have it again. Getting married is not something I’m interested in.”
Her pale blue gaze pinned him. “Why?”
He swallowed a sigh. “Because like you said, it’s a different world now and settling for one person isn’t the only option.”
She stiffened as if he’d just sworn at her. “Neither your father or I settled, thank you very much. There’s more to life than casual sex.”
He choked on his incoming breath as her words whipped him and images of Erin blared in his brain. When had his mother become such a straight-shooter?
She rolled her eyes at his coughing. “You think your mother doesn’t know about sex. Good grief, Luke, I’ve lived on a farm all my life. I also know the date and day you bought your first packet of condoms from Ackerman’s market and although I disapproved that you were having sex at sixteen, I approved of your responsibility. I don’t want to know about the number of women since but I can see it isn’t making you happy.”
His shock at the fact she’d known all this time that he’d lost his virginity at sixteen finally got pierced by anger and he grabbed it with both hands. “I’m an adult, Mom. I don’t need your blessing for how I live my life. It suits me and I’m doing just fine.”
Sadness filled her face and she shook her head slowly. “I don’t understand how you and Keri could grow up in the same household and turn out so different. She’s happily married and settled but you—” she sighed as if she was bone weary, “—you have the oddest concept of what a mature relationship is all about.”
He refused to have his mother turn his life into an object of pity and he quickly diverted the conversation away from him. “While we’re analyzing my life, let’s not forget Wade.”
She glared at him. “Don’t you dare turn this around onto your brother. Given the chance, he wants nothing more than to settle down.”
Luke threw up his hands. “He needs to leave Whitetail to do that.”
“That’s nonsense.”
“Really, Mom? Is it? He’s Whitetail’s only resident gay guy. How is he going to meet anyone if he doesn’t leave town? The sale of the beach acres would give him that option.”
Martha shot to her feet. “You heard Wade tell you that he doesn’t want to take that option but I think you do.” Her voice cracked. “I really don’t understand you anymore, Luke.”
He wasn’t sure he understood himself either. The eddies of discontent which had stilled somewhat started to stir again and he found himself wondering if Erin was on the farm right this minute.
* * *
Erin found Wade in the office of the B and B. She loved the cozy and welcoming feel of the old house, which Wade had told her was the original farmhouse. With its teal shutters and white gingerbread fretwork around the gables and porch, it reminded her of the last house her family had lived in before they’d lost it. She hoped the memories pounded into the stairs and walls of this house were a lot happier.
She knocked on the open door and peered around the architrave. “Hi, Wade, have you got a minute?”
He looked up from the computer—one of the few modern pieces of equipment in the room—and rubbed a deep V which had formed at the bridge of his nose. “Oh dear. The best and most reliable cleaner I’ve ever had is telling me she’s leaving?”
“No, not at all. I’m good for weekday cleaning for three weeks at least, but we might have to juggle things over the next two weekends, which are filled with weddings.” She face-palmed herself. “I guess you’re full too?”
He nodded. “We are, but my sister’s going to be here so it will all work out. Believe me, you taking care of the midweek work is really helping.”
“Great.” She swung the conversation around to why she was really here. “I’ve got a problem and I could do with your advice.”
He stood up and waved her onto the Queen Anne club chair before crossing to a side table. It was set with teacups, a fine china, rose-covered teapot and an antique cake stand. Her mouth started watering at the idea of tasting one or more of the many tiny cakes and slices.
Wade, a self-confessed Anglophile, gestured to the pot. “I’ve just served afternoon tea to the B and B guests. Would you like some?”
“I’d love some, thank you.” Visiting Wade was like stepping back in time and she sank into the old leather chair, the history of a thousand stories and conversations welcoming her.
He passed her a napkin and a plate of cakes before pouring her tea. When he’d made sure she had everything she needed, he sat down at his wide, walnut desk, propped his chin in his hands and said, “Tell me.”
“The bride who’s having her photos taken in the sunflower field now wants to get married there too.”
Wade’s eyes lit up. “That’s fantastic news. This could be the start of the farm and the B and B being another venue for weddings. The bridal party could get dressed in the house and using your photos I could add a whole page to the website.” He clicked on the mouse and peered at his screen. “What weekend is that again?”
“The fifteenth.”
He clapped his hands and grinned at her, his excitement palpable. “I got a cancellation on the honeymoon suite yesterday from a couple who’d wanted it for their anniversary. Some things are meant to be.”
She put down her cup and saucer with a rattle, worried he was getting way ahead of himself. “Wade, I don’t know if you’re aware but when I originally asked Luke to give permission for the photos he said no.”
Wade’s lips thinned and she thought she heard him mutter that figures but she must have misheard because the night she’d met them both in the parlor, the brothers seemed to share a genuine camaraderie.
She blew out a breath. “So, I was thinking, seeing as the wedding could involve the B and B, you could be the one to ask him?”
He shook his head. “No.”
No? “But he’s more likely to say yes to you than to me.”
He sighed. “You know the adage about family and money. Since my parents arrived, some family stuff’s h
appened and right now I’m the last person to ask him.” He tapped his chin. “Actually, I’m not certain we even need his permission.”
A tremor of unease ratcheted up her spine. “But it’s his farm.”
“No, it’s the family’s farm.” A steely glint appeared in Wade’s usually friendly eyes. “Luke’s running it at the moment but that could change.”
Really? She bit into a delicious chocolate cake filled with decadent hazelnut cream and remembered the night he was drunk was the same night his parents had arrived.
I was hoping to forget the farm. She realized yet again how little she knew about Luke. They had sex but they never really talked.
One thing she did know was he could be as stubborn as a mule and given Wade’s intransigent look maybe that was a familial trait. If Wade bypassed talking to Luke she could see them losing the field completely and with it losing her shot at the Memmy. She shivered at the thought.
It wasn’t her job to fix the problem between the two brothers but she didn’t like the thought of this wedding driving an even bigger wedge between them. She knew all about families, money and the fallout. Her need to keep everyone happy had her mind spinning, looking for solutions.
Wade tapped a pen against a legal pad. “How did you get Luke to change his mind last time?”
“I didn’t. It was Nicole.”
“Ah.”
“Ah?” Obviously there was some significance attached to that which she had no clue about. “Does Nicole have magic powers?”
“No, but her husband, who was born and raised in Whitetail, died last year in Afghanistan, serving our country. I think all of us feel guilty about it so we generally do whatever she asks.”
So Nicole was Luke’s Achilles’ heel. Could it work again?
“I’ve got an idea.” She sat forward excitedly. “Given we both think Luke will say no to us, we need to talk to Nicole. If she can get Luke to agree then I’ll tell Connie she must use Nicole as the wedding planner and your B and B as her bridal party’s dressing rooms along with pre-wedding drinks and canapés. Everybody wins.”
Everybody except Luke.
She blocked out the rogue thought. Business was business and it wasn’t like she was being devious. Nicole, as the wedding planner, had the right to ask Luke and he had the right to say no. But she was pretty sure he wouldn’t.
Wade beamed at her. “Clever girl. We need to talk to Nicole right away.”
* * *
Tony had deliberately missed stopping by the grocery store for coffee the past few mornings. Instead, he’d made his own at home, poured it into a traveler cup and had driven directly to the station. Life was busy with training sessions for his mainly volunteer force. He was whipping them into a slick firefighting machine as well as liaising with the Department of Natural Resources about fire permits. Three times his team had been called out to attend brush fires lit by vacationers who had no clue that a hot, windy day was the worst time to light a fire.
He’d spent this morning doing some door knocking and general fire education among the vacationers who owned their properties and he was now on his way back into town. As soon as he got back, he was going directly to the real estate agent’s office. Ellery Johnston did most of the holiday rentals and Tony wanted fire-education pamphlets inserted into the display folders in each cottage, along with the more vacation-specific brochures on where to rent a Jet Ski and Whitetail Market and Video’s home delivery service. Vacationers needed to know the risks and respect the heavily wooded environment.
He slowed for an intersection on the minor county road and was surprised to see a sign saying Del’s Diner. It was a run-down-looking establishment, tucked away on a quiet road but the parking lot was full. It was way past lunch so he decided to stop by and see if they could do a decent BLT. It would make a nice change from Sven’s Swedish Smörgåsbord.
As he opened the door, a wall of noise rolled out to meet him. The place was packed, and a huge guy dressed top-to-toe in white called out from behind the counter, “What’s it gonna be?”
Tony grinned. This reminded him of Jersey. “What’s the choice?”
“Burger, burger or burger.” A beefy hand waved toward the menu. “They all come with butter.”
Of course they did. With butter and cheese, because now he lived in the dairy state. “I’ll have a double cheeseburger with everything on and a coffee.”
“Good choice. Find a seat and we’ll find you,” the guy replied, turning back to the grill and whacking two burgers down.
Tony scanned the crowd looking for a busboy working on a table which might indicate a free seat. A flash of blond hair caught his eye and he paused, automatically looking for Nicole only to realize the head belonged to a guy and the color was more gold than her ash-white. Hell, he had it bad. Whitetail was full of Swedish descendants and blond hair was as common here as black hair was in Jersey. He started to move down the narrow line between tables.
“Tony, hi, over here.”
He didn’t have to turn his head to know who was calling him. Her voice featured nightly in his dreams despite his trying very hard to exile it. He looked left. Nicole was sitting in a booth with the blond-headed guy. Even though Tony was one hundred and ten percent heterosexual, he had to admit the guy was a good-looking bastard. He wanted to storm over and shirtfront him.
He raised his hand, acknowledging he’d seen and heard her.
Her smile—hesitant at first—broke free and he felt three days of good intentions to stay away from her start to crumble.
“Come sit with us,” she called out.
He wanted to refuse but their booth looked like it had the only spare seat so he reluctantly made his way over.
“Tony, this is Luke Anderson.”
The guy had risen to his feet and towered over him. Tony gave a curt nod and shook his hand. “Tony Lascio, new fire chief.”
Luke returned the shake with a genuine smile. “Good to meet you. Sorry I missed your welcome. Summer on the farm’s pretty intense.”
A woman, wearing fashionable clothes and matching accessories, rushed up to the table. She had a large bag slung over her shoulder and she stopped abruptly, her expression startled. “Nicole? Hi.” She turned to Luke. “Sorry I’m late. My GPS battery went flat and I didn’t have the charger in the car.”
“Did ya turn roight where I told ya?”
Luke suddenly sounded part British with a hint of strangled Australian and Tony gave Nicole a questioning look.
Her shoulders rose as if to say I have no idea.
Erin laughed but her eyes stayed firmly fixed on Luke’s, sharing the in-joke. “I promise you that I did everything you said.”
Luke rolled his eyes but his grin was pure affection. “I swear, you get lost standing still.” He extended his arm. “Erin, this is Tony. Erin’s an excellent photographer but with a lousy sense of direction.”
“Wedding photographer,” Nicole added.
Tony shook Erin’s hand and noticed that Luke’s now rested on the small of her back. Okay then. He recognized that signal—the farmer was claiming the photographer. He had no problems with that at all and he took his seat next to Nicole just as his burger arrived.
“How’s the sunflower field coming along, Luke?” Nicole asked.
Luke smacked Erin’s fingers as she tried to sneak two fries out of his red burger basket. “It will flower when it’s ready. Given the forecast, that will be right on time for the damn wedding.” He looked at Tony by way of explanation. “Some bat-crazy bride wants her photos taken in my field.”
Both women flinched.
Tony gave a noncommittal nod mid-chew. With four sisters and having been married himself, he was a wedding veteran but he could understand the bachelor’s take on the whole deal.
Nicole leaned forward. “I’v
e had a new request from the bride.”
Luke gave Erin a questioning look but she was intently reading the label on the ketchup bottle and missed it.
Luke sighed. “What is it?”
“She wants to have the ceremony on the farm with the sunflowers as the backdrop.”
This time the farmer flinched. “No.”
Nicole acted as if she hadn’t heard him. “This wouldn’t involve you or the farmhouse in any way. Wade’s offered the B and B for the bridal party and he tells me that guests can access the field from an external road so there’s minimal disruption to you.”
Luke took the ketchup bottle out of Erin’s hand to get her attention and he pinned her with a gaze which declared that looking away wasn’t an option. “Wade knows about this?”
The photographer’s eyes widened into pools of iridescent green but before she said a word, Nicole interrupted with, “Luke, I discussed this with Wade because the farm should benefit in some way from this.”
The farmer’s gaze swung to Nicole, his face stiff with tension. “The B and B is a totally separate business.”
“But Wade uses the farm in his advertising so I thought...” Nicole frowned. “Connie Littlejohn will of course pay for rental of the field and you can ask an outrageous price for it.”
“I don’t want money.”
The words came out through gritted teeth and Tony saw the war of emotions on Luke’s face. He’d already said no so why did he look like he was wavering when he was clearly unhappy about it?
Nicole fiddled with her wedding band. “You can always donate the money to the town’s support fund.”
The farmer’s jaw was so tight that Tony thought it would snap. What was going on here?
He glanced between the three of them. The photographer’s mouth was closed but her throat was working and Luke’s gaze was now fixed on the third finger of Nicole’s left hand as she sat quietly waiting for a reply.